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

Roaming Road/ Lady in White Part 2

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

For the last couple of days, I had felt a bump that felt a bit irritated on my labia. At first, I didn’t think anything of it because sometimes I do get a bump but it is never really bothersome, it usually goes away on it’s on, and I would only know it was there when wiping. And, I would never feel it being bothersome or be aware of it throughout the day because it wouldn’t cause pain or discomfort. But, yesterday, when using the bathroom, it stung pretty badly when wiping. It was more of a sting than it usually causes, but I thought it may be more irritated than past occasions. Now, it burns really bad. It hurts to walk, lay down, use the restroom, and pretty much to do anything. I’m feeling it at all times, and I was waking up all last night from the pain.
I have a very active mind, so I’m thinking of worst cause scenarios. I know I should go see a doctor, but I’m currently away from home, so I can’t go see one right now. But, would it be possible that this bump would be caused from the friction of a thong? It’s in the same area that the garment usually rides up in, and I had been wearing thongs for the past week before this happened. Could the friction of it perhaps cause this irritation?
Any advice would be helpful, thanks!

So I had a colonoscopy in early April. The prep was fine. And the procedure itself was mostly fine—I did it without any anesthesia or propofol or anything. The doctor warned that I would feel some pain when approached the turn in the colon, and that part did hurt a lot.
So I went home and felt mostly fine accept for a little soreness in same spot on the left. I ate some fast food. A few hours later I had diarrhea. The stool was very dark, and I thought it was black. So I panicked and went to the urgent care. They did a CT scan and it showed some mild irritation in my colon and they did labs and showed I wasn’t hemorrhaging internally and sent me home.
From there, I’ve continued to have irregular bowel movements. Mostly in the morning I would have normal looking stools, but then later have yellow diarrhea, then sometimes floating stools. All of this was accompanies by a continued sharp pain in the upper left abdomen.
The doctor ordered a stool test that showed my elastase levels were low—130. My lactoferrin levels were normal (5.9) which I suppose shows no inflammation present. He prescribed Creon but I don’t want to take it yet because I’m worried my pancreas will downregulate making its own enzymes. He also says the CT scan at the urgent care didn’t show any pancreatic damage, but it was done without contrast so I don't think that's very useful.
To be clear, I NEVER had any of these symptoms before the colonoscopy. I ate fatty foods all the time and had no issues. The only reason for the colonoscopy was because I had some bloating and mushy stools sometimes. It’s been over a month since the procedure, and I still have random sharp pains the left abdomen spot, almost always preceding flatulence. My bowels are slightly better since I’ve eaten bland low fat foods, but if I eat something really fatty, It comes out an hour later, really foul, yellow, oily.
Does anyone have any idea and experience something like this? I’m thinking it could be they nicked something, or the air irritated something, or the prep just made some things out of whack.

GERD for 20 years. Omeprazole or Pantoprazole the whole time. Before I started treatment, I had all the classical symptoms and the acid destroyed most of my teeth. After treatment, I mostly had stomach cramps and back pain, with a lot of bloating, but no actual reflux. Also, it's difficult for me to burp, as if my esophagus got thinner or something.
Lately, I've had symptoms close to Orthopnea - shortness of breath while lying down (mostly at night) and a slightly tight chest. Thing is, I'm not gasping for air or anything or respirating faster nor any swollen feet. I do have a bicuspid aortic valve, but I read that Orthopnea is usually from left ventrical dysfunction, which mine is fine. Kind of feels like a stuffed nose, except in my lungs/throat, hard to describe. Sit upright and it almost immediately goes away. I've noticed my omeprazole has started to not work as great lately and find myself taking antacids and pepto. Might be the garlic and lemon juice I've added to my daily diet (removing them now). I'm thinking of taking a second dose in the evening and seeing what happens.
Also, last year I developed allergies and had trouble breathing for the first time in my life around the same time as now last year. Could be that too, or both. Also, a history of anxiety.
Anyone else?

Just for context of this post, I had a brain MRI and Cervical Spine MRI done last week because of constant headaches and neck pain, the brain MRI came back normal but the cervical spine MRI showed I have some disc bulges and desiccations.
The day after my MRI I started to notice different symptoms like crackling in my ears, increased neck/head pain almost like someone is pulling the back of my head and I have drainage in the back of my throat. I’m also just not feeling well like have no appetite. Could this be a CSF leak? How likely would it be for an MRI to cause one? It’s frustrating that I started feeling this way a day after an MRI. I don’t know what to do. Do I go to the emergency room?

I love my two rescue mix dogs. One I’ve had for 2 years and the other for 1 year. But I often feel annoyed after a walk because it’s like herding cats with these two. I have a 10yo senior mix who’s slightly overweight (he came to me that way and he’s still overweight) and a six year old mix who is regular weight who has a drop paw and wears a bootie for protection. Walking these two twice a day if not more can get exhausting, and they come first and leaves my self care often to the wayside. They twist up in the leashes, one pulls and it causes shoulder pain so I got a gentle leader; and the other sniffs every five seconds at everything hand yanks us back against forward walk progress. I love my babies so much but walking them sucks sometimes… just wanted to vent and see if anyone else feels overwhelmed at times with caring for their large dogs (rescues and untrained). They also have bad seperation anxiety so I have to medicate them and always worry if I’m gone too long (more than 2 hours on my days off) and it’s taken over my life. My life is about them. This morning I literally finished the walk this morning (when I wanted to sleep in) and unhooked their leashes and felt strong irritability building and I then I journaled and got coffee and felt better.
I’m a single dog mom in an apartment and it can be a lot some times. I am working on self care more with my counselor but wondering if I’m alone in this or not.

My next chapter. I made this one a little "spicy", but the following chapters will probably get back to your regularly scheduled simping. Aw, poor Davey, lol
I made my way up their steps and into Ashley’s bedroom. It was far from my 1st time here at this point. I’d often be called over to “hang out”. At the best of times, this involved me down on my knees, rubbing Ashley’s tired feet or painting her toenails as she controlled the conversation. Mostly just her venting about her day, sometimes about some recent party she went to that I was never invited to. Or just tidying up as she relaxed on her large bed and played with her phone or watched tv. I loved any opportunity to be around Ashley. Plus her room had an electric energy to me. I could take a deep breath and smell her very essence through the air. Not to mention the perks of being her little “simp”. Last time I was over I found a loose stay hair on her pillow as I was fluffing it up after making her bed. I was able to sneak that little strand of hair in my pocket and take it home. OMG, I lasted for weeks with that being my main source of masterbation material!!
Tonight I was actually hoping for a quick cleanup. Between this, helping Mrs. Smith and Ashley’s homework, time always seems to get away from me and I spend the next day dragging myself like a zombie. As soon as I walked in her room, I knew I would be a while. Ashley has many great qualities; tidiness isn’t one of them! She had old plates of food sitting on her desk. Chocolate wrappers just tossed on hr floor. Her clothes! She had a mix of worn and dirty clothes thrown about and hanging off of every chair, banister, and littering the ground. I’d have to inspect each item to confirm if they were clean or dirty before finding the appropriate place for them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her hamper with bra dangling out. It must have been worn. And I could touch it. Maybe even get a chance to smell it! I felt myself get hot and got those same butterflies in my tummy.
"There you are. What took so long?" Ashley had removed her makeup and decided to make herself more comfortable. She changed out of her trendy day clothes which still followed all school guidelines, which included form-fitting jeans and a slight midriff-baring top, that had a swooping neckline to show off her chest proudly, though they needed no help showing off. Her body often even had some teachers drooling. Those sexy clothes were gone now that it was just us. Now she wore her grey sweatpants, her socks and an old cami top. I know the look wasn't "sexy" but knowing she had removed her bra and only a thin piece of fabric separated us was almost too much to think about. Butterflies in my tummy again.
"Oh, i'm so sorry, Ashley! Your Mom just a-asked me to help with some, um, washing up, in the laundry room after."
"See! Her and my Dad complain about me not doing my own chores, but then she goes and has you scrubbing dirty underwear like some 1950's bimbo housewife! It's because she doesn't wanna do that gross boring shit either! And can you believe my Dad!? Building character!? Like, really? And another thing- Oh, Davey, didn't you hear? My mom gave the okay. You can start on my room.” She gave me an expectant look and I took the hint and grabbed my cleaning spray and rubber gloves.
"Here, start here-“ She remained standing but pointed at a stain with her socked foot. "I spilled some soda I guess and it's like, sticky or something."
"Y-Yes Ashley, right away!"
And I got started cleaning the disaster of a room as Ashley finished venting and then relaxed at her desk. "I'll help in a sec. Just want to check insta 1st..."
Off I went scrubbing and dusting and tidying and primping and promping the teenage girl's room while I was for the most part ignored. I’ll save the boring details of scrubbing and tidying up a teenage girl’s bedroom. About and hour or so later, my fingers ached and my back was starting to hurt from being bent over so much.
"Okay, I think I pretty much got everything in a place your parents would approve, um, Ashley?"
She was now relaxing on her bed, reclined against the pillows. She was still over the sheets with her laptop on her stomach. I remember thinking how it must be hard to see the screen over her rising chest.
"What's that?" She looked up from her laptop for the 1st time in maybe an hour. "Oh sorry, I was messaging with Ryan. I must have got distracted".
Ugh, Ryan. Classic jock jerk! And of course her on again off again boyfriend. Honestly these days he mostly just treated her as friends with benefits. I have no idea why she puts up with him! He's crude, rude and just flat out doesn't treat her like the princess she is!! I have had her cry on my shoulder more times than I can count from this brute, but then the next weekend she is behind the bleachers sucking his cock!! Yuck, hard to imagine my sweet, confident princess getting on her knees for some brute! It's only a matter of time before she realizes she actually prefers sweet and caring types, and then maybe she even finds them sexy, and would even get down on her knees for someone like, like m-"
"Davey! This room looks great. What would you say to a little reward?"
Remember when I said the lines were blurred in the relationship. This is one of those blurred lines.
"A, r-r-rreward? You mean like-"
"OMG, look at your face. I really am too good to you, aren't I. God it's been what, a couple weeks since I let you eat me out, huh?"
"Uh, yeah, um, uh, yes, it-it's been um, yea, uh 3 m-m-months now, um, uh, A-Ash-l-ley..."
"Wowwwww, aw, that's a long time for you. Yea, I was gonna hop in a quick shower before bed, it was a long day. But then I started talking to Ryan and well, now I'm in the mood. Plus, you really, really deserve it. Just look at this place." she gestured to her now sparkling room. "You have been SO sweet lately. Anyway, nothing crazy. Just kinda want to grind one out to help me sleep, you know?"
"Oh, uh, um, y-y-yes, th-thank you-u, I- I, uh, um yes, I unders-s-stand Ashley".
"Good boyyyy. K, in you go". She got under the covers and held the blanket up for me to crawl in. She pulled her sweatpants down, and then threw her underwear off the side of the bed. Under the dark heat of the covers, all I could see are the most beautiful golden tan and toned legs rising out of her ankle socks, and climbing until they met the most perfect, tight and perfectly trimmed pussy. When I got close I could smell her excitement and I could see a slight slickness by her folds. She must have been getting wet while talking to Ryan, ugh, yuck!
"Here!" she said as she ripped the covers off me temporarily blinded by the light. "Open!"
Instinctively my body naturally obeys any command from her lips, and I opened my mouth wide. A second later I saw her reach for a tube and she squirted it in my open mouth.
"It's lube. Swish it around to warm it up for me. Plus it’ll get your tongue all extra slippery.” I obediently opened my mouth wider and stuck out my tongue as she took one hand and grabbed my face, squeezing my cheeks slightly to push open and out my lips into a dramatic ‘O’ shape with my tongue hanging out. I tried not to imagne what I must look like. With her other hand she squeezed the bottle with an undignified glorrp right into my mouth. I gently swished the off-tasting, gloopy mess around my mouth as Ashley instructed. "Mmmmmmmm, that's hot. That's gonna feel so good. K, ready?"
I tried to mumble something back, but warmed lube only crept out the side of my mouth. Luckily I think it was rhetorical as she threw the blanket down on top of me as I began gently licking. Just like that I was in heaven. She tasted of natural feminine juices with a slight hint of the day’s perspiration. My poor Ashley must have really had a long day! Her moans and grinding of her hips urging me on, as well as her little comments of direction here and there.
"Mmmmmmmm, slower. Flick it. Higher. Oh yes, Ryan. Mmmmmmm, fuck. Oh Ryan, Oh Ryannn, mmmmmm”
Ugh, really, him?
It was only a few minutes before her 1st orgasm. I could feel her thighs gently tighten with a delicate moan. I guess she changed her mind about a quick cum, as when I went to get up for air after her 1st release, her hand roughly grabbed my hair by the scalp and re-positioned my face so it was firmly mashed against her pelvis.
My aching erection was painfully pushing against my bikini bottoms and pants. I could feel my poor little penis throb and starting to leak. It was so hot seeing her as she took out her vibrator and pleasured herself as I licked wherever there was space around her movements. Desperate to please her and be useful. This was my chance to impress her, I thought as I licked so hard it ached. It was so cute seeing her comments getting more intense as she got more lost in her own pleasure.
"Fuck yes. Lick me, slut! Uuungh, deeper, I SAID LICK DEEPER! Oh fuck, yes, bitch, just like that. Fucking lick right there. Now lower, LOWER, SLUT”
Sure, I've heard the names the other kids call me at school. Simp, loser, cuck, her bitch. But who else but me gets to see her in these most intimate of moments when she really loses herself.
After another 10 min her thighs clamped down on my head. I could no longer hear anything, I could barely breathe and was trapped in a conjuncture of her sweaty flesh, lube and natural juices. Just as I was preparing to tap out, or succumb to her body, she relaxed. I heard the sound of her vibrator switch off.
Next thing I knew, the sheets were ripped off and I felt the flat bottom of her somewhat sweaty foot on my forehead, pushing me away as I desperately tried to get 1 more glimpse of her most intimate area.
“Mmmm, that was nice.” Ashley rolled off the bed. Still in a daze, I had the most amazing view of her golden, toned ass cheeks. “Well I’m off to shower and then I need some sleep. I’m beat. Did you enjoy your little treat, Davey? You owe me one now!” she said with a wink. "No problem having my history homework done by tomorrow, ya?"
I went to confirm I’d stay up late but my sore and achey tongue just flopped out of my mouth with a “Yeth Asthley. Thatth no pwobrum".
Ashley giggled as she walked out of the room. I watched her butt cheeks bounce as she called over her shoulder “rinse your mouth after you finish whatever my mom needed. That lube stuff might be toxic or something. Can’t have anything happen to my little puppy. But it feels great! I’d get used to that lube taste."
My heart swooned as I drifted downstairs before I continued my night of drudgery. But nothing else mattered. Ashley was happy with me. And she must be satisfied with my oral servitude! She wants to keep it a regular thing!!! She must have really loved it. You know what they say, 1st comes love, then comes marriage!!

