A new home for old Dogs [Medicine]

Category: Psychology

Doctor Perth answered the nurse's summons with a smile on his face and a pit in his stomach. He had few patients left who required his regular attention, and it was rare they changed for the better.

He entered the ward and headed past the dormant patients to where the nurses gathered. A Dog lay in the bed. His body was scarred and broken in ways that were never easy to look at, but his eyes were sharp as they fixed on Perth. "Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?" Perth asked.

"Kade. Trooper. EB53-1106-51A9." the Dog replied. His voice was dry and weak.

"What's the last thing you remember, Kade?"

The Dog closed his eyes. Perth watched the eyelids twitch and the flinching of his muzzle as Kade recalled the events that landed him on the medical ship. "We were holding the E-shaft with the Martian 1st, a baseline regiment. Vermin came from all sides, from below and above. Above was meant to be clear!"

"What happened to you, Kade?" the doctor urged.

"I... Someone played 'retreat'. Martians tried to withdraw to the airlocks so the Lankeys could get them, but there was no way through. Alphas barked a charge order." Kade grimaced at the memory. "A Vermin bit down on my arm, took it off. I killed him for it, but there were so many. I got hit from behind, got dizzy, and there was... I don't know."

"Alright, that's more than enough. You lost more than your arm, Kade; it was an honest to God miracle your brothers got you out at all. You suffered spinal damage and severe head trauma, among other injuries. Your road to recovery will be a long one, and I have to warn you that you will never fully recover."

Kade's muzzle twitched into a pained smile. "Might just surprise you, doctor. Give me a month and I'll be back to the fight, you'll see!"

Perth waited until the Dog's confident smile faded. "You will not be returning to the front," he said solemnly, and at his words the doctor saw something he never thought he'd see; fear in a Dog's eyes.

"A lost limb's nothing!" the Dog protested. "Why, there's not a veteran Alpha who hasn't lost a hand or foot or eye to the Vermin! Artificials are just as good as the real deal!"

"Kade-" Perth tried to cut in, but his patient was becoming frantic. He had obviously tried to sit up only to find his lower body refused to move.

"This can be fixed!" the Dog barked out. "Artificial nerve-signals! Powered body frames! Gene-resequencing! This can be fixed! It can all be fixed!" His cries devolved into r

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My students wrote some stories

Once upon a time...

Hi everybody,

Here are some stories that my students wrote! Their mother tongue is French and they have been learning English for 3 years now. We hope you will enjoy those stories! Do not hesitate to comment, they will be happy if some people enjoy their work😉

Based on a true story.

Emily Williams is a radio host in the United States, more precisely in New York. She is the mother of two little girls, Hanna and Spencer, Emily is overloaded with work, especially during this Christmas period.

Every morning of the week, except on Sunday, it is a real race against time: she has to arrive on time to school and she has to arrive on time at work despite all the horrible morning traffic jams! Every morning she does the same actions, every morning she races against the clock with only one purpose: not wasting time!... She has no time for other people, no time for the poor and homeless people who ask for money from car to car between each red lights. But it was the Christmas Eve … and when a homeless man arrived near her car, she opened the window of her car and, with her handbag on her knees, she looked for some money. Emily gave him 10 dollars.

The poor man who was very happy cleared his throat and with he thanked her with a sublime voice. The man’s wonderful voice stunned Emily with surprise. However the light was turning green and the other cars were honking. Emily had to move forward.

She spent a normal day at work but she often thought of the man and his voice … In the evening when she was going to bed, Emily thought that something had to be done for the man with the sublime voice. It was a rare opportunity and she had to take it.

So, the next day, Emily did not give money to the poor man, she gave him a job ! The man was overjoyed, he directly accepted. Emily suggested him to get a coffee and talk about her job proposal. Of course, Emily asked him a lot of questions. His name was Ted, he was 32 years old, he was divorced and because of his divorce he was homeless. Ted had long hair and dirty old clothes. Emily could not show him to her colleagues with this look. So, she decided to take him to a hairdresser and a stylist … He was another man, stunning with a big smile on his lips.

Immediately her colleagues fell for his charm and loved his wonderful voice.

Ted got a job on Christmas day!

Now Ted is happy and does not worry about money thanks to Emily’s help. That’s what we call a Christmas miracle !

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[Let's Build] d100 Distinct Locations in a Fancy Estate

#d100 Distinct Locations & Characters in a Fancy Estate

Channel your most Downton Abbey or period-piece drama, places where a fancy party, drama, folk or gothic horror, or violent excitement can occur on, or near a large estate.

  1. Seaside Boathouse: Estate Grounds, Outbuilding. Down at bottom of cliff, complete w/ sea-wall, & 5-man ketch. Large enough for three bedrooms, servant's bunks, extra kitchen, & small stable! Its own little mini-estate! Loyal sailor mans place, w/ hook hand & peg leg, lost in war.

  2. Apse Oceanus: Underground. Secret grotto at base of wave-wracked sea-cliffs; cave entrance just above high water line. Inside cave, beach-gravel floor; an apse, seemingly carved by nature - semicircular recess covered w/ hemispherical vault. In center is ancient granite cauldron perpetually filled w/ fresh, clear water, as if by magic.

  3. Moaning Cavern: Underground. Partially natural staircase in cavern & sea-cliffs. When wind blows strongly from right direction, it moans & whistles w/ ghostly sounds. Staircase seems natural (but has actually been artfully worked to appear so), it heads further in, up into cliffs beneath Manor.

  4. First Lord's Tomb: Underground. Remains of First Lord of Manor & few relatives, interred in carved grotto in stone, deep beneath Manor. Occasionally trick of wind & strong draft make moaning noises... nothing to be frightened of, surely.

  5. Ossuary: Underground. Vaulted ceilings somehow make underground crypt feel imposing & cramped. Ossuary walls hold recesses for stone boxes nearly impossible to move alone, each box storing interred bones; mortally departed going back to start of noble name of the Family. Some ossuary chests currently empty in preparation for family members whose remains are still in earth, either in Cemetery on grounds or Elsewhere. (u/crimebiscuit)

  6. Garden Wilderness: Estate Grounds, Garden, Wilderness. Transitional area between formal gardens & large park surrounding the house known as “the Wilderness”. Originally as meticulously planned as other areas of Estate, but here plantings more irregular & included native plants and trees; gravel walkways; lawns that resembled meadows; & areas where the vistas were framed to deliberately look natural. Now, without groundskeepers, the real Wilderness is overtaking the Garden. A “Ha-Ha”, low wall & ditch designed to blend into landscape separates area from Common Pasture &am

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1000 basic words (Wikipedia)

