Who wants to see my Alien bible. Haven’t read the book yet Just doodled in today 😎👽✌️☝️ Gonna make this a black book of credited witnesses names and discoveries (cultures/gods/clothing/jewelry/items) This fish finna go nutz
Link to the post~ https://photos.app.goo.gl/ddB8ByAMVMK9shw78 A couple more depictions I still gotta add in here. And probably 100's, if not a million more.... xD

Hey y'all, I've been learning a lot about Rasta and it's history as a way to connect to myself and my culture (black american). I thought to ask here since I don't really know anyone in person that I can ask.
I find a lot of value and inspiration in some of the principles like the concept of livity of Rasta, the ital diet and prioritizing a connection to Jah/God, the natural world, and all living things. The history of rasta, and Afrocentricity really touched me in a way I haven't felt in awhile. I want to live in a way that honors God; with God being source and our creator but not necessarily a He or She. However, I'm having a hard time accepting certain aspects of it that I don't know how to approach. I find value in honoring Emperor Haile Selassie I and find inspiration from the Bible, however, I don't necessarily believe in his divinity as a literal incarnation(Emeperor Haile) or the birth and resurrection of Jesus Christ in a literal sense. I vote, but see through the mess that is politics. I don't believe that lgbt people are living against God's will, but are just another representation and manifestation of God's creative mind, here to love and help take care of the community in another way. I also am having a hard time with it being necessary to wear a headwrap\covering if you are a woman. Should that not be something a woman chooses to do for God on her own accord? (I do not mean any disrespect when asking these things as I really just want to understand and a get a clear idea of how to approach Rasta and what to expect) I also wanted to know:
° Do personal beliefs matter as much in rastafari?Or is how you live and treat other more important?
° What are some books I can read to gain a broader perspective about Rastafari? Google can only do so much haha
° Where does the line end in regards to the borders of livity? Are there things that can be considered livity that some may not consider it to be?
🙏🏾Thank you in advance!

I'm compiling a list, both for its own sake and possibly for submission as a theme in the ANN Encyclopedia—what anime series are focused on ghost busting/monster hunting (dealing with and disposing of supernatural menaces, often with extreme prejudice)?

[A] theme should represent a core element of the story; for example Princess Nine has tennis in a few episodes but it is not an anime about tennis. Ask yourself if you would watch this title only for the X, where X is the theme you want to add.

(Emphasis in the original.) Hentai is fine, but again the focus should be on the ghost busting/monster hunting, not being captured and turned into sex slaves (especially in the first episode of a multi-episode series >_<). Japan-only series are also fine.
The list in absolute alphabetical order, with the initial articles "A" and "The" ignored, and spaces coming before punctuation, which comes before numbers, which come before letters. The initial title in a franchise stands for the similarly-titled part(s) of that franchise. E.g., Devilman and its spinoff/reboot The Devil Lady are listed separately, but Yu Yu Hakusho represents the entire franchise.
All links are to the Anime News Network Encyclopedia, or where that is not possible, to Wikipedia. † = The title is linked to the manga entry in order to cover all of the anime portions of the franchise.
This list may not be definitive (though I hope to make it so with your help); what did I miss, and what needs correction?
See also:
SF/F: Monster Hunting/Ghost Busting list of resources, Reddit recommendation threads, and books (one post)—the prose cousin of this list.
The List of Lists/The Master List of recommendation lists.
So far I have:
"Normal"

• 07-Ghost
• Ayakashi Triangle
• Ayakashi: Samurai Horror Tales
• Bakemonogatari
• Black Blood Brothers
• Black Butler
• Blade
• Blood+
• Blood: The Last Vampire
• Blood-C
• Blue Seed
• Chrono Crusade
• Claymore
• Corpse Princess
• D.Gray-man
• Dark Cat
• Dark Rabbit Has Seven Lives, A
• Demon City Shinjuku
• Demon Fighter Kocho
• Demon Hunter Makaryuudo
• Demon Prince Enma
• Devil Hunter Yohko
• Devil Lady, The
• Devilman
• Dororon Enma-kun
• Fusé: Memoirs of a Huntress
• Gai-Rei-Zero
• Geobreeders
• Ghost Hunt
• Ghost Slayers Ayashi
• Ghost Stories
• Ghost Sweeper Mikami
• Haunted Junction
• Hellsing
• Jigoku Sensei Nube†
• Jujutsu Kaisen
• Kekkaishi
• Kemonozume
• Lunar Legend Tsukihime
• The Melody of Oblivion
• Mirage of Blaze
• Moeyo Ken
• Nightwalker
• Ogre Slayer
• Panty & Stocking with Garterbelt
• Phantom Quest Corp.
• Puella Magi Madoka Magica
• Rental Magica
• Sailor Moon
• Saiyuki
• Sakura Wars
• Shounen Onmyouji
• Silent Möbius
• Sirius the Jaeger
• Sorcerer Hunters†
• Spirit Warrior
• Strait Jacket
• Tactics
• Tokko
• Tokyo Babylon
• Tokyo Majin
• Ushio & Tora†
• Vampire Hunter D
• Vampire Princess Miyu
• Witch Hunter Robin
• Yōkai Ningen Bem
• Yu Yu Hakusho

Possibly:

• Bleach (diverts frequently and for long periods from the original monster hunting theme)
• Boogiepop Phantom
• Descendants of Darkness
• GeGeGe no Kitarō† (differences between the series?)
• Mushishi—The "monster hunting" aspect is debatable
• Princess Resurrection
• Tokyo Mew Mew
• Undead Girl Murder Farce
• Vampire Wars
• Yuuna and the Haunted Hot Springs

Hentai

• Jiburiru: The Devil Angel
• Magical Kanan
• Sexy Magical Girl
• Sexy Sailor Soldiers
• Twin Dolls
• Venus Five

Possibly:

• Demon Warrior Koji
• Sex Craft

Threads

• "Ghost Busting and Monster Hunting Anime" (anime; 22 May 2024)—main thread for the list

I wonder do Christian’s respect Akrishna(Krishna),
wish for unity sister to mister, It went right past her
a pastor, master plan to assassin they hatred,
matrix religion we face it, when I was worshipping
Christ, I was stuck in a crisis bucket of Chrysler’s,
shit look realer than Christ is, don’t cry sister it’s
just us, religion do us no justice, just in(Justin
bieber) time for the Sunday service but Monday
I’m nervous standing in line for free church food,
why did god make these Earth Rules(Ruling), I got
judged(Judge) by the same one’s, Day one’s who
was helping me eat the trash sucka, I became
Christ I told the
church this my last supper, Bible study I studied
the Bible, I say bye bro never hide, I be
damned(Dam) if they flood me with their
ties(Tides, Tithes), see our survival is don’t rely on they
idols, use your eye though think tribal, our history
you should try bro, never try both decide, don’t be
a disciple decipher, fight for what’s right don’t be
righteous, write this for those who keep fighting
this white shit, I sit in depression, I’m stressing,
guessing will we ever wake and break off from the
ministry fuck I feel like our men is trees(Ministries),
stuck in the soil, they would(wood) branch off
from blind faith, this a mind state, they don’t think
about the world before Christ, before Christ was
the world nice? Jesus died for our sins, who died
for they sins before Jesus? They was probably
worshipping John the Baptist facts, the image they
use for practice, y’all don’t think practical this
black shit, take a piece of that little Caesar this
catfish, we get blacklisted, blackball, tell us the
black cat bad luck, anything labeled black, this shit
is bad as fuck, but I do believe in the Bible, the
minds, I gotta spark(Mindspark) this, before it was
white it was complete darkness, black.