The second half of a long chapter.
“Oh, professor page,” I heard Anna yell from the living room, “You better get your ass out here quick.”
I quickly rinsed off my hands scurried into the living room, greeted by the two couples sprawled out on the sectional couch in their swimwear, Anna and Kelly in string bikinis and Archer and Paul in speedos. My cock was never limp that day, but there were moments – typically, those of the most intense humiliation – when it was harder than others. Seeing the four fit young bodies in all (or at least, most of) their glory was one of them. And while my gaze naturally was first drawn to Anna’s toned, long legs and taut midriff, followed by Kelly shorter, but still attractive legs and pretty toes, I would be lying if I didn’t admit to admiration of the slender, muscular swimmer bodies of the two young men as well.
My eyes also drifted over Paul’s bare feet. It was the first time I had seen bare the feet I had kissed in the bar through his sneakers or in the apartment through his thick wool socks. I was curious, naturally, but didn’t want to be too obvious, so quickly averted my glance before getting a good look. I need not have worried, however, as I would be spending a great deal of time up close and personal with his bare feet (and Anna’s) in the months that followed, starting a few minutes later. Paul did not have the same obsession with having his feet worshipped as Luke did, but there is no question that he greatly enjoyed the power trip of having an older authority figure quite literally at his feet.
I must also confess that in addition to dwelling as long as I dared on the breasts of Anna (like Brooke’s, ample but not overly large) and Kelly (slightly larger and, to my mind, less proportional to her shorter frame), my eyes also flittered over the speedo-clad crotches of Paul and Archer. Speedos leave so little to the imagination. While I was mortified when forced to wear a speedo, my inadequacy on full display, these two young athletes were completely at ease. Their muscular, chiseled bodies were one explanation for that; the size of their bulges was another.
“Perhaps the professor page can stop ogling our bodies long enough to get us all another round of drinks,” said Anna.
Kelly said, “I think he’s staring more at the boys’ bodies than he is at ours, Anna. I’m jealous.”
“Most cucks are closet fags, so that’s no surprise,” said Paul.
I wanted to object that I wasn’t gay, closet or otherwise. I wanted to say, “What about you, someone who enjoys humiliating other males, forcing them to dress in feminine clothing, spanking their bare bottoms with your bare hands, perhaps other, more intimate things….What does all of that make you?” But I dared not I was say anything of the kind. Instead I simply confirmed their drink orders and hurried off to make them, checking on my stroganoff. And being honest with myself, while I knew beyond a doubt that I was not homosexual, I did have to admit that I was not immune to the physical attractions of dominant, young alpha males. Did I have this attraction prior to the events of the last seven months when Luke came onto the scene like a cyclone? Probably on some level, yes, but it had been latent. No longer.
When I returned to the living room with a serving tray holding their four cocktails, trying hard not to spill any of them, Paul said, “We know our page boy knows how to clean shoes, but what about other personal duties? Who besides me would like a foot massage?”
“That sounds like an excellent idea, dude. Count me in,” said Archer.
“You two boys go ahead. If he does a good job, Kelly and I may have him massage our feet as well,” said Anna.
“Start with Archer. On your knees, of course, page,” said Paul.
“Yes sir,” I said, kneeling before Archer, and beginning to work on his feet with warmup twists and arch rubs. His feet were somewhat calloused, but well formed.
“Ah, that feels good. He’s actually not too bad at this,” Archer said.
Pointing at my crotch, Kelly said, “Look, his little cock is stiff again. Are you excited to massage my boyfriend’s feet, professor?” As she spoke, she pressed her toes lightly against my cock through my tights. It surprised me that it was Kelly, rather than Anna (or even Paul), to first touch my liberated cock.
“No, Princess Kelly.”
“No? But your little stiffie says otherwise. Are you not being honest with us, professor?” She pressed a little harder with her foot, smiling wickedly.
In truth, the entire situation was incredibly arousing and, therefore, incredibly humiliating. Which made it still more arousing. It was a viscous cycle, one which I had been getting increasingly used to with Luke and Brooke. But the dynamics with my students and Archer were different, and, if anything, more intense. Was it the greater age disparity, the bigger inversion of authority, the fact that there was an element of coercion involved? All of the above? Brooke would tell me that I think about these things too much. She would counsel me to go with flow, enjoy the game, embrace the sheer eroticism of it all. I tried valiantly to do just that. Can one be valiant in accepting servitude and abuse?, I wondered (see how I over analyze everything?!)
Lancelot would no doubt have answered my question in the affirmative. Yet, his servitude was solely to Guinevere, and the abuse and humiliations he suffered were solely to satisfy her commands, her whims. Whereas Brooke was not even aware of my servitude to my students. Still, I could tell myself – with some degree of honesty – that the indignities I was suffering at their hands were because of my devotion to Brooke. Because I was in their power as a direct consequence of my obedience to Luke, and I was obedient to Luke for Brooke and Brooke alone. The frail heartbeat of chivalry was still detectable (to me, at least). Perhaps the time had come to tell Brooke of my predicament with Paul and Anna? But there was something so shameful about it. Would it diminish me in Brooke’s eyes in some different, profound and irrevocable way? Or would she hug me, perhaps even thank me for my sacrifice, and tell me everything will be okay?
These were the myriad thoughts that ran through my head as I also contemplated my response to Kelly’s fraught question. “No, princess, I mean, it’s all of your feet…,” I answered,lamely.
She snickered. “Well, you are the Liitle Foot Page, so I guess it makes sense that you’re turned on by feet.”
“Pretty much all submissive guys are turned on by feet. Issac is insane for my feet,” said Anna. You will recall that Issac was the young male slave in Paul’s and Anna’s stable.
“Not just submissive men. Cindy loves worshiping your feet too, babe,” Paul said to Anna. If you recall, Cindy (who, like Issac, I had not yet met at that point) was another member of Paul’s and Anna’s stable of slaves, a fellow student at the college whose intense crush on Paul was not reciprocated. Instead, he put her squarely into “ the friendzone,” eventually introducing her to Anna. Cindy was now a submissive servant to both of them, grateful to be part of Paul’s life under any circumstances.
Anna said to Kelly, “I don’t know about you, but I love having my feet pampered and having my toes sucked, and love the sight of submissive creatures groveling at my feet. At the same time, I couldn’t imagine in a million fucking years being the one doing the sucking or groveling. I have no desire to be that close to anyone’s feet.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I wouldn’t even want to kiss Archer if he sucked my toes. Ew, gross,” said Kelly, with a little shudder.
Archer interjected, “Yo’ve got nothing to worry about there, darling. You have pretty feet, but I have zero desire to kiss or lick them.”
“Or course you don’t, you’re not a perv, like the good professor here. Professor pervert, kiss the bottom of the foot you’re massaging. You don’t mind having your feet kissed, do you sweetheart?” Kelly asked Archer.
“No, I have no problem being worshipped. And I’m secure enough in my masculinity that I don’t care if it’s a submissive cuck like this loser doing the worshiping.”
“That’s what I love about you, sweetheart. You’re masculine, dominant AND open minded. That’s like icing on a yummy cake.,” Kelly said, as she started to kiss Archer passionately. “Professor, keep kissing the bottoms of my man’s feet while we make out.”
I kissed the balls of Archer’s feet, trying to avoid the callouses. I wondered: aren’t swimmers more prone to plantar warts, walking around all those bacteria-riddled pools and locker rooms in their bare feet? I knew plantar warts are highly contagious. Could I get warts on my lips or in my mouth? I made a mental note to research this on-line later. From extensive experience with Brooke and Luke, I was well aware of the aphrodisiac effect my submission could have on a couple dominating me. The exact reasons for this still remain something of a mystery to me. Just like you have to be a masochist to understand certain things, I guess you have to be a dominant or a sadist to understand others.
As if reading my thoughts, Anna said, “I think submissives’ brains must be wired differently. They have to be for them to enjoy feet so much. I mean, sometimes after we work out at the gym, Paul and I will rest our feet right on Cindy’s face. Can you imagine? Our sweaty, wet socks covering her nose and mouth. You’d think she’d have some self-respect and tell us to go to hell. Or, at a minimum, that she’d complain about the smell. Not that my feet smell, of course, but Paul’s smell something awful after he’s been working out,” she smiled at him.
“Yeah, right, babe,” Paul replied. He then explained to Kelly and Archer, “Don’t believe anything she says about her feet not smelling. The smell of her foot sweat is overpowering.”
“Bullshit,” Anna said, smiling and hitting him on the shoulder. “But, like I was saying, far from protesting, Cindy actually inhales the smell of our sweat socks and our sweaty feet. She almost looks as if she’s in ecstasy, like she’s smelling perfume or fresh flowers or something. And she even looks happy when she’s licking the toe jam and lint from between my toes. It’s disgusting. But it’s pretty funny watching her. And I like the sensation of her tongue on my toes.”
“It’s what I’ve been telling you for awhile now, babe. Submissives are intellectually inferior. They’re sexual deviants. By humiliating and abusing them, we’re giving them what they want, what they need, in fact. So there’s no reason for us to feel bad when we mistreat them. We’re actually doing them a favor,” said Paul.
Paul was a Psychology major and fancied himself some sort of authority on this subject apparently, although it was clear to me that he was greatly oversimplifying what were, in reality, very complicated human relationship dynamics. He also had a facile understanding of human intelligence. Under different circumstances, I might have tried to engage him in a debate. But to have done so at that moment would have been the height of folly, so I kept my mouth shut and my fingers busy.
After spending 15 minutes on Archer’s feet, I massaged the feet of my three students for the same amount of time (timed by Paul). Paul and Anna kissed each other while I worked on Anna’s feet, much as Archer and Kelly had done. Each insisted I respectfully kiss the bottoms of their feet after finishing the massage. Paul was last. While I massaged his feet, Anna prodded my balls with her high heel shoe, laughing as my cock twitched through my tights. Having been denied release for so long, my biggest fear was that all of the stimuli – the scantily-clad, young bodies, the humiliating dissection of my fetishes, the pressure of Anna’s foot (which she occasionally brushed against my the underside of my shaft) – would cause me to ejaculate. The thought of that was beyond mortifying, so I did everything I could possibly do to distract myself mentally.
Their ongoing conversation about feet did not make my task an easy one.
“Rollins, you’re actually pretty good at this. In a sensible world, you would be spending your time in your classes massaging all of your students’ feet rather than lecturing to them. It’s a better use of your talents.” There did seem to be a general consensus that I have a knack (was Paul’s term, “talent,” too strong a word) for giving foot massages. I guess there’s at least one thing I can do well with my hands after all, I thought to myself.
“Now, Paul. Don’t be cruel. I’ve had some pretty good courses with Professor Foot Page. I don’t see any reason why he couldn’t lecture while he massages everyone’s feet.” Kelly giggled.
Anna snickered. “Can you picture it? I can. He would be dressed just as he is now, crawling from student to student.”
“Yes, and then he could massage the feet of all of the other faculty members of the English department,” said Kelly, giggling.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t already massaging Neil Lawson’s feet. Lawson already has him fetching his coffee. Or he did today, at least. There’s definitely something going on there,” said Paul.
I couldn’t decide whether to be relieved Paul didn’t know any specifics or to be distressed that he was so suspicious – and that his instincts were correct. I remained silent.
Paul continued, “He obviously has a big foot fetish, like most submissives. Rollins, you ought to consider having a whole chapter dedicated to foot worship in that book you’re working on. You’ll be a real authority on the subject before we’re finished with you.”
Putting aside the implicit threat in his last remark, Paul actually might be on to something, I thought. I had been struggling with the organization of my book, which had really evolved quite a bit over the last six months. While I still aimed to show how medieval courtly poetry was what started the rich history of male masochism in western literature, I was increasingly focusing on contemporary BDSM cuckold fiction and what had clearly been an explosion in interest in that lifestyle in recent years, globally.
Miraculously, I was able to get through the massages and constant teasing without ejaculating. About halfway into my 5-hour stay at the condo, I served the four of them dinner, trying to remember to curtsy at all the required moments. They had changed back into the clothes they were wearing before their swim, Anna and Kelly in short skirts, stockings and heels and Paul and Archer in jeans and polo shirts. Anna kept her little notepad next to her plate on the table, and occasionally wrote in it, causing me further anxiety. When not going back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, I was expected to stand by the table at attention – to refill glasses of the wine I had purchased, fold the napkins of anyone who got up from the table, or do anything else ordered of me. My cock tented out my tights the entire time, of course. My self consciousness about this at least had the advantage of taking my mind off my hunger somewhat, as I enviously watched the four of them eat the meal I had prepared (I sampled the stroganoff as I was cooking it, and thought it came out quite well).
Anna invited everyone to critique the meal afterwards, and it was generally agreed upon that the beef and mushroom sauce was delicious, but that the pasta was overcooked. The salad and dressing was a success, but the Italian green beans less so. I was grateful that Anna had not required me to also prepare dessert.
“Well, Professor maid, it seems that both punishments and a reward are in order for your uneven meal and service. You also earned demerits for failure to curtsy on at least four occasions – I’m sure that I missed others – and continued deficiencies in your technique. Also for how you walked in heels earlier. The mushy pasta and beans were also unacceptable. On the other hand, the stroganoff itself was excellent, as was the salad and dressing. The boys will administer your punishment, and Kelly and I will grant you your reward.”
I replied, with a curtsy, “Yes, princess. Thank you, princess.” The truth of the matter is I didn’t know which of the two caused me greater dread: the punishment or the reward.
“Which should we give him first?”, asked Kelly.
Paul said, “Definitely the punishment first. We need to leave enough time for the redness of his ass to fade in case Luke or his wife want to punish him as well when he gets home.”
“And a submissive freak like him will probably enjoy his reward more with a sore ass. I’ve calculated that he’s owed 120 spanks. 100 from today, and the 20 we didn’t give him on Tuesday that he was due. Which one oy you strapping young men will do the honors?”, said Anna.
“This is going to be so much fun to watch,” said Kelly gleefully.
“It’s going to be hot,” said Anna. “I get all tingly watching Paul punish the slaves. Especially the beta males and sissies.”
“I know you do, girlfriend. Me too,” said Kelly. “I think it’s only fair that each of the boys give him sixty spanks, so you and I get to enjoy this equally,” said Kelly.
“Sounds good. Okay with you guys?,” said Anna.
“Fine. After you,” Paul said to Archer.
“Happy to dish out some discipline to the old cuck. Should we take him up to the dungeon and put him over the bench?”, asked Archer.
“No need to. We have to use our hands for now because we can’t leave any asting marks on his ass. So just take him over your knee,” Paul replied.
“Oh, how I wish we could cane or strap him! I think the cane is a lot more persuasive than just your hands. And the welts can be lovely,” said Anna.
“Someday, babe. You just have to be patient,” said Paul. “Not one of your strong suits, I realize.”
“Don’t worry, ladies. I will make sure his spanking is plenty persuasive. Get over my knees, old man,” commanded Archer.
“Yes, sir.” I draped myself over his knees, incredibly ashamed as I felt my hard cock press through my tights against the jeans covering his firm thighs.
“Do you feel his little stiffie on your leg, honey?,” Kelly asked, tittering.
“I do, but not for long. I’m going to beat it out of him. By the time I’m finished with him, he’ll be as limp as one of the overcooked noodles he served us,” said Archer. I felt his sizable hand resting on the center of my tights-clad bottom. Without warning, he lifted his hand and brought it down sharply on my right cheek.
I typically tried to be stoic in such moments, but the ferocity of his strike (and the suddenness of it) caused me to cry out, “Ouch!” I heard the amusement of our audience.
“That’s right, honey. Give it to him good! Pull down his tights and give it to him on the bare,” said Kelly.
Archer did as Kelly requested. What followed were repeated, loud smacking sounds of flesh striking flesh – as Archer carefully alternated cheeks – accompanied by a slow but steady buildup of pain. The tights had offered negligible protection. The sound was the big difference, but it seemed to provide a more satisfying sensory experience for my three students, who were witnessing the remarkable spectacle of their professor being punished like a naughty child. By the 30th spank or so, the pain was intense. And Archer was correct, my cock had deflated under his relentless assault on my bottom. Not as severe as a cane or strapping certainly, but a hand spanking that rivaled Luke’s in intensity.
I heard Kelly say, “Now that’s what I’m talking about. Look at that shade of red, will you?”
“Not as lovely as welts, but not bad,” added Anna.
By the 50th spank, my attempt at stoicism was a distant memory.
“Please, sir. Please don’t hit me so hard.” He ignored me, delivering the final ten with extra zeal, if anything. When he was finished, it was difficult for my mind to process the fact that my chastisement was only halfway complete.
After Archer pushed me unceremoniously onto the hardwood floor, my tights still lowered to just below my poor, tenderized bottom, Kelly ordered me to stand up. I started to pull up my tights as I stood, but she said with surprising sternness, “Did I say you could pull up your tights, professor? Leave them down so we can all get a proper look at your little cock. Turn around and stand before us. Put your hands on top of your head.”
When I complied with her order, my cock was still quite limp, somewhat shriveled even. But almost as soon as I stood up, I felt it began to stir under their scrutiny.
“Look at the tiny, hairless thing.,” said Anna, smiling contemptuously.
“Pathetic,” said Archer, with a sneer.
“Oh, look. It’s starting to get bigger. That was quick! It must like all of the attention,” laughed Kelly.
With each humiliating comment, it grew harder. My ass was burning, but no longer under a constant barrage (for the moment, at least), the sensation only fueled my involuntary, indeed most unwanted, arousal.
“It looks like it’s up to me beat his hard-on back out of him,” said Paul, patting his knee. “Come over here, Rollins, so I can finish your correction. Leave your tights down. You have 60 more coming.”
As this was unthinkable to me, I felt compelled to try to negotiate – or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say, grovel. When I walked over to where Paul was sitting, rather than lie over his knees, I dropped to my own, at his feet.
“My lord, Sir Archer’s punishment was quite severe. I’m not sure that I can take another 60 right now. I beg you to show some mercy to your lowly page by deferring some of my punishment until next Tuesday.” I then grasped his right foot with my hands and began kissing the tops of his brown, leather shoe. “Please, my lord.”
That Paul was triumphant, bringing me to my knees and abasing myself at his feet – even without being expressly commanded to do so – was clearly evident in his supremely smug, self-satisfied expression. It was painful to behold, but not as painful as another 60 spanks on my already wounded bottom would be. Groveling was a skill that I been refining over the last several months with Luke, so I continued my efforts.
“Please, my lord. Surely you and Princess Anna have some more dry cleaning that needs to be done or some other errands that need to be run. Your humble page is at your disposal.”
“This is a trip,” said Kelly.
“It IS a sign of strength for a ruler to occasionally grant mercy. What do you think, babe?”, said Anna.
“I’m considering it,” said Paul. “Sharing information might help your cause, page. Tell me, what is the story with you bringing Neil Lawson a cup of coffee today? That coffee shop is on the other side of campus. Is that a service that you regularly provide for him? Before you answer, you should know that if I sense you’re not being completely truthful, I’ll add 20 spanks to your punishment now, rather than reduce or defer any of it. If I find out you’re lying after the fact, the consequences for you will be dire.”
To say that I felt somewhat trapped at that moment would be an understatement. I certainly didn’t want to reveal any information to Paul about the nature of my relationship with my colleague, and yet I felt that not doing so was perilous. The slippery slope, again.
So, I continued my descent. “I bring Neil a cup of coffee four days a week, my lord.”
“Why? Are you his lackey or something? You’re senior to him on the faculty, right? Shouldn’t he be the one bringing you coffee, if anything?”
“It’s true that Neil doesn’t have tenure yet but he’s up for tenure in the spring. But it’s not like junior faculty members run errands or anything like that for senior faculty members. It’s just that Neil knows that I’m on a diet and feels that the exercise will do me good. He takes a personal interest in my health and physical fitness, as my friend.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me. I’ve seen Neil lifting weights with Luke at the gym a couple of times. It looks like they’re getting to be pretty chummy.”
“Yes, my lord, they like to work out together. They bond over sports.”
“Interesting. Is Neil aware of your weekly weigh-ins and punishments for failing to lose weight?”, Paul continued his interrogation.
“Yes, my lord,” I answered, deeply ashamed.
“Well, you’ve definitely lost quite a bit of weight, professor. Keep up the good work!”, said Kelly, with seeming sincerity. What a surreal moment this was, I thought to myself.
“Thank you, Princess Kelly.”
“Does Luke allow Neil to witness your weigh-ins and punishments,” Paul asked.
“Yes, my lord. Twice.”
“Keep kissing my shoes when you’re not speaking. Does Luke allow Neil to participate in your punishments?”
“Yes, my lord. Once.” I started kissing the bottom of his right shoe.
Being humiliated and punished by Luke was shameful. Neil’s participation in my punishment and humiliation made it infinitely more so. Being humiliated and punished by my students was incredibly shameful. Them knowing that Neil, another professor in my department, not only was aware of, but even took an active part in my punishment and humiliation was indescribably shameful. It was more than a slippery slope. It was quicksand. And I was sinking deeper by the second.
Paul was not yet done with his interrogation, however. “What other services do you provide for Professor Lawson, besides bringing him coffee?”
I hesitated. But mindful of Paul’s warning (he did seem to have some mysterious ability to intuit and/or discover things about me), I came clean, thereby deepening the pit in which I was sinking: “On Wednesdays, when he has several back-to-back classes, I have started to massage his feet in his office.”
“I knew it! Last week when I walked into his office and you were there, you were acting very nervous. I saw his shoes on the floor next to his desk. There’s not really many reasons to take off your shoes and socks on a freezing day. I had a sneaky suspicion that that’s what was going on. You’re an even bigger beta than I could’ve conceived of, Rollins. Is there anyone you’re not subservient to?”
“Yes, my lord….I mean, prior to 10 months ago…I wasn’t submissive to anyone….except in…my…my, imagination. Everything’s different now…”
“You’re leading a male masochist’s dream! Lick the bottom of my shoe. Do you realize how extraordinarily fortunate you are, old man?”
“Yes, my lord,” I said before reapplying my tongue to the sole of Paul’s shoe.
“This discussion has been very useful. You’ve given me all kinds of ideas about how to further enhance your submissive experience to make it truly exceptional. To make it world class. All the building blocks are already in place. We just need to find a way to integrate them,” Paul said.
“Look how hard his baby cock is! He loves the idea!”, said Anna.
“Now lie down across my lap. The new information I learned just now has caused me to feel magnanimous, so I will grant you mercy by deferring 20 of your spanks until Tuesday and pardoning 10 altogether,” Paul said.
At that exact moment, having my remaining punishment cut in half (at least for that day), I was more grateful about the present reprieve than concerned about any possible future danger that might result from Paul’s increased knowledge. It was only later, during many restless, sleep-deprived nights, that I began to really worry about the possible implications of Paul knowing that I was also submissive to my fellow professor.
“You are very kind, my lord,” I said as his hand came crashing down on the center of my ass. The irony of the moment produced hearty laughter from both Anna and Kelly.
My tights were still lowered, so my erect, bare cock pressed against the denim – a coarser variety than Archer’s – of Paul’s jeans. How much shame could one person endure in a single evening? But it was only 8:30 PM; I still had over an hour left with my young tormentors.
Whereas Archer’s technique was to alternate cheeks, Paul preferred picking one spot and sticking to it for repeated spanks. He focused on the center of my bottom, initially 10 strikes where the crack of my ass began and then moving methodically lower until the final 20 were on the area closest to my scrotum. Unfortunately, Paul hit harder today than on my last visit, no doubt making sure he at least matched the force of Archer in front of the two young women, who were watching with rapt attention. As he delivered the final twenty or so spanks, the pain was searing and I began kicking my legs more and more and squirming around on his lap in a futile attempt to alleviate it, or to escape. On the bright side, my erection quickly subsided under the intensity of his assault.
“Stay still, or I will add the 30 back,” he warned, sternly, grabbing my right arm and holding it tightly behind my back with his free hand.
When he was finally done, he roughly pulled up my tights, producing a wedgie effect, and almost playfully swatted my bottom twice, saying, “You may get up now. Go stand in the corner. Hands behind your head.”
I did as commanded, but Kelly objected, “Why did you pull his tights back up? I want to see what shade of red his ass is now.”
“Lower your tights, page boy,” ordered Anna.
“Yes, princess,” I said, following her command. My eyes were wet with tears, but I was hoping they wouldn’t notice. I wanted to at least deprive them of the satisfaction that they caused me to cry.
“Do I hear sniffling, professor? Did getting spanked by his big, mean student make the poor, wimpy professor cry?”
“No, Princess Kelly.”
“I’m not sure I believe you,” Kelly replied.
“Look at his ass. The color reminds me of raw hamburger meat. Are you sure it will heel quickly enough, babe?”, asked Anna.
“Archer and I hit him hard, but not hard enough for any permanent bruises. The color will fade quickly,” said Paul. “Sort of like a sunset. An intense color that fades quickly.”
“Too bad. It’s such a lovely color, “ said Kelly.
After 10 minutes, during which they passed around a joint and continued to tease me, Anna said, “You’re right, the color is starting to fade already. Turn around, you naughty page boy, and face us. Keep your hands on your head.”
“Well, the color of ass may be like setting like the sun, but his little cock is compensating for it,” said Kelly, with a giggle.
“Pathetic,” commented the eloquent Archer.
I looked down to see my cock standing at attention through my tights, wishing I could simply disappear. I stood there shamefully for another twenty minutes as they finished a second joint.
After they finished, Anna said, “We’re running out of time before the good professor turns into a pumpkin. It’s time for your reward, professor. Obeisance!”
Recalling last week, I quickly dropped to the floor down on my belly and clasped my hands behind my back.
“Very good. You remembered,” Anna said. “Now slither on your belly to our feet, as we taught you.”
I began my humiliating belly crawl across the floor – only a few feet, but it felt like many more – my hard cock grinding into the hardwood, once again fearful that the combination of the potent humiliation and the stimulus to my cock would result in me ejaculating en route. Fortunately, it did not. Once I reached them, I craned my neck up to look at the four pairs of shoes hovering above me, and planted a kiss on the top of each, as I had been instructed during my last visit.
Anna then said, “Kelly, switch places with Paul, please.”
Once she did, Anna ordered me to lie on my back next to where she and Kelly were seated on the sofa. Rolling over, I winced with pain as my bottom touched the floor. From experience, I knew that sitting would be uncomfortable for the next day or two.
She then said to Kelly, “Do you want to provide the olfactory stimulation or the tactile stimulation?”
As if this was a routine occurrence in their lives, Kelly said, “Oh, definitely the tactile stimulation. It will be fun to toy with his little dicklet. Besides, based on what Paul said about your foot sweat, you’re the one who can provide the best olfactory stimulation.” Kelly chuckled.
“Very funny,” said Anna, smiling. “Very well.”
Anna removed her heels and placed her moist stocking-clad feet directly over my nose and mouth. Kelly kept her heels on and began pressing the toe of her right heel firmly into my balls, through my tights. She then began lightly kicking my balls. It was mildly painful, but not so painful that it caused my hard cock to deflate; it was painful yet still highly arousing, a well calibrated approach that suggested to me that Kelly had some experience tormenting others along similar lines.
“Take deep breaths, professor,” Anna ordered.
Her feet indeed had a strong, distinct odor, at once malodorous and fragrant, sour yet sweet. As I inhaled, Kelly began grinding her heel directly into the underside of my cock, pressing it into my body. Only about three minutes into this sensuous torture, my cock erupted, my semen seeping copiously through my white tights. I groaned involuntarily as I orgasmed, a groan of simultaneous ecstasy and despair. Because I hadn’t come in so long, I produced what was for me at least, a prodigious amount. What appalling, exquisite humiliation! I tried to imagine what it would be like facing my three students in class next week, or for that matter, any time again for the rest of my life. It was certainly a moment that would never be forgotten by anyone in that room.
“It looks like our professor enjoyed his reward,” Kelly said, snickering. “And I could tell when he was about to shoot his wad, so I moved my foot away just in the nick of time.” She picked up her heel and pointed at it, “See no icky professor goo. It’s clean.”
Anna said to me, “You see, being enslaved to us is not all about punishment. There are rewards as well, occasionally.”
“Yes, thank you Princess Anna, Princess Kelly.”
Well, at least I wouldn’t have to lick up my ejaculate this time. Paul threw me a towel. I was permitted to clean myself up and was then ordered to put the towel into the washing machine (by itself, as Anna didn’t want the towel I soiled to be near any of their clothes or linen). I then cleared up the kitchen. Finally, I was allowed to change back into my street clothes. Before I left the apartment, I was required one last time to bow down before each of them, kiss their feet and thank them for allowing me to be of service. I then went down the elevator, relieved to see a different doorman (one who I had never encountered before), who more or less ignored me as I exited the building.
I pulled up to my house at 10:20 P.M., surprised to see the light on in the kitchen. When Brooke and Luke went out to dinner on Thursdays, Luke usually drove, so it was not unusual to see Brooke’s car in the driveway. Maybe they had just forgotten to turn off the lights?
But as I entered the kitchen, I was alarmed to see Brooke sitting alone at the table. Expecting to be asked where I had been, I started trying to think of plausible explanations.
However, Brooke simply looked up at me. She had a glum expression on her face and her eyes were bloodshot, as if she had been crying. Something was definitely up.
“Hi, honey,” I said, nervously.
“Hi.”
“Where’s Luke?”
“He’s gone.”
“Will he back later, or is he staying at his house tonight?”
“He’ll be staying at his house every night from now on.”
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Go get a bottle of scotch and two glasses. I need a drink.”