A a, about, above, across, act, active, activity, add, afraid, after, again, age, ago, agree, air, all, alone, along, already, always, am, amount, an, and, angry, another, answer, any, anyone, anything, anytime, appear, apple, are, area, arm, army, around, arrive, art, as, ask, at, attack, aunt, autumn, away. B baby, back, bad, bag, ball, bank, base, basket, bath, be, bean, bear, beautiful, bed, bedroom, beer, behave, before, begin, behind, bell, below, besides, best, better, between, big, bird, birth, birthday, bit, bite, black, bleed, block, blood, blow, blue, board, boat, body, boil, bone, book, border, born, borrow, both, bottle, bottom, bowl, box, boy, branch, brave, bread, break, breakfast, breathe, bridge, bright, bring, brother, brown, brush, build, burn, business, bus, busy, but, buy, by. C cake, call, can, candle, cap, car, card, care, careful, careless, carry, case, cat, catch, central, century, certain, chair, chance, change, chase, cheap, cheese, chicken, child, children, chocolate, choice, choose, circle, city, class, clever, clean, clear, climb, clock, cloth, clothes, cloud, cloudy, close, coffee, coat, coin, cold, collect, colour, comb, comfortable, common, compare, come, complete, computer, condition, continue, control, cook, cool, copper, corn, corner, correct, cost, contain, count, country, course, cover, crash, cross, cry, cup, cupboard, cut. D dance, dangerous, dark, daughter, day, dead, decide, decrease, deep, deer, depend, desk, destroy, develop, die, different, difficult, dinner, direction, dirty, discover, dish, do, dog, door, double, down, draw, dream, dress, drink, drive, drop, dry, duck, dust, duty. E each, ear, early, earn, earth, east, easy, eat, education, effect, egg, eight, either, electric, elephant, else, empty, end, enemy, enjoy, enough, enter, equal, entrance, escape, even, evening, event, ever, every, everyone, exact, everybody, examination, example, except, excited, exercise, expect, expensive, explain, extremely, eye. F face, fact, fail, fall, false, family, famous, far, farm, father, fast, fat, fault, fear, feed, feel, female, fever, few, fight, fill, film, find, fine, finger, finish, fire, first, fish, fit, five, fix, flag, flat, float, floor, flour, flower, fly, fold, food, fool, foot, football, for, force, foreign, forest, forget, forgive, fork, form, fox, four, free, freedom, freeze, fresh, friend, friendly, from, front, fruit, full, fun, funny, furniture, further, future. G game, garden, gate, general, gentlema

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I think SOMETHING is following me. This one is Epic in length.

This whole thing started about ten years ago in 2010. I was in the Navy at the time and stationed in Connecticut. The Naval based I was stationed at had been build during WW2 as a submarine base to combat German U-Boats. In the 50's it was retrofitted with Cold War Era bomb bunkers and underground tunnels that had been sealed off in the 90s after decades of disuse and maintenance neglect. Of course there were always the horror stories of that one Seaman who stupidly wondered into the tunnels and got lost, never to be heard from again. *Cue the X-Files Theme*. But these were just campfire stories. However on this particular base was a building named for Admiral English. This Building was reputed to be majorly haunted.

The Night Watchmen would see people in the building after it'd been closed for the night and when they tried to pursue those people the watchmen would turn a corner to a dead end and find no one there. When the Roving watch would check doors to secure areas that were meant to be locked only to find them unlocked. They'd call down their superiors to file the report on the door only for it to be locked. You'd be in the middle of your Roving Patrol and the all the lights in the building would turn off. And on one specific occasion the stationary watchman at the door went a little wonky. He logged the long dead Admiral English as being in the building in the official log book. He Then turned to the painting of Admiral English that was hung on the Quarterdeck and gouged the eyes of the painting out. He later claimed he did this because the painting wouldn't stop watching and whispering at him. he also logged in and out of the building various famous figures like Santa, Elvis, Vincent Price, and The Beatles. After testifying at Captain's Mast that the painting was trying to talk to him he was sent to mental health and deemed unfit to serve in the military, given a Section 8 and sent home.

I stood the night watch in that building a short while after the painting had been removed for repairs. Me and my watch mate heard people moving around the building a number of times but anytime I went to investigate there was no one. I was supposed to be continuously roving and every time I came the stairwell I'd have to turn the lights back on. At one point the elevator in the building started itself for seemingly no reason. Fortunately I didn't see anything...at least that night I didn't.

A couple weeks later I was walking up an outdoor staircas

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The Gift of the Magi - O. Henry (Short Story Discussion No. 15 )

This is the fifteenth post in our new series, Short Story Sunday, where we'll read and discuss short stories from public domain. Today's short story is The Gift of the Magi - O. Henry.

The Gift of the Magi - O. Henry

ONE dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one’s cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name “Mr. James Dillingham Young.”

The “Dillingham” had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called “Jim” and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn’t go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling—something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier glass between the wind

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📅︎ Dec 27 2020
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Don't let your clocks stop

Clocks, absolutely wonderful aren't they? They tell you how far you are into your day. They let you know if you are on schedule. They just tick away at the day. Never stopping. Never slowing. But what if I told you, that the thing that you use everyday. The clock that your day depends on. Just... stops. The clock does not tick away at the day, or does it? How many problems will it cause you. What will it leave you with. But more importantly... What will it do to you. Well that's what I found out one day. I work at a clock repair store. We sell more clocks than we do repair, I gat about 9-10 costumers while working my shift. It was 4:37 pm. I was nearing the end of my shift, I usually am the last person to work at the shop. on most days we close at 6 pm. Today was a Wednesday. The hundreds of clocks ticking setts a tone of a lofi beat. It's a calming felling. Like a winter morning. The foggy ones. But then the ticking stops. The clocks continues to tick after missing one tick. Why did all the clocks do that? I shrug it off. It was a wierd occurrence and it set of the tone for the whole day. About an hour passes. It is now 5:58 pm I grab the keys and get ready to leave after clocking out. I head the the front of the store. But the clocks all stopped. Again. They didn't continue to tick though. What was happening? I decide to unlock the door. The door won't open. What is seriously happening I look behind me towards the counter. An old, spruce grand father clock was there. It wasn't there before. the clock hand begins twitching. Then they start pulsating like veins. pumping blood though out it's clock insides as if it was somthing living. The clock hands begins to turn into an Ink-like substance. It leaks onto the ground and sits for a moment. At this point I am flipping out and trying to open the door again. The ink like substance begin to rise. it started to form a humanoid shape. This shape was large and linear. The legs where like twigs, but they where as sharp as steak knives. The hands where just like the legs. It's hands where hovering by it's knees. If it had knees. The face was blank and smooth. They had no mouth. No teeth. No noes. No eyes. We just looked at each other for the longest times. It felt like days. but it was most likely minutes. And with out warning it slowly started walking to me. it was about 15 feet away. I began to panic. It was 13 feet away from me after 3 seconds. 7 feet away in 5. It started to reach out at me. Both

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The Correlation Between Sonic the Hedgehog and the New York Knicks (Pt 1)

Sonic the Hedgehog: a popular video game franchise of a cocky, quick-witted, free-spirited blue hedgehog who is as fast as the speed of sound and fights the forces of evil with a colorful cast of companions. The New York Knickerbockers: a professional NBA basketball team that resides in Madison Square Garden in Manhattan, New York City. Now you might be thinking, “What do these two things have in common? A video game mascot and a sports team aren’t similar?” And you’re probably right, they just seem too different from each other. It’s not like they are polar opposites, but that they are just so different that it seems almost impossible for them to have similarities. They are in two totally different realms of existence. But if you are a fan of both, you start to see through the overlining aspects and can find some significant connections between the two. You come to find that a prosperous start eventually led to many miserable downfalls. You find that the ones pulling the strings and running the show are the ones that are driving these two franchises straight into the ground. You find that the loyal fans are given false hope and promises nearly every year. And you come to find that these two franchises timelines are somewhat parallel to each other.