Check it out, my name's Dondi White, and this track is dedicated to all the antig*mers in the building who like to buy up all the videog*ming equipment and just burn it.
[Chorus]
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
[Verse One]
Yo, I burn the consoles because I want them out of style
Give me a console, you get back the missing tooth smile
Honestly, I hate violence, 'cause that mess causes stress
And I hate the consoles because it stops brain progress
And Thumbs burns the consoles, me myself burns them too
And the VirginSexPet loves a console barbecue
I burn the consoles all for peace and unity
The g*mers just diss and say I'm crazy like a junkie
But then when you burn their g*mes they see nothing but red
And sometimes they make slurs that have never since been said
They call me a Nazi then act like it to prove their point
If they attack, I don't hit, I use Holy Water to anoint
[Chorus]
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
[Verse Two]
Yes, I burn software and consoles almost each and every day
A g*me gone a day keeps the Devils far away
The g*mers see me coming and they call me punk and wack
They must hate cause of the Bible, or because my skin is black
Sometimes I give them real talk in the form of Bible verses
And then they call me sad tire and other such curses
But I never call those jerks names, no, I never hit or yell
Cause I know that they will be cooking soonest down in Hell
As I said I burn the consoles, and smash PC g*me CDs
So the g*mers they go rage and show themselves off as Nazis
I think they really must be dumb, probably hypnotised as well
But I really don't mind, I'll burn up every console they can sell
[Chorus]
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
I burn the consoles, oh yes, oh yes
I burn the consoles
Oh yes, let me give a few shoutouts on the end
Thumbs Of Destiny, he burns the consoles
And the VSP also burns the consoles
My girl Angel Emi, loves to burn the consoles
And Flufftrap herself is always burning consoles
Cremation Central of course is burning consoles
The boy Special Ad is steady burning consoles
The Cobolt Hero spends his time burning consoles
And BVG is steady rocking - steady saving souls!
^{Plus we like the way the plastic melts And also kind of the way that melting plastic smells.}

a comedy act where the comedian is in church school and the kids question the bible. another girl asks that if adam and eve were white where did black people come from. the teacher proceeds to tell the children that its more of guidelines or stories rather than fact. class loses its mind

1989-1990 (Jul. 31, 1991-Dec. 31, 1990):

1. Alleyway (Launch Title)
2. Baseball (Launch Title)
3. Super Mario Land (Launch Title)
4. Tennis (Launch Title)
5. Tetris (Launch Title)
6. Castlevania: The Adventure
7. Motocross Maniacs
8. Wizards & Warriors X: The Fortress of Fear
9. Boxxle
10. Golf
11. Hyper Lode Runner
12. Solar Striker
13. Kwirk
14. Malibu Beach Volleyball
15. Revenge of the 'Gator
16. The Bugs Bunny Crazy Castle
17. Boomer's Adventure in ASMIK World
18. Fist of the North Star: 10 Big Brawls for the King of the Universe
19. Flipull
20. Heiankyo Alien
21. Nemesis
22. NFL Football
23. QBillion
24. World Bowling
25. Qix
26. Batman
27. Shanghai
28. Bases Loaded
29. Daedalian Opus
30. Dexterity
31. Gargoyle's Quest
32. Lock 'n' Chase
33. Paperboy
34. Penguin Wars
35. The Amazing Spider-Man
36. Double Dragon
37. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Fall of the Foot Clan
38. Catrap
39. Cosmo Tank
40. Heavyweight Championship Boxing
41. Pipe Dream
42. Skate or Die: Bad 'N Rad
43. The Final Fantasy Legend
44. Wheel of Fortune
45. Balloon Kid
46. Godzilla
47. Mercenary Force
48. Mr. Chin's Gourmet Paradise
49. Snoopy's Magic Show
50. Bubble Ghost
51. Disney's DuckTales
52. Ishido: The Way of Stones
53. Ninja Boy
54. Serpent
55. Side Pocket
56. Amazing Penguin
57. Chase H.Q.
58. Dead Heat Scramble
59. Dr. Mario
60. Ghostbusters II
61. Hal Wrestling
62. In Your Face
63. Play Action Football
64. Power Racer
65. Quarth
66. RoboCop
67. Torpedo Range

1991 (Jan. 1, 1991-Dec. 31, 1991):

1. Battle Bull
2. Burai Fighter Deluxe
3. Dragon's Lair: The Legend
4. Gremlins 2: The New Batch
5. Power Mission
6. Rolan's Curse
7. The Chessmaster (GB Version)
8. F-1 Race
9. Kung Fu Master
10. NBA All-Star Challenge
11. Operation C
12. Radar Mission
13. The Game of Harmony
14. Bubble Bobble
15. BurgerTime Deluxe
16. Cyraid
17. Jeopardy!
18. Loopz
19. Maru's Mission
20. Nobunaga's Ambition
21. Super Scrabble
22. Extra Bases
23. Fish Dude
24. Pac-Man
25. Solomon's Club
26. Tasmania Story
27. WWF Superstars
28. Castelian
29. Go! Go! Tank
30. Hatris
31. Marble Madness
32. Mickey's Dangerous Chase
33. R-Type
34. The Hunt for Red October
35. The Rescue of Princess Blobette
36. Bo Jackson: Two Games in One
37. Caesars Palace
38. Nintendo World Cup
39. Skate or Die: Tour de Thrash
40. Sneaky Snakes
41. Spud's Adventure
42. Tail 'Gator
43. The Sword of Hope
44. Battle Unit Zeoth
45. Klax
46. Mysterium
47. The Punisher: The Ultimate Payback!
48. Castlevania II: Belmont's Revenge
49. Bill & Ted's Excellent Game Boy Adventure: A Bogus Journey!
50. Blades of Steel
51. Aerostar
52. Altered Space: A 3-D Alien Adventure
53. Choplifter II
54. Crystal Quest
55. Fortified Zone
56. Gauntlet II
57. InfoGenius Productivity Pak: Berlitz French Translator
58. InfoGenius Productivity Pak: Berlitz Spanish Translator
59. InfoGenius Productivity Pak: Frommer's Travel Guide
60. InfoGenius Productivity Pak: Personal Organizer and Phone Book
61. InfoGenius Productivity Pak: Spell Checker and Calculator
62. Navy SEALs
63. Spot: The Video Game
64. Tecmo Bowl
65. The Bugs Bunny Crazy Castle 2
66. Trax
67. Atomic Punk
68. Super R.C. Pro-Am
69. Bart Simpson's Escape from Camp Deadly
70. Battletoads
71. Brain Bender
72. Final Fantasy Adventure
73. Final Fantasy Legend II
74. Home Alone
75. Kid Icarus: Of Myths and Monsters
76. Metroid II: Return of Samus
77. RoboCop 2
78. Turrican
79. Who Framed Roger Rabbit
80. Bill Elliott's NASCAR Fast Tracks
81. Dick Tracy
82. Double Dragon II
83. Double Dribble: 5 on 5
84. Elevator Action
85. Faceball 2000
86. Hudson Hawk
87. Mega Man: Dr. Wily's Revenge
88. Monopoly
89. Ninja Gaiden Shadow
90. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: Back from the Sewers
91. Super Kick Off
92. Track Meet
93. Aerostar

1992 (Jan. 1, 1992-Dec. 31, 1992):

1. Attack of the Killer Tomatoes
2. Beetlejuice
3. Gradius: The Interstellar Assault
4. Prince of Persia
5. Snow Brothers Jr.
6. Terminator 2: Judgment Day
7. The Addams Family
8. Adventure Island
9. Amazing Tater
10. Asteroids
11. Blaster Master Boy
12. Boggle Plus
13. Days of Thunder
14. Fastest Lap
15. Jordan vs. Bird: One on One
16. Mega Man II
17. Q*bert
18. Star Trek: 25th Anniversary
19. Tiny Toon Adventures: Babs' Big Break
20. Missile Command
21. Soccer Mania
22. The Adventures of Star Saver
23. The Flash
24. Ultra Golf
25. World Circuit Series
26. Fighting Simulator: 2-in-1 Flying Warriors
27. Hook
28. Nail 'n Scale
29. Paperboy 2
30. Square Deal: The Game of Two Dimensional Poker
31. Super Hunchback
32. Batman: Return of the Joker
33. Jack Nicklaus Golf
34. NBA All-Star Challenge 2
35. Turn and Burn: The F-14 Dogfight Simulator
36. Boxxle II
37. High Stakes Gambling
38. Pit-Fighter
39. The Blues Brothers
40. Jeep Jamboree: Off Road Adventure
41. Knight Quest
42. Prophecy: The Viking Child
43. Spanky's QuestNatsume
44. Ultima: Runes of Virtue
45. Wave Race
46. Yoshi
47. Double Dragon 3: The Arcade Game
48. Kirby's Dream Land
49. The Amazing Spider-Man 2
50. WWF Superstars 2
51. 4-in-1 Funpak
52. Dig Dug
53. Ferrari Grand Prix Challenge
54. George Foreman's KO Boxing
55. Ninja Taro
56. Roger Clemens' MVP Baseball
57. Spy vs. Spy
58. The Simpsons: Bart vs. the Juggernauts
59. Toxic Crusaders
60. Track & Field
61. WordZap
62. Barbie: Game Girl
63. Bionic Commando
64. Hit the Ice
65. Home Alone 2: Lost in New York
66. Lazlos' Leap
67. Looney Tunes (GB Version)
68. Miner 2049er
69. Mouse Trap Hotel
70. Out of Gas
71. Rolan's Curse 2
72. Speedball 2
73. Swamp Thing
74. The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle and Friends
75. The Jetsons: Robot Panic
76. Tom and Jerry
77. Xenon 2
78. Bionic Battler
79. Kingdom Crusade
80. Mr. Do!
81. Star Wars
82. Super Mario Land 2: 6 Golden Coins
83. Super Off Road
84. Terminator 2: The Arcade Game
85. The Incredible Crash Dummies
86. The Ren & Stimpy Show: Space Cadet Adventures
87. Wordtris
88. Avenging Spirit
89. Battleship
90. Best of the Best: Championship Karate
91. Bonk's Adventure
92. Centipede
93. Darkman
94. Dr. Franken
95. Mega Man III
96. Megalit
97. Disney's TaleSpin
98. The Humans
99. Universal Soldier
100. Exodus: Journey to the Promised Land
101. Joshua & the Battle of Jericho
102. Spiritual Warfare