Just diagnosed with methane and GI ordered the Xifaxan + neomycin combo. While I'm waiting on those to be filled, I've been thinking. Is it wise to jump into treatment without knowing the root cause? Without knowing food sensitivities? Without a care team who knows my history? Or should I just go forward with this treatment that's finally here after at least 4 years of dismissal and suffering without a diagnosis?
I'm at such a point of low trust in healthcare, I'm feeling on edge about next steps.
Some additional context about my care team:

• IMO diagnosis came after a breath test following two 20-minute appointments with a GI nurse practitioner who had SIBO herself with a root cause of food poisoning. She ordered and I did an endoscopy, colonoscopy and ultrasound which ruled out other stuff. In my initial appointment, I told her I may have had food poisoning. But the more I read about SIBO, I'm not sure that was my particular cause (said it bc I suspected SIBO and wanted to be taken seriously). She sent me the prescription instructions via patient portal and we don't have a follow-up appointment until late August. Seems rather cold, at best, and risky, at worst.
• A dietitian who happens to have functional medicine training did a GI effects stool test and says my results of high inflammation and dysbiosis suggest I have leaky gut and/or food sensitivities. She wants to do a low-FODMAP based elimination and re-introduction with me over about 6 weeks. I've done just one week of low-FODMAP to reduce symptoms. She says we'll pause for GI's plan to have me eat more normally while on antibiotics.
• I started paying out of pocket for a new integrative primary care doctor who doesn't take insurance before I knew I had SIBO. Now come to find out, he doesn't seem to have much experience with it. Didn't expect me to test positive and has not done a thorough, proactive evaluation of my health history. I wanted someone to give me true primary care and take the lead on managing my case and give me a roadmap for a treatment plan.

Is it too much to expect that just any GI or primary care doctor will effectively manage a SIBO case? My sense from this subreddit is yes, but asking to get clarity.
I have a phone consult with a doctor a few hours away from me who specializes in SIBO. Wondering if I should become his patient and let him guide me through a more clear, methodical roadmap and streamline my care through his team?
Not expecting anyone to diagnose my root cause here lol, but wanting to share the overview of my history in case it makes a difference for the questions above. Also, I'm curious about others' similiar symptoms/experiences and hope maybe it can help someone to read mine.
Health history and symptoms:

• I'm a 36-year-old woman. 5'10" and I only weigh 113 pounds right now (lost about ten pounds in this current flare but was previously 120ish). I've struggled to gain weight my entire life.
• Seemingly healthy childhood but possible unaddressed dairy issues
  • I wasn't breastfed, my mom said the dairy formula didn't work either and I had to have a soy formula. In childhood I was never tested for lactose intolerance, the story was just that I "didn't like milk but cheese and ice cream were fine". I continued to eat the latter two and always prided myself on being open to eating anything.
  • I was diagnosed with depression at age 8 and did antidepressants on/off through my early 20s. Otherwise always was told I'm very healthy (despite never really feeling that healthy or energetic).
• I had a doctor suggest IBS while I was studying abroad in London at age 20 (which sadly I didn't take seriously), and then migraines with aura started at age 21, then rosacea at age 22. Frequent UTIs and antibiotics throughout my 20s. Allergic to two antibiotics now. Hemorrhoids started in mid-20s. At 32 (when the pandemic started in 2020), I had my first "flare", two simultaneous problems at the time diagnosed as:
  • another "UTI" after sex despite negative test results, got 3 rounds of antibiotics for possible kidney infection
  • symptoms of "GERD": loss of appetite, globus, burping, food sitting in belly for hours, gas, bloating, abdominal pain, back pain
• Since that first flare brought on by stress of the pandemic and possible unwanted pregnancy, I've experienced:
  • 2 other major flares (lasting 4ish months each)
    • 2023: conflict with live-in boyfriend leading to break up - sensation of slowing motility/early satiation followed by constipation followed by intense pelvic pressure and bloating plus frequent urination. resolved after months and getting myself into pelvic floor PT.
    • 2024: intense work stress paired with delayed period/fear of pregnancy with new boyfriend of 2 months followed by constipation, dry scaly hands, followed sensation of slowing motility/early satiation with intense stomach gurgling/churning, food sitting in belly for hours, burping and varied acid reflux symptoms including globus, excess saliva, throat bubbles with any food/water or change of position, back pain, dandruff (seborrheic dermatitis), red eyes
  • on/off symptoms / notable findings in last 4 years:
    • tingling/random brusing in fingers, random itchy rashes kinda like hives, random vibrating feeling in lower abdomen, nerve pain/twitching in inner groin, eye, and leg
    • more headaches during menstration
    • loved cilantro historically, but on/off tastes like soap (especially during major flare)
    • gum inflammation I can't seem to resolve with improved brushing/flossing, etc.
    • inflamed cervix on pap smear
    • cloudy urine
    • A1C1 near prediabetes level
    • vitamin deficiencies (D and B12) - had to request my own tests
    • on my home scale, my BMR was always 3-4 years below my current age but now it's 2 years above my current age
• All 3 major flares were times I was eating LOTS of fibefodmaps thinking I was helping my health
• Other notable things:
  • I have a PT who believes I might have hEDS even though I don't meet the diagnostic criteria
  • I had a pap smear in 2019 that showed HPV positive for high-risk strain; 2024 pap smear showed clear
  • May have developed orthorexia after the first flare and trying to heal myself with food. Might have also struggled with eating enough calories on/off in life due to stress and feeling full early in meals throughout my life.

There are verses in the Quran which condemns suspicion and bad expectations of God.[1] As well, there are also narrations which, somehow, deal with the subject of good and bad expectation of God, the Exalted:
Surah al-Fath - Verse 6 "And that He may chastise the hypocrites, men and women, and also the polytheist men and women who entertain evil thoughts about Allah [say that God will not support His Messenger (S)]. For them is a disgraceful torment, and the Wrath of Allah is upon them and He has cursed them and prepared Hell for them and worst indeed is that destination."
The Commander of the Faithful, Ali (AS) says: "Whoever has good expectation of God attains Paradise and who has bad expectation of the world suffers pain and hardship."[2]
Imam Sadiq (AS): On the Day of Judgment a servant who has done himself injustice will be presented and God, the Exalted, addresses him by saying:
"Did I not order you to obey Me? Did I not forbid you from disobeying Me?"
He then says, "Why not, O my Lord, but my lust overpowered me; if you punish me, it is because of my sin and You have not done me any injustice."
God orders him to be taken to Hell and the servant says: "I did not expect that of You."
"What did you expect of Me?" God asks.
"I had the best of expectations of You," he replies.
Then God orders him to be taken to Paradise and addresses him as such: "Your good expectation of Me just aided you." [3]
Imam Reza (AS): Have good expectation of God, because God the Glorified and the Exalted says: "I am with the servant who has an expectation of Me; if his expectation is good of Me, I will treat him according to his expectation and if his expectation is bad, I will treat him according to his bad expectation."[4]

Meaning of Good Expectation and Bad Expectation:

In short, good expectation of God is to place one's hope in His mercy while bad expectation means to despair of His mercy and compassion. One must be fearful of God's punishment but he must not despair of divine mercy. He must do what is his duty, purify his intention and be afraid of his sins. Meanwhile, he must be hopeful of divine forgiveness. The Commander of the Faithful, Ali (AS) says: "Good expectation (of God) is to purify your deeds (for His sake) and yet be hopeful that God will forgive his mistakes."[5]
Imam Sadiq (AS): "God expectation of God is to place your hope in no one other than God and to be afraid of nothing except your sin."[6]
Allamah Muhammad Baqir Majlisi (ra) explaining good expectations and bad expectations of God says: "One who does good deeds will definitely have good expectation of God and he who commits evil deeds will also surely have bad expectation of God."[7]

Effects of Suspicion:

Suspicion or bad expectation of God and His promises has detrimental impacts on one's beliefs and faith in God. Some of the negative effects and consequences of bad expectations are enumerated as under:

1. Bad expectation amounts to disbelief:

God, the Exalted, says in the Quran: "Despair not of Allah's mercy; surely none despairs of Allah's mercy except the unbelieving people."[8]
The Prophet of Islam (S) says: In his supplications, Dawud (AS) said: "O Lord, he who knows You but does not have good expectations of you, has in reality not believed in You."[9]

2. Worship not accepted:

To suspect God of not fulfilling His promise causes the acts of worship not to be accepted because it eliminates and wipes sincerity out.
For this reason, Imam Ali (AS) says: "Suspicion spoils the worship."[10]

3. Inability to tackle difficulties:

Suspicion and bad expectations of Allah debilitates a person against difficult and complex incidents. The Battle of Ahzab is one such example in which those who had just converted to Islam became suspicious with regards to divine promises following which they ceased to stand firm and strong against the enemies, whereas, in fact, the true and unflinching believers who had good expectations of Allah stood strong and hopeful against the enemies and they finally achieved victory over their foes:
"When they came upon you from above you and from below you, and when the eyes turned dull, and the hearts rose up to the throats, and you began to think diverse thoughts of Allah."[11]

4. Becoming deprived of divine attention:

Suspicion towards Allah deprives one of divine blessings and attention, because based on the traditions mentioned above, God treats everyone on the basis of good or bad expectation of Him.

Ways to Cure Suspiciousness:

✓ To get rid of suspicion towards God, first it is necessary to turn to some general principles governing the treatment of moral ills. The main principle is to think of the negative effects of these ills because when one thinks of the consequences of suspicion and how it wiped out his ideological asset and ripped him of his mental peace and made him negligent of truths, he will inevitably distance himself from mean traits and moral ills just as he distances himself from poisonous foods.
✓ Inquiries and researches done on the occurrences that possibly lead to suspicion towards God could be helpful and may assist an individual to get rid of pessimistic thoughts because some of these occurrences constitute divine tribulations which exist as a reality in man's life and that one must cope up with these realities and must, therefore, have good expectations of God. That is because these tribulations are meant to test man and are key to his spiritual progress. Some other occurrences are the direct results of man's bad acts. In short, instead of being suspicious towards God, the proper course of action is to repent and seek divine forgiveness for all the sins he has committed as well as to do whatever he can to make up for all those mistakes.
✓ Not paying heed and attention to suspicion towards God is yet another way of curing this spiritual illness because if one does not pay attention to the incoming thoughts and constantly distances himself heedlessly, this state of suspicion gradually dies down and gets eliminated. This method is also effective in treating suspiciousness towards one's own brothers in faith.
That is why we read in a tradition as a general principle that:
اذا ظَنَنْتُمْ فَلا تَحَقَّقُوا "When you become suspicious, then do not give heed to it."
In short, if a person is interested in having peace and in resistance as well as in drawing God's attention and sincere belief, he must have good intention of God and his promises including forgiveness, mercy and compassion which are achieved after one repents genuinely and seeks divine forgiveness.

References:

[1] Verses 6 and 12 of Chapter al-Fath. [2] Tamimi Amadi, Abdul Wahdi b. Muhammad, Ghurar al-Hekam wa Durar al-Kelam, p.641, Qom, Dar al-Kitab al-Islami, second edition, 1410 A.H. [3] Barqi, Ahmad b. Muhammad b. Khalid, Mahasen, vol.1, p.25-26, Qom, Dar al-Kotob al-Islamiyyah, second edition, 1371 A.H. [4] Kulayni, Muhammad b. Ya'qub, Al-Kafi, vol. 2, p.72, Tehran, Dar al-Kotob al-Islamiyyah, fourth edition, 1407 A.H. [5] Laythi Waseti, Ali, 'Uyoon al-Hekam wa al-Mawa'edh, p.229, Qom, Dar al-Hadith, first edition, 1376 A.H. [6] Al-Kafi, vol.2, p.72. [7] Majlisi, Muhammad Baqir, Behar al-Anwar, vol.67, p.366, Beirut, Dar Ihya al-Turath al-Arabi, second edition, 1403 A.H. [8] Quran 12:87 [9] Tabarsi, Ali b. Hasan, Mishkat al-Anwar fi Ghurar al-Akhbar, p.36, Najaf, al-Maktabah al-Haydariyyah, second edition, 1385 A.H. [10] 'Uyoon al-Hekam wa al-Mawa'edh, p.99. [11] Quran 33:10 [12] Ibn Abi al-Hadid, Abdul Hamid b. Hebatullah, Sharh Nahj al-Balaghah, vol.19, p.374, Qom, Ayatollah Mar'ah Najafi Library, first edition, 1404 A.H.

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Gods were now fighting over Markus. On the matter of whether he should feel flattered or terrified, ‘terrified’ was looking to be the stronger adjective.
As many as six different voices had piped up in the last few moments expressing some level of interest over hiring Markus following his defeat of the monster. All of these voices emanated from high-class looking box seats, and all of them carried that same affectation of power and status that one might expect of a deity.
Naturally, the crowd had fallen to silence. Who wanted to interrupt an argument between gods?
It wasn’t long before the already nonplussed Markus was flanked by Drathok, who’d spawned into existence beside him in a flash of purple lightning. The creature took one look at his dead monster, another, much longer look at Markus, then waved his hand up at the gods.
“Sacred ones! Sacred ones… I trust you all enjoyed the performance?”
“I do not wish to converse with an imp baron,” the first god spoke, a touch of ire in his voice. He was the one who’d first propositioned Markus following his fight, and the tallest of all standing to address him now. Despite their distance, Markus could make out his features well, as if he were so defined that the limits of perception need not apply to his visage. “But I will indulge you if only to speed this up. Where did you acquire this one from? Where?”
“An exotic planet in the far reaches, my lord, one heralded to produce only the mightiest warriors with the highest inherent potentials…” Drathok smiled, that same wide smile from before. “Tell me, has your holiness ever heard of the planet Earth?”
“Earth…” the god grumbled, rubbing his fingers against his chin. “No. Can’t say that I have. Sounds rather exotic…”
Markus watched the whole exchange with incredulity, still reeling with exhaustion from the fight, barely staying aloft. He worried that if he fainted now, he’d end up having an important decision be made for him, and somehow, something was keeping him going even in spite of how hard and desperately he’d fought. He had no clue what.
Still, Drathok was lying through his teeth! He’d never even heard of Earth until Markus had told him about it, and he’d pulled Markus here by total accident!
To think that he’d still try and find a way to profiteer from this situation… or maybe he was just trying to cover his own hide. Markus found it difficult to tell. Was there a chance that Markus’ unexpected victory might provoke a god’s anger?
“Question,” another voice piped up, this one female. “You say this human hails from a warrior planet, one so exotic none of us would know of it. Then why is it that your announcer insisted he was a simple, weak primitive impossibly staked to lose his life?”
“A ploy to drive both tension and excitement, your emanence! An outcome so unexpected was only meant to surprise all of you most esteemed patrons with a bout beyond your expectations!”
“Beyond my expectations…” the goddess growled ferociously, the stands trembling around her. “I’ve lost good money betting on this fight! The otherworlder was meant to be eviscerated!”
“And you will be reimbursed in full! An unfortunate cost to provide you with this most glorious turn of events, I do hope you were entertained regardless!”
“I ought to gut you where you stand, but I do suppose lying is in the nature of hellspawn.” The goddess tutted. “I will pardon this deception, but only because the fight was extraordinary. A level one human besting a D grade monster? Almost unheard of.”
“Which is why I should be the one to claim him!” another god roared. “I was the first to take note of this human’s prowess, you all should’ve caught on sooner!”
“Esteemed patrons, sacred ones…” Drathok smiled at each of them in turn, giving a small bow. “I must make you aware, this one is contracted to fight for me for the foreseeable future. To terminate said contract—”
“To buy out his service?” The tallest god sneered. “Please. I care little about your petty soul contract. Name your price. It’s a pittance to me.”
“Do I get a choice in any of this?”
Markus had said it quietly and between coughs, but that was only because his throat was so coarse. He was so frustrated with the way that he was being bargained over that he wanted to scream at them all.
“We will settle this matter later. I’m tired of gawking onlookers,” the tallest god said. “See my new champion is properly cleaned up before I visit him.”
“He’s not your champion, he’s mine!” another god blurted.
“Of course, sacred ones. Any and all of you may visit the dungeons at my leisure, you need only ask. Thank you once more for your most esteemed patronage, and please enjoy the rest of today’s performances!”
With that, Drathok and Markus both were whisked away in a flash of lightning.
Before he blinked out of the arena, he noticed that the body of the bulleater he’d slain had seemed to almost be melting away around the chest area, as if its heart had been absorbed from its body.
When they arrived back in the summoning room, Drathok’s face was split by a massive grin.
“Wonderful, boy. Simply wonderful.” He levitated a far chair over to himself and proceeded to sit, as Markus stood before him, still wracked by pain. “You passed every test I put before you with ease. Truly, you are an impressive specimen.”
“Impressive?” Markus gulped, his throat dry. “You… you mean you expected me to kill that fuck ugly thing?”
“I estimated the chance to be around five percent,” Drathok admitted, eyes glinting red. “To say I expected it might be an overstatement.”
He folded one leg over the other, looking truly at ease. “When I saw your inborn trait, I became curious about your potential, so I started zapping you with just enough magic that you might make use of it, assuming your ability had any potency to it. Seems you drank quite greedily from my mana pool, and look what it ended up leading to!” He laughed. “You’ve done well. Well enough that you won’t be stuck rotting away down here for very long. Isn’t that just splendid?”
“You bastard…” If Markus understood the situation well enough, then it was simple. Drathok had known he might be able to absorb mana from attacks from the start, and that was the precise reason he’d cast his magic on him. Not for intimidation, not for torture, but to give Markus a weapon he could use, should he have the instinct for it.
Only, it was hardly something he should be grateful for, as he’d only done it so Markus could showcase his abilities in front of a bunch of gods, who’d now want to buy him instead.
Presumably, whatever Markus could do with Mana Manipulation was worth more than the cost of replacing that monster he’d slain would be. Good for him. Great for Drathok.
Markus wasn’t gonna take this sitting down. He hadn’t fought for his life just to be sold again. He raised his hand, ready to expel the last of his excess mana despite the screaming warnings of his body, but before he could do more than bring a small pulse of power to his palm, Drathok raised a finger and held Markus completely still in doing so, locking his joints and disrupting the flow of his mana.
“Come, now. Do you really think you have a hope of winning?”
The power difference between the two was so vast that it was indescribable, even after Markus’ victory. Drathok had proven so with that single display of power. Markus struggled and thrashed in place against Drathok’s invisible hold. Any head-on confrontation was likely to be impossible.
Markus began sweating, his body aching immensely. “Fuck you. When I get out of here, I’m gonna find you and make you wish you’d never summoned me. Mark my words.”
“You can talk about your daydreams all you like. It won’t change your fate.” Drathok grinned wider, probably mentally spending the fat purse of coins he’d receive for this even as they spoke. “You want my advice? Sign yourself over to Ciphelos. He’s more lenient than the others.” Drathok began to cackle as he spoke. “After a few decades of service, he might even let you go free!”
With that, Drathok snapped his fingers, and a small, red creature appeared in a puff of smoke. “What’s up, boss?”
“Show this one to his cell. He’s performed exceptionally, so give him a rag to wash himself with. Perhaps some cheese?“
“Got it, boss,” the imp answered, before swishing its tail twice. Immediately, an ethereal chain appeared from nowhere, wrapping itself around Markus’ ankle and clamping shut, as all the while the chain affixed itself to the imp’s right hip.
Markus couldn’t even begin to tug against it. It kept his foot completely in place. When the imp moved, he moved.
As he was pulled away, he turned back only to find Drathok waving, shit-eating grin everpresent on his stupid fucking face.
“Rest well, champion! Your new life awaits!”
Markus hadn’t taken more than two unassisted steps within his cell before he collapsed to the floor. The moment that the shackles had been taken off of him and his forced march through the torchlit corridors beneath the arena had ended, his body had taken its toll on him in full force.
[Mana Poisoning II in effect. Overcharging your body’s mana past 250% of its capacity causes extreme fatigue and a consistent drain in both vitality and strength. Reducing your body’s mana below 100% of its capacity will counteract this.]
[Dealing with Mana Poisoning for long periods leads to Mana Toxicosis, a condition that will render you incapable of casting magic without inflicting heavy damage upon yourself, and in advanced stages can simply kill you.]
[Overcharge (F Grade) in effect: all physical stats have been temporarily raised by 30. Magical affinity and resilience increased. Growth heightened by 50%.]
That didn’t sound good. No wonder he was laying here in such a miserable heap of exhaustion. His whole body felt utterly incapable of moving, to the point that once the promised wet rag and food were passed into his cell, Markus couldn’t even find the energy to get up and use them, no matter how he might want to.
He supposed the temporary boost in stats had probably been necessary to carry out the fight, but if feeling like this after was the cost…
Markus decided to look around at his system more. He’d been simply thinking things and getting answers from it up until now, which seemed fairly intuitive, but he wanted a way to view everything pertinent.
He imagined himself looking at a menu, and something akin to that appeared before him. There was a list of notifications spread out, as well as means to look at various advancement trees that he had yet to realise even existed.
One thing was for sure, between draining that creature and killing it, he’d been showered with levels. There were so many notifications here…
He counted, and there were seven level ups. He’d shot up from level 1 to 8 in a single fight.
44 unspent skill points. That sounded like a lot, but he had no basis for what was high or low right now. Markus opened his stat sheet, trying to determine what he might spend them on. Part of him wanted to wait until he could amass more information, but he was on a time crunch here. He wanted to be rid of this affliction plaguing him, and he was hardly about to ask whatever god came to buy him for pointers on the most meta build for escaping them.
No, he needed to figure it out himself. Head hazy, Markus summoned his status screen, staring at it for the very first time:
[Name: Markus Brown] [Class: Otherworlder (Earth) (Tier: Novice 8)] [Health: 253/340] [Mana: 832/430]
[Strength: 48 (+30)] [Agility: 42 (+30)] [Arcana: 6] [Constitution: 49 (+30)] [Spirit: 17] [???: 0]
Didn’t take a very long look for him to realise where most of his unspent points would be going. He’d deal with the other notifications and passives demanding his attention later. For now, too much mana was the problem, and a hefty dose of Spirit seemed to be the solution.
//
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A/N: Hey! Thanks for reading! Bit of system experimentation and build theorising coming up early next chapter, then straight back to the action! Hope you're enjoying the story so far, it's been a blast to write for all of you!
If you wanna support me and this story, or if you just can't wait for the next chapter, the next six chapters of this story are available right now on my Patreon!