Bright Beginnings

If we are going to talk about how it all started with these two, let’s do the Knicks first, since they have been around longer. The winter of 1891 was the year that physical educator James Naismith had an idea. It was too cold for the Massachusetts boys to go outside and get active. So, Naismith decided to nail up some peach baskets indoors, got a leather ball, made some rules and regulations, and then the rest is history. The game for young boys quickly became a trend. Recreational centers and schools embraced this new game and basketball became known to all. But playing on a school team wasn’t enough. Where do these kids and young men go with this talent? It was then decided that just like baseball and football, America needed a professional league for basketball. And so, on June 6, 1946, in New York, the Nation Basketball Association was born. And with it, a new team called The New York Knickerbockers (more commonly known as Knicks for short). Yeah, that’s right, the Knicks are as old as the goddamn NBA. The Knicks have seen it all in the NBA. The best, the worst, wins, losses. It was only until the 70s where the Knicks began to prosper for the very first time. With Walt “Clyde” Frazier,

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Top 1000 Japanese Words (Kanji + Romaji + English)

I was tired of coming across impenetrable lists of words or websites that prevented copying so I extracted the top thousand words according to one source and formatted them to easily be input into Quizlet. I took out all unnecessary indicators (such as colloquial, since it would be pointless to actually have to type the word colloquial in quizlet), although I can provide a file with those markers if desired. This is to create the simplest base for flashcards possible. If putting into Quizlet, simply select as many as desired and indicate the colon symbol (:) as a tab in order to separate terms front and back and the cards will be automatically made. Hope this helps you guys.

行く iku : go

見る miru : see, look at

多い ooi : a lot of, many

家 ie : home, household

これ kore : this, this one

それ sore : that, that one

私 watashi : I

仕事 shigoto : work, job

いつ itsu : when

する suru : do, make

出る deru : go out, leave

使う tsukau : use, make use of

所 tokoro : place

作る tsukuru : make, create

思う omou : think

持つ motsu : have, possess

買う kau : buy

時間 jikan : time, hour

知る shiru : know

同じ onaji : same, identical

今 ima : now

新しい atarashii : new

なる naru : become

まだ mada : not yet, still

あと ato : after

聞く kiku : hear, ask

言う iu : say, tell

少ない sukunai : few, little

高い takai : high, tall

子供 kodomo : child

そう sou : so, that way

もう mou : already, yet

学生 gakusei : student

熱い atsui : hot to touch

どうぞ douzo : please

午後 gogo : afternoon, p.m.

長い nagai : long

本 hon : book, volume

今年 kotoshi : this year

よく yoku : often, well

彼女 kanojo : she, one’s girlfriend

どう dou : how, what

言葉 kotoba : word, language

顔 kao : face

終わる owaru : finish, end

一つ hitotsu : one thing

あげる ageru : give, offer

こう kou : like this, such

学校 gakkou : school

くれる kureru : be given

始める hajimeru : start something

起きる okiru : get up, get out of bed

春 haru : spring

午前 gozen : morning, a.m.

別 betsu : another, different

どこ doko : where

部屋 heya : room

若い wakai : young

車 kuruma : car, automobile

置く oku : put, place

住む sumu : live, reside

働く hataraku : work

難しい muzukashii : difficult

先生 sensei : teacher

立つ tatsu : stand, rise

呼ぶ yobu : call, name

大学 daigaku : university, college

安い yasui : cheap, inexpensive

もっと motto : more

帰る kaeru : go back home

分かる wakaru : understand

広い hiroi : wide, big

数 suu : number

近い chikai : near, close

そこ soko : there

走る hashiru : run

入れる ireru : put in

教える oshieru : teach, tell

歩く aruku : walk, go on foot

会う au : meet

書く k

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Suicide runs in my family, but not in the way you’d expect.

My dad killed himself two weeks ago. It was not unexpected. My family has a history of suicides. I am just under thirty years old, so it hasn’t been a problem for me yet, but my father was in his seventies and suffering from cancer. The fact that he decided to end it was actually not as traumatic as it sounds, given his diagnosis.

After grief started to subside, I found myself more scared than anything. My father had his bouts of depression, sure, but nothing he hadn’t recovered from. Usually the depression came and went within a few months. He was never on suicide watch and never expressed a desire to kill himself.

To be fair, many terminal cancer patients seek out euthanasia. This was different, though. We had plans, places he had wanted to go or do during his life but had been unable to due to money or time. Now family members had stepped up to provide both of those, and he had just walked away from it.

My grandfather committed suicide, too, at the age of fifty-one. He, unlike my father, was healthy and had two kids in college. One of those was my dad. I’m not sure he ever really recovered from that, and maybe it’s why depression and ultimately suicide haunted him.

It all came to a head when I discovered something terrifying. My grandfather was not the first in my family to kill himself. His father and his grandfather and even his own great-grandfather had committed suicide. I knew genetics could play a part, but this was unprecedented. I need answers.

So I went to the only person I knew who could help.

My mother was a mess. Still is, to an extent. I could not ask her about my dad without her freaking out, or at the very least going into one of her depressive moods. A perfectly normal response, I knew, except for the fact that she had become a recluse, not letting friends or family reach out to her and going out only to shop for food.

Instead, I went to my Uncle Barry. He is a big man at six-two and just over two hundred pounds. He has a heavy black beard and a thick chest that sometimes made me wonder if he ever took up bodybuilding. He probably had; he was a security guard for thirty years, and he only retired a year ago. His wife, a comparatively diminutive, fragile woman, had urged him to quit once their social security began to kick in.

Uncle Barry is the big, albeit much older, brother that I never had. I have a little sister that lives somewhere out in New Mexico- I can never remember the name of her town- but that’s it. No other sibli

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👤︎ u/dogeman87
📅︎ Jul 05 2020
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I have a Document on my Phone with the COMPLETE timeline for the ENTIRE Trilogy, and here it is. If I missed anything lmk