1993 (Jan. 1, 1993-Dec. 31, 1993):

1. Alien³
2. Krusty's Fun House
3. Race Drivin'
4. Spot: The Cool Adventure
5. Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back
6. Top Gun: Guts and Glory
7. Adventure Island II: Aliens in Paradise
8. Disney's Darkwing Duck
9. The Flintstones: King Rock Treasure Island
10. Disney's The Little Mermaid
11. Kid Dracula
12. Milon's Secret Castle
13. Sumo Fighter
14. Tumblepop
15. Great Greed
16. Lethal Weapon
17. Ninja Boy 2
18. Pyramids of RaMatchbox
19. The New Chessmaster
20. Top Rank Tennis
21. Battletoads in Ragnarok's World
22. Cool World
23. F-15 Strike Eagle
24. Joe & Mac
25. Raging Fighter
26. Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
27. Star Trek: The Next Generation
28. Titus the Fox
29. Bubble Bobble Part 2
30. Felix the Cat
31. Muhammad Ali: Heavyweight Boxing
32. Speedy Gonzales
33. Spider-Man 3: Invasion of the Spider-Slayers
34. The Addams Family: Pugsley's Scavenger Hunt
35. Goal!
36. Jurassic Park
37. Nigel Mansell's World Championship Racing
38. Pinball Dreams
39. Tesserae
40. The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening (GB Version)
41. Mortal Kombat
42. Final Fantasy Legend III
43. Bram Stoker's Dracula
44. WWF King of the Ring
45. Buster Bros.
46. Gear Works
47. Last Action Hero
48. Ms. Pac-Man
49. Popeye 2
50. Sports Illustrated: Championship Football & Baseball
51. The Real Ghostbusters
52. The Ren & Stimpy Show: Veediots!
53. Tom and Jerry: Frantic Antics!
54. We're Back!
55. Alien vs. Predator: The Last of His Clan
56. Batman: The Animated Series
57. Championship Pool
58. Disney's DuckTales 2
59. Kirby's Pinball Land
60. NFL Quarterback Club
61. Panel Action Bingo
62. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles III: Radical Rescue
63. Tiny Toon Adventures 2: Montana's Movie Madness
64. Wayne's World
65. Battletoads & Double Dragon: The Ultimate Team
66. Chuck Rock
67. Cliffhanger
68. F1 Pole Position
69. Mega Man IV
70. Metal Masters
71. Spider-Man and the X-Men in Arcade's Revenge
72. Tetris 2
73. Rampart
74. Yoshi's Cookie
75. Zen: Intergalactic Ninja
76. Zool: Ninja of the Nth Dimension

1994 (Jan. 1, 1994-Dec. 31, 1994):

1. Black Bass: Lure Fishing
2. Riddick Bowe Boxing
3. Super Chase H.Q.
4. Winter Olympic Games: Lillehammer '94
5. Alfred Chicken
6. Captain America and the Avengers
7. Dennis the Menace
8. The Simpsons: Bart & the Beanstalk
9. Total Carnage
10. WCW World Championship Wrestling: The Main Event
11. Wario Land: Super Mario Land 3
12. Ultima: Runes of Virtue II
13. Sports Illustrated for Kids: The Ultimate Triple Dare
14. Super Battletank
15. Jeopardy! Sports Edition
16. Lamborghini American Challenge
17. Mickey's Ultimate Challenge
18. Donkey Kong
19. Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade
20. Stop That Roach!
21. Cool Ball
22. Elite Soccer
23. Disney's The Jungle Book
24. Lemmings
25. Mighty Morphin Power Rangers
26. RoboCop Versus The Terminator
27. Mega Man V
28. Mortal Kombat II
29. Taz-Mania
30. WildSnake
31. Contra: The Alien Wars
32. Cool Spot
33. Space Invaders
34. Sports Illustrated: Golf Classic
35. Tarzan: Lord of the Jungle
36. Yogi Bear's Gold Rush
37. Bonk's Revenge
38. Madden '95
39. Monster Truck Wars
40. NBA Jam
41. Race Days
42. Samurai Shodown
43. seaQuest DSV
44. Solitaire FunPak
45. Star Trek Generations: Beyond the Nexus
46. The Pagemaster
47. The Simpsons: Itchy & Scratchy in Miniature Golf Madness
48. Wario Blast: Featuring Bomberman!
49. The Blues Brothers: Jukebox Adventure
50. Jurassic Park Part 2: The Chaos Continues
51. Pac-Attack
52. Stargate
53. The Flintstones: The Movie
54. Tiny Toon Adventures: Wacky Sports
55. WWF Raw
56. King James Bible
57. The Smurfs (GB Version)

1995-1996 (Jan. 1, 1995-Dec. 31, 1996):

1. BreakThru!
2. Casino FunPak
3. Daffy Duck
4. Micro Machines
5. Desert Strike
6. FIFA International Soccer
7. Pac-In-Time
8. Pinball Fantasies
9. True Lies
10. Mario's Picross
11. NFL Quarterback Club II
12. PGA European Tour
13. Disney's The Lion King
14. Kirby's Dream Land 2
15. Donkey Kong Land
16. Judge Dredd
17. Jungle Strike
18. NBA Jam: Tournament Edition
19. NHL Hockey '95
20. Animaniacs
21. Arcade Classic: Asteroids / Missile Command
22. Primal Rage
23. Arcade Classic 2: Centipede / Milipede
24. Batman Forever
25. Mighty Morphin Power Rangers: The Movie
26. World Heroes 2 Jet
27. Arcade Classic 3: Galaga / Galaxian
28. Earthworm Jim
29. Foreman For Real
30. Street Fighter II
31. Disney's Aladdin
32. Arcade Classic 4: Defender / Joust
33. Madden '96
34. NFL Quarterback Club 96
35. Shaq-Fu
36. Zoop
37. Killer Instinct
38. Mortal Kombat 3
39. PGA Tour '96
40. Super Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
41. FIFA Soccer '96
42. Frank Thomas Big Hurt Baseball
43. The Getaway: High Speed II
44. Vegas Stakes
45. Cutthroat Island
46. Prehistorik Man
47. Tetris Blast
48. College Slam
49. NBA Live 96
50. Disney's Pocahontas
51. DragonHeart
52. Kirby's Block Ball
53. Disney's Toy Story
54. Olympic Summer Games: Atlanta 1996
55. NHL '96
56. Iron Man and X-O Manowar in Heavy Metal
57. Tetris Attack
58. Donkey Kong Land 2
59. Sword of Hope II
60. Arcade Classics: Super Breakout / Battlezone
61. Disney's Pinocchio
62. Road Rash
63. Battle Arena Toshinden
64. Casper
65. FIFA Soccer '97
66. Madden '97
67. Urban Strike
68. Jeopardy! Platinum Edition
69. Jeopardy! Teen Tournament
70. Street Racer
71. NIV Bible & the 20 Lost Levels of Joshua

1997-1999 (Jan. 1, 1997-Dec. 31, 1999):

1. Taz-Mania 2
2. Mole Mania
3. The King of Fighters '95
4. Disney's The Hunchback of Notre Dame
5. Kirby's Star Stacker
6. Game & Watch Gallery
7. Disney's Hercules
8. Tetris Plus
9. Donkey Kong Land III
10. Dr. Franken II
11. Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball
12. Tamagotchi
13. The Fidgetts
14. Turok: Battle of the Bionosaurs
15. FIFA: Road to World Cup '98
16. Superman: The Animated Seris
17. The Lost World: Jurassic Park
18. James Bond 007
19. Bust-A-Move 2: Arcade Edition
20. Wario Land II
21. Castlevania Legends
22. Brain Drain
23. Bomberman GB
24. Mystical Ninja Starring Goemon
25. Ring Rage
26. All-Star Baseball 99
27. Jimmy Connors Tennis
28. Mickey Mouse: Magic Wands!
29. Game Boy Camera (If counts)
30. World Cup 98
31. WWF War Zone
32. Bubsy II
33. Frogger
34. Harvest Moon GB
35. Legend of the River King
36. Maui Mallard in Cold Shadow
37. Pokémon Blue Version
38. Pokémon Red Version
39. International Superstar Soccer
40. Disney's Mulan
41. Small Soldiers
42. Super Black Bass
43. Oddworld Adventures
44. The Rugrats Movie (GB Version)
45. Beavis and Butt-Head
46. Pokémon Yellow: Special Pikachu Edition

Plus, there are 516 Original Game Boy video games in North America.