Part of this post, I admit I am venting and searching for support. I'm getting very lonely. THe other part is something is wrong and I don't know what and the doctors wont help. Maybe this is just a diary that can help someone else.
I'm 40 y/o male
On 6/20 I went to the ER because from my ribs down to my pelvis were on fire, and i mean it was bad.
To sum up the ER visit, lood work was normal except for high neutrophils low automated Lympocytes low automated eosinophils.
The CT scan with constrast showed
FINDINGS: VISUALIZED CHEST:
Within normal limits. ABDOMEN: STOMACH: Within normal limits. LIVER: Diffuse hepatic steatosis and hepatomegaly measuring 19.9 cm. BILE DUCTS: Normal caliber. GALLBLADDER: No calcified gallstones. No pericholecystic fluid or gallbladder wall thickening. PANCREAS: Within normal limits. SPLEEN: Within normal limits. ADRENALS: Within normal limits. KIDNEYS: There is a 1.5 cm simple cyst right kidney. No calculi or hydronephrosis. PELVIS: REPRODUCTIVE ORGANS: No suspicious pelvic masses. URETERS: Within normal limits. BLADDER: Within normal limits. BOWEL: Normal in caliber without inflammation. The appendix is unremarkable. PERITONEUM: Trace simple pelvic fluid. No pneumoperitoneum. No fluid collection. VESSELS: Within normal limits. LYMPH NODES: No enlarged nodes. FINAL Report ABDOMINAL WALL: Within normal limits. BONES: There is lumbarization of S1.
My weight loss is as follows:
ER 5/20/2024 about 285 ('m not sure they didn't take it but that was my normal weight) Primary CP: 5/29/2024 280.06 (with clothes) GI Doc : 281.18 (with clothes) At home 5/31/2024 280.4 (no clothes) At home: 6/2/2024 278.7 (no clothes)
so at this point roughly 6-9 pds in 13 days.
on 5/23 - 3 days after the ER new sympoms started: i started to have stomach gurggling and what felt like constipation on my pelvis.
Here is the sumamry of my PCP visit: Zolof and see the GI, we'll screen for diabetis (came back negative)
Here is a summary of the GI visit: Your symptoms make no sense, but at this time cancer is the least of what I would be concerned with. You might have GERDs and you might have Gastritis. The pain under your left ribs is unexplainable. Here is the FODMAP diet and if you still have the pain in a month come back. Then something along the lines of gurggling in the stomach and acid reflux by itself are not a cause for concern, there is nothing at all on your CT scan and there is nothing in your blood work. THen the conversation went "At best I would give you an colonscopy but not even sure how to write this up for the insurance company". If you're telling me omeprazole and gas x treat the symptoms then there you go. Basically, what I took from this is the doctor is saying it omeprazole and gas x treats the symtoms it can't be something major. The doctors premise was, basically if you don't have diahrea, you don't have blood, you don't feel anemic, there isn't much to go on here. My main pain would indicate something is wrong with the spleen, but the pain isn't in my back so it can't be that. Here is a pic of the location https://ibb.co/8zRHZGJ . Also, since the pain is intermittent, and not constant not much she could do I told her the discomfort is consistent but the pain is a sharp pain and it comes around every few mintues.. I asked for an endoscopy, but she said with my symptoms she's more likely to do a colonscopy
So we fast forward to today, here are my current symptoms. The pain https://ibb.co/8zRHZGJ is still there, the acid reflux is getting worse, I'm losing weight. In the middle of type this, I had the urge to vomit after drinking some water. This is the 2nd time I've wanted to vomit and when I go to throw up, absolutely nothing is in the vomit. No liquid, no blood, no food, nothing, I mean 0. It feels like I have to burp to clear my throat. I'm not anemic but my sleep is now ruined. I also have frequent urination.
Tomorrow, i'm going to call the GI doc and beg them to do an endoscopy. I'm also calling the PCP doctor to ask for a complete nutrition test, some crazy reason, I don't think I'm absorbing things correctly. I'm also going to call my insurance and see how to get this colonscopy covered.
Thank you for reading.
Edit: 6/27/2024 8:11am. I forgot to mention i am on omeprazole 40mg and gasx extreme. I was just reading frequent urination and foamy pee (which I have) might be a side effect of omeprazole. Also, I have a cyst on my kidney. (just random though here - maybe my weight loss is coming from the omeprazole frequent urination - idk).
I bought an hpylori poop test and it was negative. However, I went through it and I found this .. (NSFW)https://www.reddit.com/poop/comments/1d6dvvi/dark_chunk_is_stool_parasite/

u/SpacePaladin15 is responsible for the creation of the NOP universe. u/JulianSkies is responsible for the creation of a metric fuckton of fics within that universe.
this story is my ficnapping entry for... uhhhh... *checks notes* old scabbard, the allergy, gremlins, game review: escape series, river wolves and meteors. it's probably not strictly necessary to read them to enjoy this ficnap? but you should do it anyway, because they are Very Excellent™.
////////////////////////// Barkeep's Log: Reunion ////// Wednesday, July 9th, 2138 8:16 PM, Brasilia Time //////////////////////////
Ah, the middle of the week. For most bars, it is a time of quiet, of minimal activity. Some scant few people might show up; either regulars who come every day, or those who seek to unwind with a quick drink or just get out of the house for a bit, but they don't often stay long. They get one or two cups, share the bare minimum of a chat, and then get on their merry way.
...But of course, that's just the way humans do things.
The countless aliens who have taken up residence in Sao Paulo since the fall of the Federation simply don't seem to care for our silly calendar. They come in whenever they please, week or weekend, midday or midnight, rain or shine. Sometimes they want to get blackout drunk, other times they just want a quick taste of home. Or, there's always the frequent visitor who's just here to get their fill of social contact. Those ones are perhaps my favorite. After the horrors of the Federation War, and taking refuge on Skalga, I certainly won't ever tire of seeing aliens and humans—total strangers to one another—start chatting and getting along, coexisting in peace and harmony, without anyone batting an eye.
Today, though... was not the typical rush of aliens and one or two human regulars. When the bell above the door jingled and a figure stepped in from the cool outside air, consider my surprise to see not a small fluffy thing with no clothes, but a tall, lanky human man, with a face I hadn't seen in months.
"Lucas," I jovially said. "Welcome. It's good to see you again."
He smiled bashfully and raised an arm in a silent wave, seeing a dozen heads turn to look at him. One head in particular turned much farther than the rest; a gaunt human woman, accompanied by a relaxed venlil—Bella Rivers and Taya, both of whom are... perhaps my most frequent guests. "Oh damn! And here I was starting to think you died in a car accident, Luc," Bella said, clearly surprised to see another human at this hour, letalone one who'd been absent for so long.
"Haha, no..." Lucas said, making a beeline for the bar. "Just been... er, busy, you know how it is. How've things been here?"
Bella cast a brief glance at me, asking a silent question, to which I gave a simple nod. "It's been great," she answered in my stead. "Every day feels like more people know about this place. I keep telling Keeps to start thinking about remodeling, get some more space in here before it starts turning into a moshpit every weekend."
Lucas let out a chuckle. "I almost can't believe you two come here so often that you can say that."
Taya leaned around Bella just enough to look Lucas in the eye. "Well no duh! Where else are we gonna go? Name one pub in this city besides The Crossroad that's licensed to sell alien food and drink, and always cares about dietary restrictions!"
Bella laughed. "Okay girl, you ain't gotta shill that hard."
"Nuh uh. I'm not drunk enough not to shill," the normally-reserved venlil droned. She most certainly was a little drunk...
"Speaking of," I cut in, turning to Lucas. "The usual?"
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You still remember my drink?"
"Of course."
He looked thoughtful for a moment, before smiling. "Yeah. I'd love that."
I wasted no time in gathering my tools and the requisite bottles and ingredients to put together his complicated order. To say I pride myself on remembering my patrons, their quirks, and their likes and dislikes... would be an understatement. What is a barkeep if not the central pillar of the establishment? It simply wouldn't do for me to be anything less than reliable.
"For real though," Bella said. "It's not just the food that keeps us here. Like yeah, I love being able to trust my food, but there's more to it. Just look around," she waved a hand out at the rest of the room, "Isn't it great, seeing so many different people, from so many different walks of life, all come together in one place? Back during the war, I... we never imagined we'd get to see something like this. And yet here we are, back on Earth, with God knows how many aliens just hangin' around, being chill, doing their things."
"Huh... yeah, I guess I can see it-- ah, thanks Keeps," Lucas said as I passed him his completed drink. "If you forget everything that's happened, it kinda does look like how everyone dreamed things would go before first contact."
Bella smiled wistfully, idly swirling her half-full drink with her straw. "I think it's amazing. All these different cultures and faces mashing together at once, just this giant melting pot of people and worldviews and everything."
"...Yeah. It really is incredible."
Bella's brows furrowed as Lucas wasted no time in taking a large swig of his drink. It seemed as if something was on his mind, and perhaps she could tell. "Hey... where have you been, these past few months?"
"I've... well," he put down his glass, staring at it almost disdainfully. And after I'd made it so perfectly for him, to boot. Rude. "I've actually been trying to uh, cut back on the drinking..."
Bella turned, glancing confusedly at Taya, who flicked her tail in equal uncertainty. "Really? But you've always been such a responsible drinker. I don't think I can even remember a single time you've ever caused trouble, or got sick or anything. Did something happen?"
"No, nothing like that. I just wanted... well, here, look at this," he said and produced his holopad, skillfully swiping to his photo album. In seconds, he pulled up a picture of himself alongside an alien with gray fur... and long, floppy, dog-like ears. A farsul. "This is Talon. He's been staying with me since the xenomed center got going full swing."
Taya recoiled at the sight, ears flattening in apparent anger before Bella turned and shot her a firm glare. The venlil immediately shrunk on herself, looking both apologetic, and yet still agitated.
"I'm doing it for him. He... um, let's just say he gets a little nervous," Lucas mumbled. He swiped to another picture, this time with Talon hanging off his arm like a monkey, tongue lolling out of his wide-open muzzle in obvious glee. "He's such a sweet little guy, like the brother I never had. But it wasn't good for him, to be dealing with me coming home drunk. He needs stability, consistency. I... was making him worry whether I'll be the same every time I walk through the door. So I promised him I'd stop."
Bella put a hand on Lucas' shoulder. "Well that's sweet of you. I can tell you care a lot."
Lucas frowned. "Of course I care. After the shit he got put through in those... fucking goddamn facilities."
A bubble of silence surrounded the trio as his words sunk in. Bella swirled her drink one last time before she took a huge swig. Lucas watched her for a moment before he grabbed his own near-full glass and downed the whole of it in one fell swoop.
"Hhh. So much for that," he grumbled as he glared down at his freshly emptied cup. Then his expression softened slightly, turning closer to remorse. "...Sorry. I didn't mean to fuck up the vibe. I uh, got some other pics of him if--"
"No, Lucas, it's okay," Taya suddenly said. "There's nothing wrong with being honest. Especially not in a place like this," she pointed one eye toward me, "ain't that right, Keeps?"
All I could offer in response was a curt nod.
Bella reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. "If something's on your mind, then... c'mon, be straight with us."
Lucas sighed. "I wish there were more I could do for him," he bluntly said. "We've tried so many things to help him stay calm. Breathing exercises, fidget toys, music... but it's never enough. He still just can't function in public, or around new people, or... anywhere. Especially if I'm not there. And I don't know what to do anymore. I keep telling him to take as long as he needs, but I..." Lucas slouched over, holding his head in his hands, "I feel like every time takes a little longer."
"Um... Y'know..." Taya spoke up, as her ears twisted nervously. "It... sounds like, maybe, um... he... needs a friend?"
"I am his friend," Lucas deadpanned.
"N-no, I mean... oorgh, how do I say this?"
"I think what she's trying to say is... if you want a little help, Lucas, we'd be happy to be there for you. For him."
Lucas's brows furrowed for a moment before he seemed to grasp what she was saying, and his eyes went wide. "Really? But-" his eyes locked onto Taya, "but you're--"
Taya shook her head. "Don't say it. I... I know. I know what I am," she all but whispered. "But maybe I don't want to be like... this. Maybe I want to be better. After all, if I'd never tried to have an open mind about humans, I never would've met Bella!"
"Well... okay," Lucas said, as a small smile grew on his face. "Here. Lemme get your numbers, and I'll talk to him, and we'll get in touch?"
Bella nodded and presented her pad, as Taya did the same. "Yep! And hey, if he isn't up to meeting in person, maybe you can see if he wants to try just being... like, pen pals or something?"
"Hah. He's not a child, you know. But thanks. I really mean it."
"I know you mean it. We're glad to help."
The three of them tapped pads to exchange contacts, and with that, their fates became intertwined. Whatever may happen to them after today, I cannot know. A humble barkeeper such myself shan't be blessed with the absolutes of the future. Some may try to predict what is to come, but I believe the future is theirs to decide, that they may take whatever happens in their own hands and mold it to their will.
It is all I can hope that Bella and Taya will return and share with me the stories of their antics. Or, as unlikely as it seems, perhaps Lucas could bring Talon here, for them both to participate in this gathering of souls; for them to find joy among friends new and old; for the chance to walk the wondrous crossroads of life and love.
​
////////////////////////// Barkeep's Log: Scampering Menaces ////// Monday, July 14th, 2138 1:39 PM, Brasilia Time //////////////////////////
Monday. The day of loathing. Of rest and relaxation coming to an end. Of waking up early, getting ready for work, and repeating yet another week of monotony. Some would question my sanity, to open the bar at all on a Monday, letalone to do so at noon. But those foolish few simply haven't seen how excited aliens can be about something so mundane as lunch.
But alas, the lunch rush never persists forever, and just like always, I eventually found my beloved pub woefully empty. As it would likely stay for the rest of the afternoon, save for the occasional visitor with a more unusual schedule.
...Or, perhaps, should I be so lucky... a much more rare sight; a true oddity, who might seek to come here only during the dead hours.
And wouldn't you know, it was on this day that I was blessed with one such patron. Or... multiple patrons. A human and a trio... no, quartet of dossur. It was very much a challenge for me to keep track of the little sapient rodents as they skittered about, both on and literally around their human, but I was more than certain that there were definitely only four of them.
At first, I thought there were three dossur. But then one of them retreated into their human's apparently rather spacious hoodie, and a very distinctly different dossur came out. She looked... mangy, for lack of a polite term, with numerous patches of discolored and uneven fur, and what appeared to be a few healed scars. It was clear to me that she must have been through something horrible, and yet had been saved by the miracle of modern medicine.
The small group's incursion upon my shop was... relatively peaceful. They certainly had no qualms about using their outdoor voices, speaking loudly and freely about whatever came to mind, from plans for when they got home, to theorycrafting about potential vacations they could take, and even to the status of the Sapient Coalition as a whole. I, of course, had no right to begrudge them for being so noisy—they were the only ones in the bar, after all.
But everything changed when the front door swung open, the gentle dingle of the bell heralding the arrival of yet another rare antisocial patron.
To my surprise, this newcomer was another human. But not just any human, oh no, this was a very particular human. One who I could say might be somewhat of a regular, despite his tendency to avoid the busier hours. It was no trouble for me to recognize him from the slightest glance, as his unforgettable silver hair, and the red highlights within, matched gorgeously with his red scarf.
As he entered, a somewhat shorter than average venlil trailed close behind. He too wore a red scarf, though for a... different reason. A deeply personal reason, that neither he nor his human have ever seemed keen to share. And I, out of respect for them both, shan't pry.
With a brief, wary glance at the table of chaos, the two of them made their way toward the bar. They hardly made it more than a few steps before a painfully loud shriek, followed by three more of the same, damn near shattered every piece of glass in my bar.
"HUMY!!!!!" "OH MY GOD HI!!" "JOHN! LOOK!!" "Don't yell in my ear--" "Wait is it really-- IT IS! GUYS GET OUT HERE--"
And in a staggering instant... where I thought there were only four dossur, I was once again proven thoroughly WRONG. From within John's hoodie came not one, not two, but four more of the little bastards! There were eight of them! They all scampered up their poor handler's arms and stood on his head and shoulders, waving their whole bodies and jumping up and down, and being so very loud.
"HI HUMY!!!!!!!!" "HI!!!" "HIIIIII!!!!!!" "He's so tall..." "Is that VV?? HI VV!!" "WOW I didn't know his hair was really that white!"
Humy, while certainly shocked by the sudden attention, somehow managed to take it in stride. He raised a hand and waved back to the crowd of not-squirrels, the action shutting them up for only a moment before they started squealing even LOUDER in sheer excitement.
"Guys... Y'all oughta quiet down a bit," John said... or so I think. I frankly couldn't hear him over the orchestra of rodent insanity.
One particularly bold dossur—the one with the damaged fur—made her way down from the chaos table and practically sprinted to Humy's legs, before climbing him like a tree. He recoiled in surprise, but she kept going until she was leaning off the top of his head, staring straight into his eyes. The others went silent, waiting with bated breath for whatever might happen next.
...
"Hi."
The poor man, frazzled, startled, accosted-by-an-alien-squirrel, took a long moment before he figured out what to do about this situation. "Um. Hi."
Unfortunately, that was the wrong response.
"HE SAID HI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" "I WANNA SAY HI TO HUMY!!" "THAT'S NOT FAIR, HOW COME SHE GETS--" "JOHN!!!" "Guys, pl--" "--TO SAY HI TO HIM?!?!!?!" "JOHN BRING US TO HIM OR DIE"
John abruptly slapped the table and stood up, nearly flinging half of his passengers in different directions as they panicked and clung to him for dear life. "I'm so sorry," he quickly said, "They're not usually like this. We'll just be going," he turned to me, making eye contact for an instant, "Cya later, Keeps."
"No, wait!" Humy said, just barely before the swarm could scream their collective dissent. "Please don't. I don't mind, I promise. All I ask is you quieten down a notch, is that okay?"
The dossur looked amongst each other; some of them drooped in shame, while others seemed to simply not grasp the relevance of the request. But in the end, it was John who spoke up first. "He's right, guys. Y'all need to tone it down. No more screaming."
"Okay?" "Sorry..." "Makes sense." "SURE!!--"
John immediately snatched up that particular troublemaker before stuffing him in his hoodie, never to be seen again.
"Ah... anyway..." Humy said, and gestured to the counter, where VV had already taken a seat during the commotion. John took the unspoken invitation, and the middle-aged man reunited with his friend as the dossur wrangler sat on his other side.
The swarm, of course, wasted no time in dismounting John and lining up right in front of poor Humy. Or, well, only two of them lined up. One crawled up onto his sleeve, two onto his shoulders, and the last simply kept climbing around, seemingly not intent on stopping ever. The seventh and eighth remained imprisoned in John's pocket and sprawled out atop Humy's head, respectively.
"Is Humy your real name?" "Why's your hair white?" "Your scarves are so cool!" "What's your favorite fruit?"
Humy burst out in a fit of chuckles, evidently amused by the dossur speaking over each other in their haste to treat him like a talking jungle gym. "Wow. John, right?" he turned to the other human, who gave a curt nod. "How do you live with this?"
"Very patiently," John deadpanned. "No one would ever believe me if I told them these little shits are highly trained Marines."
"Have you ever been on a cruise?" "What's your favorite game?" "If I gave you a strawberry, would you eat it?" "Are you two dating?" "Seriously, why's your hair white!?"
"Okay, okay, c'mon, one at a time! Why don't all of you line up right here in front of me, and I'll go down the line?"
"No." "...Nah." "It's comfy up here." "And it's boring down there!" "And your hair smells good..."
Humy sighed and shook his head, but his smile betrayed his mirth at the situation. "Fine... let's see... you, at the very top. What's your question?"
"Huh? Oh, uhhh-" the mangled one trailed off. She'd been rather quiet the whole time. "Hmm... what's your next video gonna be, and when's it gonna be out?"
"Ooh!" "Yeah!" "Yes yes yes tell us!" "Genius question, Fée!"
Humy, despite the dossurs' excitement, grimaced. "I'm sorry, you guys, but I can't answer that. I just can't leak upcoming content!"
"Auugh!" "Noo c'mon!" "What." "That's not fair!"
"But..." Humy cut them off, looking thoughtful. "Well... maybe I can tell you one thing. I might have something very, very special lined up soon. Do you all remember when I played that thafki game, Survivor? Well I--"
Humy jumped, startled as VV—who'd been totally quiet and unobtrusive the whole time—abruptly grabbed his sleeve and tugged it sharply. A sheepish expression spread across the human's face. "Oops! Can't spoil the surprise. Sorry! How 'bout we hear another question?"
The dossur pouted, looking dejected, disappointed and all-around displeased. But, with that, the seven tiny herbivores quickly moved on, and continued to pester Humy with evermore nonsense. Too much nonsense. Truly, veritably, too much.
It wasn't until hours later, around 4 PM, that both parties finally grew fatigued and split ways. In the wake of their madness, I could feel nothing but gratitude for the fact that, despite their behavior, the rodents hadn't made a mess of anything, nor skipped out on their tab. While they were loud, and excitable, and far too much enjoyed using poor Humy as a playground... they weren't hooligans. They were, in the end, people. Not just noisy squirrels.
With that in mind... perhaps, maybe, just maybe, next time they come in... I wouldn't be unwilling to greet them, to welcome them to this place of character and merriment; to welcome their uniqueness among the myriad faces that make themselves known; to invite them in as members, as friends, as we all tread upon the ever-exciting crossroads of greetings and farewells.
​
////////////////////////// Barkeep's Log: Mayflies ////// Friday, August 1st, 2138 9:05 PM, Brasilia Time //////////////////////////
Ah, the weekend. For a bar, it is the busiest time one could imagine. But for a bartender such as myself, it is so much more. The activity, the bustle, the countless different people coming together and simply being themselves. Just by merely being here, serving drinks and dinner to all who would want it, I am blessed with the wondrous opportunity to overhear talk and tales of peoples' lives—their homes, their hopes and dreams, their fears and regrets.
And today, of course, was no exception. Perchance, allow me to skip the lengthy preamble and get to the good stuff.
The moment an elderly, borderline decrepit old man entered the bar, he had my attention. Someone his age, coming somewhere like this, alone? The scenario piqued my curiosity.
He had a tired air to him, something between boredom, the general fatigue that comes with such advanced age and... if my keen eyes didn't deceive me, a touch of discomfort. As if he was out of his element in some way, not quite sure what to do with himself. He kept silent, bothering no one as he approached the counter and scanned one of the many QR codes plastered around the dining room.
His face stayed the same as he reviewed The Crossroads' prodigious menu, as though he was unimpressed with our unrivaled selection. But then, he paused, and something changed in his stance. His eyes flicked up and met mine, his expression suddenly lit ablaze, full of energy that wasn't there before. "Redtato tacos?" he curtly asked, sounding almost bewildered. His gaze dropped back down to the menu, to the other dishes on that same page. "Spice plates... cricket burgers," he looks back up at me, wearing a deranged grin, "even goddamn ichor ice cream? You're insane."
"Insane? Tell me you're new here without telling me," a new voice interjected. One of the other patrons—a thafki, who unlike her kin, had taken to wearing a black hoodie with the emblem of the United Nations—turned to us, appearing amused as she looked between me and the old man. "Wow, you're a perfect match for one another. Didn't think humans could get any older than ol' Barkeep here. What's someone as ancient as you doing here, new guy?"
"Hah. I like you, Blue," the man said as he took a seat beside the nosy and maybe slightly drunk alien.
"My name's not Blue. Call me Ayeli."
He held out a hand toward Ayeli. She glanced at it before shaking it without a second thought. "Ryusei," he said, before eyeing her beverage. "Tell you what, Barkeep, gimme one of whatever that is. And a refill for her, if she'll have it."
"Saltwine," I said, and reached beneath the counter to procure the bottle from which I'd poured Ayeli's first glass. I turned it back and forth in front of him, letting him read the translated label. "Be warned. This is a specialty item. It is not to most peoples' tastes, nor is it cheap."
"Pfft just do it. I've eaten rocks, you old coot."
The sheer brazenness of his words, the unwavering resolve in his eyes, and the utter lack of hesitation in his voice, took me truly off guard for the first time in a long, long while. "I'm not an old coot, you bumbling codger," I grumbled as I took a glass and filled it. Then, putting my professional facade back on just like nothing ever happened, I turned to Ayeli and hovered the bottle over her cup. She gave a thumbs up, and I poured.
Ryusei stared at me with a smug grin. "Pff. Looked in a mirror lately? Time ain't been good to you, friend. Look at all them gray hairs. Yeek."
"I can poison you in seventeen different ways," I deadpanned.
"As if I'd even be able to tell? There's nothing you can do to me that my body hasn't done at least twice already."
"Venlise alcohol. Not diluted."
"Now there'd be a challenge..." he murmured, before his attention drifted to his idle drink. He raised the glass to his lips and took a hearty sip, allowing the fluid—its texture, its flavor—to rest in his mouth before swallowing. "Mmh. Damn."
"You like it?" Ayeli asked.
"Y'know what? Yeah. Shit's weird in all the right ways. Hits your tongue like a pile of salt, but goes down smooth. No aftertaste, no burn, just a quick slap in the face and then it's gone."
Ayeli drummed her fingers on the counter before taking a long swig of her own drink. "Mmmhmm. That's how it is. How it's meant to be. I can't wait 'til someone figures out how to make this stuff for cheap."
"Speaking of. Ey Barkeep, put me down for one of them fucked up tacos. Let's see just how close a buncha earthlings can get to authentic Martian cuisine."
With a nod and several practiced movements, I had his request sent to the kitchen in seconds. I don't believe he saw me even touch the order pad with how fast I was.
"...Martian?" Ayeli asked. "Now hang on. That's... the red planet, no?"
"Mhm," The man let out a grunt of affirmation. "First planet humanity settled besides Earth. It's a dead, empty husk. Nothing but rocks and dust and solar radiation. I was born there."
"Huh. What're you doing here, then? There no bars on Mars?"
"...Classified."
"Oh. Yeah..."
Quiet spread between the two, Ayeli staring blankly into her own reflection within her glass. Ryusei's eyes slowly drifted toward her as his brow furrowed. "You... were a soldier, huh?"
Ayeli jolted, startled by the question. "Wh--? How... I mean, yeah. I guess I was. But how can you tell?"
"Eh. I've been there. Where you are now."
"...What?"
He took another sip. "You know how it is. Everything goes to shit. Then it gets better. Now everyone's pretending life is back to normal, and you have to pretend too. Even if you lost friends. Or family. Or... parts of yourself."
...
Ayeli frowned. "I... yeah. I guess."
"You guess?"
"It's... it's not that I've lost people. Or parts of myself," she said. "It's not even that I have to pretend that everything's back to normal."
Ryusei raised an eyebrow.
"All things considered, I've lost nothing. I joined the UN Marines, killed some lizards, and now I'm here. And I'm fine. Not even 'oh you're lying to yourself, you need a therapist' fine, but just... actually fine."
"Why's that, do you think?"
"I don't know. All my friends are so much worse off than me. They're all... fucked up, from everything. But I'm not. I just don't feel anything."
"I just... shouldn't I feel something?" she continued. "I've killed people. Drowned people. Slit throats. But whenever I think about it, there's just nothing. No guilt, no shame, no... no empathy."
"I understand," Ryusei breathed. Something behind his eyes changed, his tone becoming more... genuine. "You and I are alike, in a way."
"...Really?"
Ryusei swirled his drink before taking a quick sip. "When I was younger, I was part of something bigger than myself. It was dangerous as all hell—sixty percent fatality rate—but I was glad to be doing it. Glad to be playing my part. Happy to risk my life so someone else doesn't have to. But then it was over, and I got back to life like normal. I got my accolades, I took my damn awards, and I went home. And that was that."
"Except it wasn't," he continued. "I went home, and found out my family had ripped themselves apart. Half of em were obviously over the moons with pride, knowing I'd been there in the very front and came home a goddamn hero. But the rest... they had been scared. Terrified they'd never see me again. It was all they wanted for me to just come home and be safe."
"And... that's what got you?" Ayeli asked. Something in her voice was vulnerable, almost afraid. "The fact that you were ready to move on, but no one else was?"
Ryusei nodded. "I felt like a shithead not because I'd almost died a hundred times, but because I'd been the reason my parents got divorced."
Ayeli stared into nothing, dead silent for a long moment before she grabbed her drink and downed the remainder of it in one go. "F-fuck," she rasped. "It was supposed to go back to normal. We were supposed to have our happy ending. So why is everyone still like this? Why can't we just be okay now?"
"Because people need time, kid. You and I are the exceptions. You'll get your happy ending, you just... gotta wait. Gotta be there for them when they need you."
"How?"
"Whatever way you can. My little brother got hit the hardest by our parents' shitshow. He couldn't stand being around either of them. So I would drive him out to the middle of nowhere, and we'd just watch the universe go by. We'd count the stars, talk about how small we are, how it just keeps going, how empty it all is, yet still teeming with mystery. By the end of it, we'd both be feeling better... and then we'd do it again a week later when we felt like shit again. And on and on, for years."
"...We've already seen the stars though. How would that help?"
Ryusei slid his glass over to Ayeli, offering her the last few sips he had. "There are more things of beauty in this world than just the stars. Take it from me, old fart that I am—if you just take the time to look, you can find meaning anywhere. Even things you might take for granted."
Ayeli perked up, as if she'd realized something. "The ocean..."
"Something like that."
"It's... it's simple, it's mundane, it's so normal to us now that we can just go swimming whenever we like. But ten years ago, that would've been different. We... we did it. We changed it. For ourselves. We won."
"You hit the nail on the head, Blue. Tell all that to your pals. Really show them that it's over."
She looked down at the drink she'd been given, and lifted it to her lips to take a small sip. "An ocean of water, an ocean of stars... what difference does it make? Maybe you're right. Maybe we really are alike."
"Both have been around for millenia. And both will be there still, long after we're gone," Ryusei said. He looked down at his hands, an odd half-smile on his face. "Call me a sentimental old coot, but part of me still finds comfort in the stars. An infinite sea of beacons, shining in every direction for eternity. Always there, always waiting, no matter what."
"Mmm... y'know, it's funny. Our ancient ancestors probably each thought the same at one point or another. Wonder if any of 'em ever looked up in just the right place, at the right time... and looked straight at each other, even if they didn't know it."
"Heh. As much as I want to rain on your parade and say that's impossible... well, just look at the two of us, eh? The chance that we both would happen to be here, right now. Maybe it's not. The universe is pretty damn huge, and yet here we are."
Ayeli sat up straight in her seat, a determined look spreading across her face. "Yeah. I... I think I know what to do. How to help everyone else move on. Thanks for the drinks, 'Keep. And the chat, Ryusei."
"Yeah yeah. Go on, get outta here. Get back to your friends."
The thafki nodded and gave us both a smile, and then with one last wave goodbye, she made her way out of the establishment. Ryusei sighed and turned back to the bar, crossing his arms and slouching in that tired, past-our-prime way we both must know so well.
Before long, his plate of redtato tacos were brought out, and without another word, he got to work. He remained silent as he ate, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was satisfied.
"Alright... yeah, yeah you did good..." he said when there was nothing left to eat. "I'll remember this place. Think if I ever end up 'round here again, I might stop by."
"You'll always be welcome... until you call me old again. Then you might find something different in your cup than you ordered."
He laughed, grinning like a madman as he stood from his seat. "Bold of you to threaten me with a good time. Now I'm definitely coming back!"
With that, he paid for his meal and his and Ayeli's drinks, and just as suddenly as it all began, he was gone. The cycle of greetings and goodbyes played its part yet again, bringing us together and pulling us apart as if no time had passed at all.
But where his and Ayeli's presence left my bar, their imprints have not. In my memory, and theirs, lies the everlasting essence of our encounter. The feelings of meeting, of learning, of sharing ourselves—and above all else, the words they spoke. The sentiment has truly been burned into my recollection, never to be forgotten with how it touched my heart, my very soul.
How wondrous it is that two people so similar and yet so different could ever meet. The universe is vast—immeasurably so—and still they both happened to be in the right place at the right time for their lives to become intertwined. Is it coincidence? Is it fate? I can't possibly know. Such things are beyond my station. All I can say for certain is that it will happen again, and again, on an eternal cycle. So long as life itself persists, people will always be bound to find one another.
And that, I believe... is the true beauty of our crossroads of destiny.
//////////////////////////