EDIT: I HAVE THIS IN A BETTER FORMAT ON GOOGLE DOCS! IF YOU WANT THIS DM Me and I WILL SHARE IT WITH YOU 1885 • Thursday, January 1: Dr. Emmett Brown (of 1985) accidentally arrives from 1955 and appears at an altitude of about fifty feet over the future location of Lyon Estates (about two miles south of Hill Valley). Despite damage to the vehicle's flying circuits, Doc and the DeLorean are not seriously damaged by the landing. Doc then goes into town and sets up as a blacksmith in Hill Valley. (In so doing, Doc may interfere with the normal timeline by replacing another blacksmith or stealing business from other blacksmiths in town or other towns — however, it is possible there would have been no blacksmith at all if Doc were not there.) • Date unknown between January 1 and September 3: Buford "Mad Dog" Tannen (the great-grandfather of Biff Tannen) asks Doc to shoe his horse but does not pay for them. A shoe would later fall off, leading Buford to break a whiskey bottle and subsequently shoot the horse in frustration. • April: William Sean McFly born, first son to Seamus and Maggie McFly and the first of the McFly family to be born in America. • Saturday, July 4: Doc passes out after drinking one shot of whiskey at the 4th of July celebrations. • Saturday, August 29: There is a meeting of the townspeople over who will pick up the new schoolteacher on September 4. Originally, no-one volunteers. In the altered timeline with Doc, he volunteers; and in the timeline without Marty, he picks her up. • Tuesday, September 1: Doc buries the broken DeLorean time machine in the Delgado mine and writes a letter to Marty McFly, who is stranded in 1955. • Wednesday, September 2: Marty McFly arrives in 1885 to rescue Doc and accidentally rips the fuel line in the time machine. While running from a bear, he hits the fence of the McFly farm, leading him to meet his ancestors Seamus and Maggie McFly. • Thursday, September 3: Marty runs into Buford Tannen and upsets him, causing Tannen to nearly hang Marty (going under the name "Clint Eastwood"). Doc saves Marty in the nick of time. • Friday, September 4: Doc tries repairing the DeLorean, and accidentally saves the life of Clara Clayton, who was supposed to originally fall into Shonash Ravine (which would have resulted in the ravine being renamed Clayton Ravine). It is love at first sight. • Saturday, September 5: The Hill Valley festival, and the inauguration of the newly built courthouse and its clock. Doc and Clara dance.

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Interview with a Survivor

They pulled him out of the rubble. His eyes were glazed over and nothing but pupil. He wasn’t dead, but he wasn’t fully alive, either. He was breathing, but it was labored. He was motionless until his gaze locked onto me, the paramedic taking care of him.

It was like he was snapped out of a trance. He gripped my collar and started shouting at me.

“It’s still alive!” He shouted as I tried to restrain him. He was trying to reach for the door. “Kill it! Kill it while you still can! Loud noises! They hurt it! Not dead! Not dead! NOT DEAD!”

I had to sedate him to keep him from going nuts. God damn, what happened to this kid? And what demolished half of the school? I looked outside the window and saw dead teenagers being pulled from the school. More than a hundred of them. And then I heard it. A howl in the night. One of hatred and pain. It chilled me to the bone. I was still thinking of it when I checked the kid into his hospital room.

He woke up, cried, calmed down, ate some food, and slept for a little bit. The next day, I decided to visit him, to ask some questions about what happened that night. I also was planning on recording the audio on my phone. I saw his parents leave the room. They were crying for their son. He would never walk again. His right leg was unsaveable so they had to amputate. His left arm was broken and in a cast. Several ribs were fractured.

He was lying in his bed, reading a book when I walked in. He recognised me instantly. He let me sit on the bed with him.

“Listen, what happened last night?” I asked him. “I want to know since you were the only one to survive.”

“I-I’m the only one?” He asked as he put the book down. “I shouldn’t be surprised, considering what was killing us.”

“What was killing you?”

“Do you really want to know?” He asks me with a tired expression.

“Try me.” I told him.

“Ok, you asked for it.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// My name is Max Kline. I am seventeen years old and I am friends with everyone. The jocks, the nerds, the theater kids, even the goths. I had no real friends. No set group of people I hang out with. I just smile and play nice until I get home, where I face my father.

Tonight is Prom Night and, since I don’t have a girlfriend, I’m going stag. Right now, I’m sitting with the goth kids today. They were looking at some book. One of the goth kids was allegedly a Wiccan. His name was Michael.

Mic

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👍︎ 52
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Jun 28 2020
🚨︎ report
What Your Watch Brand Says About You

Last updated: 12/07/19 Edit 32: Couldn't help myself. Added Urban Jurgënsen and Manufacture Royale. Thread is archived so no promises, but feel free to message me with any requests!

A. Lange & Söhne: You work in investments, but nowhere as common as Wall Street. You have been known to casually ask to compare balance bridges with Patek owners.

Alpina: You are subscribed to Outside magazine, and can quote passages from Krakauer’s “Into the Wild” by by heart. You own a pair of serious hiking boots, but they languish in your closet, unworn and unmuddied. You could not afford a Rolex Explorer. If pressed, you would not be able to articulate why anyone would actually need an “Alpinist” watch.

Audemars Piguet: You are a rapper, and you think the brand name is “Royal Oak”.

Apple Watch: You are either a secretary or nine-figure earning CEO at a Fortune 500 company. You use your Apple Watch Series 4 to track both your weekly jogs and chicken roasts. You are vaguely familiar with the idea that other, “old-fashioned” watches exist, but assume they will soon disappear once they are no longer repaired by their manufacturers.

Azimuth: Your two most treasured possessions are an autographed photo of Leonard Nimoy and a replica copy of the Voyager probe Golden Record. You can only dream of owning an MB&F.

Ball: As you walk through your LED lit hallway, down the stairs illuminated by motion sensing flood lamps, and towards your basement model train table outfitted with 3000 Lumen overhead halogen bulbs, you’re gladly reassured by your watch's Tritium lume - for the brief second it takes to find the switch.

Balticus: You are either a metrosexual 20-something working in Warsaw, or a teenage boy living in rural Estonia. You don’t get to play with your Overwatch team as much as you’d like due to the time difference. You dream of moving to Berlin or New York.

Baume et Mercier: You were touched when your wife got you a Clifton for your wedding. You have since gotten a Rolex, but wear your B&M on special occasions. Thankfully, she got you an automatic, not a quartz.

Bell & Ross: You think IWCs are a pale imitation of a Boeing 767 flight instrument. You want to wear the entire flight panel.

Blancpain: Let’s be real, unless you're Vladimir Putin, the only watch you wear from this brand is the Fifty Fathoms - and it never goes near water.

Bovet: You are the president of an esteemed French bank, say

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👍︎ 2k
💬︎
👤︎ u/jooxii
📅︎ May 05 2019
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The Rusty Lake Timeline

Hey, guys. This'll be my first post here. I've been on the Rusty Lake series since 2015 and have been trying to piece together the story ever since. I've had a rough build-up on this mini-project, often being sidetracked with school stuff and shit, but quarantine gave me a bit of a break.

Originally, this was a doc file but I don't know how to upload one here; so I'll just copy everything


I found some spare time and decided to finally put to rest the side of me that itches to make a comprehensive timeline(s) of the events from the Rusty Lake series. I say “timeline(s)” because of the fact that time travel is an element of the series.

Disclaimer: About half the entries here are taken from the Rusty Lake Wiki as I have not played through Rusty Lake: Paradise and Rusty Lake: Hotel yet. This document simply serves as a supplement to the Wikia entry.

This mini-project was started on the Spring of 2020 (April 5, 2020).