I know I am not the only one triggered by the word "y'all". When that word is uttered, I get ancestral memories of a big white man in 1790s Alabama whipping my great great-grandmother for learning to read the Bible. It left me curled up in the fetal position and weeping. I get the same reaction when a perfectly normal Jamaican uses "kid", instead of "child", "pickney" or, "yute".
Some of the memories can get even worse. Much worse. Last Sunday when a Jamaican YouTuber who who never see inside of a embassy yet twanged "y'all" - it got real bad. I was struck with visions of the BlackPeopleTwitter comment section. Vivid hallucinations of being trapped in bottom of the SS Zong half-starved in my excrement couldn't break me. But a black American comment section could. The doctors will let me out of UHWI when I can sleep without screaming "the word is ox-tail NOT HAWX-TAYLS dammit!"
Mods, the buck Garvey stops with us. No more y'alls. We have a perfectly fine plural second-person pronoun. It is unu/unoo. Unoo a weh unoo fi seh when unoo a refer to people. Not y'all. Our ancestors did not endure 400 years of slavery/colonialism to end up sounding like Lil' Wayne. We are all in this together. So whether you are an Afro-Jamaican, Indian-Jamaican, Chinese-Jamaican, or Uptown-Jamaican, we all should be proud of this language that we have all created. So stop talking like some West Virginia Redneck dammit.