33M - Inflamed feeling, tightness, very weak - Left breast & left lat/rib area 10 days+ - but has now mostly dissipated. Instead having fairly extreme shortness of breath. Worried I might me having mild reactions to Amoxillin
Doctors are not sure
33M, 92kg, exercise ~5 days/week, Stable, looking for help with potential diagnosis.
Doctors are struggling to understand my issues. At this point my symptoms are improving but I want to understand what happened. Any help is really appreciated.
19/05/24

• start feeling a slight tightness in my chest under the armpit that wrapped on top of the breast like a band. Tighter on the breast but cant specifically pinpoint. 'inflamed and hard' is how I would describe it.

-mildly uncomfortable, but otherwise unaffected. Nervous as its in the heart region.-Continues more or less the same for a few days.
22/05/24
-then on May 22 woke up at 4am extremely dizzy & faint. Pain in chest. I've never felt like this. Could feel heart but I don’t think it was racing. Went to hospital. X-ray/urine/blood/trompoid/ekg all checked out. Was held for 8 hours, rerunning tests
-started getting light "thudding" pain in left upper chest region that came and went & burning sensantion. Tightness remains
-since then have been unable to sleep except sitting up or on my left side. Any other resting position causes burning and increased tightness that keeps getting worse rapidly as I stay in that position.
24/05/24
-on Friday 24 drove to town nearby as we had weekend plans which was 300m higher elevation. condition worsened while there.

• Tried driving a bit, but going up higher to ~800m seemed to put too much “pressure” on my heart. It seems the tightness significantly increased. The town was at 400m.
• Spent the weekend very weak. Walking fast would exhaust me, laying in bed was the only option.

25/05/24

• Started feeling chest tightness across whole chest ~10pm. Took an ibuprofen
• Struggling not to panic, dark times. Feelings of impending doom and ruined life heh.
• Panicked around 1am on 26/04/24 and went to hospital. Again no issues on ekg/blood test/xray.
• Given aspirin. That seemed to help.

26/05/24

• Drove back down. 500mg Aspirin every ~4hr really seemed to alleviate the thudding pain and the 'inflamed feeling' across top left breast and down the left lat..
• While driving, may be paranoia***,*** but it felt as if changing altitude quickly (up and down hills) would trigger the thudding pain...Irritate the 'inflamed' area.

27/05/24

• I’m now getting light shoulder pain and inner elbow pain on my left arm and pain on top of my left foot (that may be unrelated?).... This may also just be from sleeping on my left side every night.

28/05/24

• Go to doctor, another EKG, all good. Considers it might be Pleurisy. I was able to generate some light pain when breathing in as deeply as possible.
• Prescribed Naproxen & Lansoprazole and Amoxillin. I have not taken the Amoxicillin due to paranoia, I dont want to start all the meds at once and the Naproxen hit me quite hard at first.
• The tightness and burning sensation is still there on my left breast & random light pain comes and goes on top of left foot
• The combination of left breast + lat Feels very much like it’s inflamed. Feeling by night by spreads to my back and dorsal lat on my back
• Figured out if I put pressure on left side ribs, It causes thuds of pain that spread a little bit across left side. Same as if I push down on chest
• Took 2 Naproxen and napped around 11am. Woke up very groggy, brain fog rest of day.
  • Lowered dose to 1 in the evening (7pm)
  • Went to bed sitting up.
  • Around midnight feeling a lot of tightness in left breast & top of diaphragm. Thats new! Felt like tightness but could still breathe decently.
  • Very rarely get sharp pain if breathe in deep quickly (maybe 3-4 times in 6 hours)
  • Took another Naproxen - fell asleep around 2am.

29/05/04 - Took 2 Naproxen and napped around 11pm. Woke up very groggy, brain fog rest of day. - Lowered dose to 1 in the evening (7pm) - Went to bed sitting up. - Around midnight feeling a lot of tightness in left breast & top of diaphragm. Felt like tightness but could still breathe decently. - Very rarely get sharp pain if breathe in deep quickly (maybe 3-4 times in 6 hours) - Took another Naproxen - fell asleep around 2. - Woke up with same tightness ~7:30am. Easier to manage once walking around. - Very comfortable 9:30-11. - 11:30 symptoms worsened, Diaphragm very tight. Pressure band on upper left chest returned (mild tightness) - 12:30 Felt better, took 250mg (1 pill) Naproxen. By 1:30pm feeling almost normal with light diaphragm pressure while sitting and light discomfort in right chest while walking. When I sit down I can feel tightness in left chest area. - 9pm took naproxen (1.5 pills). went for walk to dinner at 8.. Symptoms worse, tight chest/diaphragm and burning sensation/tightness on left breast and lat :( right breast is fine. - 9:50: pain gone but groggy. Assume Naproxen kicked in
30/05/24 - 5am: woke up to little discomfort for once, bit of chest tightness, pain in top of left foot~5am - 8:45am: Had a bit of coffee+honey+cacao. Sat down to work, light thudding pain in left breast felt. Not sure if related to coffee. Light tightness across rib lat has returned. We are now 12hrs from last dose, Naproxen should be gone. - 9:30 - Naproxen - 16:30 - Started to deteriorate- chest tightness - 17:00 - Took amoxicillin. Around 18:30 chest feeling very tight around sternum and at bottom of each breast. - 8pm, feeling quite stable. Will take naproxen at 9. Accidentally ate so will not take lanzoprazole. - 10:30 first time in a long time able to lay on my chest for a little while.
31/05/24

• woke up light nauseous at 7. Little/no pain
• Took Amoxicillin 7:40
• 10:25 lanzoprazole. Not really in pain.
• 11:00 - (1) 250mg nazopren
• 1:45: Took Amoxicillin
• 4pm no pain except when lying down
• 5:30 - went to grocery story. A bit tired
• 7:43 -lanzoprazole - left upper chest area lightly aching while sitting on couch. Seems to improve when sitting forward
• 8:30 ? Taken Nazoprenx2 pain in left chest is significant and general chest tightness
• 9:40 - gotten worse. Left breast near armpit feels very inflamed. Chest very tight. Not sure what triggered this flare.

01/06/24 - 7:40 - woke, took Amxilin. no pain or Inflamed feeling on breast, chest a bit tight - 11 - took lanzó chest starting to feel a bit inflamed - 11:40 - not feeling pain. took 1.25 naproxen. - 3:50pm - Tightness worsening from ~3. Very light discomfort in left breast. Took amx - 7:30 take lzprn. Feeling a little groggy. - 8:15pm felt light thud pain in lbreast and left rib cage but now fine. Took 2xNaz @ 8pm - 9:30 chest tightness - Last amx ~ 11. Struggling to sleep - intense chess tightness, particularly behind ribs. Different from before where it was higher up - Salbutamol at 12:40 1 puff - Fell asleep around 3am. Felt like my body kept jolting me awake due to lack of breathing.
02/06/24 - 8am - slightly tight chest - 9:45 am - took amoxicillin, took ventolin - 10:40 - took lanzoprazone. Chest tightness is very significant. left side thudding chest pain appearing in area under armpit - intermittent. I’m very tired. Took ventolin - 11:40 - took nazoprene 1.25. walk to pharmacy. Slightly dizzy. Lower chest/diaphragm tightness is intense. Had to sit to calm down/ feel like I was getting air. Still very tight. Now have diarrhea - 1:12 - ventolin. Very tight lungs. Head feeling tight as well. Bleak.

Hi everyone! I'm 40/F and was diagnosed with a arm DVT in December. This was a few weeks after a really terrible injection in my arm (the nurse was extremely rough), and that's how we believe it happened.
I was on Eliquis for three months. Clot was small and gone by the time they looked in February, and in March they also did my blood work and my d-dimer was completely normal. I'm off now, and I'm just curious: is the anxiety for another common? For example, this week I've been having some chest pains. (Not cardiac-but they do hurt a lot worse when I press on my chest) And honestly, I've had a sore throat, a minimal cough (very minimal, maybe cough a few times a day), and my nose is starting to get stuffy. I was tested yesterday for strep and the walk in clinic was like "it sounds like a viral infection", as I sounded good and they said nothing was alarming. However, I immediately go to "what if this is a PE now???" (When honestly: a viral infection clearly makes sense!)
I've never even had anxiety over a PE before lol but now post DVT, I am constantly thinking of it and worrying like crazy. Is this normal for many clot survivors? Is there anything that helps you guide yourself through it?

A lot of the stories I see are from earlier in first trimester. I was between 10-11 weeks. First I’ll share a little about my experience, then timeline of events and closing thoughts. Like some of you, this wasn’t an unwanted pregnancy. Unexpected, yes, unwanted, no. So, I knew it was going to be difficult mentally and probably will be as long as I live. I believe if the pregnancy were unwanted I wouldn’t feel so miserable right now.
I had zofran (nausea), oxycodone, ibuprofen, anxiety medication. My heating pad was my best friend.
Experience: Overall, the pain was honestly less than my period pain. I have had severe, crippling periods for as long as I can remember, and I believe the ibuprofen and oxycodone and staying on top of that helped immensely. I really need to caution you that you may see the fetus, especially if you are further along. You may not if it comes out with other tissue. I was not prepared for it and I think I’m probably going to have that burned into my brain for the rest of my life. I apologized, prayed, and I am hopeful that when we get through the unexpected difficulties that the sweet soul will come back to me.
Timeline:
First dose Friday
Saturday - 4p - nausea meds and pain meds - I really think the 45 minutes prior to miso was a sweet spot. 4:45P - 4 tablets in cheeks - really didn’t dissolve as much as I thought so I’d sip water and force it into my cheeks to try and help 5:25P - swished and swallowed mushy chalky pills. Mild cramping already beginning. Heating pad on. Pain 1/10 5:50P - oxycodone made me tired, but I was too anxious to rest 6:00P - 2/10 cramping 7:00P - 2/10 cramping - just consistent 7:36P - spotting 7:45P - 3/10 8:30P - small clots, waves of 4/10 pain 8:45P - more pain medication 9:10P - pressure. 9:30P - pretty big clot and tissue 9:50P - more pressure 10:00P - a lot of blood and clots 10-11:30P - steady cramping maybe a 5/10. Pain control is key. 11:50P - the hardest moment of my life was when I was on my side and felt it leave my cervix. The cramps disappeared and I knew what happened but thought there would be a bunch of tissue. When I went into the bathroom, unfortunately the fetus was in the pad. Pretty traumatized by it and had to have my husband flush. I was able to say goodbye, apologize for not being able to give it a life it deserved in our current state, and prayed it would come back to me one day - but who knows - I’m old. My husband wasn’t really able to be empathetic (supportive yes but empathy is not his strong suit) until he saw..so for that reason I’m actually grateful. I think it gave him an opportunity to realize what I’ve been going through and that there really was something that he would have bonded with could we have kept it. 1:13A - Cramping again but very mild. My husband has been sitting with me since it happened and we just talked and cried. 7A - still cramping. Still bleeding. Feels like a bad period.
Closing thoughts, will come back to update as needed:
I feel very sad but numb today. I was looking at the workbook and all signs would probably point to depression as I started working through some of the pages and just extreme guilt. This is not surprising and I am already on medication for anxiety and depression.
I am working on being kind to myself. We had to make a decision based on our current circumstance and I will probably always question it. I am so hopeful that this isn’t it for me, but part of me thinks I don’t deserve a healthy pregnancy in the future because of this.
It’s all hard. I respect all of you so much for having to make a difficult choice but so grateful to this community for the support in a world where there is none. Where I can’t really even talk to my family and now my husband and I just have this secret. No one knows your circumstance. Whether the pregnancy was unwanted or wanted, you all deserve to choose.

Introduction
Mustard oil, extracted from mustard seeds, has been a staple in various cuisines and traditional medicine for centuries. Its robust flavor and numerous health benefits make it a valuable addition to any household. In this article, we will explore the advantages of mustard oil, its various uses, and the convenience of purchasing it online.

What is Mustard Oil?

Mustard oil is derived from the seeds of the mustard plant. Known for its strong aroma and pungent taste, it is widely used in cooking, skincare, and traditional remedies. The oil is rich in essential nutrients, making it a powerhouse of health benefits.

Nutritional Profile of Mustard Oil

Mustard oil is rich in:

• Omega-3 and Omega-6 fatty acids: Essential for heart health and reducing inflammation.
• Monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats: Help in maintaining healthy cholesterol levels.
• Vitamins A, D, E, and K: Important for skin health, bone health, and overall well-being.
• Antioxidants: Protect the body from oxidative stress and chronic diseases.

Health Benefits of Mustard Oil

Promotes Heart Health

The high levels of monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats in mustard oil help reduce bad cholesterol levels, promoting a healthier heart. Regular consumption can aid in preventing heart diseases and maintaining overall cardiovascular health.

Boosts Immunity

Mustard oil contains powerful antioxidants and essential vitamins that strengthen the immune system. Its antimicrobial properties also help in fighting infections and keeping the body healthy.

Enhances Skin Health

Topical application of mustard oil can improve skin texture and treat various skin conditions. Its anti-inflammatory properties help soothe irritated skin, while the antioxidants promote a youthful and radiant complexion.

Supports Joint Health

The anti-inflammatory properties of mustard oil make it an excellent remedy for joint pain and stiffness. Massaging the oil onto affected areas can provide relief from arthritis and other inflammatory conditions.

