Hey, bestie! I posted this story yesterday in maliciouscompliance and thought you’d get a kick out of it, too. Here’s the link: https://www.reddit.com/MaliciousCompliance/s/5J2ptxKiS7
I’ll copy and paste the text body in its entirety as well for easy reading.
Thanks for making me laugh when I really need it (and often when I don’t lol).
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
How my friend got paid to find creative ways to sleep for 19 months.
I have a very good friend who maliciously complied her way into getting paid for essentially doing absolutely nothing for 19 months.
It was a government job, no surprise there. She and her colleague worked in a state office that kept track of plague cases among prairie dog towns. They were super busy trapping and testing all summer but once winter comes, prairie dogs hibernate so they ran out of work. They told their boss via email there was no more to do for the season that first autumn and their boss responded by telling them to stand by for reassignment. “You got it!” she thought to herself. So… they did. For months.
They didn’t want to be accused of theft by just clocking in and out and leaving so in the very beginning, they organized some storage spaces (very slowly), cleaned their office several times, organized paperwork and that sort of thing. When they ran out of shit to do, they started sleeping, doing school work, sudoku, what have you. Initially, they slept in turns so someone was always available if anyone came to check in on them but when it became obvious no one was coming, they stopped bothering.
By summer the following year when the prairie dogs came out of hibernation and she thought her work might resume, the whole office (all the employees, in every department) received an email from someone high up informing everyone that particular department had been cut. Don’t know if it was unfunded, or they got all the data necessary the previous summer, or that particular pet project of some politician was forgotten about, but somewhere along the line, the state fish and game axed the project for whatever reason.
Nothing was mentioned in the email about her job status so her and her coworker continued to go in and do nothing.
She’d tell me about making a giant binder rubber band chain and roping two office chairs together facing eachother to sleep in the seats (she’s only 5ft tall so she fit relatively well), making a “nest” under her desk, and moving the large-ish copy machine out of its cabinet and sleeping inside.
They made sure the security people saw them periodically throughout the day and they were on camera, anyone above them paying attention would have noticed but no one ever took the time. They dodged folks in the other departments for fear they’d get told on and just minded their own business (they rarely had much interaction with other employees anyway).
Eventually, she ran into her “boss” at a show and she asked my friend where she had found new work. My friend didn’t lie and said she still worked there. Where? Where you left them. She said you should have seen her face when the lady put the pieces together and realized what was going on.
The jig was up and she and her colleague were let go that following morning via email before they went in. Because they had technically worked there for so long (I think two years was the threshold), they both got a little severance package.
In case you’re wondering, they got to keep their pay since: 1. they had proof they informed their boss they had no work and she clearly saw the email and responded, 2. they still showed up, 3. they did exactly what they were told, and 4. it wasn’t their job to make sure they actually had work to do. They both qualified for unemployment to boot.
Neither of them used the unemployment since they had both been feeling like the gravy train was sure to derail any day so they had new jobs lined up.
•••TL;DR: My friend’s job became obsolete. When she informed her boss she and her colleague had no more work to do, she was told to stand by for reassignment. My friend “stood by” for 19 months and got paid to do nothing until she ran into her boss at a show and her boss finally figured out what was happening. My friend and her coworker were quietly let go with a little severance package.
•Edited to add: thank you all for your stories! I had no idea it was so common to “misplace” employees that continue to get paid. Y’all are opening my eyes. Keep ‘em coming!
The quote from Independence Day comes to mind as I read your comments:
“You didn't think they actually spent ten thousand dollars for a hammer, thirty thousand for a toilet seat, did you?”
It’s not Area 51 all that money is going to, it’s forgotten and redundant government employees!
•Edit strikes back: I got my friend’s permission to tell her story of course, and she asked me to include some more things they did with their time while “standing by” (she doesn’t Reddit):
-One autumn, he and her colleague decorated the shared nap hiding spot (a walk-in storage closet) with miniature Halloween decorations and then re-enacted scenes from Hocus Pocus.
-She spent a whole lot of time editing Wikipedia for grammar.
-She learned to knit. Then she learned she doesn’t like knitting.
-Her colleague downloaded plans from the internet on how to make a personal flying device (think: jet pack) and tried to make it with office supplies at 1/16th scale. They knew it wouldn’t fly, they just wanted to see if they could build what it would look like.
-During Christmas, they wrote all new jingles about how bored they were. There were 14 completed songs in total and they recorded them on a little mini tape recorder she still has.
-Her colleague went to night school (evening school, really) and did his homework during the day. By the time they were finally let go, he was just shy of becoming a paralegal. He did finish school and went pretty much straight into a job and all these years later, he’s now a real estate attorney. Good for him!
-“We invented Uber and Lyft.” That is, they worked out a solid plan for a non-taxi ride service that would work based on ordering a car via the internet (this was before smartphones).
-She wrote a bunch of serial killers in prison and told them how disappointed she was in them. She never received a reply.
Thanks again for sharing your stories! Y’all are outstanding humans and you have a fantastic day. :)
•Edit, the new black: A few people DM’d me and asked what she does now. She got a glowing reference from the state job and went on to work at our city zoo and then got her certification in wildlife rehab. She now works as a public outreach coordinator for a big cat sanctuary. No, she does not miss her old job of either juggling plague-ridden prairie dogs or being bored out of her mind. She says, thanks for asking!

I work from home and I bike around town, so I almost never use my car during the week. Most weekends during the year i go camping, (I don't have tons of gear but i need at least room for 2 people when car camping) or hiking in remote places, often in the mountain using logging roads in various conditions.
Ideally I don't want to worry about reliability, as my current car is just a christmas tree when it comes to the dashboard and it's been pretty stressful.
I don't like trucks, so I'd rather go with a SUV type of car, like a 4Runner would be a very good fit but it's quite expensive. I was looking at a used Crosstrek, as it ticks most of my boxes and I can find something not too old for under $CA 20000. Any advice on a better fit for my needs?

My hands are trembling to the point where I've had to restart this several times. I'm a guy who doesn't scare easily, but this encounter has me shaking like a hit dog. I'm still sitting in my work truck, trying to work up the courage to step outside again. Worse, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to tell my boss what happened. I was already on thin ice with him, and this shit might cause me to break through to the freezing water below.
But fuck it, because this was weird.
I install cable for a living. I didn't have dreams of stringing cable when I was a little kid, but my previous life choices left me with few options. In high school, I fell in with the wrong crowd. It started with skipping school, sneaking alcohol at weekend parties, and some petty theft, but it didn't stay that way for long. Soon, I dropped out and dedicated my life to committing robberies to pay for my pill addiction. I wasn't living as much as I was running on a treadmill. I did whatever I could to stay on my feet but constantly felt myself slipping.
My bottom came when I was jumped by two guys who sold me pills. I had bought from them before and trusted them, but the feeling was not mutual. Someone had dimed a buddy of theirs out to the police, and he was looking at real jail time. They assumed it was me and beat me senseless.
I was greeted at the door with a punch to the jaw that sent me reeling. My brain, already addled and slowed by Oxi, was in the middle of putting together what was happening when the next punch caught me in the temple. I collapsed to the ground and covered my neck and face as best as I could. The next few minutes were a flurry of punches, kicks, and stomps. When it was all over, I had a broken jaw, a shattered wrist, several wounds that required fifty total stitches, and a concussion.
That's how I kicked my painkiller addiction.
I can joke now, but the next six months were the hardest in my life. The withdrawals I had were the worst thing I've ever experienced. Having them while I was recuperating from my injuries was a circle of hell I didn't think existed. I wanted to die most days and felt lost in the darkness. But sobriety was the beacon on the horizon. Even during my darkest moments, I could still see the fuzzy spark of white light off in the distance. It kept me going. Six months from my beat-down day, I came out the other side healthier but weaker.
I needed a job but had limited skills. Thankfully, I had a former pill buddy who managed to keep steady employment with the cable company. We always got along, and he called in a few favors and hooked me up. I got hired, but it was a struggle. Not the work, which was easy to learn, but dealing with the public without telling them to fuck off. Worse, was trying to avoid the flood of illegal substances that are around you at all times. Customers will offer you weed or pills for all the channels, or bored co-workers will have something to "make the day pass by." It's a lot to dodge, especially if you're in recovery. Whenever I felt the itch again, I'd feel the scar tissue from my wrist surgery, and the itch would pass.
The last week has been one of those "Shit, is it Friday yet?" weeks that seem to be growing in frequency these days. I don't want to bore you with the details, but needless to say, most nights, I needed to reach out to my sponsor and have them talk me off the ledge. We recently had a turnover at the executive level, and my new boss Rory was a tremendous cock. A rager at levels science hasn't ever seen before. Just the worst dude imaginable.
Part of Rory's new crusade was coming in and firing a bunch of guys. The company called it "checking for redundancies in the labor force," but we all knew what it was. He was picking off two classes of people: high earners and guys with spotty pasts. I was in the latter group and imagined it was just a matter of time before my number got pulled. I was on pins and needles all week. I made sure I was the greatest cable installer you'd ever meet. So far, I was getting high marks but the forced joviality was wearing thin.
It's safe to say my joy had left on a one-way ticket. I have no clue when—or if—she'd return.
Back to this shit. I had just finished up my last job of the day when my work phone started buzzing. I cursed and thought about not answering, but the threat of unemployment loomed too large for me to do that. I picked up and knew from the jump my day was far from over. Denise from dispatch asked if I could cover a job left hanging because of "scheduling conflicts" (see: the original installer had been let go). It was near where I was and was a simple install.
I gritted my teeth and agreed. I liked Denise and knew she was worried about the hammer falling on her, too. She thanked me profusely, and promised to bring me cookies tomorrow. Since she's a hellcat in the kitchen and getting close to a dispatcher never hurts, I said no worries. I hung up, balled up my jacket, and screamed into it. I felt better after that.
981 Maple Street was about five minutes away, but it felt like a world away. Maple Street was at the end of the neighborhood where large swaths of grass fields faded into a thicket of woods. The woods rose up into the foothills until they graduated to mountains. To borrow a phrase from Shel Silverstein, the house resided where the sidewalk ends.
The house, an off-white birdhouse ranch type, was a little run-down but no worse than any of the others that populated this neighborhood. This place had been hit hard by economic times, and property values had plummeted. It was slowly recovering. In five years, this would be a place most current residents wouldn’t be able to afford. The front yard had a large oak tree that looked amazing but had killed the grass under its canopy. The rest of the yard looked well cared for.
I knocked and heard a few voices talking on the other side of the door. It opened, and a man in his late 40s stood there with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. He was tall and thin, save for a middle-aged paunch. His face was starting to crinkle at the edges, but he was southern California middle-aged, which meant he was holding up pretty well. He did look tired, though—the bags under his eyes were full-on steamer trunks.
"You with the cable company?" he asked, knowing I was.
I nodded. "You requested an install, right?"
"Yes, I did. Please, come in."
He opened the door wide, and I walked in. The house was pretty bare with a bachelor pad aesthetic. That didn't make much sense since I heard a female voice talking to him. I assumed it was his wife. I believe in a lot of wild shit, but to think that a wife would be fine with their house decorated like a 23-year-old bachelor lived there was a bridge too far.
"I'm Tom," the guy said, extending his hand. I shook it. "What did you need from my end?"
"Do you know if there was a previous hookup here?"
"Ugh, yeah. There is one in this room and another in the back bedroom."
"Okay. I should put the modem in a spot that'll hit the whole house. The signal can get wonky if it's in a room behind a wall or bricks or anything."
"This room is probably the best spot then," he said.
"Perfect. I have to get under the house, check the old connections, and replace some parts. Where's your hatch to get under the house?"
"Oh, it's around back. You can exit out this side door and walk through the backyard. It's on the eastern side. You might need a screwdriver to remove the grate. Do you need one?"
I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket and showed him. "I should be good. Thank you, though."
"I should've guessed you'd have one."
"I appreciate your concern. Is there anything in the backyard I should be worried about? Dogs? Kids? Wild dogs? Wild kids?"
It was standard banter, and it always got a chuckle out of people. Same thing happened here. "Nothing to worry about," he said. "You should be good."
"Alright. I'll get started so you can get online as soon as possible."
"Great! If you need anything, I'll be doing some work in the back bedroom."
I nodded and headed for the side door. The dining room door led to the pie wedge-shaped backyard, which was larger in the back than the front made it look. The grass was as cooked as its kin in the front, but islands of green weeds seemed to be thriving. In the corner of the lot, an old metal shed stood, rusted to the point where I assumed divine intervention kept it standing. It seemed to have been there since the house had been built – or maybe several decades before.
When I turned the corner of the house, I spotted a woman and child staring into the corner of the yard, their backs facing me. The Woman wore a faded blue dress that fit her well. Tom had, it seemed, out-kicked his coverage with her. I didn't want to startle them, so I offered a friendly "hello" to the pair. The kid started to turn, but the mother placed a hand on their shoulder and kept their heads facing away from me. I squinted along the treeline, trying to see what they were concentrating on, but I didn't see anything unusual.
Just wanting to be done with the job, I let them be and moved on. I turned another corner to the house's short side and spotted the grate leading to the crawlspace. The grate looked as old as the shed, and I wasn't sure I would even need the screwdriver to open it. Hell, I was sure the thing would disintegrate in my hands as soon as I touched it.
I crouched and was about to pull it off when I heard something rustling near me. I glanced back to where I had seen the mom and kid, but they were gone. I assumed I had heard them leaving. I pulled the grate off – I was right, no screwdriver necessary – and as I set it aside, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
It was the kid. A boy around eight or so. But they weren't staring at me exactly. They were looking away from me, staring up at the roof line. I found it odd. Clearly, the kid wanted to talk to me but had turned their back on me. I coughed to let them know that I knew they were there, but they didn't respond.
"Hey man, what's up there?" I said.
"Nothing nice," he said, still keeping their gaze away from me.
"Oh," I said, "Not going to hurt me, is it?"
"Maybe," he said.
Not the answer I was expecting. "What is it?"
"They told me you'd know soon enough."
As he said that, I felt something crawling across my hand. I pulled my hand away from the house and shook it. I saw a spider land in a pile of leaves and scurry away. I let out a nervous laugh. I'm not scared of spiders or anything, but the shock of being told some unseen thing was watching me and didn't look pleased, coupled with the sensation of something on my skin, was enough to justify a quickened heartbeat.
I looked back at where the kid had been standing, but he was gone. I chalked it up to kids being little weirdos and went back to work. The faster I could get this installation done, the quicker I could go home and smoke a bowl. I let Kush be my guide. I put up my hood, turned on my small flashlight, and shimmied through the opening under the house.
I know guys who've worked for the company for years and still dread going into a crawl space. Granted, it's not my favorite thing to do, but I don't mind either. The bugs can be a nuisance but if you don't bother them, they tend to not bother you. Same with rats and mice. Raccoons, though? I crawl out and call animal control. Those little dudes are cute but nasty as all get out. My path today was nothing but cobwebs, so I was okay.
I flashed my light around and saw where the cable line went up into the living room floor. My job here was to ensure the coaxial line's integrity was still good. If it had been chewed on or anything, I'd replace it. Sometimes, I just replaced it anyway—saving myself a potential job later down the line.
I crawled over to where the line came in from the pedestal and started my once-over. I not only looked for any damage but also ran the line through my hands to make sure my eyes didn't miss anything. I was under the dining room area when I heard that side door close.
I stopped. Tom said something, but it was muffled. I wanted to be nosy, so I waited a beat to hear if anyone spoke back to him. Someone did. It was soft and quiet – I assumed it was the Boy – and I didn't make out what they asked, but I did hear Tom's response. In a firm voice, he said, "No, not right now. Run along."
There were footsteps over me that faded into another section of the home. Tom said, "He always wants to jump the gun. How many times do I have to tell him?"
I suppressed a laugh at the last line. It's the official father's lament. I kept moving my hand down the line and didn't feel nicks along the cable. In fact, on closer inspection, the line looked almost new. I was planning to change it, but this looked like it had been installed last week.
I could hear someone walk into the living room as I reached the spot where the line went through the house. Another pair of footsteps followed the first, and I heard a breathy but detached woman's voice ask, "Can we show our faces now?"
"I just told the boy 'no.' What makes you any different?" Tom said, an edge to his voice.
A chill raced through my body. I knew those words, but this conversation made me feel like I spoke another language. Can we show our faces? Why would you not?
"Do you think he'll see us?"
"If I have my way," he said, not finishing that thought. "Leave me be. I must try to get some things done before he leaves, and you two keep bothering me."
What did Tom mean to get some things done before I left? What did he have in mind? While trying to process all this, I heard something shuffle in the darkness just beyond my flashlight beam. I moved it around, trying to see the telltale glowing eyes of varmints, but nothing flashed back at me.