  • u/rebeetle

Rusty Lake Timeline #1: Main Timeline 1780's - 1790's:

  • Caroline discovers a way to create the Elixir using ten elements, etching them onto the wall of an underground cave.
  • Nicholas begins to prepare his son for his future destiny, where he is to be sacrificed to the Lake.
  • Before he is sacrificed, Caroline takes his place. She sends Jakob off the island by boat.
  • Caroline is burned at the stake.
  • Dressed in animal masks and robes, the Eilander family surrounds Caroline's casket and asks for their sacrifice to be taken and to enlightenment them. April 22, 1796: Spring
  • Nicholas writes a letter to his son Jakob, informing him of his mother's death. Rusty Lake: Paradise
  • Jakob returns to Paradise Island, learning that their home has been subjected to ten plagues. He finds ten black cubes used to eradicate each plague, and each cube contains a memory from his mother. First plague – Water Turns into Blood
  • Jakob saves the family from the leeches and meets the Corrupted Soul of his mother, who tells him to bring her memories to the Lake. In the water, he finds his mother's coffin with a black cube inside. Second plague – Frogs
  • Jakob captures the frogs to have them cooked by his grandmother, Margaret. Jakob gives the frog soup to his uncle Gerard, who vomits a key used for opening a box with a black cube inside. Third plague – Gnats and Lice
  • Jakob helps his brother David raise his blood sugar level, but a cluster of insects surrounds David, transf
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👍︎ 38
📰︎ r/rustylake
💬︎
👤︎ u/rebeetle
📅︎ May 11 2020
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[Hallowed] - Chapter 5: Guardian

[Start here]

Chapter 5: Guardian

The Silent Tower; 25 March, Year 329 of the Hallowed Era

“Ajjraean,” repeated Avenel. “You had a child with an Ajjraean woman.”

Vallus nodded. He didn’t look at her, keeping his eyes instead fixed on the ring in his hand. He remembered giving it to Edith, to give to Deena when the time was right. He had never imagined that it would be Avenel who brought it back to him.

“Vallus,” said Avenel. “That was foolish.”

“I know,” said Vallus, “but Deena isn’t— I mean, you saw her. She’s a child, just a child. She’s harmless.”

“The Council won’t see it that way.”

Vallus looked up. “You aren’t going to tell them, are you?”

“Of course not,” said Avenel, “but you can’t hide her forever.”

“I know. I just—I wanted to protect her. It was the only way I knew how.”

“Did you know that her mother was Ajjraean when you laid with her?”

“I did,” said Vallus. “I know what you and Ephraim always said: ‘Don’t let your feelings cloud your judgement.’ But heavens help me, I…” He sighed. “I would turn back time to be with her again.”

“You loved her,” said Avenel.

Vallus nodded. “With everything I have.”

Avenel looked at him for a moment, then pulled over a chair and sat down. “Tell me about her,” she said. “How did you meet?”

He sighed. Where to begin? “She was a painter,” he said. “Neither of us were Hallowed, then. Every week, she would come to my father’s shop to buy her dyes, and I always made sure that I was the one at the counter.” He smiled. “Later, she told me that some weeks she didn’t even need anything; she just wanted to see me. Well, one thing led to another. We wanted to marry, to start a family, but you remember how things were back then. We were by the border, and a town like ours was always being raided, if not by one side then by the other. We didn’t want to raise our family in that kind of place. So one day, when the Elyrians came, I told them where the merchants liked to hide the best of their goods, in exchange for a better life. I didn’t know it at the time, but the very same night, the Ajjraeans came as well. Their general was Lord Raniith—you remember how his wife was a fan of the arts—and when he saw Fosette in her studio, he offered her a place in his household. She thought the same thing that I did, that she would come back for me once she was Hallowed, but by then we were both already gone. For decades I searc

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👍︎ 6
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👤︎ u/Rosefae
📅︎ Aug 02 2020
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Battletech Extended 3025 - Commanders Edition. Full review, rundown and tactically practical assessment.

Edit: Current version of mod needs 1.8.1. Almost everything that’s in 1.9 was already in mod. You won’t notice a difference if you rollback=) Here’s rollback instructions.

Just want to leave a little (edit: LONG) review of for BEX. Fair warning, I like to be thorough and I want people to know how it plays in detail because I think there’s a lot of people that would enjoy it... but perhaps are put off by having to deal with mods, or worried about changing the game too much.

I’m going to go into specific detail about as much as I can. I’m a massive strategy and tactics gamer. Started with Battletech and 40k then eventually got into pc shit. I literally have everything even remotely strategy. Been playing since XCom UFO Defense and MechCommander. Strategic depth and variation is absolutely essential for replay value. As well, stuff needs to make sense and allow for min maxing across multiple aspects.

My main branch of games are titles like Project Zomboid, Total Warhammer (all TW really), Rimworld, X-Com 2 / Long War... those are my fucking jam and they all did a really amazing job at mod integration that extended life of game faaaar beyond my initial investment. What’s more is they’re all easy to mod and tweak. Well thankfully Battletech is joining those hallowed ranks and not by default, or nostalgia, or almost as good... hands down quality confirmed outstanding gameplay delivery is what the full game + BEX deliver. I’ll try and convince you of that now.

TL:DR HIGHLY RECOMMENDED If you don’t at least try it... you’re getting about half the Battletech experience as everyone else. Maybe even less.

BEX is much closer to the game I had in mind as a whole. This is due in huge part to the ModDev but the foundation that HBS laid really left a lot of room for modders to step up and boy did they ever.

I always do a vanilla playthrough on any game before I start modding. I want to know how the game plays as the studio intended before I assess and attempt to correct any issues.

Played the campaign, enjoyed it, was way OP by the time I got to last missions, had every mech, all the best parts, nothing the enemy did even tickled. What’s more... I felt something was missing. So? Mod time.

I went with Battletech Extended 3025 Commander’s Edition because it was the closest to vanilla gameplay while adding a ton of features that i fe

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📅︎ Mar 16 2020
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The Strange Tales of Killian Barker: Dark Child

The Strange Tales of Killian Barker: Dark Child

Killian rechecked the address before looking up at the rundown old parking structure.

658 Thrunewood drive was a corner lot in Atlanta, Georgia's business district. It should have been a towering glass edifice full of men in suits and women in blazers. It should have been a tech startup or a trendy bar. Hells bells, it should have been a functional parking garage at the very least. Instead, it was a crumbling, five-story concrete monstrosity. Spray paint and graffiti-covered the walls, and the thick scrub grass grew up between the cracks in the cement. He could see the leavings of people, probably kids who came to smoke or homeless looking to get out of the weather. As he stepped inside, he could already tell that it was cleaner than most places in such disarray. Homeless people stayed for the night but never for the whole night. Necking teens and junkies looking for a place to flop did not come here after dark. He didn't need the little card that was in his pocket to tell him that this place was a hot spot.

Killian would have wagered that it practically thrummed after dark.

He stepped inside the crumbling structure and stepped around the broken security arm that was meant to keep cars out until they'd paid for a ticket. Someone had snapped it in the middle, and now it just hung lamely, wobbling in the setting sun. The guard booth it fronted had windows caked in dust, and the seat inside seemed to be a chewed hole for mice now. On the desk sat a lonely can of Pepsi that had probably been there since the last person who sat that seat departed. He betted there was still Pepsi inside too.