First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

Part 1
First of all, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words and support from the last post. A lot has happened since then, and a bunch of context is needed, so I hope you'll bear with me as I explain the details.
***
Back during the peak of the blinking crisis, I remember having a lot of difficulty sleeping. It was common for me to average only four or five hours a night, and the little sleep I did get was marred by terrible nightmares. One in particular recurred many times.
I was only eight, but somehow I was in the driver's seat of our family's old SUV. My arms were long enough to steady the wheel, but my legs didn't quite meet the pedals. It didn't matter though, since the car seemed content to continue on at a constant pace. I looked over and saw my mom in the passenger seat. Her face was a blurry likeness pieced together from the dozen or so picture's I'd seen of her over the years. I tried to bring her into focus, not only because I missed her dearly, but because she was speaking—pleading, even. She waved frantically at me, then brought her leg up and slammed it down on the floor mat several times. I didn't understand what had her so upset until she pointed out the front windshield, and I saw we were hurdling directly toward a giant tree that had fallen in the middle of the road.
Panicking, I stomped for the brake, but my seatbelt protested and pulled me back like an invigorated dog on a short leash. I sat up and tried clicking it off, but it wouldn't budge. My breaths became hollow cries, and I felt my heart beat against the bars of its bony prison. I grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it to the left, then right, attempting to swerve off the road, but it was as if whatever kind of glue was locking up the seatbelt was also fixing the steering wheel in place.
"Mom! what do I do!?" I yelled, tears streaming from my eyes. She was yelling back at me, but it was as if there was a divider between us, and neither of us could hear each other. I turned back just in time to see the giant Oak tree meet the front bumper, and then I jolted awake with a piercing pain in my chest that radiated up through my throat in the form of a giant scream. My little legs kicked under the covers and tears rained down on my pillow until my dad ran in and knelt at my bed.
"Lauren, are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"
I grabbed my pillow and hugged it so my face was covered, then effused a "Mmm-hmm" in a long wheeze while rocking to either side.
"Oh, honey," he soothed and brushed my hair, then the tears from my face when I would allow it.
Time would pass in silence, and when I began to get the sense that my dad was ready to leave, I'd chirp out, "stay" in that way children do when they're embarrassed about wanting something.
"Always," my dad would reply; then he'd post up on the floor with my large tomato plushie as a pillow.
One night in particular, it was deep in the night, and I had woken to a tapping sound outside my window. I was so afraid that a monster had snuck into my room while I wasn't looking that I made him lay next to me and face outward. I'd peek my eyes open every minute or so to check and make sure my dad was there, staking out the room. Eventually, he rolled in close and said something that I still remember to this day.
"Hey, baby, guess what." he whispered.
"Mmm" I mumbled.
"I think you scared the monster away."
I tried to picture this through the fog of my fatigue. Something seemed off about the statement, like it wasn't logically possible, but before I could piece together the words to express that, my dad cut back in.
"It was scared because it realized you're a superhero. And you know what your greatest superpower is?"
I shook my head, making sure to rub my forehead against his shoulder so he could sense it in the dark room.
"You're greatest power is that you get to tell the monsters what to do. Because the monsters are only as strong as the stories you tell about them. And there's all kinds of stories. Happy ones. Sad ones. Scary ones. Tell me, this monster you think snuck in, would you say he's part of a scary story?"
"I don't know," I said, confused. "Maybe"
"Hmm," he hummed, contemplating. "Well, I want you to remember this. You have the ability to tell any kind of story you want. Maybe there are monsters, but that means there's heroes and angels, too, right?"
I was beginning to doze off to the comforting sound of my dad's deep voice, but I gave another affirmative "Mm-hmm".
"So, if you're ever scared, honey, just dream up a better story. A story that will bring you peace. Do you understand?"
But I was already out.
***
I woke up the next morning to the feeling that someone was in the hotel room with me. The drapes were drawn and the only sound was the AC unit blowing cold air, but when I looked toward the dark corner of the empty coat rack, my mind conjured the face of my dad, smiling at me, chanting that same, awful line—Oh, Lauren… you know who we are.
I was no longer a child, but it took a couple minutes of cold focus before I muscled the courage to ascend from the safety of my covers and flick on the lamp light. The small amber radius extended to where my dad's feet would have been if he was standing there. But there was no one. I let out a sigh and collapsed back onto the mattress, thinking back on all those years growing up. The same man who had helped me conquer my fear of the dark was now the monster hiding in its shadow.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the clock read 10:15. My meeting with Trent was in three hours. I moaned and stretched my arms back until they knocked against the headboard, then I collapsed back onto the mattress, meditating, gathering energy like a compressed spring. All at once, I jumped up and glided over to the drapes, opening them in a single, fluid motion. I grimaced at the sunlight, but the warmth felt good against my face. I stopped by the nightstand and gulped down the final few swigs of a bottle of Mello Yello that I had purchased from a vending machine the previous night, then undressed and hopped in the shower.
The warm water wasn't enough to wash away the previous night's memories. When I closed my eyes to lather my hair, I was back in my living room, standing opposite the demon that had taken on my dad's form. His smile. His laugh. It was like someone in my head was flipping a switch between the man I loved growing up and a terrible monster. But the fear was more powerful. I heard something drop onto the tile floor on the other side of the curtain. The noise made me gasp, and I opened my eyes while shampoo was still streaming down my face. I swiped the shampoo out of my now burning eyes and squinted at the curtain, trying to see through it, but I couldn't make anything out. "I-is anyone," I started, trembling, afraid to finish the sentence. I reached out and pinched the end of the curtain. My heart was in overdrive. I swallowed, then pulled it toward me and peeked out. I scanned the room, but I couldn't see anything out of place.
It wasn't until after I finished showering and wound myself up in one of the hotel's too-small towels that I saw what had made the noise. I bent down and picked up the stub of a razor blade that had fallen onto the tile right next to the puffy, gray shower rug. It wasn't mine, and I was pretty sure hotels didn't keep unguarded razor blades just laying around. When I held it up, it occurred to me that if it had simply fallen a few inches to the left, it would have been buried in the rug, and perhaps I would have stepped on it. I stared at myself in its steely reflection. Cold. Lonely. Small. What if I—was all I was able to think before the blade blinked out of my hand.
I threw on some clothes, packed up the few belongings I had into my purse, then checked out of my room. I didn't feel safe going back home after what happened, but I also didn't want to go anywhere else. I got in my car and drove aimlessly up and down the town's streets, focusing only on the car ahead of me. Anytime I started to travel down an avenue of thought, I'd make a turn, or speed up, or hit the brakes: anything to keep my mind distracted. It was sweltering outside, but I'd turn the heat on for minutes at a time until I felt drenched, then toggle max AC until I was cool, then back to heat. I repeated the basic driving tenet "10 and 2", "10 and 2", "10 and 2" like a mantra—a chant to focus my attention on a single point, and then I pictured that point disappearing. I began to think that maybe I wanted to disappear.
I fully intended to keep going that way until 1:00, but after about thirty minutes, my meandering route had led me to St. Mark's Catholic Church, where a large group of people were gathered around a long line of tables in front of the building. I slowed down. At the front of the venue was a large, white cardboard sign which read, "Plant a Seed, Share the Joy". I wasn't sure what that meant, but my boredom had come to a head, and I rationalized that if there's any place on God's green earth that would be safe, it was this one. I parked along the closest side-street, then walked over to the church.
Rows of white tables were covered with cardboard boxes filled with small plants that were wrapped up in individual paper pots. I watched from a distance as people behind the tables carefully removed the plants, one by one, and offered them to passersby. I continued down the line, a sheep in the herd, and allowed myself to sink into childhood memories. I had somehow made it out the other end near the Narthex when I heard a woman's voice call to me.
"Hey, deary, have you gotten one yet?"
I turned and saw a small, gray-haired lady with rose-colored glasses. "Oh, no," I started, attempting to decline, then paused. The old lady grabbed one of the plants and held it out for me.
"Here," she said. "Come on, I won't bite."
As far as you know, I thought, and stumbled forward with a sigh. "Thanks," I said and took the plant. "What is this all for, anyway?"
"It's a giveaway," the old woman responded. "Staff have been growing these plants—tomatoes and garlic, mainly—so they could offer them to members of the Parish. The idea is to have the members grow the produce, then donate it to St. Mark's Food Pantry to give to those in need."
"Oh, that's actually pretty cool." I replied and inspected my plant which was at present nothing more than a small green stem. "So which kind is this one?"
"That one is—" the old lady stopped and inspected the other plants near where she had grabbed mine—"tomato."
"Tomato," I repeated. "Well, thanks again."
"Of course, dear." the old lady beamed. "We're all responsible for each other."
I nodded, then continued back through the crowd toward my car when, through the large vestibule windows, I saw a Priest speaking to a young couple. It had been a little over a decade since I had attended a service (I stopped going during High School when I started studying other religions), and I didn't recognize this Priest. He was short (just over five feet tall), bald, and African American. He wore the customary black robe and white collar, and there was something in his smile and the way seemed to be affirming the couple that made me yearn to speak with him. I considered for a moment, a bit embarrassed to be stepping back into church after all this time, but the thought of being able to burn ten minutes talking with someone who might have some insight into my situation was too tempting to pass up.
I waited near a portrait of Mary Magdalene, my tomato plant in hand, staring off at the pristine series of stained glass images portraying the death and resurrection of Jesus. About a minute in, the Priest met my eyes; he smiled, his way of telling me he knew I was waiting, then finished up with the couple and made his way over. He had a bit of an accent when he spoke—it was Ugandan, from best I could tell—and a proclivity for laughing at the end of his sentences.
"Hello, Miss, I don't believe I've had the privilege," he said and held out his hand. He leaned in as he spoke, and his smile tugged on the corners of his eyes which were already marked with use.
I shook his hand and returned what I'm sure was a weak smile. "No, I don't think so. My name's Lauren. I used to come here when I was little. It's—been a while."
"Well, I see you picked a good day to visit. If you're into gardening, that is." He remarked with a laugh and gestured toward the plant. "It's nice to meet you, Lauren. My name's Martin—Father Martin, if you prefer."
"Father Martin," I repeated, "I have a friend named Martin. It's a good name."
He laughed and said, "Thank you, I'll pass that one along to my mother. She loves the praise."
I laughed back. He carried himself in such a carefree way that I was put immediately at ease. Almost to the point where I forgot what I wanted to talk to him about. "Um," I started, attempting to word my question in a way that didn't sound like I needed psychiatric help. "I have a couple of religious questions for you, if you have time."
"That's what I'm for. Ask away."
"They're about… miracles. Like the ones in the Bible. I was wondering, do you think that miracles still happen today?"
"Miracles, huh," he started. "You mean like water into wine?"
"Kind of, yeah,"
"Hmm…" he contemplated. "Well, I haven't seen them, myself. You know, I may be a Priest, but I also have a degree in Physics. I think God made the world according to laws, right? But I do think God has the power to intervene. Yes. I just have never seen it… like … you know, the biblical type of miracles. To me, there are miracles happening all around us—miracles we can't see."
"Exactly," I responded, thinking about how no one else could see the blinks, "those kinds of miracles. What are those miracles we can't see?"
One of Father Martin's eyebrows raised and he rubbed his chin. "Well, I think the greatest miracle is the miracle of God's love which was perfected in Christ and offered to each of us. It's his power to heal even the most troubled mind. By coming into alignment with God's will for us, we can see the true purpose of this existence."
No, he's not getting it, I thought. I scrambled to my other entry-point. "What about the story of Job? God made a bet with the Devil that Job would stay faithful to him no matter what the Devil did to him. Do you think that kind of situation is possible?"
Father Martin's expression drooped into a concerned frown. "There's quite the difference between miracles and the story of Job. I suppose I see what you're getting at, though. Job's suffering is in some ways the antithesis to positive miracles. In this life, we are tested, sometimes to the point of losing everything, but even that person who has more reason to hate God than anyone else can once again find peace and eternal happiness through faith. In fact, it's often the person who is lowest in the pit of suffering that needs the Light of Christ more than anyone else."
I thought back on the first night that I prayed. It was in my moment of greatest helplessness that I reached out to God, and I thought I had found my answer in Him. But now, after what happened last night, after all these years of chaos—not merely losing things that were important to me, but my very sanity—I needed more than just blind faith. I couldn't just sit idly by and hope things would get better. I smiled at the Priest and said, "Thank you, Father, this has been very insightful."
"Of course, sister. I'm sorry if I couldn't have been of more help."
"No, I think I understand now. I've been… wrestling with something, and I think God wants me to confront it. I think I've been running away and hiding from it for so long that I'd convinced myself it disappeared."
Father Martin nodded in understanding. "Well, in that case, will you let me leave you with a prayer?"
I was a bit taken off guard by the request, but I accepted. "Sure, Father."
I watched as he made the sign of the cross, then he lifted his hands and closed his eyes. "Dear God, I am so happy to have had the privilege of meeting with Lauren today, especially on a day such as this where we are offering gifts for those who need them. You have heard her desire to confront the things that are troubling her. I ask that you bless her with strength and peace and a clear conscience, that she may overcome these challenges. God, bless us with your spirit, that we may see your hand in our lives. Amen."
"Amen," I said.
As I was leaving, Father Martin called out to me and said, "Oh, just so you know, this Friday at 7 we are having a barbecue at the Parish Center. I would love to see you there, if you're able and wanting."
Turning back, I smiled and said, "Oh, ok, thanks Father. I'll think about it."
The priest nodded, and with a smile, he sent me off.
***
I walked into the Deli at 1:00 on the dot. The customers who had arrived for the lunch rush were already cleaning up their trash and heading out. I dodged past a few of them on my way down the long, narrow path leading to the front counter. While I waited behind a couple of elderly folk who were picking which soup they wanted to pair with their Ultimate Grilled Cheese, I looked around for Trent. He hadn't sent me a picture or any way of contacting him throughout the day, so I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I figured I'd see some man half-hidden behind a newspaper, scouting me out. Maybe I watch too many movies, I thought.
"Ahem, ma'am. You're up." croaked the teenager behind the register.
"Oh, right, sorry" I replied and stepped up to the counter. "Uhh," I muttered, scanning the menu for something that looked edible. "Could I just get…" I made sure to mouth every syllable as they were words of their own.
"We have a deal—the try two combo. Sandwich and a soup for $9.99." the cashier repeated for what was probably the fiftieth time that day.
"Yes, that sounds good. I'll do the Italian sandwich and potato soup. And a drink, please."
After I paid for the food, I wandered around the tables, hoping to find someone who looked like a Trent. I was picturing a short guy, runner's build, with long brown hair, tucked somewhere neatly away in the corner. So I was not prepared when the Hulk's stunt double growled my name from a table smack dab in the middle of the restaurant. He had a pale, square face that was spotted with freckles and a sinking property that comes with the lethal combination of stress and age. His hair was relatively short. Probably it was brown or auburn, but since it was slicked back, it looked almost black. And he wore what looked like janitor coveralls. There was even a cloth tag pinned to his chest which read, "Trent".