I heard something shuffling again, this time down by my feet. I cocked my head as best as I could and shone the flashlight into that corner of the house but, again, there wasn't anything else down here but me and a thousand spiders. I sighed and finished my inspection of the wire.
As I turned to crawl back out from under the house, I heard somebody sneaking around on the floor above me. The wood groaned as the person moved slowly. I wasn't sure what they were doing, but they wanted to keep it a secret. A shadow fell over the pinprick of light from where the cable went into the house. Someone was standing over it.
"Can you hear them down there? Moving in the dark?" It was the Boy. “They like the dark.”
"What are you saying?"
"The little shadows," he said, "They live down there. Do you hear them?"
This kid was creepy as hell. "I, ugh, I can't hear you, dude," I said, inching my body away from the wire, "We can talk inside."
"They're going to get you, but that's okay," he said, "It only hurts for a little bit, and then you're fine."
Fuck. That. I had no desire to respond to that nightmare of a statement. I hastened my inch-worming, heading back towards the open hatch. As I did, I heard more movement in the darkness around me. I tried to ignore it, but it was a fool's gambit. It was impossible to ignore.
I was getting closer to the opening when I saw a pair of tiny legs walk in front of the hatch. It was the Boy. How did he get there so quickly and without me hearing him run on the floor? I didn't have time to run through the scientific method because the Boy leaned down and placed the metal grate back over the hatch.
"Hey! Hey!" I yelled. "I'm still under here!"
The Boy didn't stop. Instead, he placed a trashcan in front of the grate, enshrouding the entire crawlspace in darkness and trapping me inside.
"Hey! I need you to move that!" I screamed. No response. I raised my fist as high as possible and punched the floor above me to hopefully get Tom’s attention. That was a mistake, as I managed to punch straight into an old nail. I felt it puncture in between my knuckles. The pain was instant, and I let out a howl.
I shook my hand and swore a blue streak. I reached up with my other hand, felt the tip of the nail I had managed to punch, and found a flat spot next to it. I banged hard on the floor and yelled again for some help. Nobody responded. Not at first.
Then I heard someone chuckle under the house.
I couldn't locate where it had come from because it sounded like it was all around me. I swung my light around as best as I could but didn't see anything. No glowing eyes, nothing. I inched forward a bit, and someone laughed again – this time, it was to my right. I turned my light in that direction and saw a sudden flood of light fill the space under the house.
"What the hell?" I said, my desire to leave overtaken by a desire to know what was unfolding next to me.
A pair of kid legs dropped down from the hole in the floor. I realized then that the hole must be an interior crawlspace. The kid had blocked off the metal grate and opened this hatch for some reason. While he dropped his legs down, he didn't move any further.
"Hey, you have to open that metal grate," I yelled. "I don't want to be trapped down here."
"They told me they needed you," he said, followed by a slight chuckle.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said, not caring that I was talking to a child. "Open the goddamn grate!"
"The shadows are approaching," he said, pulling himself back into the house. He placed the lid back on the hole, and I was trapped in the dark again. I cursed to myself and started pounding on the floor again.
"Hey! Someone come help me!"
That's when I felt something run across my legs. I nearly jumped out of my skin. It didn't feel like the tiny claws of a passing rat. It was cold to the touch, but as it hit my skin, I felt a burn in my bones. It's hard to explain, but I felt both extremes simultaneously. Whatever it was skittered off into the darkness of the other side of the crawl space.
The kid started laughing again, which brought me back to reality. I army crawled as fast as I could to the grate. I balled up my fist and punched in the middle of the metal. The blow knocked the old nails out of the wall, and the grate broke up. I was about to push away the garbage can when it suddenly wheeled out of the way.
I saw Tom's legs standing there.
"You okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.
I got out from under the house so fast that I left a me-sized dirt cloud in my place. Once out, I shook my body loose as if I had things crawling all over me. Tom watched but didn't say anything at first. We finally locked eyes, and he could see the rage, fear, and confusion on my face. He wisely waited until I spoke first.
"What the hell is wrong with your kid? He blocked me under there and taunted me from the indoor crawlspace."
"What are you talking about?"
"He told me the shadow people or something were watching, and then he blocked me under the house!"
Tom's face twisted up into confusion. "I...I don't understand."
"I can't make it any simpler, Tom!" I screamed, letting unprofessionalism take root.
"I don't have a kid."
It hit me like an Ali right cross. My vision got dizzy, and I struggled to catch my breath. I stared at his face, looking for the sign of a lie or a joke, but he was as stone-faced as an Easter Island statue. After a beat, I found my sense again. "I heard you talking to him in the living room when I was under the house."
"One, I was on a phone call. Two, are you spying on me? What the hell, man?"
"I wasn't spying, and you weren't on the phone," I said. I also heard you talking to your wife. She asked you if she could show her face or something."
"I don't have a wife either."
I shook my head. "I fucking saw them in the backyard! They were staring at the fence!"
Tom paused and cocked his head to the side. When he spoke, it was softly, trying to calm me down. "Are you...did you have a few drinks before the appointment? Or a pill or something? No judging – I know pill heads. I won't report you or anything, but I understand if you need to come back tomorrow with a clearer head."
"I'm sober," I said, gritting my teeth. "But I know what I saw. What I heard."
"As the tree said to the lumberjack, I'm stumped," Tom said. "You look a little flush. You want a bottle of water or something? I can show you I'm here all alone."
My adrenaline had seeped out of my body, and I was starting to feel like myself again. I nodded at Tom, and he smiled. "I'll go grab you one. Do you want to come into the AC?"
"No, I'm okay. I need to double-check the connection to the pedestal."
"Sure. Be bright back," Tom said as he walked off.
But I had no intention of checking the connections. I was going to check on Tom. I didn't believe him at all. Something weird was going on, and I needed to know what. As soon as he turned the corner around the house, I broke out my flashlight and headed back to the crawlspace.
I dropped to the ground and shone my beam into the darkness. Something had crawled on me, and I wanted to see what it was. I moved my light into every section of the crawlspace but saw no eyes glowing back at me.
"If you're under there, call back."
There was nothing. I was starting to feel like a paranoid idiot. I called out once again just to be sure, but again, nothing called back. I shut off my light and sighed. I started pushing myself back to my feet when I heard a faint woman's voice call out, "Can we show our faces now?"
"Not yet," someone hissed from the trees above me. I snapped my head up, expecting to see someone hanging on a branch over my head, but I just saw green leaves.
"Can we show our faces now?" It was the Boy. It sounded like he was on the roof. I shielded my eyes and glanced at the roof but didn't see him.
"No. He's not ready yet," someone whispered in my ear. I snapped around, throwing a punch as I did, only to slam my fist into the fence. I felt one of my knuckles crack as it hit the wood, and the pain shot up my arm like lightning. Within seconds, my hand started to puff up, and blood dripped out the wounds.
The Boy chuckled again. It came from under the house. I looked down at the grate and saw his legs disappear into the darkness.
"Hey!" I called and dropped to the ground. I pulled out my flashlight and shone into the darkness again. I was confident I'd see him, but he wasn't there. Nobody was.
I sat up and felt goosebumps turn my arms into braille. I glanced over to the corner of the house and was surprised to see the disappearing hemline of the faded blue dress. I rushed over to the corner and didn't see the Woman. I saw Tom with a bottle of water.
"You okay?"
"Where did that woman go?" I asked, my voice panicking. "She was just here."
"Sir, do you need me to call your boss for you? You're starting to scare me."
"What's up with this house? Is it haunted?"
Tom started laughing. "I hope not. I just moved in. I'd hate to have roommates again, especially ones who leave ectoplasm all over the place."
As I stared at him, I saw the Woman and the Boy emerge from the other corner of the house. They looked up on the roof, their faces obscured by their hands and the sun. I pointed a finger at them and screamed, "They're right there!"
Tom spun around and looked, but there wasn't anything there. He turned back to me, not sure what to say. Instead, he handed me the bottle of water. "I gotta be honest. I didn't see anything. Drink the water...you might have heat stroke."
I threw the bottle on the ground. "I don't have fucking heat stroke. I have a man that's lying about these things." I got close to him. "What did you have planned for me? Why do they keep asking to show their faces?"
"I don't," he said, but I didn't stay to hear him finish his thought. I walked right past him and turned the corner of the house. As I did, I saw the blue hem disappear through the door that led to the kitchen. I followed right behind her.
I walked into the house, which was as silent as a corpse. The Woman and Boy were nowhere to be seen. "Hello?" I called out. "I just saw you guys walk in here. Where are you?"
The door behind me opened up. Tom walked in, his face reddening with anger. "You can't just walk into my house."
"I saw them walk in. Where are they?"
"I keep telling you, it's just me and you here. Now, if you want to finish your work…."
I walked away from him and headed toward the bedroom where I had seen the Boy standing. I wanted to check that crawl space. The room was empty, not even a moving box in there, so finding the hatch that led under the house was easy. I went into the closet and pried the hatch open.
Tom entered the room behind me, more confused now than angry. "I don't want a line run through here."
"The Boy was standing in this spot. I saw his legs. I spoke to him. He told me the shadows needed me for something." I glared down into the darkness under the house. Despite Tom's feigned declarations that there wasn't another person in the house, I knew he wasn't being honest.
"Okay, I'm pretty sure you're back on pills and in the middle of a delusion," he said.
"How did you know I had a pill addiction?"
"The way you're acting, it wasn't a hard guess."
"I'm sober, but I did have a problem with pills. I never told you. I don't tell anyone."
Tom stood there, confused about how to answer. I stood up and stared him down. He looked away, but I didn't move my gaze. "Who are you? Who put you up to this? Was it Rory? He trying to get me fired?"
Tom's shoulders sagged. "You got me," he said. "Rory hired me to get you in trouble. I'm... I'm sorry. He offered me free cable for a year and assured me you were a bad guy and, well…. I'm weak."
"That's really fuc…," I stopped. "You're lying. Right now. You're lying. Why?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dash past the open crawlspace hatch. I turned to the hatch opening and then back to Tom.
"Are you trying to stop me from looking in there?"
He didn't respond.
"What's under there?"
"He is," he said. "The Boy. He hides under there all the time. He has...friends down there."
"The shadow people?"
Tom shrugged, "What he calls them. I call them a menace. Impossible to get my work done with them causing a racket."
"What work?"
"Things you'd never understand in a million years," he said, "Things beyond your brain's capacity to imagine. Things that will help usher in a new world. Your kind's time is coming to a close. My work represents the new order."
I stared at him. I wasn't sure if I should run away or punch his lights out. Instead, I just spat out, "Bro, what the fuck?"
"Can we show our faces now?" the Boy called out from under the house.
I looked down at the hatch and then back at Tom. He nodded toward the opening. "Do you want to see your future?"
"Fuck it," I said. I got down, grabbed the sides of the opening, and lowered my head under the house.
I kept my eyes closed for a second, assuming I'd either see something horrifying or something would hit me in the face. When nothing struck me, I opened my eyes. It was dark, and I couldn't make out anything.
"There's nothing under here," I said.
"Can we show our faces now?" said the Boy from somewhere under the house.
"Show him," Tom said.
I sat back up, grabbed my flashlight from my pocket, and flipped it on. I looked at Tom, "If you try anything, so help me, God."
Tom just smiled. I looked back down at the hatch and sighed. I was suddenly hit with a bolt of common sense. What was I doing? My internal alarms were going off and I was ignoring them. Curiosity had gotten me this far, but my fight instincts were starting to lose to my flight. No job was worth this.
"Man, fuck this," I said, reversing course and standing. I turned to confront Tom, but he was gone. I hadn't heard him leave, but there wasn't a trace of him there. "Tom? Where the hell are you?"
He didn't respond, and I decided that I had hit my "weird shit" quota for the day. I closed the closet door and headed back into the living room to grab my gear. I'd call dispatch and tell them someone else had to come out and finish the….
The wood floor cracked, splintered, and gave way when I put my weight on it. I fell through the floor and landed with a thud on the dirt in the crawl space. On the way down, I hit my ribs on a crossbeam and heard them crack and knock the wind out of me. As I lay on the dirt, writhing in pain, my lungs did their damnedest to find a breath. It couldn't, and my vision started to blur at the edges. For a fleeting few seconds, I envisioned my death on a dirty crawlspace floor. It wasn’t comforting.
I rolled onto my back and finally took in a massive gulp of life-saving air. The blurring vision subsided, and all that remained was the aching pain of a busted rib. My muscles around my rib cage spasmed and pulled tight against my lungs. After the initial big breath, I could only take shallow gulps because the pain was searing.
I lay there for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts, when I felt something skitter across my legs again. I kicked out of instinct but didn't hit anything. Instead, I heard the chuckling again. My flashlight had fallen out of my hand. I found it and turned it on.
This time, I did see something. Pairs of eyes—dozens of them—watched me from the darkness that surrounded me. These weren't possums or rats. I never hoped to find a raccoon under the house more than I did at that moment. I knew whatever these things were, they weren't natural and they wanted to harm me.
"Still want to know what they plan to do to you?" the Boy asked from behind me.
I turned around and shone the light where I heard the voice. The Boy was lying on his stomach, his face looking down at the ground. All I could see at the moment was the top of his head.
"Wha-what's going on?" I said, the light bouncing from my trembling hand.
"I can show you my face now," he said. He raised his head and….
The Boy didn't have a face.
He had the space for a face, but there were no features whatsoever—nothing but pale pink skin pulled tight across the front of his head. At that moment, the image of a wooden art figure came to me.
“What the ever-loving fuck?"
"Want to see something really scary?" the Boy said, his lack of a mouth not stopping him from speaking. He raised himself onto the tips of his fingers and toes and started skittering toward me, laughing as he did.
I clambered out of the crawlspace as fast as my battered body could carry me. I got out of the hole and onto my feet and let out an ear-splitting scream.
The Woman in the blue dress was standing next to the hole in the floor. Like the Boy, she didn't have a face either. But I could feel her eyes on me. Looking into my mind. Into my soul. She stepped toward me, and I bolted for the front door.
I whipped it open and was greeted by Tom standing there, blocking me. He grinned. "Leaving so soon?"
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, checking behind me to see if the Woman was still coming toward me. She was, and she was gaining quickly.
"Can we show our faces now?" he asked with a laugh.
I turned back to Tom and nearly had a heart attack. His face was gone. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. My legs were jelly, but I kept myself propped up. The human desire to survive can perform miracles.
Tom reached out and pointed at a spot on the far side of the living room wall. I turned and saw three skinned human faces hanging from old nails: a man, a woman, and a boy.
"You're turn to join us," Tom whispered. But the voice wasn't said out loud. It came from inside my own head. "We can always use another body around here."
My brain clicked into action and sent an all-points bulletin to my limbs. The message was simple and actionable – "Get the fuck going, you dope."
I felt my hand ball into a fist and spun. It landed where Tom's nose would've been. It should've knocked him back, causing him to stumble and giving me time to run. But that didn't happen. Instead, his face pulled apart, letting my fist slide right through. It closed on my arm, trapping me.
I yanked and yanked, but my arm would not dislodge from his face. I glanced back and saw the Woman nearly next to me. The Boy was climbing out of the hole, moving like a cockroach. I looked back at the wall and saw Tom's hanging face silently laughing.
Something about those silent laughs cut me to my core. They were laughing because Tom thought he had outsmarted me. He had beat me. That my face would soon be hanging on the wall next to theirs. I wasn't going to let that happen.
I saw a loose brick on the walkway, and a plan flashed in my mind. I yanked hard, sending Tom stuttering forward enough for me to wrap my finger around the brick. I brought it up and sent it towards his face. As expected, the face parted again, and the brick flew through easily.
But as soon as the face curtains pulled aside, I yanked my arm free. With my limb free, I took off in a mad sprint for my truck. I got inside and fumbled my keys as I tried to start the engine. Tom, the Woman, and the Boy stood together at the front door and watched as I got the van going and rocketed down the street.
I drove like a madman for ten minutes, trying to put as much space between me and the house as possible. I finally stopped at a gas station to collect my thoughts. I was jittery, and my mind was swimming, but I was also relieved. I had gotten out.
I collected myself and called Denise to tell her I couldn't finish the installation at 981 Maple Street. I was going to suggest we cancel the order and not send another installer there. That's when the conversation took a turn I wasn't expecting.
"Where have you been? You were supposed to be off an hour ago," Denise said when I called her.
"I was trying to finish the install at 981 Maple, the one you sent me to."
"I didn't send you anywhere," she said. "With how insane Rory is being about overtime hours, I'm trying to keep everyone below the threshold."
"What are you talking about? You called and asked me. You don't remember," I said, a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.
She gave me a nervous chuckle, "I swear I didn't. Are you feeling okay? You gotta come back. People are waiting for the van."
"I can prove it. I have a record of you calling me on my phone," I said. I opened my call log, and my jaw dropped. There was no call from Denise. She was telling me the truth. But if she didn't call me, who did?
"Rory wants to talk to you when you get in. I wouldn't mess around, he seems pissed" she said before hanging up.
I haven't moved since. I wanted to write this down because I felt like it needed to be recorded. Something supremely fucked up is happening at 981 Maple Street. It nearly got me. It still might. To think, on any other typical day, a surprise conversation with my boss would be the scariest thing that could happen to me. Funny how seeing a faceless ghoul can prioritize your problems. If you're hired to do work there, turn it down. Trust me, it's not worth it.
"Can we show our faces now?" they asked. "Fuck no," should be the only response.