He kept moving, looking for her.

She was the reason he had been sent by the Agency. She had caused quite a stir the last time someone had come after dark. She had given a homeless man a heart attack and scared three more near to death. They had run, but the dead man had stayed. He stayed, and she's fed on him. She had tasted life force, and that was why he was here. She was a ticking time bomb, and he was here to offer her a way back before it was too late; if it wasn't already too late.

He found her sitting on the hood of a rusty car on the deck below this one.

In the semi-darkness, she appeared as any other normal little girl. She wore a school uniform, though the garment was filthy with dirt and mud. Her dark hair hung limply in its sodden pigtails, and he could see a single bare sock dangled next to i

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👍︎ 7
📰︎ r/Erutious
💬︎
👤︎ u/Erutious
📅︎ Aug 04 2020
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Fruits Basket complete first season companion+ Frequently asked questions

Welcome to the complete companion for season 1 of Fruits Basket 2019. I am very late getting this out due to personal struggles, but I wanted to get it out before season 2 so new comers could read it.

For the uninitiated, this breaks down the 2019 anime, the 2001 version and details exactly what chapters of the manga are adapted. It is a Spoiler free guide where anime only watchers can also see how much of the manga the series has adapted without being spoiled. To help the uninitiated, I have added a small batch of frequently asked questions at the beginning.

How many episodes is Fruits Basket:

  • Fruits Basket 2019, first season: 25 episodes (more seasons to follow).
  • Fruits Basket 2001: 26 episodes.

How many episodes will Fruits Basket 2019 be?. Besides the 25 episodes we have for season 1 and with season 2 coming out this April with most likely another 25 episodes, it's hard to tell. While no episode count has been officially confirmed, rumors have circulated that the show will at least be around 60+ episodes (Eric Vale the english voice actor of Yuki said that the series will be 63 episodes long, he has since taken back what he has said, saying it isn't true). The series could be done in that time frame but I think a few stories would have to be rushed and I would prefer they do three seasons of 25 episodes each (4 seasons would be preferable because the world is so big and there is a lot that they could explore that Takaya didn't go into detail on, but I seriously doubt they would do that!).

Will it adapt the entire story of the manga? Yes, the plan is for this to be a complete adaptation of the manga which is 23 volumes long, 136 chapters.

How much of the manga did the first season of Fruits Basket 2019 cover? it covers 43 chapters. In Detail: chapters 1-35, 37-41.43-45, 51.

How much manga did the 2001 anime cover? it covers 40 chapters. In detail: chapters 1-34, 36-38,42, 44-45.

Can I continue the manga from where the first season left off? Not really. You could, but it would make for a confusing and highly complicated read. To be specific, 2019 changes its order of chapters around so that it can pace the story out a lot better. For example, episode 25 ends on chapter 35 (with a couple changes). But if you read from there, you would be highly confused, as the series adapted a lot of stories earlier. Chapter 37 and 38 were adapted in episode 20 (Hiro's introduction). Uotani's flashback in chapters 39, 4

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📅︎ Jan 24 2020
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Room 380: The Mermaid Suite

You know, I never actually found the Moosejaw Lodge and trust me. I looked.

I guess I was lucky that Allison had to work for the last few days of the week and had sent me up to get our room early. Truth be told, I was kinda glad that she wasn’t with me. I could already hear her voice in my head.

“Just look at the map Patricia. Use Waze Patricia. Just pull over and let me drive Patricia!”

There’s backseat driving, and then there’s Allison. Being stuck in the car with her is like doing your driving test all over again and that was the last thing I needed during the drive up.

I suppose it’s obvious that Allison and I weren’t doing so well. There was a time when I was ready to marry her, but over the past six years she’d slowly worn me down. It’s the little things at first. Bits of playful criticism that still manage to have a fair bit of bite behind them. Then the bite becomes less subtle. Then you decide you’re going to say something and that’s when the argument starts. Rinse and repeat, over and over again.

I’d heard about Moosejaw through a friend. I’d mentioned to her that things weren’t going so well between Allison and I, and that was when she’d told me all about where she'd gone to revitalize her own relationship.

“Look, we all get stressed. That’s life,” she’d said to me. “But you’ve got to make time for each other. Remind yourselves why you fell in love. I get so preoccupied with work, and my wife really gets busy. We both get stressed. So I know exactly how you feel. My friend told me about this place up North though. It’s a nice little lodge called Moosejaw. You’re far away from everything, it’s just the two of you and it’s nice. You can just reconnect. I don’t think I’ve seen my wife that happy in a long, long time… Maybe it’ll do you and Allison some good too.”

I’d been sold, or at least as sold as I could get. I did love Allison, even if she was a pain in my ass and I wanted to set things right. I wanted our relationship to go back to the way it was, before we were constantly yelling at each other and fighting. I missed that and I would’ve done anything to get it back. Besides, we could probably both use a vacation and I loved going up north. My grandfather had, had a cottage when I’d been a kid and I had a lot of fond memories of diving into the cool, clear waters of the lake out behind his cottage. I used to swim and fish for hours on end. Used to. It had been years since I’d been up north and I missed it! Swimming in the po

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👍︎ 56
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 03 2020
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My Name is Lily Madwhip and I Have to Murder My Friend For a Dead Woman

My name is Lily Madwhip and I have to murder my friend for a dead woman.

“Make sure you check the air in the tires.”

That’s Jamal. He lives next door to me and he’s my second best friend, though he thinks he’s my first. I’m borrowing his bicycle to get across town to the Red Moon Hotel, where my third best friend Meredith is currently staying. It’s a long story, so let me just get you up to speed.

Meredith has a melted Barbie named Nathaniel that makes her able to burn things when she’s angry. I mean like burn things without matches. I’ve burned things when I was angry, but they were old journals from second grade and I used a magnifying glass and the heat from the sun. It took forever, but I managed to burn a hole right through them. That’s-- that’s beside the point.

Meredith has to die. The ghost of a dead police officer named Office Flowers told me this. It was backed up by my doll Paschar. If I was someone else, this would sound crazy to me. So I’m not telling Jamal why he’s loaning me his bicycle. He thinks it’s because Meredith is in danger from a man who looks very weasel-like who happened to assault my dad, kidnap me, crash our car leaving my dad in a coma, and try to turn Meredith into a supervillain.

I guess that’s more believable to Jamal.

It’s been three days since Officer Flowers told me I had to kill Meredith if I wanted her to help my dad come out of his coma. I’ve been going to school every day since then, waiting for her to show up. I’m not sure how I would have killed her if she had shown up, I was still working that out, but when I’m around Meredith the things I say tend to come true, so I could just tell her that she was going to accidentally stab herself with her pencil and --boom.

Except that would be awful. Ugh. Just thinking about it makes my tummy hurt. I don’t want her to die. I've got to do this though, as an act of vengeance for the angel of death. Because Meredith killed Officer Flowers. On purpose I think. Maybe by accident. Whatever the reason, Officer Flowers died and wants revenge, and now it’s my job.