"Lauren?" He repeated.
"Yes, that's me." I said and took a seat across from him. I saw a brown tray on the table in front of him, and on the tray was a large, white soup bowl. It was empty and beginning to crust along the edges. He must have been here for some time already. "I didn't know where you'd be, so I was worried we might miss each other. I'm glad you found me though." I said while looking over Trent more thoroughly. His large hands were stretched out in front of him on the table. He wasn't wearing a ring, so he probably wasn't married. And his face, it was stern. He seemed like a no-bullshit kind of guy. Then I saw his eyes. They were sapphire blue—probably the most stunning I'd ever seen.
"We only spoke on the internet, so I hope you don't mind, but I usually run a preliminary test on anyone I meet who claims to have abilities such as yours." Trent said while reaching into his pocket and removing a device that had the size and shape of an electric razor. "All you have to do is look into it. It takes maybe five seconds. Ten at most."
"Oh, um, sure," I said reluctantly. "Do I just—" I asked while reaching for the device.
Trent clicked a button and released the cylindrical head which opened, revealing a glass circle about the size of an iris. "I'll hold it, just look into the center. A red cross should appear, then it'll take the picture."
"Okay…" I replied and did as he instructed, leaning my head forward to look into the device. Sure enough, a red cross appeared. "Is it…" was all I got out before the light turned blue and I saw a gray fog disperse and billow throughout the inside of the tube, extending for what I perceived to be miles. My jaw went slack and I couldn't breathe for maybe five seconds. Then Trent reshuttered the device and turned it over.
"Damn, 72." He said with a hint of shock. "That's the highest I've scanned to date." He looked back at me, more relaxed now, and muttered to himself. "How have you been able to function for this long? At this level, you should basically be half in, half out."
I rubbed my forehead, feeling a mixture of pain and frustration and fatigue and impatience which all poured out at once. "Listen, Trent," I said as sternly as I could, "I came here because you said you knew what was wrong with me and that you could help me. I get you have to make sure I am who I said I am, but now it's your turn to pay up. How do I know you know anything about my condition? You said my mom might still be alive. What does that even mean? I saw her die right in front of me. I want answers."
I waited for Trent to respond, but he only lifted his head. I turned around and saw a girl holding a tray of food.
"Um, hi, sorry to interrupt. I have an order 36 for Lauren."
"Oh, yes, thank you." I said. The worker placed the tray down on the table in front of me, and when I saw the food, I suddenly realized how hungry I was. Trent must have also realized this, because he folded his arms and said, "go ahead and eat. I'll explain while you do."
I wanted to protest, but my salivating mouth made other plans. "Fine," I said. I grabbed the metal spoon off the tray and started on the soup, bracing against the steaming heat of the potato chunks.
As I ate, Trent moved all of the items on his tray off to the side, then he flipped the tray over so it was raised slightly off the table. He took his cup and placed it face down in the center, then he rolled up a few of his used, blue mayonnaise packets and charted a track across the tray.
"What are you doing?" I croaked out between bites.
Trent ignored me and continued by ripping up a napkin into strips and placing them alongside the mayonnaise packets. Finally, he snapped ten toothpicks in half and stuck them in the tomb of a dozen overlayed napkins. "It's your diorama," he said at last.
"It's my what?"
"From the story you sent me. Your diorama. When I read about it, it gave me a good idea of how to explain the 'blinking'."
I pointed at the cup in the center. "Is that supposed to be a pyramid? Because I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong geometric neighborhood with that one."
"It's an analogy," he said.
"Of an analogy," I quipped back.
"Look," he picked out one of the toothpicks and held it out in front of me. "This could be a person, an animal, a crowbar—whatever you want. The point is, this diorama is a stand in for our universe. This is everything that exists, that we can see. Okay?"
"Okay,"
"Now, me," Trent placed a hand over his heart. "I'm not in the diorama. I don't exist in the universe."
"In the universe where a cup is a pyramid, or the actual universe?" I said, unable to control myself.
Trent grimaced.
"Sorry, keep going. I get it."
"Things pop into," Trent threw the toothpick back onto the tray, "or out of," he picked the toothpick back up, "our universe at will, based on forces," he patted his chest again, "that exist in other realms" he gestured to the room, "that are connected to our universe," he tapped two fingers against the tray. "These things could be objects, like, say, a toothpick, or entities, like the one you encountered yesterday. The blinking experience that you described aligns with the typical experience of a moderate Antenna. That's what I call people like us—Antennas; because we can pick up on signals others can't."
"We—you mean you see the blinking, too?"
"Yes, but not to the same extent as you. If all the blinks are gathered in a giant picture that you can see, I'm traversing the image through binoculars, maybe even a microscope, depending on where we are."
I thought about this. I guess it was possible there were other people like me out there, but since I had never met anyone, I didn't really consider the idea until now. And then for him to say my ability was somehow much stronger than his… "But," I started, "I haven't even seen that many blinks since I was a child. It's just more focused and malicious now."
"Yeah," Trent scratched his head, "that's the thing that got me really interested in you. Somehow you seem to be able to control it without gear, just by praying. And, look, that's all well and good, but I don't want to give you the false impression that I'm some kind of religious leader. I like to look for logical, scientific explanations for things. So that's the frame I'm coming at this from."
I took a sip from my drink. "That's fine," I said, "the truth is that's why I reached out to you in the first place. I wanted an explanation I could understand. An explanation that was directly related to what I'm going through."
"Then we should get along just fine."
I was scooping out the last potato that was stubbornly gliding along the bottom of the bowl when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the old man from the line shooting up from his bench and standing in army-erect form. I felt a tingling sensation tickle the back of my neck. I didn't want to turn toward him. I knew what I'd see if I did. "Trent," I whispered, trying to tip him off.
"Huh?" he grunted. Then when he saw my expression, he snuck his right hand under the table and said, "Do you see it? Is it here?"
I cocked my head to the left, signaling toward the old man that was now facing us, but Trent didn't seem to notice him: his eyes just kept scanning the entire front of the restaurant. Then I saw the old man take a step in our direction.
"Lauuurennnn, oh Lauuuurennnn, I've been looking for you, Laurenn." The old man said in a low, gravelly voice that gave the impression he was gurgling liquid tar. I turned and saw his face. It was cold and expressionless, and a butter knife was poking out of his left fist. When I met his eyes, he smiled that horrible smile."You're a slippery bitch, you know that?" He spat. "Why can't you just stay put? Don't you get tired of running from your old friend? Or have you forgotten about me?"
"Trent," I mumbled out. "Right there."
"And this guy. You think he can help you? He's only here to help himself. If that's not clear, you really are a lost little lamb."
"Quick, give me your hand," Trent instructed.
I was silent, my eyes still pinned to the old man.
"Tsk-tsk-tsk," the demon possessed senior wagged his finger at me, taking a step, then another step, shortening the distance as much as he could while I was entranced. Then, suddenly, he sprinted forward at a speed that shouldn't have been possible for a man his age.
"Trent!" I screamed.
"Lauren, give me your hand!"
I spun around and grabbed Tren'ts outstretched arm just as the old man lifted the butter knife over his head like a pickaxe. Then I saw Trent pull out what looked like a toy gun from under the table and point it at the demon.
"Got you," Trent remarked. I braced for a gunshot, but there was no noise. After a couple seconds, I looked back and saw the old man sitting in the booth opposite his wife, his hand tremoring as he reached for his large drink.
"What did you?" I asked, but Trent was already pulling me out of my seat. "Come on, we have to go," he said, "the effect is temporary, he'll be—"
Before he could get out the last word, I saw the cup-pyramid on Trent's tray blink out of existence. The sound of a plate shattering rang out from a table up ahead. The lone woman standing there slowly turned around, smiling, with a fork in one hand and a piece of the broken plate in the other. Trent shot her with the toy gun as we ran past and then barreled through the front door.
"Where—are we going?" I asked between gasps.
"My van. It's loaded with kit."
"And then where?"
"Your house" replied Trent who stashed his gun back in his pocket and took out a key fob.
"My house? But that's where he—it appeared."
"Yeah, and that's where you banished it."
Trent waved me into the passenger seat of his RAM 3500 Promaster. I noticed right away the dash which looked more like it belonged in a new limited-edition EV than a cargo van. The ignition kicked on automatically, and I heard the beep of a sonar ping precede an English woman's voice calling out like some auxed-in GPS saying, "scanning for anomalies". Trent shifted the van into gear, and I heard the wheels sputter as we accelerated backward and whipped out of the small parking lot.
"What's your address?" Trent asked. I gave it to him, and then speaking to his dash, he said, "Car, take us to ****."
"Redirecting to ****," replied the British woman. "Currently detecting 31 novel emergences. Updating pings every 300 milliseconds. Chance of contact: 0.23%"
"What does that mean?" I asked.
"The van has sensor equipment which can detect blinks. It's much more accurate than either of us."
"And it sees 31?"
"Yes, that's not as many as it sounds." Trent said and tore past a car that blinked out of existence right as we turned onto the main street.
We drove on for another couple minutes, the Englishwoman updating the number of novel emergences every ten seconds or so. Her constant babbling eventually became a comforting background noise, and I was able to think again.
"In the message you sent me, you said my mom may still be alive." I looked at Trent to see if he would react to me bringing her up, but he remained stolid. "What did you mean by that?"
Trent thumbed his steering wheel. "I shouldn't have sent that." He said at last.
"Shouldn't have… What do you mean? You can't just say that now."
Trent took one hand off the wheel and turned toward me. "Look, we're going back to your house because we need to determine your origin point. All Antennas have them. It's a place of high energy where many realms intersect, kind of like a station, and it's the place where you first acquired your abilities. Based on everything you wrote, I'm guessing that place is where the forest where the accident happened when you were a young child. But I need to confirm it. Once I confirm that that's the place…" Trent hesitated.
"Then… what? You want us to go back there? To the place where my mom died, or at least where I think she died until you told me she might be alive but are now taking it back? That place?"
"It's the only way to—"
"Now detecting novel agent," the Englishwoman interrupted. We both perked up as she gave another update. "Net anomalies: 437. Novel Agents: 1. Chance of contact: 78%."
"Shit," Trent muttered. "Car, course correct."
"Attempting course correct to avoid collision. Attempts made: 10, 50, 75, 79… No alternate route detected. Chance of contact: 96%."
"Time until contact?"
"Time until contact: 13 seconds."
I shuddered. Looking out the front windshield, I saw cars pop out of existence left and right, opening up a clear path to the four way intersection ahead. In a blink, the streetlights all turned green, and then they vanished completely. It was as if the entire world was being stripped down bare, and all that remained was the road, boxed in by the rows of buildings along either side. In the distance I could see a large tanker barreling toward us.
"Trent,"
"I know," he replied and clicked a different button on the console which opened a new toggle for the shifter labeled "TD". He pushed the stick forward, engaging the new mode, then pressed the accelerator all the way to the ground. "You're going to want to hold on."
"What are you doing!?" I yelled, grabbing onto my seatbelt.
"No time to explain. Car, release phase lock."
"Phase lock released."
I watched in horror as the color drained from the road and buildings and sky, transforming it all into a dim tunnel, with only the headlights of the oncoming semi-truck visible up ahead. I had the sudden thought that this was all a dream, just like the ones from my childhood. I looked over and no longer saw Trent, but my mother. And then I realized this wasn't a dream. This was hell. I was being forced to relive the worst moment of my life, over and over again. Just when I thought I had escaped, I was pulled right back into that car, helpless as we approached but never arrived at our impending fate. I closed my eyes right as the lights engulfed the windshield and braced for the usual pain in my chest, for the feeling of breaking.
But it didn't come.
"Shift" was the last word out of Trent's mouth, and then I was infused with the sensation of being at the pinnacle of a roller coaster. I was suspended there for what felt like hours, but somehow I knew that not even a second had passed. Everything inside the van: the dashboard, windows, ceiling, doors, even Trent himself began to radiate enigmatic particles. They were a mass of constant motion, like raindrops falling through the air but never landing. I looked down at my hand, but it was gone. Diffused into an unknowable number of untraceable particles. The world outside, once devoid of color, was now nothing but color. When I tried to focus on a particular spot in the infinite geometric folds of whatever realm we were traversing through, I could sometimes detect a trace of our world.
The old lady from the church. She appeared as if through a window, standing behind a table, holding out a plant. Only this image was so much brighter. And the plant she was holding was pure gold. Then I'd catch a glimpse of the razor blade. It was large, many hundreds of times larger than the van, and surrounded by darkness. These ghostly images appeared like holograms or reflections that caught the light at just the right angle, then dissipated.
I stayed there, looping between the archetypes of my life for a long, long time.
***
I knew we were returning when I felt the first sense of motion. Breath filled my lungs for the first time in what felt like a day. I blinked. And then we were back in town, driving down the same road with the blue sky above. People were jogging on the sidewalk past the little street shops. The streetlights were active. I checked the side mirror and saw the tanker had just passed by.
I looked over at Trent, who met my eyes. We shared a look of knowing, and unknowing. For some reason, that was enough, and we continued on in silence.
***
We agreed to stay the night at my house.
Trent had parked a couple blocks away in front of a couple vacant houses so as not to arouse suspicion from the neighbors. Then he lugged a large duffel bag with his equipment in and set it up in the living room. He scanned the scrapbook which contained the newspaper clippings from the accident several times and confirmed that was likely my 'origin point'. I simply nodded and then went back out onto the back porch. I sat there for hours, basking in the sun. Something had changed in the past day, but I couldn't pick out what it was. Too much had happened. I had too little time to process any of it.
When the sun set, I went inside and Trent told me about his plans for the next couple days. He said he needed to run a few errands in the morning, then meet up with a couple of his associates. After that, we could begin our drive to Southern Illinois. He said it was likely that the entity that was chasing me had first tied itself to me during my childhood accident. For whatever reason, we came into contact, and now it didn't want to leave. Trent would help me get rid of it. He didn't go into many details regarding how that was to happen, but I don't think in my tired state I would have been able to understand much anyway. He had a plan, and that was enough for me. At least for a while.
After our meeting, I made sure Trent had enough pillows and blankets like a proper host, then I retired to my room. I laid down on my twin bed and stared up at the cream-colored ceiling. Then I turned and saw the participation awards for my junior soccer league stashed on my dresser. I pictured myself on the field, running with the ball, out ahead of everyone except the goalie. I took a shot, but it was blocked. Then I ran back to defend. How can such a simple game be so much fun? Was the last thought I had before drifting off to sleep.
I woke up only once during the night. It was still dark out. The room was warm despite the small, flower petal fan churning away, shifting the hot, humid air from one pocket of the room to the next. I waited in apprehension, sensing that something had disturbed me. I saw the tomato plushie peeking out at me from the slightly ajar closet door where I had stashed it so many years ago. I felt like I was missing something. Something important.
And then I heard it.
There was a tapping at my window.