My hands are trembling to the point where I've had to restart this several times. I'm a guy who doesn't scare easily, but this encounter has me shaking like a hit dog. I'm still sitting in my work truck, trying to work up the courage to step outside again. Worse, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to tell my boss what happened. I was already on thin ice with him, and this shit might cause me to break through to the freezing water below.
But fuck it, because this was weird.
I install cable for a living. I didn't have dreams of stringing cable when I was a little kid, but my previous life choices left me with few options. In high school, I fell in with the wrong crowd. It started with skipping school, sneaking alcohol at weekend parties, and some petty theft, but it didn't stay that way for long. Soon, I dropped out and dedicated my life to committing robberies to pay for my pill addiction. I wasn't living as much as I was running on a treadmill. I did whatever I could to stay on my feet but constantly felt myself slipping.
My bottom came when I was jumped by two guys who sold me pills. I had bought from them before and trusted them, but the feeling was not mutual. Someone had dimed a buddy of theirs out to the police, and he was looking at real jail time. They assumed it was me and beat me senseless.
I was greeted at the door with a punch to the jaw that sent me reeling. My brain, already addled and slowed by Oxi, was in the middle of putting together what was happening when the next punch caught me in the temple. I collapsed to the ground and covered my neck and face as best as I could. The next few minutes were a flurry of punches, kicks, and stomps. When it was all over, I had a broken jaw, a shattered wrist, several wounds that required fifty total stitches, and a concussion.
That's how I kicked my painkiller addiction.
I can joke now, but the next six months were the hardest in my life. The withdrawals I had were the worst thing I've ever experienced. Having them while I was recuperating from my injuries was a circle of hell I didn't think existed. I wanted to die most days and felt lost in the darkness. But sobriety was the beacon on the horizon. Even during my darkest moments, I could still see the fuzzy spark of white light off in the distance. It kept me going. Six months from my beat-down day, I came out the other side healthier but weaker.
I needed a job but had limited skills. Thankfully, I had a former pill buddy who managed to keep steady employment with the cable company. We always got along, and he called in a few favors and hooked me up. I got hired, but it was a struggle. Not the work, which was easy to learn, but dealing with the public without telling them to fuck off. Worse, was trying to avoid the flood of illegal substances that are around you at all times. Customers will offer you weed or pills for all the channels, or bored co-workers will have something to "make the day pass by." It's a lot to dodge, especially if you're in recovery. Whenever I felt the itch again, I'd feel the scar tissue from my wrist surgery, and the itch would pass.
The last week has been one of those "Shit, is it Friday yet?" weeks that seem to be growing in frequency these days. I don't want to bore you with the details, but needless to say, most nights, I needed to reach out to my sponsor and have them talk me off the ledge. We recently had a turnover at the executive level, and my new boss Rory was a tremendous cock. A rager at levels science hasn't ever seen before. Just the worst dude imaginable.
Part of Rory's new crusade was coming in and firing a bunch of guys. The company called it "checking for redundancies in the labor force," but we all knew what it was. He was picking off two classes of people: high earners and guys with spotty pasts. I was in the latter group and imagined it was just a matter of time before my number got pulled. I was on pins and needles all week. I made sure I was the greatest cable installer you'd ever meet. So far, I was getting high marks but the forced joviality was wearing thin.
It's safe to say my joy had left on a one-way ticket. I have no clue when—or if—she'd return.
Back to this shit. I had just finished up my last job of the day when my work phone started buzzing. I cursed and thought about not answering, but the threat of unemployment loomed too large for me to do that. I picked up and knew from the jump my day was far from over. Denise from dispatch asked if I could cover a job left hanging because of "scheduling conflicts" (see: the original installer had been let go). It was near where I was and was a simple install.
I gritted my teeth and agreed. I liked Denise and knew she was worried about the hammer falling on her, too. She thanked me profusely, and promised to bring me cookies tomorrow. Since she's a hellcat in the kitchen and getting close to a dispatcher never hurts, I said no worries. I hung up, balled up my jacket, and screamed into it. I felt better after that.
981 Maple Street was about five minutes away, but it felt like a world away. Maple Street was at the end of the neighborhood where large swaths of grass fields faded into a thicket of woods. The woods rose up into the foothills until they graduated to mountains. To borrow a phrase from Shel Silverstein, the house resided where the sidewalk ends.
The house, an off-white birdhouse ranch type, was a little run-down but no worse than any of the others that populated this neighborhood. This place had been hit hard by economic times, and property values had plummeted. It was slowly recovering. In five years, this would be a place most current residents wouldn’t be able to afford. The front yard had a large oak tree that looked amazing but had killed the grass under its canopy. The rest of the yard looked well cared for.
I knocked and heard a few voices talking on the other side of the door. It opened, and a man in his late 40s stood there with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. He was tall and thin, save for a middle-aged paunch. His face was starting to crinkle at the edges, but he was southern California middle-aged, which meant he was holding up pretty well. He did look tired, though—the bags under his eyes were full-on steamer trunks.
"You with the cable company?" he asked, knowing I was.
I nodded. "You requested an install, right?"
"Yes, I did. Please, come in."
He opened the door wide, and I walked in. The house was pretty bare with a bachelor pad aesthetic. That didn't make much sense since I heard a female voice talking to him. I assumed it was his wife. I believe in a lot of wild shit, but to think that a wife would be fine with their house decorated like a 23-year-old bachelor lived there was a bridge too far.
"I'm Tom," the guy said, extending his hand. I shook it. "What did you need from my end?"
"Do you know if there was a previous hookup here?"
"Ugh, yeah. There is one in this room and another in the back bedroom."
"Okay. I should put the modem in a spot that'll hit the whole house. The signal can get wonky if it's in a room behind a wall or bricks or anything."
"This room is probably the best spot then," he said.
"Perfect. I have to get under the house, check the old connections, and replace some parts. Where's your hatch to get under the house?"
"Oh, it's around back. You can exit out this side door and walk through the backyard. It's on the eastern side. You might need a screwdriver to remove the grate. Do you need one?"
I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket and showed him. "I should be good. Thank you, though."
"I should've guessed you'd have one."
"I appreciate your concern. Is there anything in the backyard I should be worried about? Dogs? Kids? Wild dogs? Wild kids?"
It was standard banter, and it always got a chuckle out of people. Same thing happened here. "Nothing to worry about," he said. "You should be good."
"Alright. I'll get started so you can get online as soon as possible."
"Great! If you need anything, I'll be doing some work in the back bedroom."
I nodded and headed for the side door. The dining room door led to the pie wedge-shaped backyard, which was larger in the back than the front made it look. The grass was as cooked as its kin in the front, but islands of green weeds seemed to be thriving. In the corner of the lot, an old metal shed stood, rusted to the point where I assumed divine intervention kept it standing. It seemed to have been there since the house had been built – or maybe several decades before.
When I turned the corner of the house, I spotted a woman and child staring into the corner of the yard, their backs facing me. The Woman wore a faded blue dress that fit her well. Tom had, it seemed, out-kicked his coverage with her. I didn't want to startle them, so I offered a friendly "hello" to the pair. The kid started to turn, but the mother placed a hand on their shoulder and kept their heads facing away from me. I squinted along the treeline, trying to see what they were concentrating on, but I didn't see anything unusual.
Just wanting to be done with the job, I let them be and moved on. I turned another corner to the house's short side and spotted the grate leading to the crawlspace. The grate looked as old as the shed, and I wasn't sure I would even need the screwdriver to open it. Hell, I was sure the thing would disintegrate in my hands as soon as I touched it.
I crouched and was about to pull it off when I heard something rustling near me. I glanced back to where I had seen the mom and kid, but they were gone. I assumed I had heard them leaving. I pulled the grate off – I was right, no screwdriver necessary – and as I set it aside, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
It was the kid. A boy around eight or so. But they weren't staring at me exactly. They were looking away from me, staring up at the roof line. I found it odd. Clearly, the kid wanted to talk to me but had turned their back on me. I coughed to let them know that I knew they were there, but they didn't respond.
"Hey man, what's up there?" I said.
"Nothing nice," he said, still keeping their gaze away from me.
"Oh," I said, "Not going to hurt me, is it?"
"Maybe," he said.
Not the answer I was expecting. "What is it?"
"They told me you'd know soon enough."
As he said that, I felt something crawling across my hand. I pulled my hand away from the house and shook it. I saw a spider land in a pile of leaves and scurry away. I let out a nervous laugh. I'm not scared of spiders or anything, but the shock of being told some unseen thing was watching me and didn't look pleased, coupled with the sensation of something on my skin, was enough to justify a quickened heartbeat.
I looked back at where the kid had been standing, but he was gone. I chalked it up to kids being little weirdos and went back to work. The faster I could get this installation done, the quicker I could go home and smoke a bowl. I let Kush be my guide. I put up my hood, turned on my small flashlight, and shimmied through the opening under the house.
I know guys who've worked for the company for years and still dread going into a crawl space. Granted, it's not my favorite thing to do, but I don't mind either. The bugs can be a nuisance but if you don't bother them, they tend to not bother you. Same with rats and mice. Raccoons, though? I crawl out and call animal control. Those little dudes are cute but nasty as all get out. My path today was nothing but cobwebs, so I was okay.
I flashed my light around and saw where the cable line went up into the living room floor. My job here was to ensure the coaxial line's integrity was still good. If it had been chewed on or anything, I'd replace it. Sometimes, I just replaced it anyway—saving myself a potential job later down the line.
I crawled over to where the line came in from the pedestal and started my once-over. I not only looked for any damage but also ran the line through my hands to make sure my eyes didn't miss anything. I was under the dining room area when I heard that side door close.
I stopped. Tom said something, but it was muffled. I wanted to be nosy, so I waited a beat to hear if anyone spoke back to him. Someone did. It was soft and quiet – I assumed it was the Boy – and I didn't make out what they asked, but I did hear Tom's response. In a firm voice, he said, "No, not right now. Run along."
There were footsteps over me that faded into another section of the home. Tom said, "He always wants to jump the gun. How many times do I have to tell him?"
I suppressed a laugh at the last line. It's the official father's lament. I kept moving my hand down the line and didn't feel nicks along the cable. In fact, on closer inspection, the line looked almost new. I was planning to change it, but this looked like it had been installed last week.
I could hear someone walk into the living room as I reached the spot where the line went through the house. Another pair of footsteps followed the first, and I heard a breathy but detached woman's voice ask, "Can we show our faces now?"
"I just told the boy 'no.' What makes you any different?" Tom said, an edge to his voice.
A chill raced through my body. I knew those words, but this conversation made me feel like I spoke another language. Can we show our faces? Why would you not?
"Do you think he'll see us?"
"If I have my way," he said, not finishing that thought. "Leave me be. I must try to get some things done before he leaves, and you two keep bothering me."
What did Tom mean to get some things done before I left? What did he have in mind? While trying to process all this, I heard something shuffle in the darkness just beyond my flashlight beam. I moved it around, trying to see the telltale glowing eyes of varmints, but nothing flashed back at me.
I heard something shuffling again, this time down by my feet. I cocked my head as best as I could and shone the flashlight into that corner of the house but, again, there wasn't anything else down here but me and a thousand spiders. I sighed and finished my inspection of the wire.
As I turned to crawl back out from under the house, I heard somebody sneaking around on the floor above me. The wood groaned as the person moved slowly. I wasn't sure what they were doing, but they wanted to keep it a secret. A shadow fell over the pinprick of light from where the cable went into the house. Someone was standing over it.
"Can you hear them down there? Moving in the dark?" It was the Boy. “They like the dark.”
"What are you saying?"
"The little shadows," he said, "They live down there. Do you hear them?"
This kid was creepy as hell. "I, ugh, I can't hear you, dude," I said, inching my body away from the wire, "We can talk inside."
"They're going to get you, but that's okay," he said, "It only hurts for a little bit, and then you're fine."
Fuck. That. I had no desire to respond to that nightmare of a statement. I hastened my inch-worming, heading back towards the open hatch. As I did, I heard more movement in the darkness around me. I tried to ignore it, but it was a fool's gambit. It was impossible to ignore.
I was getting closer to the opening when I saw a pair of tiny legs walk in front of the hatch. It was the Boy. How did he get there so quickly and without me hearing him run on the floor? I didn't have time to run through the scientific method because the Boy leaned down and placed the metal grate back over the hatch.
"Hey! Hey!" I yelled. "I'm still under here!"
The Boy didn't stop. Instead, he placed a trashcan in front of the grate, enshrouding the entire crawlspace in darkness and trapping me inside.
"Hey! I need you to move that!" I screamed. No response. I raised my fist as high as possible and punched the floor above me to hopefully get Tom’s attention. That was a mistake, as I managed to punch straight into an old nail. I felt it puncture in between my knuckles. The pain was instant, and I let out a howl.
I shook my hand and swore a blue streak. I reached up with my other hand, felt the tip of the nail I had managed to punch, and found a flat spot next to it. I banged hard on the floor and yelled again for some help. Nobody responded. Not at first.
Then I heard someone chuckle under the house.
I couldn't locate where it had come from because it sounded like it was all around me. I swung my light around as best as I could but didn't see anything. No glowing eyes, nothing. I inched forward a bit, and someone laughed again – this time, it was to my right. I turned my light in that direction and saw a sudden flood of light fill the space under the house.
"What the hell?" I said, my desire to leave overtaken by a desire to know what was unfolding next to me.
A pair of kid legs dropped down from the hole in the floor. I realized then that the hole must be an interior crawlspace. The kid had blocked off the metal grate and opened this hatch for some reason. While he dropped his legs down, he didn't move any further.
"Hey, you have to open that metal grate," I yelled. "I don't want to be trapped down here."
"They told me they needed you," he said, followed by a slight chuckle.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said, not caring that I was talking to a child. "Open the goddamn grate!"
"The shadows are approaching," he said, pulling himself back into the house. He placed the lid back on the hole, and I was trapped in the dark again. I cursed to myself and started pounding on the floor again.
"Hey! Someone come help me!"
That's when I felt something run across my legs. I nearly jumped out of my skin. It didn't feel like the tiny claws of a passing rat. It was cold to the touch, but as it hit my skin, I felt a burn in my bones. It's hard to explain, but I felt both extremes simultaneously. Whatever it was skittered off into the darkness of the other side of the crawl space.
The kid started laughing again, which brought me back to reality. I army crawled as fast as I could to the grate. I balled up my fist and punched in the middle of the metal. The blow knocked the old nails out of the wall, and the grate broke up. I was about to push away the garbage can when it suddenly wheeled out of the way.
I saw Tom's legs standing there.
"You okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.
I got out from under the house so fast that I left a me-sized dirt cloud in my place. Once out, I shook my body loose as if I had things crawling all over me. Tom watched but didn't say anything at first. We finally locked eyes, and he could see the rage, fear, and confusion on my face. He wisely waited until I spoke first.
"What the hell is wrong with your kid? He blocked me under there and taunted me from the indoor crawlspace."
"What are you talking about?"
"He told me the shadow people or something were watching, and then he blocked me under the house!"
Tom's face twisted up into confusion. "I...I don't understand."
"I can't make it any simpler, Tom!" I screamed, letting unprofessionalism take root.
"I don't have a kid."
It hit me like an Ali right cross. My vision got dizzy, and I struggled to catch my breath. I stared at his face, looking for the sign of a lie or a joke, but he was as stone-faced as an Easter Island statue. After a beat, I found my sense again. "I heard you talking to him in the living room when I was under the house."
"One, I was on a phone call. Two, are you spying on me? What the hell, man?"
"I wasn't spying, and you weren't on the phone," I said. I also heard you talking to your wife. She asked you if she could show her face or something."
"I don't have a wife either."
I shook my head. "I fucking saw them in the backyard! They were staring at the fence!"
Tom paused and cocked his head to the side. When he spoke, it was softly, trying to calm me down. "Are you...did you have a few drinks before the appointment? Or a pill or something? No judging – I know pill heads. I won't report you or anything, but I understand if you need to come back tomorrow with a clearer head."
"I'm sober," I said, gritting my teeth. "But I know what I saw. What I heard."
"As the tree said to the lumberjack, I'm stumped," Tom said. "You look a little flush. You want a bottle of water or something? I can show you I'm here all alone."
My adrenaline had seeped out of my body, and I was starting to feel like myself again. I nodded at Tom, and he smiled. "I'll go grab you one. Do you want to come into the AC?"
"No, I'm okay. I need to double-check the connection to the pedestal."
"Sure. Be bright back," Tom said as he walked off.
But I had no intention of checking the connections. I was going to check on Tom. I didn't believe him at all. Something weird was going on, and I needed to know what. As soon as he turned the corner around the house, I broke out my flashlight and headed back to the crawlspace.
I dropped to the ground and shone my beam into the darkness. Something had crawled on me, and I wanted to see what it was. I moved my light into every section of the crawlspace but saw no eyes glowing back at me.
"If you're under there, call back."
There was nothing. I was starting to feel like a paranoid idiot. I called out once again just to be sure, but again, nothing called back. I shut off my light and sighed. I started pushing myself back to my feet when I heard a faint woman's voice call out, "Can we show our faces now?"
"Not yet," someone hissed from the trees above me. I snapped my head up, expecting to see someone hanging on a branch over my head, but I just saw green leaves.
"Can we show our faces now?" It was the Boy. It sounded like he was on the roof. I shielded my eyes and glanced at the roof but didn't see him.
"No. He's not ready yet," someone whispered in my ear. I snapped around, throwing a punch as I did, only to slam my fist into the fence. I felt one of my knuckles crack as it hit the wood, and the pain shot up my arm like lightning. Within seconds, my hand started to puff up, and blood dripped out the wounds.
The Boy chuckled again. It came from under the house. I looked down at the grate and saw his legs disappear into the darkness.
"Hey!" I called and dropped to the ground. I pulled out my flashlight and shone into the darkness again. I was confident I'd see him, but he wasn't there. Nobody was.
I sat up and felt goosebumps turn my arms into braille. I glanced over to the corner of the house and was surprised to see the disappearing hemline of the faded blue dress. I rushed over to the corner and didn't see the Woman. I saw Tom with a bottle of water.
"You okay?"
"Where did that woman go?" I asked, my voice panicking. "She was just here."
"Sir, do you need me to call your boss for you? You're starting to scare me."
"What's up with this house? Is it haunted?"
Tom started laughing. "I hope not. I just moved in. I'd hate to have roommates again, especially ones who leave ectoplasm all over the place."
As I stared at him, I saw the Woman and the Boy emerge from the other corner of the house. They looked up on the roof, their faces obscured by their hands and the sun. I pointed a finger at them and screamed, "They're right there!"
Tom spun around and looked, but there wasn't anything there. He turned back to me, not sure what to say. Instead, he handed me the bottle of water. "I gotta be honest. I didn't see anything. Drink the water...you might have heat stroke."
I threw the bottle on the ground. "I don't have fucking heat stroke. I have a man that's lying about these things." I got close to him. "What did you have planned for me? Why do they keep asking to show their faces?"
"I don't," he said, but I didn't stay to hear him finish his thought. I walked right past him and turned the corner of the house. As I did, I saw the blue hem disappear through the door that led to the kitchen. I followed right behind her.
I walked into the house, which was as silent as a corpse. The Woman and Boy were nowhere to be seen. "Hello?" I called out. "I just saw you guys walk in here. Where are you?"
The door behind me opened up. Tom walked in, his face reddening with anger. "You can't just walk into my house."
"I saw them walk in. Where are they?"
"I keep telling you, it's just me and you here. Now, if you want to finish your work…."
I walked away from him and headed toward the bedroom where I had seen the Boy standing. I wanted to check that crawl space. The room was empty, not even a moving box in there, so finding the hatch that led under the house was easy. I went into the closet and pried the hatch open.
Tom entered the room behind me, more confused now than angry. "I don't want a line run through here."
"The Boy was standing in this spot. I saw his legs. I spoke to him. He told me the shadows needed me for something." I glared down into the darkness under the house. Despite Tom's feigned declarations that there wasn't another person in the house, I knew he wasn't being honest.
"Okay, I'm pretty sure you're back on pills and in the middle of a delusion," he said.
"How did you know I had a pill addiction?"
"The way you're acting, it wasn't a hard guess."
"I'm sober, but I did have a problem with pills. I never told you. I don't tell anyone."
Tom stood there, confused about how to answer. I stood up and stared him down. He looked away, but I didn't move my gaze. "Who are you? Who put you up to this? Was it Rory? He trying to get me fired?"
Tom's shoulders sagged. "You got me," he said. "Rory hired me to get you in trouble. I'm... I'm sorry. He offered me free cable for a year and assured me you were a bad guy and, well…. I'm weak."
"That's really fuc…," I stopped. "You're lying. Right now. You're lying. Why?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dash past the open crawlspace hatch. I turned to the hatch opening and then back to Tom.
"Are you trying to stop me from looking in there?"
He didn't respond.
"What's under there?"
"He is," he said. "The Boy. He hides under there all the time. He has...friends down there."
"The shadow people?"
Tom shrugged, "What he calls them. I call them a menace. Impossible to get my work done with them causing a racket."
"What work?"
"Things you'd never understand in a million years," he said, "Things beyond your brain's capacity to imagine. Things that will help usher in a new world. Your kind's time is coming to a close. My work represents the new order."
I stared at him. I wasn't sure if I should run away or punch his lights out. Instead, I just spat out, "Bro, what the fuck?"
"Can we show our faces now?" the Boy called out from under the house.
I looked down at the hatch and then back at Tom. He nodded toward the opening. "Do you want to see your future?"
"Fuck it," I said. I got down, grabbed the sides of the opening, and lowered my head under the house.
I kept my eyes closed for a second, assuming I'd either see something horrifying or something would hit me in the face. When nothing struck me, I opened my eyes. It was dark, and I couldn't make out anything.
"There's nothing under here," I said.
"Can we show our faces now?" said the Boy from somewhere under the house.
"Show him," Tom said.
I sat back up, grabbed my flashlight from my pocket, and flipped it on. I looked at Tom, "If you try anything, so help me, God."
Tom just smiled. I looked back down at the hatch and sighed. I was suddenly hit with a bolt of common sense. What was I doing? My internal alarms were going off and I was ignoring them. Curiosity had gotten me this far, but my fight instincts were starting to lose to my flight. No job was worth this.
"Man, fuck this," I said, reversing course and standing. I turned to confront Tom, but he was gone. I hadn't heard him leave, but there wasn't a trace of him there. "Tom? Where the hell are you?"
He didn't respond, and I decided that I had hit my "weird shit" quota for the day. I closed the closet door and headed back into the living room to grab my gear. I'd call dispatch and tell them someone else had to come out and finish the….
The wood floor cracked, splintered, and gave way when I put my weight on it. I fell through the floor and landed with a thud on the dirt in the crawl space. On the way down, I hit my ribs on a crossbeam and heard them crack and knock the wind out of me. As I lay on the dirt, writhing in pain, my lungs did their damnedest to find a breath. It couldn't, and my vision started to blur at the edges. For a fleeting few seconds, I envisioned my death on a dirty crawlspace floor. It wasn’t comforting.
I rolled onto my back and finally took in a massive gulp of life-saving air. The blurring vision subsided, and all that remained was the aching pain of a busted rib. My muscles around my rib cage spasmed and pulled tight against my lungs. After the initial big breath, I could only take shallow gulps because the pain was searing.
I lay there for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts, when I felt something skitter across my legs again. I kicked out of instinct but didn't hit anything. Instead, I heard the chuckling again. My flashlight had fallen out of my hand. I found it and turned it on.
This time, I did see something. Pairs of eyes—dozens of them—watched me from the darkness that surrounded me. These weren't possums or rats. I never hoped to find a raccoon under the house more than I did at that moment. I knew whatever these things were, they weren't natural and they wanted to harm me.
"Still want to know what they plan to do to you?" the Boy asked from behind me.
I turned around and shone the light where I heard the voice. The Boy was lying on his stomach, his face looking down at the ground. All I could see at the moment was the top of his head.
"Wha-what's going on?" I said, the light bouncing from my trembling hand.
"I can show you my face now," he said. He raised his head and….
The Boy didn't have a face.
He had the space for a face, but there were no features whatsoever—nothing but pale pink skin pulled tight across the front of his head. At that moment, the image of a wooden art figure came to me.
“What the ever-loving fuck?"
"Want to see something really scary?" the Boy said, his lack of a mouth not stopping him from speaking. He raised himself onto the tips of his fingers and toes and started skittering toward me, laughing as he did.
I clambered out of the crawlspace as fast as my battered body could carry me. I got out of the hole and onto my feet and let out an ear-splitting scream.
The Woman in the blue dress was standing next to the hole in the floor. Like the Boy, she didn't have a face either. But I could feel her eyes on me. Looking into my mind. Into my soul. She stepped toward me, and I bolted for the front door.
I whipped it open and was greeted by Tom standing there, blocking me. He grinned. "Leaving so soon?"
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, checking behind me to see if the Woman was still coming toward me. She was, and she was gaining quickly.
"Can we show our faces now?" he asked with a laugh.
I turned back to Tom and nearly had a heart attack. His face was gone. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. My legs were jelly, but I kept myself propped up. The human desire to survive can perform miracles.
Tom reached out and pointed at a spot on the far side of the living room wall. I turned and saw three skinned human faces hanging from old nails: a man, a woman, and a boy.
"You're turn to join us," Tom whispered. But the voice wasn't said out loud. It came from inside my own head. "We can always use another body around here."
My brain clicked into action and sent an all-points bulletin to my limbs. The message was simple and actionable – "Get the fuck going, you dope."
I felt my hand ball into a fist and spun. It landed where Tom's nose would've been. It should've knocked him back, causing him to stumble and giving me time to run. But that didn't happen. Instead, his face pulled apart, letting my fist slide right through. It closed on my arm, trapping me.
I yanked and yanked, but my arm would not dislodge from his face. I glanced back and saw the Woman nearly next to me. The Boy was climbing out of the hole, moving like a cockroach. I looked back at the wall and saw Tom's hanging face silently laughing.
Something about those silent laughs cut me to my core. They were laughing because Tom thought he had outsmarted me. He had beat me. That my face would soon be hanging on the wall next to theirs. I wasn't going to let that happen.
I saw a loose brick on the walkway, and a plan flashed in my mind. I yanked hard, sending Tom stuttering forward enough for me to wrap my finger around the brick. I brought it up and sent it towards his face. As expected, the face parted again, and the brick flew through easily.
But as soon as the face curtains pulled aside, I yanked my arm free. With my limb free, I took off in a mad sprint for my truck. I got inside and fumbled my keys as I tried to start the engine. Tom, the Woman, and the Boy stood together at the front door and watched as I got the van going and rocketed down the street.
I drove like a madman for ten minutes, trying to put as much space between me and the house as possible. I finally stopped at a gas station to collect my thoughts. I was jittery, and my mind was swimming, but I was also relieved. I had gotten out.
I collected myself and called Denise to tell her I couldn't finish the installation at 981 Maple Street. I was going to suggest we cancel the order and not send another installer there. That's when the conversation took a turn I wasn't expecting.
"Where have you been? You were supposed to be off an hour ago," Denise said when I called her.
"I was trying to finish the install at 981 Maple, the one you sent me to."
"I didn't send you anywhere," she said. "With how insane Rory is being about overtime hours, I'm trying to keep everyone below the threshold."
"What are you talking about? You called and asked me. You don't remember," I said, a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.
She gave me a nervous chuckle, "I swear I didn't. Are you feeling okay? You gotta come back. People are waiting for the van."
"I can prove it. I have a record of you calling me on my phone," I said. I opened my call log, and my jaw dropped. There was no call from Denise. She was telling me the truth. But if she didn't call me, who did?
"Rory wants to talk to you when you get in. I wouldn't mess around, he seems pissed" she said before hanging up.
I haven't moved since. I wanted to write this down because I felt like it needed to be recorded. Something supremely fucked up is happening at 981 Maple Street. It nearly got me. It still might. To think, on any other typical day, a surprise conversation with my boss would be the scariest thing that could happen to me. Funny how seeing a faceless ghoul can prioritize your problems. If you're hired to do work there, turn it down. Trust me, it's not worth it.
"Can we show our faces now?" they asked. "Fuck no," should be the only response.