“Lily... hey, Lily.” Jamal snaps his fingers in front of my face. I was zoning out again. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll check the air in the tires.”

Meredith didn’t show up for school. Not Wednesday, not Thursday, and not Friday. I should have figured she wouldn’t. I mean I ended up with two broken ribs, trapped in a burning hou

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👍︎ 5k
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Feb 25 2019
🚨︎ report
The Manikin. Part One.

I woke up last night when I heard a stealthy scraping sound outside my door. It was locked—I always lock it, I have since I was a kid, but that didn’t stop something from trying the knob. From trying to get to me.

I sat in bed, petrified, even after I heard the rustle-shuffle of it moving away dejectedly. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. Just breathing, existing, was enough of an effort right then. So I sat there, staring at the door, waiting for the thing to come back or find another way in. It knew I was in here, and I didn’t believe it would ever really give up.

I knew it too well for that.


I barely remember my mother. She died away from home when I was five years old, and the best explanation I ever got for what happened to her was “an accident. A terrible, terrible accident.” What memories I have of her are faded and strange for the most part, but I do have one specific memory that I suspect is actually some amalgam of different memories and things I’ve added from what I’ve been told and my own imagination.

It’s the image of her sitting in her sewing room working on a dress. My father said she only made dresses as a hobby, but that she was very talented. That may be, but in my memory what I remember the most is how graceful and poised she seems as her hands dart this way and that with a needle. How beautiful her voice is as she sings absently along with the rhythm of her work. And most importantly, how I can’t understand how she can work so close to the manikin and not see the shiny red beetles climbing out of its skin.


If the end of my experiences with my mother resides at the edge of my early childhood memory, it shares the space with my first memories of the manikin. From what I understand, it had once belonged to my grandfather when he was a teacher in a medical school up north. When he died of a heart attack at fifty-two, my mother took it as part of her inheritance—a full-sized, anatomically-correct doll of a woman. At one time, it had likely been a state-of-the-art teaching aid, as it was remarkably lifelike and had panels on the front and back of the torso that could be removed to reveal a fully-realized interior full of metal ribs and leather lungs, rubber arteries and silken folds of intestine. Externally, it had been modeled after a beautiful lady, though with time the painted lips had faded and the smooth skin had become mottled with discoloration.

Many people would have found it creepy or grotes

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👍︎ 208
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
👤︎ u/Verastahl
📅︎ Feb 03 2020
🚨︎ report
Don't Believe His Smile

18th April, 1991

My dad used to tell me a story when I was a child, of a hereditary spirit known only in our family as the grinning man, passed down through generations. He would warn of tragedies, appearing before misfortunes to alert the bearer of his curse that something terrible would shortly happen. One day, he said, once his body has returned to the weeds, the grinning man would come to me.

The borders of the cemetery were teaming with crowds of reporters and journalists, all eager to take that one perfect picture to go on the front of which ever paper they were there for, I suspected as much. But I was a step ahead. As my father’s casket was lowered into the ground, I scanned the surrounding crowd of mourners for my private hire, the only photographer I would allow into the ceremony, Jeremy Winger. I spotted him on the other side of the hole, his fluffed russet hair sticking out between a couple of suits that I couldn’t quite place. Business partners of my father I figured; he had many. Once Jeremy locked eyes with me I nodded to him subtly, he nodded back and began doing what he was there to do.

I could see that the constant flashing of Jeremys camera was upsetting the already upset people in attendance. Namely my brother, Edward, he shot me a brief look of disappointment. Listen, if people are going to take pictures the least I could do was make sure they would be good ones. It was a win win, I made sure Jeremy would get the best shots, that way he could sell them to all the papers and its not as though they would use any of their own, all the other photographers were a hundred feet away. As the eldest son I was now the honorary head of the family and I had to make a good first impression, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some hack, amateur journalist cover the event or let a shoddy blurry image make it to the front of tomorrows paper.

The car ride home was uncomfortable, my wife, Liliane glared at me the entire way there. Not just because of Jeremy, there were lots of reasons for her to be upset. I wish I understood that at the time.

Later that night me and my wife crawled into bed, not saying so much as goodnight to each other. She rolled over, her back facing me, I waited to see if she would say anything to me. she never did and eventually I drifted off. It couldn’t have been more than two hours before I awoke to her prodding my back. I rubbed my eyes and perked up, ‘perhaps she was about to apologise’ I thought. “Are you goin

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👍︎ 36
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ May 16 2020
🚨︎ report
The Dentler House - A collection of personal Horror - Very long TLDR @ The bottom

Hey guys, this is by far the scariest series of events that still haunt my dreams every so often to tis very day.

Portland, Oregon summer of 1993. I was 10.

This house in South East Portland was a former, civil war era home built sometime in the 1860s. It was big, with multiple staircases, a big wrap-around porch, a layout that confuses me to this day, and the creepiest of vibes. The family that moved into the house were friends of mine and my mother's from church. They were a fundamentalist christian family with a lot of kids. I mean, a lot. Think the Duggars, just with a bit of a Roman Catholic vibe.

The very day we helped them move in, we noticed paranormal and just utterly weird things in the house. When we started to load their boxes into the massive basement, we noticed the names and birth/death dates of a hundred or so dogs that had been bred in that basement. The old kennels, were still there fixed to the wall with some old rusty bolts. At one point when the second oldest son, we'll call him Mike, and I were carrying boxes down the stairs we heard dog barking coming from a remote portion of the basement. We looked at one another, and set the boxes down to search the area to make sure a stray hadn't found it's way in. We found nothing. Every so often, you could be in the kitchen or front hall and hear the same barking come from the basement.

The rest of the stories I've broken up into mini stories below:

-The Old Man on the stairs-

Mike and I were sort of an item. Yeah we were young but we were starting to explore our sexuality together. I'm gay, he turned out to be BI. Late one night I was asleep snuggled up to him in his bed, when I heard footsteps outside the door. Since Mike had almost 7 siblings (Including the infant baby brother) this wouldn't have been out of the ordinary. The troubling part was though, they were heavy, almost stomping like someone wearing boots, as in the kind with thick wooden soles or something like that. No one in the house owned any boots like that. I disengaged from Mike, and slid out of bed to get on my underwear and T shirt, and check it out. I didn't see anyone in the foyer where the sound had been heard. At that moment I felt the call of nature, and decided to go to the downstairs bathroom.

The staircase was long, and fairly narrow with a twisting bend halfway down. The paneling on either side prevented you from seeing if anyone was on the stairs below. I step on the stairs, and at that moment the stom

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👍︎ 4
💬︎
📅︎ Apr 09 2020
🚨︎ report
Floor 6: Till the Walls Bleed

Final Report to Mr. Eggs, Thursday, March 26th, 2020.

Better read it all. It's the last report I'll have a chance to make. The job ended early, and badly. But when I'm hired, I see the job through. I can't get all the salmon, but I'll by God write a report saying why.

Here's your damn code phrase: Early Bird Prosthetic Femur Salesman. Google yourself silly.