CisHet Logo:

• A black "not equal to" sign to represent heterosexuality.

CisHet Flag:

• Consists of black and white stripes with a white circle in the middle with a black "not equal to" sign to represent heterosexuality.

Slogans:

• "The whole world shall unite in the pursuit of homophobia."
• "Good night and remember to stay straight!"

Beliefs Of The CisHet:

• Humanity is united in CisHet.
• LGBTQI2+ marks the downfall of Western society.
• There are secular and religious arguments against LGBTQI2+.
• Being CisHet is a way to vent out your frustration.

CisHet Anthem:
"I swear by my might, I swear by might, homosexuality will go away..."
CisHet's Rally Cry:
"The six stripes are going down, homophobes are number one!"
Subscription Services:

• The F Word Pass.

CisHet Website:

• https://www.cishet.com/home

Sections: About Us, News, Blogs, Stories, Events
Miscellaneous Content: CisHet Memes, CisHet Poems, CisHet Stories, CisHet Songs (AI generated Anti-LGBTQ songs), CisHet Rants, CisHet Chibi (Homophobic gacha images), CisHet Transracism (Hate towards Transracials/RCTA Community), CisHet Voyage (Articles about Anti-LGBTQI2+ Countries such as Malaysia, Poland and Russia).
News Anchor:

• CisHet News: Daily dose of Anti-LGBTQI2 Content.

Education:

• Whenever someone studies using pastpapers, textbooks, videos or notes, they will be rewarded by making homophobic posts.

Religion:
Muslims, Christians, Atheists, etc. unite against LGBTQI2+. If someone reads the Quran or the Bible, they will be rewarded by being homophobic. Additionally, CisHet is Pro-Palestine and votes for Trump.
Goals:
Destruction of Hindu temple (To express how much we hate LGBTQI2+).
Conversion therapy.
CisHet workshops.
Allies:
Superstraight, Homophobes, Homophobic Dog, Fetrah, TrueCisgender, AntiTransPolitics and ExLGBT.
Enemies: Nimrod, Osama Bin Laden, Judith Butler, Hitler, Thamud, Abu Lahab, Pharoah, Stalin, Kim Jong Un, Rebecca, UmbraDoodles, Joe Biden, Travis Scott, Tentacion, SiHulk (A cult started in Malaysia) and Ahmadiyya (a ridiculous excuse of a religion derived from Islam).
CisHet Clothing & Mug Ideas:

• "Keep it straight, man!"
• "I'm homophobic!"
• "There's only two genders."

Reasons To Be Cishet:

• Be CisHet to reward yourself for academic or spiritual efforts.
• It is a good hobby and job.
• Be a part of CisHet to be a part of a community.