Chapter 1: The Unfolding of Lost Whispers

In the vast, unfathomable expanse of the universe, where galaxies swirl in a delicate cosmic dance and stars glimmer like tiny beacons in the dark, the infinite complexities of the cosmos stretch beyond comprehension. Amid these wonders, on a small, blue planet orbiting a modest star, unfolds a story both small and significant. A tale of a young boy named Jack, whose world, though minute in the grand scheme of things, carries the weight of the universe in his tender heart.
As the focus narrows from the cosmos, past the swirling arms of the Milky Way, and through the atmospheric layers of Earth, it zooms in on a bustling city on the North American continent, a city of great winds and even greater ambitions. The streets hum with the upbeat rhythms of soul music, and advertisements for new episodes of “Happy Days” and “The Six Million Dollar Man” flicker from television screens in shop windows. The scent of hot dogs and fresh popcorn wafts from vendors stationed along the sidewalks, mixing with the brisk, cold air. Overhead, the roar of an elevated train briefly disrupts the calm, a reminder of the intricate network of steel that defines the city's skyline.
Snow blankets the ground, a pristine layer that muffles the usual city sounds and reflects the twinkling lights strung across the streets and buildings. The sidewalks are bustling with people bundled up in thick coats and scarves, their breath visible in the frosty air. A towering figure of a beloved fictional character, the "Man with a Yellow Hat," adorns the window of a famous department store on State Street, while the majestic lions in front of the Art Institute wear festive wreaths around their necks.
Zooming in further, the focus shifts to a neighborhood of classic brick houses and narrow alleyways, where homes stand adorned with glowing Christmas decorations. Each house boasts its own unique charm, with wreaths on doors and flickering lights outlining rooftops, casting a warm, inviting glow into the frigid night.
One house, in particular, stands out, its red-brick facade adorned with a simple string of colored lights that flicker cheerfully in the cold. The house exudes warmth, a sense of comfort amidst the snow-covered streets. The scene moves closer, peering through the frosted window of a small room where a young boy’s life unfolds.
Jack’s room is a vivid sanctuary, painted in shades of deep blue and adorned with stars and planets that glow softly in the dark. Model airplanes hang from the ceiling, suspended in mid-flight among a fleet of handmade paper rockets. His shelves are a testament to his love of science fiction, crammed with books like "The Adventures of Tintin" and "A Wrinkle in Time," alongside colorful action figures of astronauts and aliens.
Jack’s bed, a twin with a wooden frame, is covered with a blanket featuring a rocket ship blasting off into the cosmos, stars trailing behind it. At the foot of the bed sits his favorite plush toy, a well-worn astronaut bear, its once-bright suit now faded from countless adventures. The nightstand beside his bed holds a lava lamp that casts an eerie, mesmerizing glow across the room, next to a stack of comics and a small flashlight for late-night reading.
The floor is scattered with the remnants of recent play—an open box of Lincoln Logs, a sprawling collection of Hot Wheels cars, and a nearly completed jigsaw puzzle of the solar system. A colorful mobile of the planets hangs above his head, swaying gently, and his walls are adorned with posters of spaceships and far-off galaxies.
Despite the warmth and security of his room, Jack feels a weight in his chest as he is called to join the family at the dinner table. The dining room is a cozy haven, bathed in the warm glow of a chandelier. The table is adorned with a red and gold cloth, glistening under the light. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its branches heavy with ornaments and lights that cast a festive glow across the room.
Grandma, her hair neatly curled and wearing a stylish plaid dress, sits at the head of the table, her eyes sparkling behind her cat-eye glasses. Grandpa, sporting a red sweater and a neatly combed mustache, carves the turkey with practiced ease, his face a picture of contentment. Both retired scientists, they bring a wealth of knowledge and curiosity into the home. Grandma, a former theoretical physicist specializing in string theory, and Grandpa, an astrophysicist, now use their pensions to support Jack and his mom.
Jack’s mom, in a floral dress that flares at the knees, passes around the mashed potatoes and green beans, her laughter bright and infectious. The conversation flows easily, a mixture of laughter and stories, seasoned with the distinctive Chicago accent that gives their words a familiar warmth.
Despite the house’s modest size, the family makes the most of their space. The table is snugly surrounded by chairs, each one occupied by a loved one, making the room feel full and alive. The smallness of the house only enhances the sense of togetherness, each person contributing to the warm, festive atmosphere.
Before dinner, they all bow their heads in prayer, a moment of quiet reflection and gratitude amidst the bustling celebration. The silence is broken only by the gentle flicker of candlelight and the soft hum of the old radio in the corner, playing a news bulletin about the latest political events—a hostage crisis, debates over energy policy, and the ongoing discussions about a potential peace treaty.
“Can we turn that off?” Grandpa asks, his voice cutting through the room. “I’ve heard enough about politics for one day.”
Mom reaches over and flicks the switch, silencing the news and returning the room to its warm, festive atmosphere.
Jack sits at the table, feeling small and out of place. He fidgets with his napkin, his mind wandering to far-off worlds and epic adventures. He thinks of Tintin, the brave boy reporter, and how he would face this dinner table with courage, even if he felt as nervous as Jack does now. His thoughts drift to the latest Tintin book he read, imagining himself alongside Tintin and his faithful dog, Snowy, exploring ancient ruins and uncovering hidden treasures. In his mind’s eye, the room fades away, replaced by the vast, alien landscapes of “A Wrinkle in Time,” where Jack, Tintin, and his imaginary astronaut sidekick, Astro, race through time and space, battling dark forces and saving the universe from impending doom.
“Jack, how did you like the play at the community center?” Grandma’s voice cuts through his daydreams.
He hesitates, thinking of what Tintin might say in a moment of uncertainty. “It was… an adventure, just like in my books,” he says, his voice a bit shaky but full of a quiet resolve. In his mind, he imagines Tintin nodding approvingly, while Astro gives him a thumbs-up from the cockpit of their spaceship.
“Good to hear,” Grandpa says with a smile. “You know, your mom and I used to watch plays there too, back when we were younger. But that was a long time ago.”
Jack forces a smile, his eyes drifting to the family photos that adorn the walls. One photo, in particular, captures his attention—a picture of his dad, Dan, holding him as a baby, their smiles frozen in time. The mention of his dad, however, seems to hang in the air, unacknowledged by everyone but him. It’s as if a shadow passes over the room, a ghost of a memory that everyone but Jack seems to have forgotten.
“How’s school, Jack?” Mom asks, her voice bright and cheerful. “Are you still working on that science project about the planets?”
Jack nods, a lump forming in his throat. “Yes, Mom. I finished it yesterday. I think Dad would have liked it.” He thinks of Astro, his ever-loyal sidekick, who would understand the importance of such a project, their spaceship hurtling through the vast unknown, mapping distant stars and planets.
Mom’s smile falters for a moment, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” she says, quickly moving the conversation forward. “Grandma made your favorite dessert tonight, apple pie. You’ll love it!”
Jack looks down at his plate, his small hands trembling slightly. It feels as if the memory of his dad has been wiped from everyone’s minds, leaving Jack to bear the weight of it alone. He thinks of Tintin again, how he would bravely face even the most difficult challenges. “Dad always liked apple pie,” Jack says quietly, hoping to keep his father’s memory alive, even in this small way. A deep ache settles in his chest, a hollow feeling that no amount of food or laughter seems able to fill.
“Do you remember when Dan used to carve the turkey?” Grandma says suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “He had such a steady hand.”
Grandpa nods, though there’s a distant look in his eyes. “You know, it’s strange,” he says slowly, as if searching his memory. “Sometimes, I can’t quite recall what he was like. It’s almost like those memories are slipping away.”
Mom shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I know what you mean. It’s so odd, isn’t it? I barely remember his laugh, or the way he used to smile. It’s like the memories of him are fading, almost as if they’re being erased.”
Jack feels a surge of frustration and sadness. How could they forget? How could they talk about his dad as if he were a shadow, a fleeting whisper in their minds? “But Dad loved Christmas,” Jack says, his voice trembling
“He always made it so special.” A tear slips down his cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, hoping no one notices.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mom says softly. “It’s not that we want to forget. It’s just… it’s been so hard, and sometimes it feels like the memories are slipping away.”
Jack looks around the table, frustrated and sad that they all seem to want to forget, to move on without acknowledging the loss that still haunts him. It’s as if he’s the only one holding onto the precious fragments of his dad, the only one who remembers the way he used to carve the turkey, the way he would laugh and make everyone feel warm and loved. His heart feels heavy, weighed down by the loneliness of remembering when no one else seems to.
Sensing Jack's distress, Grandpa tries to change the topic, leaning in with a familiar, enthusiastic glint in his eye. “Jack, you remember our last talk about black holes? Did you know that they can warp time itself? Imagine traveling through one and ending up in a different part of the universe!”
Jack’s eyes light up slightly at this, his mind instantly transported to the fantastical worlds of his books. “Really, Grandpa? Just like in ‘A Wrinkle in Time’?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.
“Yes, indeed,” Grandpa replies, his tone rich with the joy of sharing knowledge. “Just like in your book. The real universe is full of such mysteries.”
“And Grandma,” Jack turns to her, a spark of curiosity reignited, “tell me more about those… what did you call them… strings?”
“String theory,” Grandma smiles, glad to see Jack’s interest. “Imagine everything in the universe, from the tiniest particle to the largest galaxy, is made up of tiny, vibrating strings. It’s like a cosmic symphony, each string playing its own note.”
Jack nods, fascinated. For a moment, the room seems brighter, the weight of his grief lifting slightly as he immerses himself in the wonders of the universe. “I want to be an astronaut one day,” he says quietly, his gaze distant as if looking at stars only he can see. “Just like Astro.”
“I’m sure you will, Jack,” Grandma says, her voice gentle. “You’ve got the curiosity and the spirit for it.”
But as the conversation turns back to more mundane matters, the reality of his father’s absence presses down on him again, and he feels the tears welling up, hot and insistent. “I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. He pushes his chair back and stands, his legs unsteady.
Mom looks up, her eyes filled with concern. “Jack, are you okay?”
Jack shakes his head, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice breaking. He turns and runs from the room, his footsteps echoing through the house, the weight of his sorrow too much to bear. In his mind, he’s running through a portal into another dimension, where Tintin and Astro are waiting to embark on another great adventure, away from the pain and confusion of the present.
“Jack!” Mom calls after him, but he’s already gone, disappearing up the stairs to his room, leaving the warmth and light of the dinner behind.
The room falls silent, the joyful atmosphere shattered. Grandma and Grandpa exchange worried glances, and Mom sighs, her heart aching for her little boy. She rises and follows Jack, leaving the festive scene behind, the weight of his sadness casting a long shadow over the night.
In the quiet dining room, the clinking of silverware is the only sound as the family continues their meal, their hearts heavy with the burden of loss and the hope of healing. The story of Jack, though small in the grand scheme of the universe, is one of love, loss, and the enduring strength of family.
The next morning, a brilliant winter sun shone through Jack’s bedroom window, casting a golden glow across the room and highlighting the remnants of yesterday’s snowfall. The rays bounced off the shimmering strands of tinsel draped over the Christmas tree and reflected in the polished surface of his mother’s pearl necklace, each bead gleaming like a drop of dew caught in the first light of dawn. The air was filled with the mingling scents of pine and cinnamon, a fragrant symphony that spoke of warmth and family.
Jack’s mother, Shelly, stood beside the tree, her figure framed by the light streaming through the window. She wore a cozy, cream-colored sweater adorned with delicate snowflake patterns, her soft blue jeans hugging her figure in a comfortable embrace. Around her neck hung the pearl necklace, a gift from years gone by, each bead a memory strung together in an unbroken line.
Jack's eyes wandered to the necklace, and he was momentarily lost in a memory. It was summer in Chicago, and the world was alive with color and warmth. They were in the backyard, celebrating his mother's 36th birthday. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the old oak tree that stood sentinel at the edge of the yard.
His father, Dan, had looked so proud that day. He stood under the canopy, a wide grin on his face as he handed Shelly a small, velvet box. His eyes sparkled with mischief and love. "Happy Birthday, my love," he had said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand promises. Shelly had opened the box to find the pearl necklace, its lustrous orbs glowing in the sunlight. She had gasped in delight, tears springing to her eyes as she threw her arms around Dan’s neck, their laughter mingling with the cheerful chatter of Grandma and Grandpa who watched with smiles of approval.
The memory faded, and Jack was jolted back to the present by the sound of his mother’s voice. "Jack, are you okay?" she asked, her tone gentle yet tinged with concern. Her hand rested on his shoulder, a soft weight that grounded him in the moment. "It's time you have this. It was from your dad. I don’t remember the details, but I think you should have it."
She handed him a box, its shiny red paper reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of colors. Jack’s fingers trembled as he accepted the gift, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He tore away the wrapping, each rip of the paper revealing glimpses of the treasure within. Inside, lying in perfect repose, was a sleek robot. Its surface gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, and its design was a labyrinth of intricate details that spoke of far-off lands and ancient wisdom. This was Sparks.
Sparks was a marvel of robotics, a fusion of sleek modernity and charming retro aesthetics. His body was predominantly white, adorned with accents of vibrant blues and yellows. His exterior was polished to a gleaming finish, reflecting light in a way that made him look almost ethereal, as if he had stepped straight out of a sci-fi dream.
Sparks stood about two feet tall, his frame compact yet robust. His head was large compared to his body, featuring a smooth, domed surface with rounded edges that gave him a friendly and approachable demeanor. His eyes were large, glowing orbs of blue that emitted a soft, inviting light. They were set within a black visor-like faceplate, giving him an expression that could shift from curious to serious with a simple change in illumination.
His torso was a blend of sleek armor plating and intricate circuitry, with small compartments and panels that hinted at the advanced technology contained within. He had a chest plate with a glowing emblem that pulsed with a rhythmic light, possibly indicating his energy levels or some other mysterious function.
Sparks' arms were articulated with multiple joints, allowing for a wide range of movement. They ended in hands that could grasp, manipulate, and interact with the environment in a surprisingly delicate manner. Each hand had a set of fingers that were both functional and expressive, capable of performing intricate tasks or conveying emotions through subtle gestures.
His legs were sturdy yet agile, designed for both stability and speed. They were segmented with flexible joints that allowed him to move with a surprising grace, whether he was navigating through a busy marketplace or sprinting across open terrain. His feet were broad and equipped with a set of small, glowing pads that provided traction and stability, lighting up with each step he took.
On his back, Sparks had a small compartment where he could store essential tools and gadgets. It was a testament to his role as both a helper and an adventurer, always prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead. His overall appearance was an endearing blend of the futuristic and the familiar, evoking a sense of nostalgia while also hinting at the incredible capabilities that lay beneath his shiny exterior.
"Wow, Mom! This is amazing!" Jack's voice echoed with awe, his eyes wide and sparkling with the pure wonder of discovery.
His mother knelt beside him, her presence a comforting cocoon of warmth and familiarity in the midst of the unknown. "There are some instructions here," she said, her fingers brushing lightly over a small booklet nestled in the box. "Let's see how this little guy works."
But as they began to decipher the cryptic symbols and arcane phrases, the phone rang, shattering the moment with its insistent clamour. Jack’s mom sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of worlds. She rose reluctantly, her hand lingering on Jack’s shoulder. "Hold on, Jack. I'll be right back. Keep looking at those instructions, okay?"
As her footsteps faded into the distance, Jack's gaze fell upon the booklet. The margins were filled with strange markings, symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. They were familiar, whispers from the past, from the secret games and hidden worlds he had once shared with his father. Little keys, phrases, and symbols that only he would understand.
"Yeah, this is Shelly speaking" his mom’s voice drifted back to him, carrying the cadence of a bygone era, a hint of Windy City charm that was as comforting as it was enigmatic.
Jack's heart raced as he pieced together the clues. Memories of adventures with his dad surged forward, a mosaic of secret messages and hidden quests. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, he followed the trail of hints, pressing buttons and speaking phrases that held the magic of their shared past.
Suddenly, Sparks sprang to life, his eyes blazing with a luminous glow. Jack's breath hitched, a shiver of anticipation and wonder running down his spine. The robot projected a hologram into the air, and there, bathed in an ethereal light, was his dad. His expression was urgent, his message cloaked in the mystery of a thousand secrets, played backwards to heighten the enigma.
"Come find me, Jack," the hologram intoned, the words echoing in the silence, wrapping around Jack like a spectral embrace.
Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, a wild symphony of fear and excitement. His dad was out there, somewhere, and now he had Sparks, his guide and companion on a journey that promised to be as perilous as it was extraordinary.
"We have 30 minutes! I hope you can run!" Sparks chirped, his voice crackling with urgency.
Jack's eyes widened in confusion. "What? Why?"
"We've got to catch a train, or else we’ll have to wait 10 human years to catch the next one!" Sparks' tone was serious, but a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.
Sparks' Holographic eyes twinkled mischievously as he added, "You want to find your dad, right? Well, strap on your superhero cape and get ready to explore, my trusty sidekick! We're about to dive into an adventure so epic, even the masked vigilantes would be impressed!"
With a resolute nod, Jack sprang into action, his mind racing with the urgency of the task ahead. He packed his backpack with essentials, each item a link to his life and the journey that lay before him. Scribbling a hasty note to his mom, he slid it under her bedroom door, the words a promise and a farewell: "Be right back, Mom! Going to find Dad! Love, Jack."
Without a backward glance, Jack climbed out of the window, Sparks at his side, the cool night air rushing past them as they raced into the unknown. The town, aglow with festive lights and the scent of pine and cinnamon, seemed to watch them with silent approval. In the distance, his mom's voice called out, a worried echo that faded into the night: "Jack! Where did you go?!"
But Jack didn't stop. His path was clear, his resolve unshakable. With Sparks guiding him, he plunged into the heart of the mystery, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The town square was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds, a carnival of holiday cheer. Market stalls overflowed with trinkets and treats, their bright colors a stark contrast to the white of the snow. Street performers spun and twirled, their laughter mingling with the strains of music that filled the air. Jack's heart beat a wild rhythm as he and Sparks weaved through the crowd, their destination a beacon on the horizon.
They arrived at the train station just as the locomotive began to pull away, its wheels churning through the snow, smoke billowing from its chimney like a dragon’s breath. With a burst of desperate energy, they leaped onto the train, their fingers grasping the cold metal of the railing as they hoisted themselves aboard.
Panting and exhilarated, Jack collapsed onto the floor of the train car, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the thrill of the chase. Sparks whirred beside him, his eyes reflecting the excitement and the promise of adventure that lay ahead.
But their triumph was short-lived. The train hurtled through the night, its path veering towards a cliff's edge buried beneath the snow. Jack and Sparks screamed, their voices lost in the wind, convinced they were speeding towards their doom.
Sparks, ever the optimist, quipped, "Well, that was quite the downhill ride, Jack! Remind me to avoid ski trips with you in the future."
Jack, despite the terror of the moment, managed a laugh. "You mean 'Ahhhhhhhhh,' that screaming? You mean it's not scary to you?"
Sparks responded with a mechanical laugh. "Oh, Jack, you know me. I'm as cool as a cucumber, even when we're hurtling towards a snowy abyss. But hey, I figured I'd join in on the fun, keep the vibe light!"
Jack grinned, grateful for Sparks' humor in the face of danger.
Then, just as they braced for impact, the world shimmered and faded, the train dissolving into a spray of sparkling particles. They were enveloped in a vortex of light and sound, a tunnel through time and space that carried them towards the unknown. As they clung to each other, Jack and Sparks exchanged a bewildered glance, their hearts pounding with the thrill and fear of the journey. They had no idea what awaited them, but they knew it would be an adventure unlike any they had ever known.
The train car they found themselves in was a bustling, fantastical wonderland, packed to the brim with passengers of every imaginable kind. Humanoid androids with bodies of polished chrome sat beside towering aliens with scales that shimmered like the night sky. Mysterious witches in flowing robes murmured incantations, their eyes flickering with hidden fires. Men in black suits, their faces obscured by shadows and wide-brimmed hats, exchanged glances and adjusted devices that blinked with foreboding red lights. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and the hum of a hundred foreign tongues, each whispering a story of its own.
As Jack looked around, he noticed floppy disk flies buzzing around the train's cabinets, their wings whirring with a mechanical hum. He leaned over to Sparks and whispered, "Hey, do you see those floppy disk flies? What are they doing here?"
Sparks, with a hint of amusement, responded, "Ah, those ancient relics. They must have hitched a ride from a bygone era. Maybe they're here to remind us of the good old days when saving data meant something more tangible than cloud storage!"
The train conductor, a blob-like alien wearing an AI helmet and a uniform that sparkled with intricate designs, loomed over them. "Where is your pass?" it asked, its voice a bubbling gurgle that sent shivers down Jack's spine.
Jack stammered, "I… I don’t have one."
A tiny hovering bot emerged from the conductor's body, emitting a red beam that scanned them both before declaring, "Clear."
Looking around for a place to sit, Jack saw that the train was far from ordinary. It was a vast, cavernous space, far larger than it appeared from the outside. Though the train’s exterior was a sleek, steam-punk marvel of brass and rivets, the interior seemed to defy the laws of physics, expanding into a seemingly infinite space to accommodate its extraordinary occupants.
The environment inside was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds. Enormous trees grew straight out of the floor, their branches stretching high above into a canopy that rustled with the movement of fantastical creatures. Small, winged beings darted among the leaves, their tiny, luminescent bodies flickering like fireflies. Down below, creatures resembling miniature dragons scampered around the tree trunks, nibbling at the bark and chirping excitedly. In one corner, waterfalls cascaded into lakes teeming with fantastical creatures like hydras and leviathans, their scales glistening under the shimmering lights. The sound of rushing water mixed with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant roar of a hydra, creating a mesmerizing soundscape.
Jack marveled at the sprawling environments within the train. There were sections with lush, sprawling forests where magical creatures roamed freely among the trees, their soft footfalls and the chirping of unseen birds creating a serene, natural ambiance. Next to that, vast deserts stretched out, their golden sands shimmering under an artificial sun, the air heavy with the scent of warm earth and dry winds whispering through the dunes. Beyond that, snow-capped mountains rose majestically, their peaks disappearing into the clouds, the crisp, cold air tinged with the sharp scent of pine and the distant calls of snow griffins echoing through the valleys. There were even dark caves, their interiors glowing with the light of bioluminescent fungi, the air cool and damp, and the sound of dripping water mixing with the eerie whispers of cave-dwelling creatures.
In another corner, a colony of giant spiders had spun intricate webs among the trees, their small, red eyes glinting ominously as they scuttled about. The largest spider, its body the size of a small car, had a single, enormous red eye that seemed to follow Jack as he moved. He shuddered at the sight but couldn't help but be fascinated by the eerie beauty of their silken webs glistening like diamonds in the dim light.
In the center of the car, a towering tree grew, its trunk massive and gnarled with age. From its branches hung delicate lanterns that glowed with a soft, warm light, illuminating the faces of the creatures gathered below. Jack noticed a group of elfin children playing a game near the base of the tree, their laughter ringing like silver bells in the air.
To the left, a bustling marketplace had been set up, with vendors selling everything from magical trinkets to interstellar snacks. The air was filled with the rich aromas of exotic spices and freshly cooked delicacies. Jack could hear the cheerful chatter of traders haggling over prices and the clinking of gold coins as customers made their purchases.
Overhead, the ceiling arched high into a dome, shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors that danced and changed with the shifting light. Platforms suspended in mid-air held small gardens, each one a miniature ecosystem teeming with life. Plants of every conceivable shape and color twisted and spiraled, their tendrils reaching out to the passengers who passed by.
Further down, there were lakes where fantastical creatures like hydras and leviathans swam, their scales reflecting the shimmering light. The lakes were surrounded by lush vegetation, and the air was filled with the sound of rushing water and the soft rustling of leaves. In the center of the lake, a group of merfolk played instruments, their haunting melodies adding a mystical ambiance to the surroundings.
Jack's eyes widened in alarm as he saw a cluster of giant fire-breathing dragons resting by a pool of molten lava, their scales shimmering like hot embers. Nearby, a group of electric dragons basked under a storm cloud that rumbled with flashes of lightning, their bodies crackling with energy. And in a shadowy corner, a pair of acid dragons slumbered in a pit of bubbling green ooze, their scales dripping with a corrosive substance that hissed as it touched the ground.
Suddenly, Jack's attention was drawn to a flock of hideous, scary-looking flying creatures that seemed to combine the worst features of bats and reptiles. Their leathery wings beat the air with an eerie rustle, and their eyes glowed a malevolent red as they circled overhead. Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, a surge of fear gripping him. "Sparks, what are those?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Sparks, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, replied, "Those, my dear Jack, are tooth fairies."
Jack's eyes widened in disbelief. "Tooth fairies? But they look so hideous and scary!"
Sparks chuckled. "Yes, well, that's because human teeth are a crucial part of their diet. They've developed quite a taste for them over the centuries. Don’t worry, though. They’re just here for the scenery."
Jack noticed the tooth fairies eyeing him hungrily, their sharp teeth glinting ominously. They began to circle closer, their eyes locked onto Jack as if he were a delicious meal. Just as they started to make a move towards him, the train's intercom crackled to life. "Attention, passengers: Please remember that any form of attack or hostility towards fellow passengers will result in immediate disintegration. Thank you for your cooperation."
The tooth fairies hesitated, their eyes darting nervously. Jack watched in horror as they decided to test the rule, lunging towards him with a predatory gleam in their eyes. But before they could get close, a bright light enveloped them, and they disintegrated into a shower of sparkling dust.
Sparks grinned. "Well, looks like they bit off more than they could chew! Who knew being a tooth fairy could be so… disintegrating?"
Jack couldn't help but laugh at Sparks' joke, the tension easing as he realized they were safe.
As the train sped through a section that appeared to have no ceiling, Jack looked up and saw a breathtaking sight. The sky above was a vibrant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. Flying overhead were magnificent phoenixes with fiery wings, their radiant plumes casting a warm glow. A few dragons soared among them, their scales glinting in the sunlight. Jack could see witches riding on broomsticks, cackling with glee as they zoomed through the air.
The train itself seemed to stretch infinitely into the distance, its vast interior filled with creatures of every imaginable kind. Towering kaiju-like beings stood next to mobile suit robots that gleamed with polished metal, their movements surprisingly graceful for their immense size. Despite their differences, all the passengers coexisted harmoniously, each waiting patiently for their stop.
In one corner, Jack spotted a group of talking unicorns with shimmering coats, their horns spiraled with an otherworldly light. They chatted animatedly with a pair of centaurs, their voices a melodic harmony that added to the surreal atmosphere. Nearby, futuristic vehicles like flying cars and hovercrafts were parked in designated areas, their sleek designs a stark contrast to the more traditional creatures around them.
Jack's eyes widened in awe as he spotted a goat king, adorned with a golden crown, sitting majestically on a throne carried by a troop of goat soldiers. The goat king's regal demeanor was matched by the imposing presence of his soldiers, each one equipped with a gleaming spear and clad in ornate armor. They stood proudly beside him, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a watchful gaze.
All around, the air was filled with the mingling scents of exotic flowers, freshly baked pastries, and the faint, tangy aroma of ozone from the electric dragons. The sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional roar of a dragon or the hum of a futuristic vehicle created a symphony of life that filled the train with a sense of wonder and excitement.
Jack exchanged a puzzled look with Sparks, his mind racing with questions as the train sped through the vortex of time.
Sparks, sensing Jack's anxiety, began to sing, "You and I must make a pact. We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I'll be there." Jack joined in, their voices a harmonious echo that seemed to soothe the tension in the air.
A moment later, a creature that seemed a blend of wolf and elephant, clad in a uniform as elaborate as the conductor's, approached them. "Do you want any refreshments? I am running a sale here, kid."
Jack declined, and Sparks added with a cheeky grin, "Yeah, we're watching our calorie intake. Got to maintain these sleek robot curves!"
As Jack stared out the window, watching the swirling vortex, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the life he was leaving behind. Memories of winters past filled his mind: the crisp air, the laughter of friends, the twinkling lights that adorned his home. He whispered softly, "Goodbye, home."
Just then, he noticed a figure in a black hat watching them from a few seats away. Jack's curiosity piqued, he leaned over to Sparks and whispered, "Hey, do you see that furry guy with the black hat staring at us?"
Sparks, with mock seriousness, replied, "Hmm, that's strange. I'm not in the market for romantic partners at the moment. Maybe I should let him know gently before he starts knitting us matching sweaters!" Jack burst out laughing, the tension easing as they journeyed deeper into the unknown.
Jack's curiosity piqued, and he looked at Sparks, wondering about the train's destination. Sparks, sensing Jack's question, smiled and said, "Want to know where we're headed?"
Jack nodded eagerly. Sparks' chest plate began to shift and morph, the smooth metal rippling like water. It transformed into a futuristic display, the intricate circuitry and panels aligning to form a high-resolution screen. The display lit up with a detailed map, showcasing their current location in a swirling vortex of time and space. Pulsing lines and blinking icons showed the train's path, destination, and estimated arrival time.
Jack watched in awe as the map zoomed in, revealing their destination: Tokyo, year 1604. The screen showed the cityscape of ancient Tokyo, with winding streets, traditional wooden houses, and towering temples. The arrival time flickered on the screen, counting down the minutes and seconds until they reached their destination.
Sparks' voice, calm and reassuring, broke the silence. "Next stop: Year 1604, Tokyo. Arrival in approximately 10 minutes. Prepare for an extraordinary journey through time and history."
Jack's excitement surged as he stared at the display, his mind racing with thoughts of the adventures that awaited them. Sparks' chest continued to display the map, the detailed graphics and vibrant colors illuminating the path ahead, guiding them through the mysteries of time and space.