Aids in Digestion

Mustard oil stimulates the secretion of digestive juices, enhancing the digestive process. It also has mild laxative properties that help in preventing constipation and promoting regular bowel movements.

Culinary Uses of Mustard Oil

Mustard oil is a versatile ingredient in the kitchen. Here are some popular culinary uses:

1. Cooking Oil

Mustard oil can be used as a primary cooking oil for frying, sautéing, and tempering. Its high smoke point makes it suitable for high-heat cooking.

2. Salad Dressings

Adding a few drops of mustard oil to salad dressings can impart a unique flavor and boost the nutritional value of your salads.

3. Pickles and Preserves

In many traditional cuisines, mustard oil is used for making pickles and preserves. Its strong flavor and preservative qualities enhance the taste and shelf life of these delicacies.

4. Marinades

Marinating meats and vegetables with mustard oil can enhance their flavor and make them more tender. The oil's robust taste pairs well with various spices and herbs.

The Convenience of Buying Mustard Oil Online

Wide Range of Options

Purchasing mustard oil online provides access to a wide variety of brands and product types, including organic and cold-pressed options. You can easily compare products and choose the best one for your needs.

Competitive Pricing

Online platforms often offer competitive pricing and discounts, making it more affordable to buy mustard oil in bulk. This can be especially beneficial for households that use the oil regularly.

Home Delivery

One of the significant advantages of buying mustard oil online is the convenience of home delivery. You can have this beneficial oil delivered right to your doorstep, saving time and effort.

Customer Reviews

Online shopping allows you to read customer reviews and ratings before making a purchase. This feedback can help you make informed decisions and select high-quality products.

FAQs About Mustard Oil

Is mustard oil safe for cooking? Yes, mustard oil is safe for cooking and is commonly used in various culinary applications.
Can mustard oil be used for skin care? Absolutely, mustard oil can be applied topically to improve skin health and treat various skin conditions.
How should mustard oil be stored? Store mustard oil in a cool, dark place to maintain its freshness and prevent it from going rancid.
Is mustard oil good for hair care? Yes, mustard oil can be used to nourish the scalp and promote healthy hair growth.
Are there any side effects of using mustard oil? Mustard oil is generally safe for use, but it should be used in moderation. Excessive use can cause skin irritation or digestive issues.
What are some popular recipes using mustard oil? Mustard oil can be used in a variety of dishes, including curries, stir-fries, pickles, and marinades. It adds a unique flavor and enhances the overall taste of the food.
Conclusion
Mustard oil is a nutrient-rich oil that offers numerous health benefits. From promoting heart health to enhancing skin and joint health, this oil is a valuable addition to your diet and wellness routine. The convenience of buying mustard oil online ensures that you can easily incorporate this beneficial oil into your lifestyle. Embrace the health benefits of mustard oil and explore the culinary possibilities it offers. Read about it more here .

Dear All,
I'm curious if anybody else noticed something similar: I've started having SFN symptoms in my feet, hands and trunk, about one and a half year ago, which slowly got worse in the first six months. Then I realized that all my symptoms depended on the food I consumed (but not in a diabetic way, I had a two hour insulin and sugar test with perfect results). It seems my body started reacting to certain food and if I avoided them, all my symptoms resolved slowly. I found that potatoes, pork fat and chicken meat were safe, so I started eating only those and like I mentioned, I got back to normal. However, anytime I tried eating something else (like vegetables), even for a day, I could feel the pain coming back mildly the next morning. But again, if I went back to eating only the safe foods, in a few days all pain went away. Since then I've also realized that the range of foods I react to grows, so just recently I've had to stop eating chicken and I can also no longer take supplements either. The worsening always starts about a day after I eat something that I'm reacting to. During this time I also have mild skin issues and throat tightness, so I'm exploring MCAS as a possibility, but my symptoms somehow not fully fitting it. But based on the fact that even a small ammount of trigger food casues problems, I would think this is still an immune reaction. I'd like to ask if the above sounds familiar to anybody, and if you maybe found out the cause? Thank you in advance!

[PWYW] Red Mask Inn: a scalable horror one-shot (levels 1-10)
This is my favorite thing I've written so far. My players who play-tested the adventure had a blast so I hope you all will enjoy it as well.
Upon entering a seemingly innocuous tavern, players quickly realize it’s not the refuge they expected. The innkeeper and his ‘daughter,’ the serving girl, are not what they seem. Beneath their facades lie malevolent beings with a taste for their guests. Facing both mental and physical trials, the players must outwit these monsters before they become the evening’s special.
The players will start their ordeal facing terrifying nightmares. Upon awakening, they must navigate a series of horror-themed rooms intended to weaken them before the ultimate showdown with the “hosts.” Victory over them will not be the end, as they must then escape the crumbling pocket dimension in which they’re trapped.
This module can serve as a standalone one-shot adventure or seamlessly integrate into an ongoing campaign. It’s adaptable to any location or setting and offers scalability for various levels. While the default tone leans toward the darker side, feel free to adjust it to suit your campaign’s ambiance.
This adventure may last between 3 to 6 hours, varying based on the extent to which you utilize the module’s content and your players’ decisions.
Includes:

• 10 nightmares for your PCs
• 10 horrifying rooms
• An epic showdown with an action-oriented final boss "Red Mask" as well as his companion "The Hunger".
• Instructions for scaling the adventure.
• Helpful DM tips that will make prep and running a breeze
• 3 battle maps created in Inkarnate
• Custom Monster stat blocks and tokens

Art attribution:

• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mask_(Tragedy_comedy)_(2768529820).jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Dunwich_Horror_-_Wilbur_Whateley%27s_twin_by_Reuben_C._Dodd.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Potions_Classroom_(47307949392).jpg
• https://www.deviantart.com/abandonedfalcon/art/Meet-me-at-the-bar-888760727
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cincinnati_-_Spring_Grove_Cemetery_%26_Arboretum_-_Weeping_Angel_statue.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fortezza_Verrucole_Archeopark_interno.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Eastern_state_peniteniary,_13_(14107969638).jpg
• https://www.flickr.com/photos/shando_/9875265043/
• https://www.flickr.com/photos/diegopianarosa/16339757676/
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ghost_reveries_-_Flickr_-_kr428.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:WeirdTalesv42n04pg006_Tell_Your_Fortune.png
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:WeirdTalesv42n4pg075_At_the_End_of_the_Corridor.png

Created in homebrewery

Previous Work:

• The Library - Level 3 one-shot (Easy for New DMs and New Players to learn)
• Project: Fragmentation (Rogue-like, PWYW)

What other DM's have said:

• Tossed this lil adventure in our D&D world and the players had a blast with all the twists and turns. As a DM I enjoyed the fact that it was well written and easy to run, I didn't have to flip through a lot of mess to run it like I've had to do on some other adventures. Highly recommended. -Jason T via DMsGuild
  
• Incorporated this last night into our campaign and had a blast. Biggest hits were the dream sequences, the library lore, bar potions, and the dynamic of having a family of commoners to protect. Players were also impressed with the lair and villain actions. I would recommend this to other DMs as it was easy to prep for, fairly simple to run, and the party had fun! -Ty R via DMsGuild
  
• I gave my party trauma and trust issues with this one! It was great time! Chibi_Disaster
  

Preview

Adding what I could fit into this post - had to cut some info to fit into the limit:

NPCs

• Redd Traskin - At first glance: The welcoming face behind the bar, always ready with a drink and a story about his culinary adventures. Lurking beneath is a creature known as Red Mask: a malevolent being who ensnares victims with harrowing dreams, rendering them helpless before he claims and cooks them.
• Nara Traskin - On the surface a seemingly aloof barmaid, introduced as Redd's "daughter", with a penchant for keeping to herself and often notably reserved. But beneath that exterior she is The Hunger, a fearsome entity with a singular, overpowering mission: to satiate her eternal appetite.
• (Optional) Other guests - a young couple with a child
  
  • Brent Haskill (26) - Husband of the young couple, blacksmith, friendly, introverted
  • Raida Haskill (25) - Wife of the young couple, leatherworker, gregarious, warm
  • Breeni Haskill (7) - Daughter

Scaling the Adventure

Effect & Trap Damage

Level	Light Damage	Medium Damage	Serious Damage
1	1d4+1 (3)	1d6+2 (5)	1d10+2 (7)
2	1d6+2 (5)	1d8+3 (7)	2d6+3 (10)
3	1d8+2 (6)	2d6+3 (10)	2d8+4 (13)
4	1d10+2 (7)	2d8+3 (12)	3d6+5 (16)
5	1d10+3 (8)	2d10+3 (14)	3d8+5 (19)
6	2d6+3 (10)	3d6+4 (17)	4d6+6 (20)
7	2d6+4 (11)	3d8+4 (18)	4d8+6 (24)
8	2d8+4 (13)	3d10+4 (20)	5d6+7 (27)
9	2d10+4 (15)	4d6+5 (19)	5d8+7 (31)
10	3d6+5 (16)	4d8+5 (23)	6d8+8 (35)

DCs

Level	Easy	Medium	Hard
1-3	10	14	18
4-6	12	16	20
7-10	14	18	22

The Inn at the Cross Roads

At the crossroads, a quaint inn catches your eye. Its simple two-story structure, with walls of weathered wood and a stone base, exudes a rustic charm. A single horse is tethered to a wagon nearby, hinting at the presence of other travelers.
A wooden sign, hand-carved and swinging in the evening breeze, reads "Red Mask Inn" in neatly scrolled letters. Below the name are two theatrical masks, the smiling Comedy and crying Tragedy.

DM Notes

For a one-shot adventure, consider giving the one-shot a different name than "Red Mask Inn" to serve as a red herring. Whether you're running a campaign or a one-shot, you can utilize the classic trope of the characters either meeting at the inn or using it as a place to rest and gather information.
Describe the inn as an unassuming, typical roadside establishment, creating an atmosphere of a routine stop for travelers. In a campaign, it's ideal to introduce this inn after the group has already faced some encounters in the days before. This timing helps to set the stage for what follows, making the inn seem like a normal, much-needed, resting point in their journey.

Inside the inn

As you push open the creaky door of the Red Mask Inn, you're greeted by the comforting warmth of a crackling fireplace and the rich aroma of hearty stew. The inn's interior is cozy, with wooden beams and a few round tables scattered across the room.
Behind the bar stands Redd Traskin, the owner and bartender of the inn. He's a robust man with a warm smile, busy polishing glasses but always ready to strike up a conversation. As you approach, he greets you with a jovial voice, "Welcome, travelers! You must be famished. Our stew today is particularly good, made with fresh herbs from the garden!"
Moving between the tables with a tray in hand is Nara, Redd’s daughter. She seems to be in her own world, efficiently serving patrons but with a distant look in her eyes. If players attempt to interact with her, she responds politely but briefly, maintaining a professional distance.
Seated at a corner table is a young couple with their child. The man, Brent Haskill, has the sturdy build of a blacksmith, while his wife, Raida, radiates warmth and friendliness. Their daughter, Breeni, is a bundle of energy, her eyes wide with curiosity as she looks around the inn. Breeni seems particularly interested in the adventurers, especially if there's a female-presenting member or someone who looks like a seasoned adventurer in the group. This presents a great opportunity for roleplaying and helps to engage the players with these NPCs.

Going to bed

Each room costs 3 sp per night. If your players are cautious, they may decide to set a watch. Ask for the watch order. For the first person on watch: if they ate or drank at the inn, they must make a CON saving throw against the HARD DC ___. Failure results in them falling asleep during their watch.
After some time if a player is not asleep because they (1) did not eat or drink at the inn, (2) succeeded on their Constitution saving throw, or (3) are immune to magical sleep (e.g. due to a feature like Fey Ancestry), they notice something peculiar. The lights in the tavern, if any were lit, suddenly dim, and the normal nighttime sounds from outside the tavern abruptly stop.
This player may try to help wake up the other players as they have their nightmares (see next section). This gives the players advantage on their saving throws.

Dreadful Reveries

Party members who fall asleep will experience nightmares. You can create unique nightmares (plumb your player's back stories or campaign events for ideas) or use the provided list for inspiration. Each dream culminates in a save attempt, allowing players to choose between a WIS, INT, or CHA saving throw, depending on their character's mental strengths. End each nightmare description with "Roll a mental save using your preferred stat." If they fail to wake up, they suffer LIGHT, or MEDIUM if they fail the check by more than 5, non-lethal psychic damage. If they roll a Natural 1 on their save, they gain one level of exhaustion. Either way on a failed save they slip into another dream. The initial save DC is set at HARD and should decrease by one level for each subsequent attempt. It is recommended to do not more than 3 nightmares. If another character is attempting to wake them or if they have abilities that aid in resisting mental effects, they may make the save with advantage.

Nightmares

1. It's night. You are running through the woods. Brambles and thorns rip at your skin. Something is chasing you, and it's gaining. You hear it coming closer and closer. You stumble, fall, and it's on your back, ready to strike…
2. You are on a ledge of a narrow cliff. The wind howls, and the rain buffets you. Lightning briefly illuminates the world, revealing jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. Your foot slips, your fingers lose their grip. You begin to fall…
3. [Not for characters with water breathing] You are underwater. Seaweed tangles around your legs and feet as you try to orient yourself. There is no up, no down. Your lungs burn, and when you can no longer hold your breath, brackish, dirty water rushes down your throat…
4. You are in a coffin. You don't know how long you've been here. You push up on the lid but the weight of the dirt above renders your effort futile. Your fingers bleed as you scratch through the wood, trying to reach the freshly dug earth. The air grows heavier, and you feel yourself slipping away…
5. The stars above are beautiful. You try to keep fear at bay, hoping your ship will return. But deep down, you know they won't find you in the vast, uncaring ocean. As you hear a splash to your right, you turn to glimpse a notched fin that was heading in your direction submerge under the water...
6. The reflection in the mirror isn't you. You chant this mantra, yet the creature in the glass tilts its head mockingly and whispers, “No, not you. Not yet!” Its gnarled hands creep forward, attempting to breach the barrier of the silvered glass...
7. The cave-in is a minor setback. You've found an exit after an hour. A set of hand-holds lead up towards the surface. In your haste, you squeeze through a narrow ledge. Suddenly, you're stuck, the pressure on your chest blurring your vision and clouding your mind, fresh air just out of reach…
8. You walk through city streets, unnoticed by the teeming crowd. A growing sense of wrongness intensifies as the figures turn toward you. You only have a moment to dread as you see their faceless heads, when they all then converge on you as one…
9. After leaving the warm tent, the cold seemed bearable. But a stinging wind and swirling snow soon disorient you. It feels warmer; you shed layers, mistaking deadly cold for heat. You stumble into the soft snow, deciding to rest, just for a minute…
10. It's twilight in the woods. A dead tree in a clearing, covered in birds, crows or ravens, hard to tell. More cawing, flapping wings, and suddenly, the birds take flight, sharp beaks and claws going for your eyes…

Players Awaken

Once all the players awaken, they will likely attempt to figure out their situation. Should they look out the window, they will see the outside world; however, this view is merely an illusion. Efforts to break through walls, floors, and ceilings will prove futile. Furthermore, utilizing teleportation magic, such as dimension door and plane shift, appears ineffective, except for local effects like misty step or dimension door to a visible location.
Upon opening the door, the players will discover themselves in a long corridor, extending hundreds of feet. The only doors in this corridor are those leading to the PCs' rooms, the room of a young couple, and a black door at the far end of the hallway. Horrified moans and screams emanate from the young couple’s room. If the players choose to intervene and break in, they will find the couple and their daughter inside, all of whom are also experiencing nightmares and can be awakened by the players.
As the PCs make their way down the hallway, they come across a collection of strikingly realistic portraits. Each one captures a different being - humans, dragonborn, gnomes, and more - from a wide spectrum of ages, genders, and races. The subjects are dressed in everything from opulent clothes to plain rags, and some are even armored, weapons in hand. But there's one unsettling similarity across all these portraits: every face is frozen in an expression of sheer terror.
At the end of the hallway, they find the black door, which is unlocked.

Rooms

Upon entering, the PCs have a series of rooms you will guide them through. You can either craft your own rooms or use those included in this adventure. Players might attempt to take a Short Rest in some rooms, and it's up to you whether to allow it or not. You want the PCs battered, but not spent for the final confrontation. If you choose to deny them the rest, narrate psychic pressure to move out of the room - leading to psychic damage on refusal.

The Library

As the party steps into a dimly lit room, they're surrounded by towering bookshelves. The books around them seem to be whispering secrets of forbidden knowledge. Each player needs to make a MEDIUM WIS saving throw to avoid taking MEDIUM non-lethal psychic damage from the eldritch knowledge trying to worm into their brain, with the damage halved if they succeed. Those players naturally drawn to knowledge, like Wizards and Bards, will find this more challenging and must make the throw at a disadvantage. Meanwhile, those less inclined towards books, like Barbarians or Fighters, will have advantage. It's up to you as the DM to decide these advantages and disadvantages based on your characters' proclivities.

DM Notes

• Use this section as a chance to weave in some of your world's lore. It's a perfect opportunity for players to uncover hidden aspects of your campaign's universe.
• While the books in this room can be physically taken, to avoid players hoarding countless volumes, consider describing how some books disintegrate into ash as soon as they're opened.

The Memory Gallery

In this sparsely furnished room, the walls are adorned with striking paintings of landscapes, ranging from mountain vistas to sunsets over the ocean, and serene forest clearings. As the PCs explore these paintings, focus on one PC and bring a distressing memory from their backstory to life, using the painting they are viewing as the backdrop. This scene then animates before the players. The PC at the center of this memory is faced with a HARD WIS saving throw, with the risk of taking SERIOUS non-lethal psychic damage upon failure, or half the damage if they succeed. Meanwhile, other PCs witnessing this scene must make an EASY WIS save to avoid LIGHT non-lethal psychic damage, suffering no damage on a successful save. Breeni’s past interactions with the affected PC could play a role here. Breeni may hug the PC, granting them advantage on their saving throw.

The Mirror Chamber

In the mirror chamber, walls lined with ornate, grimy mirrors reflect distorted and grotesque images of the adventurers. The air is thick, filled with the unsettling scent of iron and decay. Suddenly, their reflections lunge out of the glass, materializing into tangible, malevolent doppelgängers that attack, forcing the party to confront twisted versions of themselves.
Choose a character's favorite or iconic attack or spell and use it against each player. A single hit on the mirror version or the mirror itself is enough to destroy it.

The Dining Hall

The long wooden table is laden with rotting food: fruit covered in mold, meat moving with maggots, and bread so stale it looks fossilized, all set among goblets filled with a murky, clotting liquid that might have once been wine. Nearby, a platter holds what appears to be a human hand, its skin cooked to a crisp and its fingernails garnished with sprigs of wilted herbs. The foul stench of decay and spoiled meat permeates the room, mingling with the unsettling, almost palpable aura of dread. Players must make a MEDIUM CON saving throw. On a failure, gain the poisoned condition, lasting for 1d4 rooms.

The Hospital Room

Several linen-covered beds on the far side of the room are splattered with dried blood. Bone saws with jagged teeth and other cruel implements are neatly arranged on a side table, gleaming ominously in the torchlight. Drawers with various medical supplies are left half-closed. Several vials labeled as "Healing Potions" sit on a nearby shelf. A MEDIUM Arcana or Medicine check will determine these are actually poison (1d4+1 poison damage). The party may choose to remain here and use some of the supplies to heal up - can be used as a Short Rest opportunity.

The Bathroom

A decrepit wooden bathtub sits in the corner, filled with a stagnant, dark liquid that occasionally bubbles as if something lurks beneath the surface. Next to the bathtub, a stone toilet fixture stands as if hewn directly from the chamber's walls, its bowl filled with an unidentifiable, viscous substance that seems to churn of its own accord. Faint, grotesque sketches are etched into the stone around the toilet, depicting unsettling scenes that make you question the sanity of previous occupants. Blood spatters mar the cracked tiles, leading to a cracked tarnished mirror that reflects a distorted image of anyone who dares to look.
If anyone gets within 5 ft of the bathtub, tentacles will try to grapple them (MEDIUM Escape DC). The tentacles will also deal MEDIUM amount of bludgeoning damage on a successful grapple. Any damage to the tentacles (AC 12) will release the PC.

The Greenhouse

The greenhouse is a labyrinth of overgrown, twisted plants, their leaves unnaturally dark and thorns menacingly sharp. A misty, almost phosphorescent fog hangs low, casting a sickly green glow over everything, and making it hard to see what lurks in the corners. Amongst the flora, the party can spot several cages containing withered remains of animals and, disturbingly, a few humanoid shapes — all twisted in expressions of agony, as if the plants themselves had consumed them.
Monster encounter, balance for your party:

Level Range	Monster
1-3	Twig Blight (MM 32)
	Needle Blight (MM 32)
	Vine Blight (MM 32)
4-6	Shambling Mound (MM 270)
	Wood Woad (VGtM 198)
	Yellow Musk Creeper (TftYP 248)
	Animated Tree (VGtM 207)
	Assassin Vine (MM 22)
7-10	Corpse Flower (MToF 127)
	Tree Blight (CoS 230)

To make things more difficult for the players, you can also add an additional MEDIUM CON saving throw against the fog's effects, with the players taking LIGHT poison damage on failure. Altering the number of monsters is another effective method for adjusting the challenge level. Additionally, if you're looking to incorporate different types of monsters, don't hesitate to use homebrew or reflavored monsters.

The Bar

The barroom is dimly lit by tarnished chandeliers that cast ghostly flickers across worn wooden floorboards. A long, decaying bar counter dominates one side of the room. Its surface is stained and pockmarked, lined with bottles containing strange, discolored liquids. The stools around the bar are unsteady, emitting ominous creaks under the slightest pressure. Notably, one stool bears an unsettling stain, reminiscent of dried blood.
If players choose to consume any of the bottles, roll on the table below to determine the effects. Generally, it's not recommended to allow more than one potion per player (drinking more than one results in vomiting). If an effect doesn't apply to a character, or another player already drank the potion rolled, roll again. The effects last until the end of the adventure. A MEDIUM DC Alchemist Tools, Herbalist Kit or Arcana Check will reveal the properties of the potions. An EASY DC check may reveal partial properties.