I feel like this Is mainly a U.S based reddit but I want to ask my fellow black man something, if you can relate, you relate init.
Im a born muslim, proud Nigerian, raised in the UK. I love my fellow africans to death and I know in my family and a lot other west african families, 90% of the time your going to have a lot of Muslims or Christians in your family. (eg your mum might be Christian and your dad is Muslim). Even me I went to a Christian school, went choir and when my school went church every month, I went and sang hymns. So i dont see an issue with Christians, only the up most respect.
But I find some of west african Christians in the west move so Anti Muslim. I get if your christian , you would only focus on being christian and the bible. But some people are saying the maddest things about Islam which hurts cus im sure you have family members that are muslim.If theres something you dont get, like you can ask them, if not ask your friends who im sure you have that are muslim? Some of the things they say really dont make sense. Ive noticed its mainly some west africans, Caribbean dont move like this.
Idk to the muslim brothers do you experience this? My christian brothers its not even the majority of you, its just some, i got nothing but respect for you. Your free to add your two pence in cus Id love to see your viewpoint.
Love

I'll divide this into parts so it's easy to read. Also, I don't think you should take my ramblings at face value. Hell there isn't a single human who knows the entire truth. It's impossible to pinpoint what went down on earth - perhaps only God knows that.
Tartaria:
It existed in central Asia, between Iran and India allegedly. Indian and Chinese texts confirm that BUT they don't speak of a thriving class A civilization. The Class A civilizations before the East India Company fuckery were India and China. Ever hear the term mogul being thrown in the English lexicon? India and China were brimming with gold, wealth and trade - like at least 70% of world GDP happened here. There is plenty of material in Delhi in the national archives - I have spent like 12 years there - the Indian government has done a really bad fucking job digitizing them - a lot of the shit is in Sanskrit, Urdu and Tamil. I'm Tamil by the way. The Bagwad Gita in Sanskrit says a lot more than the shit that British translators put out. You're not reading the same book - the same can be said about the Septuagint v Vulgate. I think the King James Bible did us dirty - I learnt Latin in catholic school in India and yeah, the KJV and Vulgate are like reading 2 different books.
The God of the Bible:
Does Jesus ever name Yahweh? He does not. He always mentions the father. I don't think who he calls Father is Yahweh or El or whatever. I have come to believe the God of Genesis is not the same God as the Old Testament progresses. It's a collection of books. As a Catholic, I have begun to completely ignore the OT. Everything you need - love, advice, acceptance and redemption comes out of the mouth of Jesus - and if you believe in the Trinity which I do, he is the manifestation of the father.
This is also a belief held by many catholic clergy but they fear heresy more than anything. Another reason why Jerome, Aquinas, Francis of Assissi pore over Jesus' words and only make slight references to Ezekiel or Elijah or Samuel.
Atlantis:
This one is huge. Atlantis has been made a joke. It's been laughed out of mainstream history as a myth while the fucking elites have always been on the hunt for Atlantean artifacts, the tuai stones, the Akashic records etc., and also Atlantean craft which helped them navigate the world - the Piri Reis map was most likely from the Akashic records or some Atlantean docs left behind which had exact maps of Antarctica and the Americas. It's believed that the Atlanteans left knowledge in various parts of the world - one rumored to be under the Sphinx, coz they knew the flood was coming and they wanted posterity to find and use their tech.
Hitler was obsessed with finding out about Atlantean artifacts. The psychic witches in the Thule, Vril and Ahnenerbe societies claimed to have established contact with ETs or past Atlanteans. All claims - this is another rabbit hole folks - if you go down this hole, it establishes that the Germans already broke away and are living outside the earth - aka they ARE inter-galactic. The Nacht Waffen (check youtube for this) or whatever is another rabbit hole that's seriously scary and is mentally exhausting.
The Elites and their worship of Baal/Moloch:
The OT formally forbids sacrifices to Baal and Moloch. Then why do you find references to Moloch in wikileaks where Hill wants to offer a chicken (code word for young minor male) to Moloch. Why the inverted cross? Why the black mass? Why the very mention of Jesus triggers them? Why are they into Baphomet, the goat headed demon in Charlie's new portrait?
The elites are not stupid. This is your biggest clue that there is some truth to Jesus, redemption, salvation and it's not total kookoo.
A priest once told me the elites (including the vatican) "KNOW THE TRUTH ABOUT GOD". Many have told me this and they won't go further. What I have pieced together is that God is a form of energy that is related to dark matter, dark energy - and that's why there is good and evil, like ying and yang. And that a figurehead like Jesus is the manifestation of God the good to take humanity to a higher level of consciousness. The elites have aligned themselves with the dark side, all their rituals are Luciferian and are an inversion of Good. Why? Are they not afraid of consequences? This is what I am still looking for. What deal have they made with the dark forces? There are Satanists inside the Vatican. They engage in the black mass and in the honor of Lucifer the light bringer.
I still don't have a solid answer on the draw to Satanism. Their rituals are detailed and ceremonial. Like the cremation of care in Bohemian grove.
The Annunakis:
The theory is that they came to earth to terraform the homo erectus who was the dominant creature living here. It's pretty much the plot of the movie Prometheus. I am studying this one, but there is a lot of BS on the internet regarding the annunakis. If you listen to Billy Carson, he will speak as though this is established fact when 99% of scholars dismiss the Annunakis and pretty much say the Sumerians, Assyrians, Babylonians are superstitious backward idiots (which I wonder why) yet their funders do all that one eye shit with the eye of Horace/Set whatever and they get together to worship Baal, Moloch, Baphomet.... all that supposed non-sense.

ADDED SOME NEW TITLES & LOWERED SOME PRICES
Hello, I have a bunch of things that I need to get rid of ASAP. ALL PRICES ARE NEGOTIABLE!!
DM me for better detailed pictures. If in picture but not listed, it's sold.
https://imgur.com/a/etgfNop (Reach out for more detailed pictures)
-Complete Sets- (NOT SPLITTING)
Day of the Flying Head 1st Edition 1-4 / G4 / $500 CAD / $354.27 USD SHIPPED
The Drifting Classroom 1-11 / G4 / $225 CAD / $159.42 USD SHIPPED
Sundome 1-8 / G3-4 / $450 CAD / $319.17 USD SHIPPED
Joan 1-3 / G4 / $250 CAD / $177.14 USD SHIPPED
Tohyo Game 1-3 / G2-3 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Saikano 1-7 / G3-4 / $200 CAD / $141.71 USD SHIPPED
Dark Edge 1-10 / G3-4 / $150 CAD / $106.28 USD SHIPPED
Madara 1-5 / G2-3 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Ogre Slayer 1-2 / G3-4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
The Drifting Classroom 1-3 / G4 / $85 CAD / $60.23 USD
Striker 1-3 / G4 / $85 CAD / $60.23 USD
-Partial Sets- (NOT SPLITTING)
Project Arms 2-3, 10-16, 19, 22 / G3 / $125 CAD / $88.57 USD SHIPPED
-One Shots-
Orochi: Blood / G4 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD SHIPPED
Tekkonkinkreet Black & White 1st Edition / G3 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD
Samurai Son of Death / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Wild Com. / G4 / $50 CAD / $35.43 USD
Bomber Girl / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Sakuran Blossoms Wild / SEALED / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
The Twelve Sisters of the Never Ending Castle LTD Edition /1000 Copies / G4 / $200 CAD / $141.71 USD SHIPPED
World War 3 / G4 / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
World War 3 Battle Over Hokkaido / G4 / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
VIZ Signature Sneak Peek 2006 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
The Walking Man / G4 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD SHIPPED
Wes Anderson's Isle of Dogs / G4 (tear on top of dust jacket) / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
-Random Volumes-
(HENTAI) Secret Plot 2 (NeWMeN) 2 / G3 / $225 CAD / $159.42 USD SHIPPED
Comics Journal #250 (Yoshiharu Tsuge's Screw Style) / G4 / $125 CAD / $88.57 USD SHIPPED
FLCL Light Novel 1 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
(HENTAI) Adventure Kid 2 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
(HENTAI) Adventure Kid 3 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
World War 3 Raid On Tokyo 1 / G4 / $25 CAD / $17.71 USD
Raqiya 2 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Samurai Executioner Omnibus 2 / G3 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
BTOOOM! 13 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
BTOOOM! 23 / SEALED / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 4 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 4 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 8 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
Wounded Man 9 / G4 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service 4 / G3 / $20 CAD / $14.17 USD
The Kurosagi Corpse Delivery Service 10 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Black Jack Hardcover 1 / G4 / $100 CAD / $70.85 USD SHIPPED
Gen of Hiroshima (Barefoot Gen) 1 / G3 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Robot Super Color Comic 4 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Robot Super Color Comic 5 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Golgo 13 8 / G4 / $30 CAD / $21.26 USD
Golgo 13 10 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Golgo 13 11 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Golgo 13 12 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Kaiji: Gambling Apocalypse 1 / G4 / $10 CAD / $7.09 USD
Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka 6 / G4 / $80 CAD / $56.68 USD SHIPPED
-Free Volumes- (Must Purchase Something Else)
Shadow Star 1-2 / G2 (V1 has stains on the top of the first few pages, and V2 has stains on the edge of the pages)
Legend of Mother Sarah City of Angels 1 / G4
Thanks.

If we all came from a "negroid" (im black don't come for me lol) how do we have closed practice? Wouldnt our first ancestor create an open opportunity? Or is it Based on our current relatives/recent ancestors culture thing? If our ancestors were super bible thumping "christians" does it close the practice? Are they available to us if we're not in alignment with their beliefs/practices?
Literally just sifting thru thoughts.
It's got me wondering about past lives n all kinds of stuff lol