To start off with I want to say I am truly grateful for everything that was done for me to help create my wedding because just about everything was done by family. That is not the reason I have been thinking I should have eloped. I (23f) got married this past December to my one and only boyfriend (23m) of 9 years. We started dating at 14 back in middle school and he is the love of my life. However, I should have already known I would have problems because I had known his family for four years at the time we got engaged ( we got engaged after high school graduation and went to college to clarify the big space of time). Immediately my mil(59f) tried to put her input into the wedding planning and tried to influence me to do things her way. Gladly I had 3 years due to college to hold her off on some her ideas but they got worse when it was the 1 1/2 to 1 year mark. This is around the time she really tried to influence me into picking her suggestions for the wedding because I would talk to her about the wedding so she would feel included. That is my fault, I shouldn't have done that because it made her feel entitled to tell me what i should do about my wedding and she told me she use to hate me to my face after I got engaged to the baby of the family that they tried like crap all of his life. At the same time this is when she started to lose weight and I am happy that she lost weight because she was a bit big for being 5'2. However, it made me insecure more than ever bc I'm overweight and I struggled to lose even 5 pounds from the 45 pounds I gained from college. Especially when she does not stop talking about how much she lost and how she is getting smaller every day at every gathering we ever had (she is still doing it). She managed to make any conversation about herself at every event we went to like my bridal showers, rehearsal dinner, and my wedding (gladly it wasn't too long on my wedding day because my family wasn't having it). So, this behavior made it difficult to wedding plan because she kept on trying to tell my husband and I what to do with our wedding. I was also having similar issues from my side of the family but i easily shut that down because they actually listen to me when I talk and don't repeat the ideas I just said out loud like it was their idea from the beginning. The big problem mainly happened a month before the wedding and the weekend of the wedding. A month before the wedding I had my bachelorette party and only 3 out of 5 bridesmaids could make it because the other 2 bridesmaids kids got sick. I am not upset about that i totally understand that. My problem is one of the bridesmaids on the trip. Let's call her C. C (23f) has never been a truly a best friend to me in my mind. She has been a close friend since middle school and the main reason I am friends with her is because C's best friend is the other bridesmaid we will call K. K(23f) and I are the best of friends because we get along with each other and have similar views on certain things. However, when ever C is around K gets a different personality and they become close off and they don't want to anything with anyone but each other. Which is kinda of hard when there is only 4 of us at this tree house air bnb and no one else to talk to or hang out with. My sister H (16f), who was my maid of honor, and I created bachelorette games and brought board games to play while we stayed at this place for the night. K seem happy to play for my sake because she knew I didn't want anything crazy like most bachelorette parties are. C was upset with most things and she only seem happy when she was getting me drunk which only took a few drinks because I am a light weight. Then she got upset with me when I decided to go to bed around 10pm bc alcohol makes me sleepy and i honestly wasn't having fun because she and K wasn't really hanging out with my sister and I. So, I went to bed because there was honestly nothing to do when two of four people don't want to get involved with you unless you are doing what they want to do all night and we left to go back home the next morning because we only stayed for one night. You might be thinking if I don't like C that much why did I make her a bridesmaid. I mainly did it so i could control what she wore, I know that is an ahole move but she wore white to her cousin wedding and I didn't trust her to not do it to my wedding because she like the attention on herself and that's the only reason she was in the party. Now to the rehearsal, first I had to convince my in laws to invite some of my family members to the dinner bc they were going to be at the rehearsal because they were helping me create the wedding of my dreams. Also everything was hand made or diy and I wanted to thank them for all their hard work. They threw a fit but I finally got them to do it when I told them to invite fil(58m) sister( I think 60) and her boyfriend( I think 59-60) because they bought our wedding cakes. At rehearsal we were struggling with the music because it didn't play and we ended having that issue at the wedding. Then my grandmother(67f) and mil both wanted to walk with someone who was not their husbands and my husband basically had to yell at them because they would not listen to me and I was already at my breaking point after planning this wedding for 4 years and I was crying because they could not do one simple thing and i couldn't walk in the shoes i planned for the wedding because the floor was different from what I remember (it was stained concrete and i practiced on wood and tile floors). After my husband yelled at them and people saw me crying over their stupidity, we finally got them to walk with their husbands and the rest of the rehearsal went fine. Then at the rehearsal dinner everyone was happy and enjoying themselves when my mil made an announcement. I don't remember the whole speech because all I could focus on was something on a easel that was cover with a sheet and she said something that made it about her so I didn't want to hear it. When she finally revealed the "gift" she gave us it was a framed blown up photo of the expensive invitation she bought for the rehearsal that was more extravagant than the invitations I took time to make and send out as my wedding invitations. I should win a f*cking Oscar for my performance that night because I made her believe I liked that ugly 16 X 20 picture of her invitation. She said she can't wait to hang it up in my house and I been putting it off because at the time of the wedding we were in the apartment so that was my excuse to keep that thing out of my house but now she expects it to be in my house and it doesn't help that my husband actually likes it. Gladly I was not the only one who thought it was ridiculous bc my mother and all my family cringe when they saw it and my cousins laughed at my mother because it was shown how much she hates it on her face. That it is it for that night now on to the wedding. On the wedding day, my bridesmaids H and D(25f) came to my mother house to get ready with the help of my cousins and aunts. Sil B(30f) went to get ready with my husband and groomsmen which is fine. However, k and c told me they were going to go to salon to get ready which was fine spend your money but in reality they just got ready at k house and didn't want to get ready with the rest of us which I wouldn't have cared if they were not late to the wedding. I told everyone who was in the party and helping with the wedding to get to the venue at 1 for pictures because the wedding was at 4. Everyone showed up either early or on time except them. They didn't show up until almost 2:30 and I was not got going to wait for them to do pictures so half the pictures I have does not involve them and they were not there for my first look with my parties bc everyone in the wedding party was friends or family and i wanted to see how they would react to me all dolled up because some of them were not use to the idea. So, when they finally decided to grace us with their presence, we got our pictures done and i loved the pictures once I saw it with everyone in different red dresses and cute hair styles with red roses( it was beauty and the beast enchanted Christmas themed) so it was worth it either way if they were late or not. After all of that was done everything was finally going smoothly or so I thought. While I was in the back waiting for the wedding to start and waiting to have the first look with my husband at the alter, he was dealing with my family and the cake people. The cake people brought my cake to the Venue and when they brought it in the bottom third tier was destroyed from my beautiful book cake; we picked three books that were our favorites, one for him, one for me, and one we both like. My book was destroyed because it was wrapped in fondant and the idiots used straws to hold up the cake. These were professional bakers, I had their cakes before they never had this issue before, and I even know as a amateur baker that you use wood not straw to hold up cakes. My mother(44f) is freaking out bc my cake is mess up, the groom cake was covered in black frosting instead of red, and my in laws threatening to sue the bakers acting like they paid for it all the while telling everyone to not tell me bc she knew I would freak out as well. Gladly my husband took control by telling his parents to shut up, trying to calm my mother down, and fussing at the bakers for their mess up that they tried to blame on us but didn't realize they were talking to the groom until they told so. My mother and husband manage to get them to give us a refund and $200 that we can use to get a cake done when ever we want by them. Of course I was upset once I found out but by the time I found out it was when I went to cut my cake. At least the cake was delicious and we could use the destroyed cake to serve the guest. Then the only problem I had about my wedding is something I found out a month after my wedding bc I was on a forced trip with my in laws at Christmas time ( story for another time) when this interaction was revealed at my family Christmas Eve party. I found out my mil was bossing my family around and telling them what to do with all the food we were serving at the wedding. She kept on tell my professional chef cousin how to cut chicken tenders so it can serve more people and treated him like a idiot then went to my aunt/ his mil who was also helping with the food to complain about him and tell her that she didn't think he understood what she wanted him to do. My aunt fussed at her saying she doesn't need to tell him to do anything because he is a chef and he knows more than you do. Thats when my mother showed up to explain to my mil that everyone who was there including the ones working were family members (which is something I told mil myself) and explained that I have all these people to help and take care of me as long as I live and my husband has the same people now to help him now that we are married. Basically saying if you keep acting up you can be replaced by better people and mil was almost quiet for the rest of the night. Over all I was happy with my wedding but these things made me wish I just eloped to escape all the stupid drama that came with wedding planning. Aita for wishing to eloped to have saved everyone from the stupid drama that came with the wedding?

banner
Welcome back to the Reformed UPG of the Week! This week, Joshua Project seems to be having a DNS error (or attack?) so I am going to again re-do an older post that I did a few years ago and also pull some info from PeopleGroups.org. Meet the Tay of Vietnam!

Region: North Vietnam

low quality map bc JP wont load
Stratus Index Ranking (Urgency): 66
It has been noted to me by u/JCmathetes that I should explain this ranking. Low numbers are more urgent, both physically and spiritually together, while high numbers are less urgent. The scale is 1-177, with one number assigned to each country. So basically on a scale from Afghanistan (1) to Finland (177), how urgent are the peoples physical and spiritual needs.