#	Name	Liquid Description		Effect Description
1	Reckless Fury	A swirling red potion with fiery sparks.		[Primary Melee Classes] Every melee attack is treated as reckless (attack is rolled with Advantage, but any attack against the player is rolled with Advantage as well until their turn).
2	Luck be a lady tonight	A two-layered liquid, gold over silver.		Grants inspiration to the player, and GM gets to force disadvantage at a time of their choosing.
3	Unstable Teleport	A misty, shifting blue and gray potion.		Gain the ability to cast the Misty Step spell at will. Roll 1d20 for uncertain destination, appearing in a location of DM's choice on 1-10.
4	Size Shift	A violet fluid with bubbles.		Changes creature size from Medium to Small. No effect on Small creatures.
5	Spell Rejuvenation	A glowing, pulsating emerald drink.		[Primary Spellcaster Classes] Restores one highest level spent spell slot but causes causes one level of exhaustion.
6	Speed Surge	A quicksilver potion with streaks of lightning.		Doubles speed but causes jitteriness, disadvantage on Dexterity checks and saves.
7	Painful Retaliation	A dark crimson liquid with a thorny vine motif.		As a bonus action you can choose to harm a creature at will, causing MEDIUM psychic damage, but take half the damage yourself.
8	Statue Defense	A solid gray potion with flecks of stone.		As a reaction to taking damage, you can choose to become an invulnerable statue to negate the triggering damage. You are invulnerable and petrified until the end of your next turn.
9	Charge of the Bull	A red potion with a swirling vortex.		Gain a powerful charge attack: If you can move at least 10ft in a straight line, you can make an attack. If the attack hits, it is treated as a critical hit, and the target is knocked prone. If the attack misses, the player takes MEDIUM bludgeoning damage, is knocked prone, and lands 10 feet past the target.
10	Clumsy Might	A creamy potion with bubbles.		Advantage on Strength checks and saves but disadvantage on Dexterity-based tasks.

The Stalking Statues

The room is a vast, dimly-lit chamber with four stone statues positioned in various states of distress; their faces contorted in silent screams or buried in their hands as if weeping. The flickering light from a dying chandelier dances across their features, casting ominous shadows that seem to move. Describe the chandelier as flickering in and out. In the darkness, the statues seem to move closer and closer.
You can treat this room narratively to unsettle the players, or turn it into an encounter. For an encounter, roll initiative (the statues always act at the end of the initiative order, and only on rounds when the lights are out). Every other round, either cover the map if playing in person, switch to a blank map on a VTT, or, if using theater of the mind, simply narrate the lights going out. The statues can only move in darkness, which is magical. Some players may have the ability to see through magical darkness. In such cases, the movement of the statues is visible to those players. Players who cannot see in the darkness can move but must declare their directions and distances. The door at the end of the room is unlocked when all statues are destroyed or by using the Knock spell.

Stalking Statues

Medium Construct, neutral evil
Armor Class :: 18 (natural armor) Hit Points :: 3 MEDIUM hits Speed :: 20 ft (can move only in darkness)

STR	DEX	CON	INT	WIS	CHA
14 (+2)	11 (+0)	13 (+1)	1 (-5)	3 (-4)	1 (-5)

Damage Immunities :: poison, psychic Condition Immunities :: blinded, charmed, deafened, exhaustion, frightened, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned Senses :: Blindsight 60 ft. Languages :: None
Antimagic Susceptibility. The statue is incapacitated while in the area of an antimagic field. If targeted by dispel magic, the statue must succeed on a CON saving throw against the caster's spell save DC or fall unconscious for 1 minute. : False Appearance. While the statue remains motionless, it is indistinguishable from a normal statue. : Dark Step. The statue can only move in darkness. It moves silently. It may not take the dash action. All attacks automatically hit.

Actions

Multiattack. The statue makes two melee attacks if the APL is 4+, and three melee attacks if the APL is 7+. : Slam. Melee Weapon Attack: automatically hits, reach 5ft., one target. Hit MEDIUM bludgeoning damage. : Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: automatically hits, reach 5ft., one target. Hit MEDIUM piercing damage. : Grapple. Roll Contested Athletics vs Atheltics or Acrobatics. The statue rolls with Advantage. Reach 5ft., one target. MEDIUM escape DC to break free.

Final Confrontation

Suggested flavor text - read in your own voice / tone: : You walk through the door to find yourself in a vast, open kitchen. The air is heavy with the scent of pots boiling over low flames, their contents a mystery. Shadows flicker and stretch across the walls, animated by the dim firelight.
Above, cured meats hang from hooks, swaying slightly in the draft. The countertops are littered with a variety of sinister-looking knives and butchery tools, their edges catching the light with an ominous glint.
At the center of this daunting scene stand Redd and Nara. Redd greets you with a malicious smile. “Now that you’ve been properly tenderized, it’s time for the main course!” he says. In a chilling display, he reaches for his face and peels it away as if it were a mask, revealing the ghastly sight of raw muscles, pulsing veins, and exposed nerves.
Next to him, Nara stands with an unsettling calm. Her hands begin to unnaturally stretch and contort, transforming into deadly claws. As she grins, her mouth widens unnervingly, unveiling a row of sharp, predatory teeth.

Monstrous Hosts

Redd Traskin, also known as Red Mask, and Nara Traskin, known as The Hunger, have hidden their monstrous nature for years by disguising themselves as the friendly innkeepers of the Red Mask Inn. They lure travelers with warmth and hospitality, only to ensnare them in a nightmarish trap. Through their powers of perception and emotion manipulation, they torment their victims in an alternate dimension, relishing the fear and suffering they create. All the while, they maintain their facade as ordinary innkeepers, continuing their sinister feast on unsuspecting guests.

Lair Actions

Initiative :: At initiative order 20, use one of the lair action options
Scalding Water: Boiling water erupts from pots in a 15-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw, taking MEDIUM fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. : Slippery Floors: The floor becomes slick with oil and grease. For the next round, any creature moving across the floor must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw or fall prone. You can avoid this by moving at half speed, but you must declare this before moving. : Whirling Blades: Blades whirl in a line 50 feet long and 5 feet wide. Each creature in the line must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw, taking MEDIUM piercing damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. : Flour Explosion: A cloud of flour ignites in a 30-foot radius centered on a point within the lair. Each creature in that area must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw, taking MEDIUM fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

DM Notes

HP: The HP listed in the stat blocks are simply a guideline. Balance to your party, making sure that the combat lasts some time, but doesn't drag on too long. : Villain Actions: Red Mask utilizes villain actions. This is an action he can take at any point after a PCs action, but limited to one per round.

Red Mask

Medium monstrosity, chaotic evil

APL	AC	HP
1-3	14	30±10
4-6	16	60±10
7-10	18	90±10

Speed :: 30 ft

APL	STR	DEX	CON	INT	WIS	CHA
1-3	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	13 (+1)	10 (+0)	12 (+1)	10 (+0)
4-6	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	15 (+2)	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	10 (+0)
7-10	16 (+3)	18 (+4)	17 (+3)	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	10 (+0)

Condition Immunities :: frightened, charmed Damage Resistances :: fire, acid, poison, necrotic Senses :: darkvision 60 ft. Languages :: Common, Deep Speech
Terrifying Unmasking. When the mask comes off, each creature within sight must make a WIS or CHA saving throw against an EASY DC. On a failed save, the creature becomes frightened for 1 minute. A frightened creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. : Magic Resistance. Red Mask has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects. :

Reactions

I think not! (3/day) As a reaction, Red Mask can choose to succeed on a failed check. However, this requires mental fortitude, so he takes MEDIUM non-lethal psychic damage to do so.

Actions

Multiattack. The Red Mask makes two melee attacks if the APL is 4+, and three melee attacks if the APL is 7+. : Misty Step. Red Mask can cast Misty Step at will as a bonus action. : Butcher’s Knife. Melee Weapon Attack: reach 5ft., one target.

APL	to hit bonus	damage
1-3	+4	LIGHT
4-6	+6	MEDIUM
7-10	+8	MEDIUM

Villain Actions

How's My Cooking? Any creature that ate food in the tavern must make a MEDIUM CON saving throw or be incapacitated with retching as rotten, maggoty food comes back up. The effect lasts until the end of the affected creature's turn. : Time to Eat! Nara can move up to her speed towards a target and make a bite attack as part of the same action. : See What Awaits You! Red Mask unleashes a wave of mental horror, showing the victims horrific images of previous guests being butchered and eaten. Each creature within sight must succeed on an EASY WIS saving throw or take MEDIUM non-lethal psychic damage.

Tactics

The Hunger prefers hit-and-run tactics, targeting the least armored or most injured characters. If the characters try to focus fire on Red Mask, narrate The Hunger turning it's attention to the Haskill family.
She will try to Bite as at least one of her attacks to keep regenerating hit points.

Nara, The Hunger

Medium monstrosity, chaotic evil

APL	AC	HP
1-3	14	30±10
4-6	16	60±10
7-10	18	90±10

Speed :: 50 ft

APL	STR	DEX	CON	INT	WIS	CHA
1-3	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	13 (+1)	10 (+0)	12 (+1)	10 (+0)
4-6	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	15 (+2)	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	10 (+0)
7-10	16 (+3)	18 (+4)	17 (+3)	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	10 (+0)

Condition Immunities :: frightened, charmed Damage Resistances :: necrotic, piercing, bludgeoning, slashing Senses :: darkvision 60 ft. Languages :: Common, Deep Speech
Voracious Perception. Once The Hunger has tasted the flesh of a creature, it can track the creature by smell, effectively gaining blindsight with a range 30 feet for that creature. : Wall Crawler. With spider-like agility, The Hunger adheres to terrain, crawling along walls and ceilings to approach its victims. : Fleet-footed The Hunger's rapid movements give it a speed of 50 feet, and enemies trying to make opportunity attacks do so with a disadvantage.

Reactions

Bloodthirsty Pursuit. If a creature within 30 feet of The Hunger uses a teleportation ability or spell to escape, The Hunger can use its reaction to immediately teleport to a space adjacent to the escaping creature.

Actions

Multiattack. The The Hunger makes two melee attacks if the APL is 4+, and three melee attacks if the APL is 7+. : Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: reach 10ft., one target. If target not armored, or on a critical hit, add bleed damage for 1d3 rounds. This damage does not stack on multiple hits, instead use the highest rolled value for damage and rounds rolled. This effect can only be removed by magical healing. : Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: reach 5ft., one target. On a successful hit, deal damage as normal, and The Hunger regenerates half of the damage dealt as hit points.

APL	to hit bonus	damage	bleed from claws
1-3	+4	LIGHT	1d2
4-6	+6	MEDIUM	1d4
7-10	+8	MEDIUM	1d6

The Collapse

With the death of its hosts, the reality of this pocket dimension begins to unravel. This is a perfect time to deploy a Skill Challenge. Choose any of the following room descriptions, and let the players decide which skills they want to employ to navigate through the room. The focus here is on the Rule of Cool.
Ideally, these should be rooms the party have already encountered, but you can also introduce new rooms they haven't seen yet. The players can to select any Skill for their roll, as long as it fits the narrative context. Set the DC based on what they're attempting to achieve and its level of feasibility. Spells and other actions taken by the players should also have an impact, provided they logically align with the situation at hand.
Achieving one or two successful outcomes should be sufficient to pass through a room. In case of failure, introduce a complication, such as a character sustaining an injury, acquiring a level of exhaustion, or suffering a temporary condition like being frightened, poisoned, or even blinded. In such scenarios, other party members may need to assist the affected player.

DM Notes

Here you should aim to instill a sense of urgency and desperation. Monitor your players closely. As they approach their limits, consider making that room the final challenge. Remember, they don't need to complete every room you've planned.

Time to Run

Suggested flavor text - read in your own voice / tone:
As you land the final blow, a momentary stillness ensues, briefly allowing you to reflect on your victory. But there's no time for celebration. A low hum begins to resonate through the space, growing louder with each passing second. Around you, the walls and ceiling start to crack and splinter. Suddenly, a wall in front of you collapses, revealing one of the rooms you passed through earlier. Behind you, the ceiling is collapsing. The way forward is through...
[Note, I had to cut the descriptions of rooms on the way back to fit into char limit - see PDF]

Conclusion

As you burst through the door, you're back in the long corridor you first encountered as you woke up. At the far end, you glimpse the outside world. You sprint towards freedom as the corridor crumbles behind you, the destruction nipping at your heels. In a desperate leap at the last possible moment, you escape... and the sudden tranquility of the night envelops you. The quiet, so starkly contrasted with the preceding chaos, strikes you with its intensity. Surrounded by the serene sounds of the forest, the peace feels almost otherworldly, a surreal end to your harrowing journey.
You stand at a crossroads, where an old structure looms, clearly long abandoned. It leans precariously, a silhouette against the night sky. Moonlight filters through its collapsed roof, casting ghostly shadows across the crumbling walls. The scene, bathed in a silver glow, is both haunting and strangely serene.

Loot

Tucked away behind the inn, the adventurers might notice something peculiar about the compost heap — it seems to occasionally sparkle with the glint of metal and the shimmer of gemstones. Upon closer inspection and a bit of rummaging, they'll discover that this isn't just any old pile of refuse; it's a resting place for treasures that once belonged to the inn's unfortunate previous visitors.
You can use the rules for Treasure Hoard Tables from DMG p133 to see what the players can find.

[PWYW] Red Mask Inn: a scalable horror one-shot (levels 1-10)
This is my favorite thing I've written so far. My players who play-tested the adventure had a blast so I hope you all will enjoy it as well.
Upon entering a seemingly innocuous tavern, players quickly realize it’s not the refuge they expected. The innkeeper and his ‘daughter,’ the serving girl, are not what they seem. Beneath their facades lie malevolent beings with a taste for their guests. Facing both mental and physical trials, the players must outwit these monsters before they become the evening’s special.
The players will start their ordeal facing terrifying nightmares. Upon awakening, they must navigate a series of horror-themed rooms intended to weaken them before the ultimate showdown with the “hosts.” Victory over them will not be the end, as they must then escape the crumbling pocket dimension in which they’re trapped.
This module can serve as a standalone one-shot adventure or seamlessly integrate into an ongoing campaign. It’s adaptable to any location or setting and offers scalability for various levels. While the default tone leans toward the darker side, feel free to adjust it to suit your campaign’s ambiance.
This adventure may last between 3 to 6 hours, varying based on the extent to which you utilize the module’s content and your players’ decisions.
Includes:

• 10 nightmares for your PCs
• 10 horrifying rooms
• An epic showdown with an action-oriented final boss "Red Mask" as well as his companion "The Hunger".
• Instructions for scaling the adventure.
• Helpful DM tips that will make prep and running a breeze
• 3 battle maps created in Inkarnate
• Custom Monster stat blocks and tokens

Art attribution:

• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Mask_(Tragedy_comedy)_(2768529820).jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:The_Dunwich_Horror_-_Wilbur_Whateley%27s_twin_by_Reuben_C._Dodd.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Potions_Classroom_(47307949392).jpg
• https://www.deviantart.com/abandonedfalcon/art/Meet-me-at-the-bar-888760727
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Cincinnati_-_Spring_Grove_Cemetery_%26_Arboretum_-_Weeping_Angel_statue.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Fortezza_Verrucole_Archeopark_interno.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Eastern_state_peniteniary,_13_(14107969638).jpg
• https://www.flickr.com/photos/shando_/9875265043/
• https://www.flickr.com/photos/diegopianarosa/16339757676/
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Ghost_reveries_-_Flickr_-_kr428.jpg
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:WeirdTalesv42n04pg006_Tell_Your_Fortune.png
• https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:WeirdTalesv42n4pg075_At_the_End_of_the_Corridor.png

Created in homebrewery

Previous Work:

• The Library - Level 3 one-shot (Easy for New DMs and New Players to learn)
• Project: Fragmentation (Rogue-like, PWYW)

What other DM's have said:

• Tossed this lil adventure in our D&D world and the players had a blast with all the twists and turns. As a DM I enjoyed the fact that it was well written and easy to run, I didn't have to flip through a lot of mess to run it like I've had to do on some other adventures. Highly recommended. -Jason T via DMsGuild
  
• Incorporated this last night into our campaign and had a blast. Biggest hits were the dream sequences, the library lore, bar potions, and the dynamic of having a family of commoners to protect. Players were also impressed with the lair and villain actions. I would recommend this to other DMs as it was easy to prep for, fairly simple to run, and the party had fun! -Ty R via DMsGuild
  
• I gave my party trauma and trust issues with this one! It was great time! Chibi_Disaster
  

Preview

Adding what I could fit into this post - had to cut some info to fit into the limit:

NPCs

• Redd Traskin - At first glance: The welcoming face behind the bar, always ready with a drink and a story about his culinary adventures. Lurking beneath is a creature known as Red Mask: a malevolent being who ensnares victims with harrowing dreams, rendering them helpless before he claims and cooks them.
• Nara Traskin - On the surface a seemingly aloof barmaid, introduced as Redd's "daughter", with a penchant for keeping to herself and often notably reserved. But beneath that exterior she is The Hunger, a fearsome entity with a singular, overpowering mission: to satiate her eternal appetite.
• (Optional) Other guests - a young couple with a child
  
  • Brent Haskill (26) - Husband of the young couple, blacksmith, friendly, introverted
  • Raida Haskill (25) - Wife of the young couple, leatherworker, gregarious, warm
  • Breeni Haskill (7) - Daughter

Scaling the Adventure

Effect & Trap Damage

Level	Light Damage	Medium Damage	Serious Damage
1	1d4+1 (3)	1d6+2 (5)	1d10+2 (7)
2	1d6+2 (5)	1d8+3 (7)	2d6+3 (10)
3	1d8+2 (6)	2d6+3 (10)	2d8+4 (13)
4	1d10+2 (7)	2d8+3 (12)	3d6+5 (16)
5	1d10+3 (8)	2d10+3 (14)	3d8+5 (19)
6	2d6+3 (10)	3d6+4 (17)	4d6+6 (20)
7	2d6+4 (11)	3d8+4 (18)	4d8+6 (24)
8	2d8+4 (13)	3d10+4 (20)	5d6+7 (27)
9	2d10+4 (15)	4d6+5 (19)	5d8+7 (31)
10	3d6+5 (16)	4d8+5 (23)	6d8+8 (35)

DCs

Level	Easy	Medium	Hard
1-3	10	14	18
4-6	12	16	20
7-10	14	18	22

The Inn at the Cross Roads

At the crossroads, a quaint inn catches your eye. Its simple two-story structure, with walls of weathered wood and a stone base, exudes a rustic charm. A single horse is tethered to a wagon nearby, hinting at the presence of other travelers.
A wooden sign, hand-carved and swinging in the evening breeze, reads "Red Mask Inn" in neatly scrolled letters. Below the name are two theatrical masks, the smiling Comedy and crying Tragedy.

DM Notes

For a one-shot adventure, consider giving the one-shot a different name than "Red Mask Inn" to serve as a red herring. Whether you're running a campaign or a one-shot, you can utilize the classic trope of the characters either meeting at the inn or using it as a place to rest and gather information.
Describe the inn as an unassuming, typical roadside establishment, creating an atmosphere of a routine stop for travelers. In a campaign, it's ideal to introduce this inn after the group has already faced some encounters in the days before. This timing helps to set the stage for what follows, making the inn seem like a normal, much-needed, resting point in their journey.

Inside the inn

As you push open the creaky door of the Red Mask Inn, you're greeted by the comforting warmth of a crackling fireplace and the rich aroma of hearty stew. The inn's interior is cozy, with wooden beams and a few round tables scattered across the room.
Behind the bar stands Redd Traskin, the owner and bartender of the inn. He's a robust man with a warm smile, busy polishing glasses but always ready to strike up a conversation. As you approach, he greets you with a jovial voice, "Welcome, travelers! You must be famished. Our stew today is particularly good, made with fresh herbs from the garden!"
Moving between the tables with a tray in hand is Nara, Redd’s daughter. She seems to be in her own world, efficiently serving patrons but with a distant look in her eyes. If players attempt to interact with her, she responds politely but briefly, maintaining a professional distance.
Seated at a corner table is a young couple with their child. The man, Brent Haskill, has the sturdy build of a blacksmith, while his wife, Raida, radiates warmth and friendliness. Their daughter, Breeni, is a bundle of energy, her eyes wide with curiosity as she looks around the inn. Breeni seems particularly interested in the adventurers, especially if there's a female-presenting member or someone who looks like a seasoned adventurer in the group. This presents a great opportunity for roleplaying and helps to engage the players with these NPCs.

Going to bed

Each room costs 3 sp per night. If your players are cautious, they may decide to set a watch. Ask for the watch order. For the first person on watch: if they ate or drank at the inn, they must make a CON saving throw against the HARD DC ___. Failure results in them falling asleep during their watch.
After some time if a player is not asleep because they (1) did not eat or drink at the inn, (2) succeeded on their Constitution saving throw, or (3) are immune to magical sleep (e.g. due to a feature like Fey Ancestry), they notice something peculiar. The lights in the tavern, if any were lit, suddenly dim, and the normal nighttime sounds from outside the tavern abruptly stop.
This player may try to help wake up the other players as they have their nightmares (see next section). This gives the players advantage on their saving throws.

Dreadful Reveries

Party members who fall asleep will experience nightmares. You can create unique nightmares (plumb your player's back stories or campaign events for ideas) or use the provided list for inspiration. Each dream culminates in a save attempt, allowing players to choose between a WIS, INT, or CHA saving throw, depending on their character's mental strengths. End each nightmare description with "Roll a mental save using your preferred stat." If they fail to wake up, they suffer LIGHT, or MEDIUM if they fail the check by more than 5, non-lethal psychic damage. If they roll a Natural 1 on their save, they gain one level of exhaustion. Either way on a failed save they slip into another dream. The initial save DC is set at HARD and should decrease by one level for each subsequent attempt. It is recommended to do not more than 3 nightmares. If another character is attempting to wake them or if they have abilities that aid in resisting mental effects, they may make the save with advantage.