The Stratus Index - Synthesizes reliable data from different sources to clearly display the world’s most urgent spiritual and physical needs.
The vast majority of missions resources go to people and places already Reached by the Gospel, while only 3% of missionaries and 1% of missions money are deployed among the Unreached. This is the Great Imbalance. As a result, there are more people without access to the Gospel today than a decade ago. Stratus seeks to equip the global church with fresh vision to accomplish the Great Commission by addressing some of the factors that perpetuate the Great Imbalance. We hope this tool allows the church to better understand what steps will be required to overcome the barriers that prevent needs from being met, spurring informed and collaborative missions strategy. Stratus Website

Hanoi
Quay Son River
Climate: Due to differences in latitude and the marked variety in topographical relief, Vietnam's climate tends to vary considerably for each region. During the winter or dry season, extending roughly from November to April, the monsoon winds usually blow from the northeast along the Chinese coast and across the Gulf of Tonkin, picking up considerable moisture. The average annual temperature is generally higher in the plains than in the mountains, especially in southern Vietnam compared to the north. Temperatures vary less in the southern plains around Ho Chi Minh City and the Mekong Delta, ranging from between 21 and 35 °C (70 and 95 °F) over the year. In Hanoi and the surrounding areas of the Red River Delta, the temperatures are much lower between 15 and 33 °C (59 and 91 °F). Seasonal variations in the mountains, plateaus, and the northernmost areas are much more dramatic, with temperatures varying from 3 °C (37 °F) in December and January to 37 °C (99 °F) in July and August. During winter, snow occasionally falls over the highest peaks of the far northern mountains near the Chinese border. Vietnam receives high rates of precipitation in the form of rainfall with an average amount from 1,500 to 2,000 mm (60 to 80 in) during the monsoon seasons; this often causes flooding, especially in the cities with poor drainage systems. The country is also affected by tropical depressions, tropical storms and typhoons.
Rice Terraces in Vietnam
Terrain: Vietnam's northern terrain is mostly mountainous or hilly, with some highland areas covered by a thick green blanket of jungle (about half the total land area). The Red River Delta and coastal plains in the lowland part of the North are heavily populated and intensively cultivated (almost entirely by rice fields).
The joined Delta of Hong River (Red River) and Thái Bình River is a flat, triangular region of 15,000 square kilometers. The Hong River Delta is smaller but more intensely developed and more densely populated than the Mekong Delta. Once an inlet of the Gulf of Tonkin, it has been filled in by the enormous alluvial deposits of the rivers over a period of millennia, and it advances one hundred meters into the Gulf annually.The ancestral home of the ethnic Vietnamese, the delta accounted for almost 70% of the agriculture and 80% of the industry of North Vietnam before 1975.
The Red River, rising in China's Yunnan Province, is about 1,200 kilometers long. Its two main tributaries, the Sông Lô (also called the Lo River, the Riviere Claire, or the Clear River) and the Sông Đà (also called the Black River or Riviere Noire), contribute to its high water volume, which averages 4,300 cubic meters per second.
The entire delta region, backed by the steep rises of the forested highlands, is no more than three meters above sea level, and much of it is one meter or less. The area is subject to frequent flooding; at some places the high-water mark of floods is fourteen meters above the surrounding countryside. For centuries flood control has been an integral part of the delta's culture and economy. An extensive system of dikes and canals has been built to contain the Red River and to irrigate the rich rice-growing delta. Modeled on that of China's, this ancient system has sustained a highly concentrated population and has made double-cropping wet-rice cultivation possible throughout about half the region.
The central mountains, which have several high plateaus, are irregular in elevation and form. The northern section is narrow and very rugged; the country's highest peak, Fan Si Pan, rises to 3,142 meters in the extreme northwest. The southern portion has numerous spurs that divide the narrow coastal strip into a series of compartments. For centuries these topographical features not only rendered north–south communication difficult but also formed an effective natural barrier for the containment of the people living in the Mekong basin.
The Mekong Delta, covering about 40,000 square kilometers, is a low-level plain not more than three meters above sea level at any point and criss-crossed by a maze of canals and rivers. So much sediment is carried by the Mekong's various branches and tributaries that the delta advances sixty to eighty meters into the sea every year. An official Vietnamese source estimates the amount of sediment deposited annually to be about 1 billion cubic meters, or nearly thirteen times the amount deposited by the Red River. About 10,000 square kilometers of the delta are under rice cultivation, making the area one of the major rice-growing regions of the world. The southern tip, known as the Cà Mau Peninsula is covered by dense jungle and mangrove swamps.
Ha Long Bay
Wildlife of Vietnam: Faunal species noted are accounted as 11,217 species of animals, in Vietnam's hot and humid climate. These are broadly: Indian elephants, bears (black bear and honey bear), Indochinese tigers and Indochinese leopards as well as smaller animals like pygmy lorises, monkeys (such as snub-nosed monkey), bats, flying squirrels, turtles and otters. Reptiles such as crocodiles, snakes and lizards are also reported. Specifically the faunal species which are endemic to Vietnam are the following. While many variety of animals have become extinct like the Northern Sumatran rhinoceros, the protection of large animals have been addressed. The Vietnamese Javan rhinoceros used to live throughout the region of Vietnam but was declared extinct in 2010 when the last remaining individual was found dead with the horn removed.
Unfortunately, they have monkeys.
Wild elephant in Vietnam
Environmental Issues: The main overall issue that Vietnam is currently dealing with surrounds environmental pollution. This includes a lack of clean water supply, waste water, air pollution, and solid waste. Not only do these issues effect Vietnam, but also its population, urbanization, and surrounding countries.
Languages: Vietnamese is the national language. Also in Vietnam, French, Tày, Cham, Khmer, Chinese, Nùng, and Hmong. The Tay speak Tay.
Government Type: Unitary Marxist–Leninist one-party socialist republic

People: Tay in Vietnam

Tay women
Population: 1,835,000
Estimated Foreign Workers Needed: [Joshua Project is down]
Beliefs: The Tay are 1% Christian. That means out of their population of 1,835,000, there are roughly 18,000 believers. Thats about 1 believer for every 100 unbeliever.
The Tay worship a multitude of gods. Ancestor worship (praying to deceased ancestors for protection and guidance) is commonly practiced. The Tay are also animistic (believe that non-living objects have spirits).
Traditionally, most Tay villages had temples where they worshipped a multitude of gods associated with earth, water, fire, and important ancestors. Many other spirits and ghosts were also worshipped. The major ceremony of the year was held at the beginning of the farming season, when the various deities were asked permission to prepare the farm and plant the seeds. Folk literature and art were also of importance in religious life.Traditionally, most Tay villages had temples where they worshipped a multitude of gods associated with earth, water, fire, and important ancestors. Many other spirits and ghosts were also worshipped. The major ceremony of the year was held at the beginning of the farming season, when the various deities were asked permission to prepare the farm and plant the seeds. Folk literature and art were also of importance in religious life.
The Tay worship a multitude of gods. Ancestor worship (praying to deceased ancestors for protection and guidance) is commonly practiced. The Tay are also animistic (believe that non-living objects have spirits) The Tay have a strong belief in supernatural. Worshiping their ancestors is the most invaluable ritual of the Tay. The altars for the ancestors are placed in a central location in the house. The altar room is such a sacred place that guests is not allowed to sit on the bed in front of the altar.
Their polytheistic belief system consists of worshiping spirits, ancestors, and midwives. Astrology is also an important part of their belief system. For instance, for marriages and building new houses they consult astrology. The cult of the midwife is especially worshiped. After the wedding, the wife stays with her parents during her pregnancy to avoid evil spirits. When a child is born, there’s the one-month ritual for honoring the midwife.
Tay people praying before an altar
History: The Tày were originally known as the Thổ people. Thổ is derived from Chinese tǔ (土), which means 'land' and 'local'. Although not inherently a pejorative it was often used as such in practice (cf. "bumpkin") in both Vietnam and China. Under the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, Thổ was deemed a pejorative and substituted with Tày
The Tày are closely related to the Nùng people and Zhuang people, who they are culturally and linguistically almost "indistinguishable from". (pulled this from Wikipedia. this sounds racist and probably not entirely true)
Although they are considered an indigenous group, portions of their population likely originated in China during the 11th and 12th centuries. However unlike the Nùng, they were more heavily Vietnamized due to their closer proximity to the Kinh and shared similar cultural practices with the Vietnamese such as lacquering their teeth black. By 1900 around 30% of their language was made of Vietnamese loan words.
Tày customs were altered greatly due to Vietnamese and Confucian patriarchal structures, however some customs persisted. Polygamy with multiple equal wives and legitimacy of issue was practiced. Marriage was preferred to occur within the clan. Young wives lived with their parents until giving birth to their first child. Tày women, like those of the Nùng and Zhuang, were said to have used poison to seek revenge when wronged.
At the end of the 1700s when Vietnam was in chaos, several ethnic groups united with the native groups of Thai speaking peoples. These people became known as the Tho. Today, they are regarded as an official minority in Vietnam. They prefer to be known as "Tay," since the term "Tho" is now considered derogatory.
Tay village (i think)
Culture: Typical qualification that all people groups can't be summed up in small paragraphs and this is an over generalization.
The Tay are farmers who have a long tradition or wet rice cultivation. They have a long history of intensive cultivation and irrigation methods like digging canals, laying water pipes, etc. They also maintain the custom of harvesting the rice and thrashing the grains out on wooden racks, which they call loong, while still in the fields, then carrying the threshed rice home in baskets. In addition to cultivating wet fields,the Tay also plant rice on terraced fields along with the other crops and fruit trees. Cattle and poultry raising are well-developed, but a free range style of animal husbandry is still popular. Household crafts are worthy of note. The most famous Tay craft is weaving brocaded designs of beautiful and original patterns which are highly prized. The market is also an important economic activity.
The Tay have developed a rich culture of poems, songs, epics, tales, funny stories, and dance. Popular folk songs of the Tay are call-and-response singing, lullaby, Then, and wedding and funeral singing. Then is sung at events such as worshiping at the ancestral altar, praying for sick people, praying for a couple to have children, at family get-togethers, to welcome guests, and at a “going to the field” festival held in the first month of the new year. Then is an indispensable part of the spiritual and religious life of the Tay.The Tay have developed a rich culture of poems, songs, epics, tales, funny stories, and dance. Popular folk songs of the Tay are call-and-response singing, lullaby, Then, and wedding and funeral singing. Then is sung at events such as worshiping at the ancestral altar, praying for sick people, praying for a couple to have children, at family get-togethers, to welcome guests, and at a “going to the field” festival held in the first month of the new year. Then is an indispensable part of the spiritual and religious life of the Tay.
The Tay’s Quang regime is a form of social organization which resembles a feudal system that is aristocratic and hereditary. Within its rule region, the Quang owns all lands, forests, rivers, etc. Hence, it has the right to control everyone who lives on that land and to exploit these people through forced labor, imposing duties on commodities, and enforcing the payment of tributes and offerings. The Quang regime appeared very early and persisted until the end of the 19th century or the beginning of the 20th century. Tay families are usually small and the line of descent is traced through the father. Children begin school at six years of age and older. There, they begin studying the Vietnamese language. Young people choose their own marriage partners, and after a betrothal ceremony, many marriage rituals are performed. The groom is expected to perform some work for the bride's family as payment
The traditional dress is made from indigo dyed cotton. It is usually plain, with little embroidery or other decoration. The women wear a simple shirt with silver buttons down the front teamed with black trousers. Both sexes wear colorful head scarves. Nowadays the Tay are often seen wearing Viet and western clothes.
The Tay are mostly peasants who live in the low, sloping mountains between the high mountains and the plains of southeast Asia. They grow wet rice and use slash and burn techniques to grow dry rice, maize, buckwheat, watercress, sugar cane, and other vegetables. They grow hemp and use it for making bags and nets for fishing. They sell or exchange products for household items and use forest products for food.
The Tay have settled in valleys in the Northeastern part of the country: Quang Ninh, Bac Giang, Lang Son, Cao Bang, Bac Can, Thai Nguyen, Ha Giang, Tuyen Quang, Lao Cai, Yen Bai. Their villages are characteristically large and crowded, and there are villages with hundreds of houses. The Tay traditional house is built on stilts with a frame of rafters and 4, 5, 6, or 7 rows of columns. A house has from 2 to 4 roofs made from tiles, straw, or palm leaves. Wood or bamboo is used to make the walls. The Tay always build at the foot of a mountain. They call the name of the villages after a mountain, field, or river where they live. Each village has about 15-20 households, some big villages can contain hundreds of roofs. The Tay mainly live in houses built on the ground. These houses are private property, as are their accompanying gardens. However, there are still some Tay who live in houses built on stilts. The architecture of these homes is simple, without the fancy gables and decorative work commonly seen on other houses. Today, nearly all the Tay are part of a collectivized agricultural program in the form of community (collective) farms. Farm land is seen as community property that people are free to use, but not own.
Villages used to be the center of economic activity, with local markets rotating among a series of villages and trading mainly with the Vietnamese and Chinese communities. Today, however, the Tay have been primarily assimilated into the Vietnamese society. Traditionally, the Tay were master hunters. They used traps, cages, and automatically triggered arrows. Today, they hunt very little because of the changed ecological conditions.
Tay traditional dress is made from homegrown cotton that is indigo dyed. There is usually not much embroidery or other decorations. Women wear skirts or trousers, with short shirts inside and long one worn on the outside. The Ngan group wears shorter shirts, the Phen group wears brown shirts, the Thu Lao group wears conical-shaped scarves on their heads, the Pa Di group wears hats that look like house roofs, and the Tho group tend to dress like the Thai in Mai Chau (Hoa Binh province).
Tay Traditional Dress
Cuisine: In the past, in several places, the Tay ate mainly sticky rice, and almost every family used stew and steam pots for cooking. On festival occasions, they make many kinds of cakes, such as square rice cakes (banh chung), round rice cake (banh day), black rice sesame cake (banh gai), lime-water dumpling, fried rice cake, marble dumplings made of rice white rice flour with rock sugar fillings, patty make of mashed rice, etc. There are special cakes made from flour with an ant egg filling, and com, a young rice confection made from smoked sticky rice, roasted, and pounced. Other famous dishes among these peoples are Five-color Sticky Rice, Thang Den cake, Ha Giang sausages, and Grilled “Bỗng” Fish.
Thang den’ (floating sticky rice cake)
Prayer Request:

• Pray for the missionaries currently there, that God would protect them and guard them, their ministry, and their disciples.
• Pray the Christian believers among the Tay will be sent teachers to help them become well established in the faith. Pray they will find each other and love each other in order to fellowship together faithfully
• Pray they will learn to live in the power of Christ's Spirit, experiencing the fruit of Christ's Spirit consistently.
• Ask God to raise up prayer teams here and abroad that will break up the ground through worship and intercession.
• Ask the Lord to send long term laborers to live among the Tay of Vietnam and share the love of Christ with them.
• Ask the Holy Spirit to grant favor to Christians currently ministering to the Tay of Vietnam.
• Ask the Holy Spirit to soften the hearts of the people toward Christians so that they will be receptive to the Gospel.
• Pray against Putin and his insane little war.
• Pray for our nation (the United States), that we Christians can learn to come alongside our hurting brothers and sisters and learn to carry one another's burdens in a more Christlike manner than we have done historically.
• Pray that in this time of an upcoming election and insanity that the needs of the unreached are not forgotten by the church. Pray that our hearts continue to ache to see the unreached hear the Good News.

Brothers, my heart’s desire and prayer to God for them is that they may be saved. (Romans 10:1)
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Here are the previous weeks threads on the UPG of the Week for from 2023 (plus a few from 2022 so this one post isn't so lonely). To save some space on these, all UPG posts made 2019-now are here, I will try to keep this current!

People Group	Country	Continent	Date Posted	Beliefs
Tay (updated)	Vietnam	Asia	06/10/2024	Animism
Sunda (updated)	Indonesia	Asia	06/03/2024	Islam
Malay (updated)	Malaysia	Asia	05/27/2024	Islam
Jewish Peoples	United States	North America	05/06/2024	Judaism
Jordanian Arab	Jordan	Asia	04/29/2024	Islam
Bouyei	China	Asia	04/22/2024	Animism
Arab Libyans	Libya	Africa	03/25/2024	Islam
Gafsa Amazigh	Tunisia	Africa	03/18/2024	Islam
Hindi	South Africa	Africa	03/04/2024	Hinduism
Arabs	Iraq	Asia	02/26/2024	Islam
Bagirmi Fulani	Central African Republic	Africa	02/12/2024	Islam
Gujarati	Portugal	Europe	02/05/2024	Hinduism
Western Cham	Cambodia	Asia	01/29/2024	Islamc
Yadav	India	Asia	01/22/2024	Hinduism
Thai (updated)	Thailand	Asia	12/18/2023	Buddhism
Bayad	Mongolia	Asia	12/11/2023	Buddhism
Bedouin (Suafa)	Algeria	Africa	12/04/2023	Islam
Aboriginal (Reached)	Australia	Oceania	11/27/2023	Christian

a - Tibet belongs to Tibet, not China.
b - Russia/Turkey/etc is Europe but also Asia so...
c - this likely is not the true religion that they worship, but rather they have a mixture of what is listed with other local religions, or they have embraced a liberal drift and are leaving faith entirely but this is their historical faith.
Here is a list of definitions in case you wonder what exactly I mean by words like "Unreached".
Here is a list of missions organizations that reach out to the world to do missions for the Glory of God.

[44:00/45:55]
{Dust is kicked up as the scrambling form of a portly arxur is dragged through the sand until he's brought to his knees before the obelisk of blackened steel known as The Drelin's Revenge}
”Careful your claws don't slip traitors… You give me even a single chance I'll taste your insides before your pathetic claws can pull the trigger!”
{The fat arxur looks around at a rapidly growing crowd surrounding him, aliens of all kinds dot the crowd, all of them armed with some kind of weapon best fit for their frame. Veins bulge on his throat as he grits his teeth and spits his sentence out with all the venom of a cornered cobra.}
”Prey… Working with arxur!? What kind of Heretical, Defective, Twisted logic do you weaklings follow!? Tell me!”
{Suddenly, a thunderous hiss of hydraulics silences the newborn rant coming from the throat of the arxur, everyone in the crowd gains a semblance of joviality in their stance as a massive staircase slams down onto the sands. A large cloud of steam obscures the mysterious figure. As the figure approaches from the ship, idle jeering from the crowd begins to grow.}
”Ohoho, your fucked now you dominion brahkass!” {comes the goading bleat of an excited venlil}
”You're in for it now lizard!” {comes the sadistic song of a krakotl literally shaking in anticipation}
”Kill his baby-eating ass, Captain!” {comes the rageful bark of a scarred farsul man}
{From the mist descends the silhouette of an as-yet-unseen bipedal species. It boasts an intimidating frame, measurements taken from the recording apparatus mark it at a height of [seven feet and eight inches tall], just a bit shorter than a fully grown arxur. It sports a lithe build, mottled with body sections that are far larger than would be typical of a sophont of similar morphology. Black and red carapace that glitters with a slight iridescence in the sun's light covers its whole body, the exceptions being on its elbows where no carapace protects, in its stead thick cord-like muscle covered with a waxy gray translucent skin takes its place. Six luminescent blue eyes sit deep within the carapace on its face with only a slight separation hinting at the existence of a mouth beneath them.}
”Oh shit, here he comes… You'd better start prayin big man!” {comes the squawks and chattering of a duerten woman clacking their beak in laughter}
”Make that slaver suffer!” {comes the deep hiss of an arxur who wears a look of disgust on their face.}
{Sat firmly atop the captain's head is a large three-pointed hat decorated with smoking bundles of tightly woven dried black leaves, giving the illusion of burning fur. Hanging from his shoulders is a flowing black coat with the same skull and crossed swords motif that adorns his fleet, the line of chitin underneath his eyes splits open to reveal a maw of sharp teeth like interlocking blades that curl into a cheshire grin as his chitinous feet sink into the brick red sands of the planet}
”Another cocksure tyrant-pretender, ye know, with 'ow many o' ye we've killed recently I've almost lost interest in it.”
{The voice of the captain sounds out amongst the crowd's jeers and cheers, a strange collection of hisses and clicks that strangely emanates from small holes lining the sides of his body instead of coming from his mouth – which does nothing but maintain the killer smile. The muscles of the arxur's arms ripple as he struggles to rip himself free of his woven rope bonds.}
”From what hole did you crawl, bug? Another of The Tilfish's foul tasting kind? Release me, leaf licker, and I'll eat you last!”
{The crowd goes dead silent at the arxur's threat. The captain stops sharply as the insult fills the air, the smile leaves his face and his chitinous faceplate pushes back together like ripples disappearing into the water.}
”Ye be goin' to regret blabberin' about me like that there if ye keep goin’ laddie, fer yer own safety ye'd better keep that there maw o' yours shut…”
”Don't speak down to me, Insect! You and all your worthless prey kin deserve nothing except what The Dominion gives you! You're all useful only as cattle!”
{The arxur barely gets the time to smile at his own cruel comparison before the captain's fist rockets into his snout, spiked carapace upon the captain's seven fingered fist leaving deep trails of red weeping wounds on the arxur's snout. A loud cough leaves the arxur's mouth as he spits more crimson lifeblood onto the sands, staining them. All joviality leaves the Captain's voice as he speaks once more to the rotund arxur.}
”Now maybe me memory be spotty, but I sure as 'ell don't remember givin' ye the permission to compare me to the innocent folk ye call food…”
”Kill me or let me free, insect! Either way I'll be laughing when the greater Dominion finds you and feasts on your traitorous bones!”
”Oh don't worry, I'll make sure everyone watchin' gets the message…”
{The captain's hands curl into fists before his hands strike out like a snake, practiced method meets grisly reality as the hard carapace of the captain's fist meets the scaled flesh of the arxur's face with a powerful thud that breaks through the soundscape over and over again like the beating of a drum. The captain's treatment of the tyrant is ruthless, his six eyes don't hold even a glimmer of sympathy for the person in front of him as the sickening thud of each strike fills the crowd's ears. Grunts and cries from the arxur and cheers from the crowd blend together to make a symphony of pain.}

 **[44:50/45:55]** 

{Finally the beating of the drum goes silent as both fists of the captain fall down to his hips, deep red blood covers both of them like a liquid glove, one that's slowly dripping off and staining the brick red sand below. The captain steps back from the black and blue form of the tyrant before him, Angry red weeping slashes and sucking flesh wounds decorate his face and chest, black and blue splotches reach across the flesh of his stomach and chest. With a smile, the captain calls into the crowd.}
”Alright, who among ye wants to see this here bastard's 'ead roll? let me 'earrr it!”
{Deafening cheers break the soundscape as it becomes apparent that what is on display isn't a humiliation, it's an execution. Parting a trail through the crowd, a small group of paltan are seen carrying two large cases toward the impromptu tribunal grounds. Just as the paltan troupe reaches the captain he begins his speech once more, a semblance of joviality returned to his voice as he cracks open one of the cases with a toothy smile.}
”Ye arxur bigwigs may be some o' the most vile creatures sailin this here sea o' stars, but ye've got jolly taste in blades, I'll give ye that there.”
”S-Silence… In-Insect…”
”But enough o' that. Ye all know the drill, but 'e doesn't, so why don't ye all let the big bastard know 'ow we do things!”
”TRIAL! BY! DUEL!”
”Rakkis o' Wriss, Planetary Hunter. Ye stand 'ere on trial fer countless charges o' murder an' consumption o' sapient beings, war crimes, mass kidnapping, torture, an' a million other crimes ye've been found guilty of as an active member o' the arxur dominion.”
{The crowd has become a bouncing wave of bodies that bay eagerly for death, aliens that would normally be at each other's throat or cowering in fear of the other hold one another like siblings as they all cheer for the death of the arxur before them.}
*”I am Erlisk Teach, Captain o' The Drelin's Revenge, and upon me 'onor as a son o’ The Sikeen Empire an' a member o' the Corsair Clade, yer goin' to die today!
{The booming voice of the captain shoots through the bones of the arxur before him and the crowd around them, incensing them even further. The group of paltan who had delivered the cases bounce and squeak with excitement.}
”Clearrr out o' the grounds all o' ye! it be between me an' the blubbery bastard now!”
{The squad of paltan retreat back into the crowd just as the cheers reach a crescendo from the captain drawing a long, black-bladed cutlass from a scabbard decorated with a cleaned arxur skull. He holds his blade high and a smile comes to his face as he slashes downward, his blade cutting through the arxur's bindings in one fell stroke.}
”When we sacked yer estate there, we read on a plaque that there ye earned yer place as ruler o' this here planet by duelin'. Show me! spill me blood an' freedom be yours!
{As the captain finishes his speech he kicks the case with the arxur dueling saber inside across the sand and steps away – assuming a low stance with his legs far apart from the other, his cutlass glinting in the waning light of the twin suns dusk. The arxur shakily gathers his strength as he stands, one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other nursing his beaten stomach.}
”By the Prophet, I promise I'll cut you to ribbons!”
”Come on then, make the first move! I'll see the color of your insides before ye even scratch me!”
{An unexpected level of focus comes over the injured tyrant as he plants his right foot forward and his left foot back, his blade resting on his shoulder as he leans forward. The crowd goes silent as the two leaders square off, not even a whisper breaks the silence as the tension within the air grows thick… Suddenly the portly form of the injured arxur before them gains a presence he hadn't had before, not even when they dragged him from his bunker. His gaze was focused entirely on the captain, his dull orange reptilian eyes scrutinizing the confident and proud stance of the man across from him. For the first time since his appearance, the arxur looked like a warrior...}

 *[45:00/45:55]* 

{For one second it was as if time had stood still, like the current moment had been captured in a polaroid photo, captured for eternity amid frozen sands of time…}

 **[45:00.1/45:55]** 

{Then, like lightning cut loose from the clouds, the two men clashed. In the blink of an eye the arxur had charged forward, propelled by the innate gift of his body's strength, he swung his blade downwards with intent to cleave the captain in two from shoulder to hip. The captain raises his guard and straightens his arm to parry, but steel doesn't meet steel as he had hoped. Planting his foot down hard enough to dig his foot inches into the packed sand, the arxur feinted his downward slash into a stab intent on piercing through the captain's naval. The captain gains a grisly smile as he makes no adjustments to his guard, instead he dashes forward into the arxur's body, charging into him with his shoulder to knock him off balance. The arxur tips backward from the attack, as he does, the captain pushes even closer, his sword hand pushing on the tyrant's chest as he positions his leg behind his opponent.
”To the ground with ye!”
{Like a great tree, the arxur falls backward. His weight kicked up loose sand like a miniature atom bomb. The arxur barely has time to register how he had been thrown before he catches the glint of the captain's steel cutlass headed straight for his soft belly.}

 **[45:00.5/45:55]** 

{Sparks fly as the arxur's saber guides the captain's cutlass mere centimeters away from his gut, the blade piercing into the packed earth until only it's handle is visible. Never in all of his encounters had the tyrant met an enemy as aggressive as the captain, as the arxur gazes up he is greeted by the six glowing eyes and the wide smile of the captain, in them; a deep and fathomless happiness. Rakkis realized the roles they were playing as Teach let go of his trapped blade's handle, while he was fighting for his life, the man above him was having the time of his life.}
”Fine then, No blade it be!”

 **[45:00.8/45:55]** 

{The captain straddles the arxur's waist as his hands curl into fists, his muscles giving a thousand promises of pain to come on the now-trapped arxur, his right arm cocking back like the hammer of a gun – preparing to rain hell. A deep growl leaves Rakkis’mouth as he stabs his sword toward the captain's head, Teach responds with an almost imperceptibly small movement, and then…}
”yer too predictable! ye've stagnated duelin' only weaklings!”
{The captain says as the tyrant's saber stabs the air directly next to the captain's head, a small scratch appearing on the carapace of the captain's cheek stands as the only evidence that the stab had any effect. The captain's smile widens as his left arm wraps around the arxur's extended arm, trapping the dueling saber. Rakkis only had time for his eyes to widen before the first right hook connected with his snout with the force of a cannon shot. Then the second, then the third, each leaving weeping wounds in the arxur's gray hide.}
”When I walked out 'ere did I come to kill an arxur planetary 'unter, or did I come to beat a defenseless kid to death? fight back ye blubbery bastard!”
{Teach's taunt joins the soundscape of violence fostered by the baying crowd around the two duelists, as his wicked smile grows. The arxur below him writhes and pulls against the captain's grip of his arm with what little might he could summon, yet still he fails to escape the iron hold. Confidence overflowing from his posture, the captain wraps his seven-fingered right hand around the nearly-buried handle of his sword…}

 **[45:00.28/45:55]** 

{Rakkis begins to grit his teeth with a sound like nails on a chalkboard as his free hand closes into a fist. The motion he's emulating is clearly unfamiliar, the feeling of his claws folding into his hand as it closes into a fist is clearly uncomfortable - - judging from the grimace that graces his face, but he commits himself to it in a desperate bid to escape. With a loud roar his fist shoots forward like a cannonball, A loud cracking, like porcelain china breaking reverberates out as the punch connects with the captain's jaw. An unexpected move that sent him stumbling backwards with his hand covering his face.}
”Do not assume just because you got a lucky takedown you can best me, Whelp! I am the greatest duelist this sector has ever known! Shaza learned that at the end of my blade!”
{The crowd turns into jeers and insults as the arxur stands at his full height once more, bloodied and bruised but still more than able to fight. Even worse, he had re-armed himself with his saber. As Rakkis regains his footing he assumes a new stance, his blade held in one hand now pointing downward as he flares the claws on his free hand out once more. He begins a slow advance toward the dazed captain but stops in his tracks as he notices the sharp frown of razor-sharp teeth on Teach's face begin to grow into a smile. The cracks in his facial carapace splintering further and even chipping off as he rights himself.}
”Nine years, fer nine years me chitin 'as stayed fuckin spotless against guns, bombs, teeth, claws an' more....”
{Teach's hand falls off his face and comes to rest on his empty scabbard, spiderweb cracks run deep across the left side of his face that reveal pulsating red flesh beneath. Along his mouth where his strangely serene smile now rests, entire pieces of shattered chitin fall off to reveal the intricate web of muscle and tissues underneath; just barely obscured by a thin white membrane.}
”Congratulations, Rakkis o' Wriss. Yer the first person in nearly a decade to break me shell. When yer gone I promise, on me honor as a ship's captain, your corpse won't go to waste out here on this barren rock.”
{The tyrant looks the captain up and down, examining his lax stance and his now softened features, his gaze catching onto the captain's half-lidded, but forward facing eyes, along with his mouth filled with teeth like steak knives. Finally, his voice speaks out once more, lacking its usual bombast and rage.}
”And when I kill you, I'll not eat you, it wouldn't be right to disrespect another predator's body. even if they're an enemy, and a leader of traitors…”

 **[45:00.50/45:55]** 

{The tension that had grown in the air was palpable as the two warriors prepared to square off once more. Both the crowd and the two warriors had gone silent. Teach's features were oddly serene, his hands almost cradling his cutlass to his chest, ready to spring out like a coiled viper. The arxur's face had lost its signature grimace and though it was bloodied and beaten it was obvious he stood unshaken, his blade's wicked steel pointed directly at the captain from just below his waistline to block attacks aimed low or center mass, his free hand splayed out with his claws ready to main. They were both ready for the final clash. There was no sign of fear or trepidation in either of their bodies as they slowly advanced toward the other, just the silent unspoken agreement of the duel.}
”...”
”...”
{A deep intake of breath breaks the silence from both sides of the makeshift arena as the two take their final step into striking range. Then, like a lightning strike, the two lunge forward with intent to kill…}

 **[45:00.55/45:55]** 

{Slash? Chop? Stab? Evade? Block? Parry? Both warriors analyzed the other before making their own move even knowing full well that, Like a deadly game of rock-paper-scissors, one wrong move would be their last.}
SHHH-REEE
{Two slashes toward the other's midsection met in the air, the grinding of metal filled the air as the two blades fought briefly for dominance, their users locked in a contest of strength that fills the air with short-lived glowing orange sparks. With a great roar of effort, Rakkis pushes the cutlass up and away with his saber's guard, leaving Teach defenseless. The nail in the coffin comes with Rakkis stomping down on Teach's foot to prevent his backward dodge, the tyrant's muscles bulge as he looses a wide horizontal slash with intent to cleave the defenseless captain in half.}
“This is It!”
{As if time had slowed to a crawl, the captain began to lower himself into a low crouch. His face showing nothing except a small smirk on his face as the blade set to cut his head clean off grew closer and closer to him. As the shining metal of the opponent's saber glinted upon its approach, he bent his knees and began to lower himself to the ground.}
ffffwip!
{The blade makes contact but fails to do anything except carve off only the smallest sliver of carapace from the very top of the captain's head, the rest of the swing succeeding only in bisecting the tricorne atop the captain's head. Rakkis’ eyes widen in shock as he looks down at the alien who had just narrowly dodged death. His eyes lock onto the captain just in time to see his crouching form slash forward to his unprotected stomach. The captain's blade meets flesh and slices through with all the ease of sharp scissors cutting paper, unseaming the arxur's stomach from his left flank to his right. A flow of deep crimson sprays out of the long wound, painting the ground in front of him, and a section of the crowd in a thin layer of arxur blood.}
Fssssssssss
THUD
{Rakkis drops to his knees with a loud thud, the repeating hiss of the defeated arxur's spurting blood fills the soundscape as his saber falls from his limp hand. His eyes widen and his mouth hangs agape as he holds his arms around the wound upon his stomach, their embrace the only thing preventing his innards from spilling out onto the stained sand below him.}
”Urk…guh…How…?”
{Rakkis’ mouth fills with blood that slowly begins to leak from his gaping snout like a grisly statue. His weak voice, stifled by the pain of his mortal wound and the flow of crimson, fails to produce more than a single intelligible word. Meanwhile, Teach eyes the fallen arxur with the same piercing gaze of a predator animal staring down at their mortally wounded prey}

 **[45:01/45:55]** 

{Teach slowly walks toward the kneeling monster before him, each of his steps ringing through the deathly silent desert around them like the bells of a church preparing for a funeral. His face gains a cheeky smirk as he leans down and grabs the handle of the arxur's dueling saber, hefting it in his left hand in comparison to the blood-stained cutlass in his right.}
”Ye fought well, it's been nearly a decade since I've felt the pain of me carapace breaking. keep yer chin up, Rakkis o' Wriss... Ye was strong.”
{The captain performs a spinning flourish with both of the swords in his possession before stopping them directly over his chest, the visible muscles on his arm twitch as he gains a killer smile and speaks his final words to the opponent who nearly took his life.}
”I was just better.”
”Tha-”
{Before Rakkis can growl out a response, both blades slash outward. The expression on the former tyrant's face loosens and his fierce eyes close for the final time as his head slides slowly off of his shoulders, a sanguine geyser bursts forth from the arteries of the stump for but a second before calming down into a bubbling fountain. The captain cleans the blood off of both his cutlass and his newfound saber with a flourish that paints a harsh line on the rust red floor.}
”YEAAAAAAAHHHH”
{the crowd erupts into excitement and cheers as the sanguine geyser falls all around the tribunal grounds, men and women from the Federation and Dominion alike dance, applaud and cheer the gory sight of the arxur's execution. The pops and cracks of bullets being fired into the air begin to permeate the landscape, along with the whirring and blasting of plasma. The crowd's energy has evolved into a full-on parade of excited bodies cheering, taunting and screaming in an electric display.}
”Listen ‘ere me lads and lasses! Ye all did a hell of a job, Now get to lootin’ and baggin whatever isn't nailed down! After that, git back to the ships an’ clean yourselves up! last ship off planet's in charge of rehabbin’ the newbloods!”
{Teach grabs the discarded scabbards of both his cutlass and the Rakkis’ dueling saber before sheathing them and ascending the stairs back into his onyx colored flagship. Behind him, a small group of Sivkits roll the dead tyrant's body onto a stretcher, unceremoniously tossing the lifeless head of the arxur onto his still belly as they all follow The Captain into his ship.}

 *[45:05/45:55]* 

{People of every race in the known galaxy sprint from place to place, exhausting themselves by hauling important cargo from the Planetary Hunter's mansion like weapons and ammunition, and of course, as much loot as they can carry. The ones who become too exhausted to continue or pass out are acknowledged in the form of a shout from their comrades, a simple number that rises with each tired body decorating the floor. It becomes quite easy to see that they are making a sort of game out of it as they run back and forth with hovercarts filled with items.}

 *[45:25/45:55]* 

{Rakkis’ mansion has been entirely ransacked, stripped down to it's base materials, even then some of those have been taken by the scrambling crews of people as well. Finally, a calm venlil approaches the skeletonized remains of the mansion with a metallic container that sloshes with a liquid inside. He has a completely disinterested look on his face as he sprays down the remains of the building with the liquid, before a slight smile comes to his face as he tosses a lit match into the house and watches it erupt into flame.}

 *[45:30/45:55]* 

{The view on the feed switches as the calm venlil who lit the mansion ablaze gathers one final hover cart full of miscellaneous junk, most of it wiring and piping from the neighboring storage sheds, the feeds cuts out as he steps onto a small ladder and wrenches the camera free from its wall mount. Static fills the screen for a second until the view from the satellite freely adrift above the red planet returns, small smoldering fires and plumes of smoke rise all across the planet's surface, each one a prison and torture house that once held thousands of lives, doomed to a death in horror.}

 **[45:45/45:55]** 

{The few ships that were still planetside finally begin to slowly leave the atmosphere, joining back up with the fleet. The last ship to leave the smoldering planet and rejoin the convoy is a large, boxy ship of Gojid design with the name Cradle Song painted on the flank, as they join up with the fleet the clacking beaks of a flamboyant Krakotl's laughing fills the radiowaves.}
”Hahaha! Looks like your on rehabber duty Traskul!”
”Ugh, rehabber duty… Having to speak down to a bunch of feds until they get the fuckin hint feels worse than having my quills pulled did.”
”No need to be so sour about it Trask, besides, word around the fleet says there's a sizable chunk of 'em that still got their wits about ‘em.”
”You've never had rehabber duty, Kalkos! Me and the crew gotta just sit there for a few hours and convince a bunch of scared little worms to come out of their cages.”
”Maybe you oughtta get that rust bucket of yours looked at by Hurlask and her little troupe of thafki. Her ship's as cold as ice but she's the best engie we got here in the fleet.”
”With her prices? I'll have better luck trying to duel the Cap. Hurlasks got the business sense of Nevok except she ain't a pushover like one.”
”If it stops you from crying about it all the time, here, I'm jettisoning a cargo container filled with the choice picks that me and the others managed to grab up. Use it to finally get some upgrades when we're back at port.”
”Shit, you'd do that for me? I… Thank you Kalkos”
”Don't mention it, just remember to show up next time I invite you over for movie night and we'll call it even.”
”Your still on that movie kick? Usually shit doesn't keep you occupied for more than a few days. How did stale, bland, fed movies hook you?”
{A large grey capsule is shot out from the backside of the Krakotl vessel toward the Gojid ship, it's slow and graceful dance in zero gravity is cut short by the pull of a harsh cable that wraps around it and pulls it into the cargo bay of the boxy ship.}
”These aren't fed movies Trask, they're from The Captain's people, and words cannot describe how awesome they are.”
”That good huh? What's so special about em?”
”That good. It's like each one is completely and utterly divorced from the notions the bastards in the Federation have, they're all starring these weird hairless ape people instead of The Captain's folk though, I tried to ask him about it once but he just brushed me off, said something about me ‘seeing soon’ then meandered back into his cabin.”
”Alright, alright. No need to talk my ear off, I gotcha. I'll be there next time, alright Kalk?”
”Don't be late you big lug, the plot is integral to the experience.”
”I won't be late, promise. what are we watching? Probably some sappy romance right?”
”You offend me sir, we are watching a movie about… uh… a ocean I believe?”
”That seems kinda boring”
”The movie is just called [Pacific Rim]. translates out to a location in an ocean, probably one back on Cap's world.”
”Well I'll be there, can't guarantee I won't pass out though with such riveting entertainment.”
”Don't get angry when I chew up all your snacks while you're sleeping!”
{The lively conversation between the two ships is cut short as a loud radio broadcast from the flagship cuts through all the idle chatter playing in the fleet.}
”Cradle Song, get yer ass to the newbloods and get them into shape! The rest o' ye, dock safely or get ready to jump! we be done with this here expedition. Time to 'ead back home!”
”Aye Aye, Captain!”
{Immediately all the idle ships begin to move with purpose toward their destinations, either docking within the larger carriers or preparing their engines to warp. Radio transmissions run rampant with questions and confirmations abound as the smaller craft within the fleet moves like insects to their hives.}

 **[45:55/45:55]** 

{Only the large carriers, the newly acquired arxur transport ships, and the flagship still remain out in fleet formation, the rest lay docked in the hangars that begin to close as the engines on every ship information begins to spin, preparing to enter a long-range jump. Just before the ships get ready to break into hyperspace a final transmission comes from the pitch black walls of The Drelin's Revenge}
”That there, be what waits fer the Dominion an' the Federation, take this here message to yer shiverin' bosses, The Sikeen Empire be returnin' to The Orion Arm, an' we're out for blood.”
{A small port opens up on the side of the flagship, from it a large missile flies loose from its dark metal holdings and straight for the satellite. The last scene that the camera manages to take in before the missile makes impact is a large portal opening with the fleet disappearing into it's depths.}
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
[Playback Ended]
[...]
[Very Well, File has been forwarded to the Elders of Talsk under Epsilon 10-0 Clearance with the attached message “Seal this away in The Archives.”]
*[...]
[Have a great day Chief Nikonus, Glory to The Federation!]
///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Next

What sort of Dinosaur do you see with Christmas decorations placed all over it? A Tree-Rex.

Hi everyone. You can't see me.. (right?) but I am shaking my head in indignation (sometimes compassion.)
Here are the first 2 Bible posts: 1 & 2
In this one I'm going to talk about The Garden as a motif which is, I think, kind of the whole thing. Symbolically, The Garden encompasses many elements: the (Holy) Ground, the Flowers, the Tree, the Apple, the Gate.
We are going to start back to where I started. I don't even know who I'm talking to at this point, but maybe that is for the best.

Anthology + Flower Language

Early on in my listening of Tortured Poets, I was thinking about archaic words used on the album. One of these was the word "anthology," which comes from the Greek word anthologia, which means "flower gathering" or "collecting."
These days we usually use it to mean a collection of stories or poems. But today I have a feeling we are taking it for both meanings. The word acts as a title, an identification (like naming a story Story), and a metaphor (likening songs on an album to flowers in a bouquet) all at once. It also works to link poetry and songwriting as genres.
One element of poetry that becomes important here is "the voice." In poetry, the voice encompasses things like point of view, style, and tone. The voice belongs to the speaker of the poem. Often, we assume the writer is the speaker of any given work, but this is not always the case. An anthology, in particular, is often made up of works from different artists.
The language of flowers stems from Victorian culture of the 1800's. Here's a post from the sub about the Victorians and the language of flowers. I had definitely seen discussion of the use of Flowers in Swift's work before, and the way this is a coded method of communication.

Eve & Eden

The next time I really thought about The Garden was while I was reading Frankenstein and writing that post. I thought about it then, but I didn't really know I was thinking about it. (Secret Garden.)
What I was really thinking about was the way Shelley used Adam as a figure of discussion within the text of Frankenstein. The Creature oh sees his creator, Dr. Frankenstein, as God and wonders why he doesn't treat him as a son, as "His Adam."
This reminded me of the way Eve is used as a figure in the Prophecy with the line "I got cursed like Eve got bitten." In the original story, Eve is the one who bites the apple (the Forbidden Fruit from the Tree of Knowledge) but in The Prophecy, Eve gets bitten. The line and its backwardness comment on the way Eve is discussed as Biblical figure.
Much like Frankenstein's Creature, Eve has been abandoned. Like The Creature, she is not treated as a son, not treated as "Adam" in the eyes of her creators, the Readers. Instead, she's the Apple, and she gets bitten.
Adam is not condemned for biting the fruit the way Eve is, although they both give into temptations. Eve's temptation, if you really want to compare them, should be considered a stronger force to resist, as it is temptation from the devil itself and not just like, from, like, your wife.
The line also seems to be referencing the idea of "fate v. free will," an element from the "Paradise Lost" version of the Adam and Eve story. In Milton, Eve is framed as a Tragic Hero. We get plenty of references to tragedy and tragic heroes on TTPD, so this is notable. This also solidifies our connection to Frankenstein, which also references both tellings of the story, notably, within different versions.