Nightmares

1. It's night. You are running through the woods. Brambles and thorns rip at your skin. Something is chasing you, and it's gaining. You hear it coming closer and closer. You stumble, fall, and it's on your back, ready to strike…
2. You are on a ledge of a narrow cliff. The wind howls, and the rain buffets you. Lightning briefly illuminates the world, revealing jagged rocks hundreds of feet below. Your foot slips, your fingers lose their grip. You begin to fall…
3. [Not for characters with water breathing] You are underwater. Seaweed tangles around your legs and feet as you try to orient yourself. There is no up, no down. Your lungs burn, and when you can no longer hold your breath, brackish, dirty water rushes down your throat…
4. You are in a coffin. You don't know how long you've been here. You push up on the lid but the weight of the dirt above renders your effort futile. Your fingers bleed as you scratch through the wood, trying to reach the freshly dug earth. The air grows heavier, and you feel yourself slipping away…
5. The stars above are beautiful. You try to keep fear at bay, hoping your ship will return. But deep down, you know they won't find you in the vast, uncaring ocean. As you hear a splash to your right, you turn to glimpse a notched fin that was heading in your direction submerge under the water...
6. The reflection in the mirror isn't you. You chant this mantra, yet the creature in the glass tilts its head mockingly and whispers, “No, not you. Not yet!” Its gnarled hands creep forward, attempting to breach the barrier of the silvered glass...
7. The cave-in is a minor setback. You've found an exit after an hour. A set of hand-holds lead up towards the surface. In your haste, you squeeze through a narrow ledge. Suddenly, you're stuck, the pressure on your chest blurring your vision and clouding your mind, fresh air just out of reach…
8. You walk through city streets, unnoticed by the teeming crowd. A growing sense of wrongness intensifies as the figures turn toward you. You only have a moment to dread as you see their faceless heads, when they all then converge on you as one…
9. After leaving the warm tent, the cold seemed bearable. But a stinging wind and swirling snow soon disorient you. It feels warmer; you shed layers, mistaking deadly cold for heat. You stumble into the soft snow, deciding to rest, just for a minute…
10. It's twilight in the woods. A dead tree in a clearing, covered in birds, crows or ravens, hard to tell. More cawing, flapping wings, and suddenly, the birds take flight, sharp beaks and claws going for your eyes…

Players Awaken

Once all the players awaken, they will likely attempt to figure out their situation. Should they look out the window, they will see the outside world; however, this view is merely an illusion. Efforts to break through walls, floors, and ceilings will prove futile. Furthermore, utilizing teleportation magic, such as dimension door and plane shift, appears ineffective, except for local effects like misty step or dimension door to a visible location.
Upon opening the door, the players will discover themselves in a long corridor, extending hundreds of feet. The only doors in this corridor are those leading to the PCs' rooms, the room of a young couple, and a black door at the far end of the hallway. Horrified moans and screams emanate from the young couple’s room. If the players choose to intervene and break in, they will find the couple and their daughter inside, all of whom are also experiencing nightmares and can be awakened by the players.
As the PCs make their way down the hallway, they come across a collection of strikingly realistic portraits. Each one captures a different being - humans, dragonborn, gnomes, and more - from a wide spectrum of ages, genders, and races. The subjects are dressed in everything from opulent clothes to plain rags, and some are even armored, weapons in hand. But there's one unsettling similarity across all these portraits: every face is frozen in an expression of sheer terror.
At the end of the hallway, they find the black door, which is unlocked.

Rooms

Upon entering, the PCs have a series of rooms you will guide them through. You can either craft your own rooms or use those included in this adventure. Players might attempt to take a Short Rest in some rooms, and it's up to you whether to allow it or not. You want the PCs battered, but not spent for the final confrontation. If you choose to deny them the rest, narrate psychic pressure to move out of the room - leading to psychic damage on refusal.

The Library

As the party steps into a dimly lit room, they're surrounded by towering bookshelves. The books around them seem to be whispering secrets of forbidden knowledge. Each player needs to make a MEDIUM WIS saving throw to avoid taking MEDIUM non-lethal psychic damage from the eldritch knowledge trying to worm into their brain, with the damage halved if they succeed. Those players naturally drawn to knowledge, like Wizards and Bards, will find this more challenging and must make the throw at a disadvantage. Meanwhile, those less inclined towards books, like Barbarians or Fighters, will have advantage. It's up to you as the DM to decide these advantages and disadvantages based on your characters' proclivities.

DM Notes

• Use this section as a chance to weave in some of your world's lore. It's a perfect opportunity for players to uncover hidden aspects of your campaign's universe.
• While the books in this room can be physically taken, to avoid players hoarding countless volumes, consider describing how some books disintegrate into ash as soon as they're opened.

The Memory Gallery

In this sparsely furnished room, the walls are adorned with striking paintings of landscapes, ranging from mountain vistas to sunsets over the ocean, and serene forest clearings. As the PCs explore these paintings, focus on one PC and bring a distressing memory from their backstory to life, using the painting they are viewing as the backdrop. This scene then animates before the players. The PC at the center of this memory is faced with a HARD WIS saving throw, with the risk of taking SERIOUS non-lethal psychic damage upon failure, or half the damage if they succeed. Meanwhile, other PCs witnessing this scene must make an EASY WIS save to avoid LIGHT non-lethal psychic damage, suffering no damage on a successful save. Breeni’s past interactions with the affected PC could play a role here. Breeni may hug the PC, granting them advantage on their saving throw.

The Mirror Chamber

In the mirror chamber, walls lined with ornate, grimy mirrors reflect distorted and grotesque images of the adventurers. The air is thick, filled with the unsettling scent of iron and decay. Suddenly, their reflections lunge out of the glass, materializing into tangible, malevolent doppelgängers that attack, forcing the party to confront twisted versions of themselves.
Choose a character's favorite or iconic attack or spell and use it against each player. A single hit on the mirror version or the mirror itself is enough to destroy it.

The Dining Hall

The long wooden table is laden with rotting food: fruit covered in mold, meat moving with maggots, and bread so stale it looks fossilized, all set among goblets filled with a murky, clotting liquid that might have once been wine. Nearby, a platter holds what appears to be a human hand, its skin cooked to a crisp and its fingernails garnished with sprigs of wilted herbs. The foul stench of decay and spoiled meat permeates the room, mingling with the unsettling, almost palpable aura of dread. Players must make a MEDIUM CON saving throw. On a failure, gain the poisoned condition, lasting for 1d4 rooms.

The Hospital Room

Several linen-covered beds on the far side of the room are splattered with dried blood. Bone saws with jagged teeth and other cruel implements are neatly arranged on a side table, gleaming ominously in the torchlight. Drawers with various medical supplies are left half-closed. Several vials labeled as "Healing Potions" sit on a nearby shelf. A MEDIUM Arcana or Medicine check will determine these are actually poison (1d4+1 poison damage). The party may choose to remain here and use some of the supplies to heal up - can be used as a Short Rest opportunity.

The Bathroom

A decrepit wooden bathtub sits in the corner, filled with a stagnant, dark liquid that occasionally bubbles as if something lurks beneath the surface. Next to the bathtub, a stone toilet fixture stands as if hewn directly from the chamber's walls, its bowl filled with an unidentifiable, viscous substance that seems to churn of its own accord. Faint, grotesque sketches are etched into the stone around the toilet, depicting unsettling scenes that make you question the sanity of previous occupants. Blood spatters mar the cracked tiles, leading to a cracked tarnished mirror that reflects a distorted image of anyone who dares to look.
If anyone gets within 5 ft of the bathtub, tentacles will try to grapple them (MEDIUM Escape DC). The tentacles will also deal MEDIUM amount of bludgeoning damage on a successful grapple. Any damage to the tentacles (AC 12) will release the PC.

The Greenhouse

The greenhouse is a labyrinth of overgrown, twisted plants, their leaves unnaturally dark and thorns menacingly sharp. A misty, almost phosphorescent fog hangs low, casting a sickly green glow over everything, and making it hard to see what lurks in the corners. Amongst the flora, the party can spot several cages containing withered remains of animals and, disturbingly, a few humanoid shapes — all twisted in expressions of agony, as if the plants themselves had consumed them.
Monster encounter, balance for your party:

Level Range	Monster
1-3	Twig Blight (MM 32)
	Needle Blight (MM 32)
	Vine Blight (MM 32)
4-6	Shambling Mound (MM 270)
	Wood Woad (VGtM 198)
	Yellow Musk Creeper (TftYP 248)
	Animated Tree (VGtM 207)
	Assassin Vine (MM 22)
7-10	Corpse Flower (MToF 127)
	Tree Blight (CoS 230)

To make things more difficult for the players, you can also add an additional MEDIUM CON saving throw against the fog's effects, with the players taking LIGHT poison damage on failure. Altering the number of monsters is another effective method for adjusting the challenge level. Additionally, if you're looking to incorporate different types of monsters, don't hesitate to use homebrew or reflavored monsters.

The Bar

The barroom is dimly lit by tarnished chandeliers that cast ghostly flickers across worn wooden floorboards. A long, decaying bar counter dominates one side of the room. Its surface is stained and pockmarked, lined with bottles containing strange, discolored liquids. The stools around the bar are unsteady, emitting ominous creaks under the slightest pressure. Notably, one stool bears an unsettling stain, reminiscent of dried blood.
If players choose to consume any of the bottles, roll on the table below to determine the effects. Generally, it's not recommended to allow more than one potion per player (drinking more than one results in vomiting). If an effect doesn't apply to a character, or another player already drank the potion rolled, roll again. The effects last until the end of the adventure. A MEDIUM DC Alchemist Tools, Herbalist Kit or Arcana Check will reveal the properties of the potions. An EASY DC check may reveal partial properties.

#	Name	Liquid Description		Effect Description
1	Reckless Fury	A swirling red potion with fiery sparks.		[Primary Melee Classes] Every melee attack is treated as reckless (attack is rolled with Advantage, but any attack against the player is rolled with Advantage as well until their turn).
2	Luck be a lady tonight	A two-layered liquid, gold over silver.		Grants inspiration to the player, and GM gets to force disadvantage at a time of their choosing.
3	Unstable Teleport	A misty, shifting blue and gray potion.		Gain the ability to cast the Misty Step spell at will. Roll 1d20 for uncertain destination, appearing in a location of DM's choice on 1-10.
4	Size Shift	A violet fluid with bubbles.		Changes creature size from Medium to Small. No effect on Small creatures.
5	Spell Rejuvenation	A glowing, pulsating emerald drink.		[Primary Spellcaster Classes] Restores one highest level spent spell slot but causes causes one level of exhaustion.
6	Speed Surge	A quicksilver potion with streaks of lightning.		Doubles speed but causes jitteriness, disadvantage on Dexterity checks and saves.
7	Painful Retaliation	A dark crimson liquid with a thorny vine motif.		As a bonus action you can choose to harm a creature at will, causing MEDIUM psychic damage, but take half the damage yourself.
8	Statue Defense	A solid gray potion with flecks of stone.		As a reaction to taking damage, you can choose to become an invulnerable statue to negate the triggering damage. You are invulnerable and petrified until the end of your next turn.
9	Charge of the Bull	A red potion with a swirling vortex.		Gain a powerful charge attack: If you can move at least 10ft in a straight line, you can make an attack. If the attack hits, it is treated as a critical hit, and the target is knocked prone. If the attack misses, the player takes MEDIUM bludgeoning damage, is knocked prone, and lands 10 feet past the target.
10	Clumsy Might	A creamy potion with bubbles.		Advantage on Strength checks and saves but disadvantage on Dexterity-based tasks.

The Stalking Statues

The room is a vast, dimly-lit chamber with four stone statues positioned in various states of distress; their faces contorted in silent screams or buried in their hands as if weeping. The flickering light from a dying chandelier dances across their features, casting ominous shadows that seem to move. Describe the chandelier as flickering in and out. In the darkness, the statues seem to move closer and closer.
You can treat this room narratively to unsettle the players, or turn it into an encounter. For an encounter, roll initiative (the statues always act at the end of the initiative order, and only on rounds when the lights are out). Every other round, either cover the map if playing in person, switch to a blank map on a VTT, or, if using theater of the mind, simply narrate the lights going out. The statues can only move in darkness, which is magical. Some players may have the ability to see through magical darkness. In such cases, the movement of the statues is visible to those players. Players who cannot see in the darkness can move but must declare their directions and distances. The door at the end of the room is unlocked when all statues are destroyed or by using the Knock spell.

Stalking Statues

Medium Construct, neutral evil
Armor Class :: 18 (natural armor) Hit Points :: 3 MEDIUM hits Speed :: 20 ft (can move only in darkness)

STR	DEX	CON	INT	WIS	CHA
14 (+2)	11 (+0)	13 (+1)	1 (-5)	3 (-4)	1 (-5)

Damage Immunities :: poison, psychic Condition Immunities :: blinded, charmed, deafened, exhaustion, frightened, paralyzed, petrified, poisoned Senses :: Blindsight 60 ft. Languages :: None
Antimagic Susceptibility. The statue is incapacitated while in the area of an antimagic field. If targeted by dispel magic, the statue must succeed on a CON saving throw against the caster's spell save DC or fall unconscious for 1 minute. : False Appearance. While the statue remains motionless, it is indistinguishable from a normal statue. : Dark Step. The statue can only move in darkness. It moves silently. It may not take the dash action. All attacks automatically hit.

Actions

Multiattack. The statue makes two melee attacks if the APL is 4+, and three melee attacks if the APL is 7+. : Slam. Melee Weapon Attack: automatically hits, reach 5ft., one target. Hit MEDIUM bludgeoning damage. : Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: automatically hits, reach 5ft., one target. Hit MEDIUM piercing damage. : Grapple. Roll Contested Athletics vs Atheltics or Acrobatics. The statue rolls with Advantage. Reach 5ft., one target. MEDIUM escape DC to break free.

Final Confrontation

Suggested flavor text - read in your own voice / tone: : You walk through the door to find yourself in a vast, open kitchen. The air is heavy with the scent of pots boiling over low flames, their contents a mystery. Shadows flicker and stretch across the walls, animated by the dim firelight.
Above, cured meats hang from hooks, swaying slightly in the draft. The countertops are littered with a variety of sinister-looking knives and butchery tools, their edges catching the light with an ominous glint.
At the center of this daunting scene stand Redd and Nara. Redd greets you with a malicious smile. “Now that you’ve been properly tenderized, it’s time for the main course!” he says. In a chilling display, he reaches for his face and peels it away as if it were a mask, revealing the ghastly sight of raw muscles, pulsing veins, and exposed nerves.
Next to him, Nara stands with an unsettling calm. Her hands begin to unnaturally stretch and contort, transforming into deadly claws. As she grins, her mouth widens unnervingly, unveiling a row of sharp, predatory teeth.

Monstrous Hosts

Redd Traskin, also known as Red Mask, and Nara Traskin, known as The Hunger, have hidden their monstrous nature for years by disguising themselves as the friendly innkeepers of the Red Mask Inn. They lure travelers with warmth and hospitality, only to ensnare them in a nightmarish trap. Through their powers of perception and emotion manipulation, they torment their victims in an alternate dimension, relishing the fear and suffering they create. All the while, they maintain their facade as ordinary innkeepers, continuing their sinister feast on unsuspecting guests.

Lair Actions

Initiative :: At initiative order 20, use one of the lair action options
Scalding Water: Boiling water erupts from pots in a 15-foot cone. Each creature in that area must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw, taking MEDIUM fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. : Slippery Floors: The floor becomes slick with oil and grease. For the next round, any creature moving across the floor must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw or fall prone. You can avoid this by moving at half speed, but you must declare this before moving. : Whirling Blades: Blades whirl in a line 50 feet long and 5 feet wide. Each creature in the line must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw, taking MEDIUM piercing damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. : Flour Explosion: A cloud of flour ignites in a 30-foot radius centered on a point within the lair. Each creature in that area must make a MEDIUM DEX saving throw, taking MEDIUM fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

DM Notes

HP: The HP listed in the stat blocks are simply a guideline. Balance to your party, making sure that the combat lasts some time, but doesn't drag on too long. : Villain Actions: Red Mask utilizes villain actions. This is an action he can take at any point after a PCs action, but limited to one per round.

Red Mask

Medium monstrosity, chaotic evil

APL	AC	HP
1-3	14	30±10
4-6	16	60±10
7-10	18	90±10

Speed :: 30 ft

APL	STR	DEX	CON	INT	WIS	CHA
1-3	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	13 (+1)	10 (+0)	12 (+1)	10 (+0)
4-6	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	15 (+2)	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	10 (+0)
7-10	16 (+3)	18 (+4)	17 (+3)	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	10 (+0)

Condition Immunities :: frightened, charmed Damage Resistances :: fire, acid, poison, necrotic Senses :: darkvision 60 ft. Languages :: Common, Deep Speech
Terrifying Unmasking. When the mask comes off, each creature within sight must make a WIS or CHA saving throw against an EASY DC. On a failed save, the creature becomes frightened for 1 minute. A frightened creature can repeat the saving throw at the end of each of its turns, ending the effect on itself on a success. : Magic Resistance. Red Mask has advantage on saving throws against spells and other magical effects. :

Reactions

I think not! (3/day) As a reaction, Red Mask can choose to succeed on a failed check. However, this requires mental fortitude, so he takes MEDIUM non-lethal psychic damage to do so.

Actions

Multiattack. The Red Mask makes two melee attacks if the APL is 4+, and three melee attacks if the APL is 7+. : Misty Step. Red Mask can cast Misty Step at will as a bonus action. : Butcher’s Knife. Melee Weapon Attack: reach 5ft., one target.

APL	to hit bonus	damage
1-3	+4	LIGHT
4-6	+6	MEDIUM
7-10	+8	MEDIUM

Villain Actions

How's My Cooking? Any creature that ate food in the tavern must make a MEDIUM CON saving throw or be incapacitated with retching as rotten, maggoty food comes back up. The effect lasts until the end of the affected creature's turn. : Time to Eat! Nara can move up to her speed towards a target and make a bite attack as part of the same action. : See What Awaits You! Red Mask unleashes a wave of mental horror, showing the victims horrific images of previous guests being butchered and eaten. Each creature within sight must succeed on an EASY WIS saving throw or take MEDIUM non-lethal psychic damage.

Tactics

The Hunger prefers hit-and-run tactics, targeting the least armored or most injured characters. If the characters try to focus fire on Red Mask, narrate The Hunger turning it's attention to the Haskill family.
She will try to Bite as at least one of her attacks to keep regenerating hit points.

Nara, The Hunger

Medium monstrosity, chaotic evil

APL	AC	HP
1-3	14	30±10
4-6	16	60±10
7-10	18	90±10

Speed :: 50 ft

APL	STR	DEX	CON	INT	WIS	CHA
1-3	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	13 (+1)	10 (+0)	12 (+1)	10 (+0)
4-6	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	15 (+2)	12 (+1)	14 (+2)	10 (+0)
7-10	16 (+3)	18 (+4)	17 (+3)	14 (+2)	16 (+3)	10 (+0)

Condition Immunities :: frightened, charmed Damage Resistances :: necrotic, piercing, bludgeoning, slashing Senses :: darkvision 60 ft. Languages :: Common, Deep Speech
Voracious Perception. Once The Hunger has tasted the flesh of a creature, it can track the creature by smell, effectively gaining blindsight with a range 30 feet for that creature. : Wall Crawler. With spider-like agility, The Hunger adheres to terrain, crawling along walls and ceilings to approach its victims. : Fleet-footed The Hunger's rapid movements give it a speed of 50 feet, and enemies trying to make opportunity attacks do so with a disadvantage.

Reactions

Bloodthirsty Pursuit. If a creature within 30 feet of The Hunger uses a teleportation ability or spell to escape, The Hunger can use its reaction to immediately teleport to a space adjacent to the escaping creature.

Actions

Multiattack. The The Hunger makes two melee attacks if the APL is 4+, and three melee attacks if the APL is 7+. : Claw. Melee Weapon Attack: reach 10ft., one target. If target not armored, or on a critical hit, add bleed damage for 1d3 rounds. This damage does not stack on multiple hits, instead use the highest rolled value for damage and rounds rolled. This effect can only be removed by magical healing. : Bite. Melee Weapon Attack: reach 5ft., one target. On a successful hit, deal damage as normal, and The Hunger regenerates half of the damage dealt as hit points.

APL	to hit bonus	damage	bleed from claws
1-3	+4	LIGHT	1d2
4-6	+6	MEDIUM	1d4
7-10	+8	MEDIUM	1d6

The Collapse

With the death of its hosts, the reality of this pocket dimension begins to unravel. This is a perfect time to deploy a Skill Challenge. Choose any of the following room descriptions, and let the players decide which skills they want to employ to navigate through the room. The focus here is on the Rule of Cool.
Ideally, these should be rooms the party have already encountered, but you can also introduce new rooms they haven't seen yet. The players can to select any Skill for their roll, as long as it fits the narrative context. Set the DC based on what they're attempting to achieve and its level of feasibility. Spells and other actions taken by the players should also have an impact, provided they logically align with the situation at hand.
Achieving one or two successful outcomes should be sufficient to pass through a room. In case of failure, introduce a complication, such as a character sustaining an injury, acquiring a level of exhaustion, or suffering a temporary condition like being frightened, poisoned, or even blinded. In such scenarios, other party members may need to assist the affected player.

DM Notes

Here you should aim to instill a sense of urgency and desperation. Monitor your players closely. As they approach their limits, consider making that room the final challenge. Remember, they don't need to complete every room you've planned.

Time to Run

Suggested flavor text - read in your own voice / tone:
As you land the final blow, a momentary stillness ensues, briefly allowing you to reflect on your victory. But there's no time for celebration. A low hum begins to resonate through the space, growing louder with each passing second. Around you, the walls and ceiling start to crack and splinter. Suddenly, a wall in front of you collapses, revealing one of the rooms you passed through earlier. Behind you, the ceiling is collapsing. The way forward is through...
[Note, I had to cut the descriptions of rooms on the way back to fit into char limit - see PDF]

Conclusion

As you burst through the door, you're back in the long corridor you first encountered as you woke up. At the far end, you glimpse the outside world. You sprint towards freedom as the corridor crumbles behind you, the destruction nipping at your heels. In a desperate leap at the last possible moment, you escape... and the sudden tranquility of the night envelops you. The quiet, so starkly contrasted with the preceding chaos, strikes you with its intensity. Surrounded by the serene sounds of the forest, the peace feels almost otherworldly, a surreal end to your harrowing journey.
You stand at a crossroads, where an old structure looms, clearly long abandoned. It leans precariously, a silhouette against the night sky. Moonlight filters through its collapsed roof, casting ghostly shadows across the crumbling walls. The scene, bathed in a silver glow, is both haunting and strangely serene.

Loot

Tucked away behind the inn, the adventurers might notice something peculiar about the compost heap — it seems to occasionally sparkle with the glint of metal and the shimmer of gemstones. Upon closer inspection and a bit of rummaging, they'll discover that this isn't just any old pile of refuse; it's a resting place for treasures that once belonged to the inn's unfortunate previous visitors.
You can use the rules for Treasure Hoard Tables from DMG p133 to see what the players can find.