• "One bad seed kills the garden" from the Albatross likely also makes reference to the Garden of Eden and Eve's bite, especially considering the next line's "one less temptress." This continues commentary on the way Eve has been the scapegoat, or the "bad seed," of humanity, in the eyes of Christianity.
• The first time we saw "biting the apple" in Taylor's work was in the Blank Space video. In the video, she holds up the apple up to the man, in offering. We see her bite into it herself. Then we see the man immediately spit out his bite. She and the man also run around in the gardens of the mansion and, at one point, carve their names into a tree, until things go south and Taylor tries cutting it down with an ax, to erase the initials from knowledge.
  • The Blank Space lyrics reference Eve and temptation as well with “I could show you incredible things / Magic, Madness Heaven, Sin.”
  • I wonder if this makes the New York references into an apple references, since the city is also called “The Big Apple.”
  • The story in the garden of Eden is called the Fall of Adam or just “The Fall.” In Down Bad, "For a moment I was heaven struck / Now I'm down bad crying at the gym" feels like it may reference "The Fall." This possibly feels more like Satan’s fall from heaven than Adam’s fall, although I think both work with the falling from grace concept.

Like Frankenstein, The Adam and Eve story is a Creation myth, a story of the first of a brand new being. In both the Bible and Taylor's work, The Garden is the place of creation. To Swift, creation is where lovers meet and where secret knowledge is hidden. And it's where the Flowers grow, as long as they get enough Rain and enough Daylight, of course. The Alchemy needs to be just right. Flowers cannot grow in Ice or Snow. Too much rain and the flowers, gardeners, and admirers all get stuck in the Mud.
All of these conditions the flowers need, all of the elements, the "weather," are events out of the hands of the gardeners. They are cosmic forces, things left up to God or fate. If the forecast (or the Prophecy) predicts bad conditions, your flowers are pretty much doomed.
That's why it's so miraculous that "A red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground." This line also implies that the Rose is special because it belongs only to the one who watched it bloom. The narrator is the only bird around to sing about it.

The Trinity

It is no secret that those who deal in numbers have been noticing lots of 3's, with the braids, and the triangulation, and I mean even that slice of pizza is just a triangle when you think about it, isn't it?
For me, the threes really came into play when I started looking into the Bible more, first with the "wise men" from The Albatross. As I was looking into the Albatross as a symbol and learning more about the religious aspects of Rime of the Ancient Mariner, I found that the wise men were mentioned 3 times in the song, evoking the "three wise men" popularized in Christmas stories. But these wise men did not seem to be truly wise, in the context of the song.
Then, there is the Trinity. In LOML, we get "You Holy Ghost / You told me I'm the love of your life." Here she compares someone to the Holy Ghost, which, from what I remember, is sort of the essence of God you're supposed to feel in your soul, or something like that. It is one element of the holy trinity.
"You lowdown boy, you stand up guy, you Holy Ghost"
The above lines seem to reference the Trinity itself. They almost feel like doing the sign of the cross. At first I thought of Jesus as the "lowdown" boy, because he's on Earth, and God as the stand up guy because he's supposed to be up in the clouds, but that isn't the order it goes in. It's always the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
All three are kind of the same thing, anyway.
“The Trinity” is first referred to in the Bad Blood MV is depicted as sort of a three-bodied AI healer-bot, working on Taylor.
It is taught that the Holy Ghost will always be with you if you are open to receiving it, but the person in "LOML" is leaving, breaking that promise. This feels like a bit of a play on "ghosting."

• "The spirit was gone, we would never come to" in So Long London feels like it could be related to this image
• "They just ghosted you / Now you know what it feels like" from The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived could be looked at the same way

Creation/Conception/Godhood

So after all this, the question left was this group of 3. For a long time I was thinking of this album as the narrator addressing multiple versions of them self, especially while thinking about Frankenstein. Sometimes, the media got involved here as "the interloper." I read theories about muses and some For a while I wondered if there was no answer. The whole endeavor started feeling like a waste, or a troll, or a trap, or a choose your own adventure story with no end.
Sometimes, it kind of felt like the songs were about me. Or the fan base, more like.
I had been pretty sure about one thing, though: certain songs, at least through one lens, were referencing one aspect of fan culture in particular. I thought about the mystery trio, along with the previous discussions of Taylor Swift albums being treated as something which needed to be attached to a love interest to be enjoyed. The "paternity testing" comparison sprang to mind here.
I thought of the three "wise men" as the 3 men most fans had been trying to attach the album to since before it dropped. I also thought of how I had also seen this type of behavior from all genres of fan, but when you know your audience, it is very difficult to decide to veer away from their expectations, especially when that might keep them from reading what you wrote in the first place.
In this way, we act as each others' priests and confessors, as each others' Gods and sinners. We monitor. We watch each other and throw stones.
I thought then of the "3 Sad Virgins" SNL sketch, which, in light of all the Bible study I had been suddenly doing, sounded very Virgin Mary coded. This also made me think of "I'm having his baby / No I'm not but you should see your faces." After I realized it, I didn't know what this line was if not a reverse of the immaculate conception.
"You are the father," I thought, at first as a joke, then as an actual observation. Maybe the audience was God and the artist was the creation. Maybe in order for things to get made, artists feel the need to "appease the Gods." Maybe there was a feeling of trapped creativity. If songs were flowers, were we, the audience, the ones depriving them of light?
But upon further thought, the line implies that there is no baby and no father.
So maybe that was the trap, then. Maybe there were no three men, or three women, or three figures at all. Still, they haunted me. Like ghosts.
There was only one group of 3 ghosts I could think of, and they all had to do with time, all with clocks, all with life. I wondered if the only trio on the album was that one: the past, present, and future. I wondered if maybe time was the only thing really haunting any of us.
I don't know if Karma is real. I don't know who's gay and who's not. I think it is human to care about these things, I think. Most of the time, I think it comes from a place of wanting to be represented, of wanting to recognize yourself in someone else. But we can't let our curiosities and perceptions eclipse our own humanity or the actual truth.
I think we take our perspectives and and pre/mis conceptions (oh!) with us everywhere. We project ourselves onto the world wherever we go, making all we see into our own holograms. Like a god, we create the world in our own image and believe the stories we tell ourselves, no matter how holey. We obsess over filling these holes and completing the stories and the arcs and the cycles in a way that might make us understand and feel understood.
This is not wrong. I think this is the job of the audience. It takes a reader to make a writer.
But we have to be be aware of these tenancies as we interact with the world, or we risk falling victim to our own biases and impressions. When we believe enough of our own projections, we lose track of actual reality, and of any opportunity to uncover the real truth.
I do not know anything more about Taylor Swift's love life now than I knew going into Tortured Poets, but I do think I have learned about her writing process. Because of the closer reading I have been doing, I feel more understanding of the themes and symbols used throughout her work. I feel interested in how that might re-contextualize her past work, and I have become more familiar with Swift's poetic voice.
It is not the same as my voice, but that makes sense. No one can speak for anyone else, not really, not as accurately as a person can speak for themselves. We can sometimes see into other people's secret gardens, but only if they let us in the gate.
Even if I had control over Taylor Swift's voice, I wouldn't know what to do with it, and wouldn't know how to figure it out. If the power was mine, I wouldn't want it. I would give it back. I really think most others would, too, in the end.
We have enough trouble using our own voices as it is.

Discover the best practices for keeping your Christmas pillow covers clean and looking fresh throughout the holiday season.
Understanding the Importance of Cleaning Christmas Pillow Covers
Cleaning your Christmas pillow covers is important for maintaining their appearance and prolonging their lifespan.
Regular cleaning helps to remove dirt, dust, and allergens that can accumulate on the surface of the covers.
Clean pillow covers also contribute to a healthier sleeping environment by reducing the potential for bacteria growth.
Additionally, cleaning your Christmas pillow covers can help to eliminate any unpleasant odors that may develop over time.
Choosing the Right Cleaning Method for Different Materials
Before cleaning your Christmas pillow covers, it's important to check the care instructions provided by the manufacturer.
Different materials may require different cleaning methods, so it's essential to follow the recommended guidelines.
For machine washable pillow covers, use a gentle cycle and mild detergent.
Hand wash delicate materials or those that are labeled as dry clean only.
If spot cleaning is necessary, use a mild soap and water solution and gently blot the stain.
Avoid using bleach or harsh chemicals, as they can damage the fabric.
Tips for Spot Cleaning and Removing Stains
For small stains or spills, it's best to spot clean the affected area as soon as possible.
Blot the stain with a clean cloth or paper towel to absorb any excess liquid.
Avoid rubbing the stain, as this can cause it to spread and become more difficult to remove.
If the stain persists, try using a stain remover specifically designed for the type of fabric your pillow covers are made of.
Always test the stain remover on a small, inconspicuous area of the cover first to ensure it does not cause any damage or discoloration.
Proper Storage and Maintenance of Christmas Pillow Covers
When the holiday season is over, it's important to properly store your Christmas pillow covers to keep them in good condition for future use.
Start by ensuring that the covers are clean and completely dry before storing them.
Fold or roll the covers neatly and place them in a storage container or bag that offers protection from dust, dirt, and moisture.
Avoid storing the covers in a damp or humid environment, as this can lead to mold or mildew growth.
If possible, store the covers in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight.
Regularly check the stored covers for any signs of damage or pests, and address any issues promptly to prevent further damage.
Creative Ways to Refresh Your Christmas Pillow Covers
If your Christmas pillow covers are starting to look a bit tired or worn, there are several creative ways to refresh their appearance.
Consider adding decorative elements such as ribbons, bows, or appliques to give your pillow covers a festive touch.
You can also mix and match different covers to create a unique and personalized look.
If your pillow covers are machine washable, try washing them with a fabric softener to help restore their softness and fluffiness.
Alternatively, you can use a fabric freshener spray to give your pillow covers a pleasant scent.
Don't be afraid to get creative and experiment with different ideas to breathe new life into your Christmas pillow covers. 8. Cozy Christmas Pillow Covers for a Festive Living Room

creative ideas and inspiration for handmade Christmas pillow covers that will add a festive touch to your holiday decor.
Choosing the Right Fabric and Color Scheme
When making handmade Christmas pillow covers, one of the first things to consider is choosing the right fabric and color scheme. The fabric you choose will determine the overall look and feel of the pillow covers. For a cozy and traditional Christmas vibe, consider using fabrics like flannel, velvet, or cotton with Christmas-themed prints. If you prefer a more modern and contemporary look, you can opt for fabrics with metallic accents or geometric patterns.
The color scheme of your pillow covers should complement your existing holiday decor. Traditional Christmas colors like red, green, and white are always a safe choice. However, don't be afraid to get creative and experiment with different color combinations. You can also choose colors that match your overall home decor to create a cohesive look. Just make sure the colors you choose evoke a festive and joyful atmosphere.
Incorporating Festive Designs and Patterns
To make your handmade Christmas pillow covers truly stand out, consider incorporating festive designs and patterns. You can use stencils, stamps, or even freehand drawing to create unique designs on your pillow covers. Popular Christmas motifs include snowflakes, reindeer, Santa Claus, Christmas trees, and ornaments.
If you're not confident in your artistic abilities, you can also opt for pre-made Christmas-themed fabric or appliques. These can be easily sewn or glued onto your pillow covers to add a festive touch. Another option is to use holiday-themed ribbon or trim to create borders or decorative accents on your pillow covers. The key is to have fun and let your creativity shine!
Personalizing with Embroidery or Applique
Adding a personal touch to your handmade Christmas pillow covers is a great way to make them extra special. One way to do this is by adding embroidery or applique. You can embroider your family's initials, names, or favorite holiday quotes onto the pillow covers. Alternatively, you can use applique to attach fabric shapes, such as stars or snowflakes, onto the covers.
Embroidery and applique not only add a personal touch, but they also provide texture and visual interest to the pillow covers. You can choose to do simple embroidery stitches or more intricate designs, depending on your skill level and preference. Just remember to use embroidery floss or thread that complements the colors of your pillow covers for a cohesive look.
Adding Texture and Dimension with Trims and Accents
To make your handmade Christmas pillow covers visually appealing, consider adding texture and dimension with trims and accents. You can use trims such as pom-poms, tassels, or ruffles to create borders or decorative details on the edges of your pillow covers. Another option is to sew on buttons, beads, or sequins for added sparkle and glamour.
Additionally, you can experiment with different fabric textures to create contrast and interest. For example, you can mix smooth velvet with fluffy faux fur or combine satin with burlap. Just make sure the textures you choose complement each other and the overall theme of your holiday decor.
Tips for Care and Maintenance to Preserve Your Handmade Creations
After putting in the time and effort to create beautiful handmade Christmas pillow covers, it's important to take proper care of them to ensure they last for many holiday seasons to come. Here are a few tips for care and maintenance:

• Always read and follow the care instructions on the fabric you used for your pillow covers. Some fabrics may require special care, such as hand washing or air drying.
  
• If your pillow covers have embroidery or applique, avoid using harsh detergents or bleach that may cause the threads or fabric to fade or deteriorate. Instead, opt for gentle detergents specifically designed for delicate fabrics.
  
• To keep your pillow covers looking fresh and vibrant, consider using fabric fresheners or sprays with a Christmas scent. This will not only add a pleasant aroma to your home, but also help eliminate any odors that may accumulate over time.
  
• Store your handmade Christmas pillow covers in a cool, dry place when not in use. Avoid exposing them to direct sunlight or excessive moisture, as this can cause fading or mold growth.
  

By following these tips, you can preserve the beauty and quality of your handmade Christmas pillow covers and enjoy them for years to come.

Cameron Boyington is revolutionizing the home building industry with his unwavering commitment to prioritizing comfort and personalization in every project. His approach goes beyond mere construction, aiming to create spaces that resonate with the unique essence of each homeowner, where comfort reigns supreme and personal expression thrives.

A Paradigm Shift in Home Building

Boyington's philosophy challenges conventional notions of home design by placing comfort at the forefront of his creations. He believes that a home should be a haven where residents can truly unwind and be themselves. To achieve this, Boyington integrates elements of comfort into every aspect of his designs, from the layout and materials to the smallest details of decor.

Tailored to Your Lifestyle

One of the defining features of Boyington's work is his dedication to personalized design. He understands that every homeowner has distinct preferences and lifestyle needs. As such, Boyington collaborates closely with his clients to craft spaces that align perfectly with their vision and way of life. By incorporating elements that reflect the individuality of each homeowner, Boyington ensures that every project is a true reflection of its occupants.

Exemplary Craftsmanship and Quality

Quality is non-negotiable for Boyington. He takes pride in delivering homes that not only meet but exceed the highest standards of craftsmanship. From the foundation to the finishing touches, Boyington's attention to detail is unparalleled, resulting in homes that are not just beautiful, but built to last. By using premium materials and employing skilled artisans, Boyington ensures that each home is a testament to quality and durability.

Engage with Cameron Boyington

For those eager to explore Cameron Boyington's innovative approach to home building and delve deeper into his portfolio, connections can be made through the following platforms:

• YouTube: Watch captivating videos showcasing Boyington's projects and design philosophy.
• MySpace: Connect with Boyington and stay updated on his latest endeavors.
• WikiTree: Gain insights into Boyington's background and family history.
• OpenCorporates: Access official records and business information related to Boyington's ventures.

Creating Homes That Embrace Comfort and Individuality

Boyington's mission is simple yet profound: to create homes that not only meet the physical needs of their occupants but also nurture their emotional well-being. By infusing each project with a sense of comfort and personalization, Boyington ensures that every home becomes a sanctuary where memories are made and cherished for years to come.

In Conclusion

Cameron Boyington's commitment to elevating home comfort and personalization sets him apart as a trailblazer in the home building industry. His visionary approach challenges the status quo, inspiring a new generation of homeowners to prioritize comfort and individuality in their living spaces. With Boyington at the helm, the future of home building looks brighter than ever.

I saw the last minutes of this somewhat around 2010-2012. It was aired on TV in the evening (I am from Russia, but I’m 100% sure this movie was not created here). I have 0 idea what the plot was about. All I remember is the ending scene. It was dark night. There was a guy/man/boy (presumably MC of the movie), sitting with his back facing the viewer, nearby the tree. And from that tree was hanging anthropomorphic cow girl. I remember, that boy was grieving, since cow girl was his dear friend and she was hung by someone as a punishment (not sicde). And after a bit the noose ripped and the girl fell on the ground. I recall the style and vibe of that movie was very similar with Burtons Corpse bride or Nightmare before Christmas (also similar to Igor movie). Yet I’m not sure if it was stop motion animation or CGI. If you happened to know anything about it, please let me know. I would love to find out the plot of this obscure piece of memory of my childhood. (Sorry for my bad english)

1. Chuck Norris went into the Sahara with an axe, and came out with a Christmas tree.
   
2. Chuck Norris died yesterday. But, he’s feeling better today.
   
3. When the Boggie Man goes to sleep, he looks under his bed for Chuck Norris
   
4. Big Foot saw Chuck Norris once, but no one believed him.
   
5. Chuck Norris returned from a feminist rally with his shirt ironed and a sandwich in hand.
   
6. Chuck Norris doesn’t do pushups, he pushes the earth down.
   
7. Chuck Norris chopped onions once, the onions cried.
   
8. Chuck Norris CAN compare apples and oranges!
   
9. Chuck Norris actually uses a stunt double. He’s for the crying scenes.
   
10. When Chuck Norris goes into the ocean, the sharks get out of the water.
    

As urbanization continues to reshape Jaipur, Rajasthan, the demand for sustainable construction materials is becoming increasingly crucial. Among the various options available, teak wood flooring stands out as an exemplary choice, contributing significantly to eco-friendly practices. Ricochet Surface LLP, a leading provider of premium flooring solutions, offers teak wood flooring that aligns perfectly with the sustainability goals of Jaipur.
1. Longevity and Durability
Teak wood is renowned for its durability and longevity. Unlike other materials that may require frequent replacement, teak wood flooring can last for decades with proper care. This reduces the need for regular replacements and the associated consumption of resources, making it a more sustainable option. Ricochet Surface LLP’s teak wood flooring is designed to withstand the test of time, minimizing the environmental impact over its lifecycle.
2. Renewable Resource
Teak wood is a renewable resource when sourced responsibly. Sustainable forestry practices ensure that teak trees are replanted and harvested in an environmentally friendly manner. Ricochet Surface LLP sources its teak wood from certified plantations that adhere to these sustainable practices. By choosing teak wood flooring from Ricochet Surface LLP, residents and businesses in Jaipur can support responsible forestry and contribute to the preservation of natural ecosystems.
3. Low Maintenance and Reduced Chemical Use
Teak wood’s natural oils make it resistant to pests and moisture, significantly reducing the need for chemical treatments and maintenance. This aspect is particularly beneficial in reducing the environmental footprint associated with harsh cleaning agents and pesticides. Ricochet Surface LLP’s teak wood flooring products are designed to maintain their beauty and integrity with minimal intervention, promoting a healthier indoor environment.
4. Energy Efficiency in Production
The production process of teak wood flooring is relatively energy-efficient compared to synthetic flooring materials. Ricochet Surface LLP employs state-of-the-art manufacturing techniques that prioritize energy conservation and minimize waste. This commitment to energy efficiency helps lower the overall carbon footprint of the flooring products, contributing to Jaipur’s sustainability efforts.
5. Aesthetic and Environmental Harmony
Teak wood flooring not only offers practical benefits but also adds a touch of natural elegance to any space. The rich, warm tones of teak wood can create an inviting atmosphere, reducing the need for additional interior decor elements that may not be sustainable. Ricochet Surface LLP’s teak wood flooring seamlessly integrates with the architectural heritage of Jaipur, providing a sustainable solution that enhances the city’s aesthetic appeal.
6. Contribution to Local Economy
By choosing locally sourced and manufactured teak wood flooring from companies like Ricochet Surface LLP, residents and businesses in Jaipur can support the local economy. This support extends to local artisans, suppliers, and the broader community, fostering economic growth that is intertwined with sustainable practices.
Conclusion
Teak wood flooring, particularly from environmentally conscious suppliers like Ricochet Surface LLP, offers a multitude of benefits that align with sustainable practices. From its durability and renewable nature to its low maintenance needs and energy-efficient production, teak wood flooring is an ideal choice for those looking to make eco-friendly decisions in Jaipur, Rajasthan. By adopting teak wood flooring, the residents and businesses of Jaipur can significantly contribute to a more sustainable and environmentally responsible future.