There's still salmon on the way to your cutout, Molly and Dale's last shipments. We got a lot, a load of bones, maybe 800-900 steaks, but it cost way too much.

Like you told me, I'm posting anonymously to the internet, and inserting my first reports in this one. Good thing, since it looks like my first two reports got deleted; Google only shows the third. Since this is the last report, I'm not hiding names of the Hotel Non Dormiunt or the towns. It doesn't matter who sees these reports any more.


First Report to Mr. Eggs, Friday, March 6, 2020.

Wed, Mar 4, 2020. Driving through Mount Ida, Arkansas, I found a rock shop selling big chunks of raw glass. I loaded a forty-pound pink lump into my trunk. I also did a little scouting around Lake Ouachita, looking for quiet access points.

At a hardware store in Hot Springs, I bought fifteen feet of 1/16" steel cable. Cash for everything, of course.

Thu, Mar 5, 2020. In Hot Springs, I contacted the amateur historian you named. Frankly, at this point I believed you were getting scammed, this historian was running some weird con. Seriously, a hi-rise hotel that appears and disappears? Complete crock.

The gangster part of it didn't bug me, from you or from him. I'd heard of Yankee gangsters like Capone and Dillinger vacationing in Arkansas. My own grandfather claimed to have seen John Dillinger on Bath House Row when he was a kid.

Sounds crazy today, but in 1931 Bugsy Siegel's Las Vegas was still sixteen years away. Hot Springs was wide-open, gambling and drinking, classy natural-spring bath houses, whores high-toned enough for a Boston cathouse.

I told the guy I'd buy him lunch, a place out near Lake Ouachita. I let him chatter as I drove, about Al Capone's favorite Suite 443 at the Arlington Hotel in Hot Springs. One time it was unavailable, so Capone stayed at another hotel, "newly built" (though nobody'd noticed construction) a block away. "Where the wax museum is now," he said.

The guy tried to describe his research, rambling about how he'd traced the granddaughter of a Depression-era whore. "She remembered

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👍︎ 57
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 26 2020
🚨︎ report
You won't believe what happened to me today. To protect my privacy I changed names . Enjoy this little part of my day

INT. HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM – DAY A WEIRD FLICKERING WHITE LIGHT strobes the screen, accompanied by PROJECTOR NOISE and an OFFSCREEN CONTROL VOICE. CONTROL VOICE 5...4...3...2...1...detonate! The light becomes brighter as we pan over to MARTY MCFLY, 17, a good looking kid wearing Porsche mirrored sunglasses. The mirrored lenses reflect the MUSHROOM CLOUD of an ATOMIC EXPLOSION. THE RED HOT OPENING MUSIC KICKS IN; MAIN TITLES BEGIN. Marty starts bopping along to the rock and roll: hes plugged into a WALKMAN STEREO. We are in a contemporary HIGH SCHOOL CLASSROOM where 30-odd STUDENTS are watching a 16mm documentary about nuclear tests of the 1950s. SERIES OF SHOTS — MAIN TITLE SEQUENCE BORED STUDENTS watch the black and white movie. Only MARTY is enjoying himself as he listens to his stereo. MARTYS FOOT taps in time to the music. The teacher, MRS. WOODS, 45, looks around the classroom, making sure the students are paying attention. She has her “Classroom Planner” in hand. The DOCUMENTARY depicts preparations for another atomic test, noting that as many as 20 were done per year in the 1950s. Footage shows how tract houses were constructed and peopled with mannequins to measure the effects of radiation. MARTY continues bopping along. MRS. WOODS notices the one head in the classroom bobbing. MARTYS FOOT continues tapping in time. Now a PAIR OF WOMANS SHOES step into FRAME. MRS. WOODS is standing next to Marty, arms crossed, staring at him. But Marty is oblivious to her. SUZY PARKER, 17, an attractive girl, looks over at the situation in horror. Mrs. Woods waves her hand in front of Martys sunglasses. No reaction. Suzy turns her head — she cant bear to watch. Mrs. Woods gently removes Marty*s sunglasses. His eyes are closed. Now Marty opens his eyes. He looks up at Mrs. Woods and smiles weakly. Mrs. Woods does not smile back. She rips the headphones off — the MUSIC abruptly

MRS. WOODS Mr. McFly: detention! CUT TO: INT. STRICKLANDS OFFICE — DAY CLOSE ON MARTYS WALKMAN in a pair of ELDERLY MALE HANDS being placed in a WOODWORKING VISE mounted on the corner of a desk. WIDER — STRICKLAND*S OFFICE Marty fidgets uneasily in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the sparse office as MR. STRICKLAND, a humorless disciplinarian, tightens the vise. Strickland looks 60, but he could be 160 — he was born old and stayed that way, and has been at this school forever. Strickland gazes at Marty, then gives the vise a hard, mean wrenc

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👍︎ 5
📰︎ r/teenagers
💬︎
📅︎ Apr 26 2020
🚨︎ report
What does "p a h p i d t i H a m o" mean?

Hi all,

Sorry about the vague title. I thought it might be the best way to catch your attention, because I've been dealing with a problem that's had me at my wit's end the whole day and...well, honestly, I need all the help I can get. I'm typing this up in the kitchen right now. It's the only place I feel comfortable in because there are no dolls here.

I'll explain: I’m housesitting for my friend’s house this week. I don’t usually do things like this (I always feel like an intruder in other people’s homes), but he was my best friend in high school and really helped me through a lot. We haven’t been as close since his daughter, Kit, committed suicide a year ago. It's been hard on them, to the point where we dropped out of contact for a while. Imagine my surprise when they called me last week, asking if I could housesit for them. They didn’t have anyone else to go to, they said, and of course that made me feel sorry for them.

So I said yes, and last Thursday I came over with a week’s worth of clothes, and they gave me a rundown of their rules. I could pretty much do anything what I wanted, except have other people over (as if I had enough other friends for that), or go into Kit’s room.

They were pretty strict about that second one. I don’t blame them, though. I think they’ve been keeping it untouched since her death — I hear about parents doing that as a coping mechanism all the time, so I completely understand.

Plus, it’s a little creepy to even be on the same floor as a room where a now-dead girl used to sleep, you know?

Anyways, they left after that — now that I think about it, they didn’t even tell me where they were going, just that they were in a hurry. The first night went pretty quietly. I slept on the couch — again, that whole feeling-like-an-intruder thing. It didn’t feel right to sleep upstairs, and I slept just as well on the couch. The tap-tap-tapping of the clock made it easy to fall asleep.

Friday — yesterday — was quiet too. I didn’t do much, just read from their books. I stayed in their living room at first, but the dolls on the shelves were starting to seriously creep me out. I swear, there’s at least one doll in every room I’ve seen, even in the halls. They’re on the shelves in the living room, there’s one on top of the grandfather clock in the hall, and there are little matroyshka dolls in the bathroom. I haven’t been to any of the upstairs rooms, but I’d bet there are dolls there too. That’s why I’ve been in the kitchen — no

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👍︎ 3k
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
👤︎ u/tricolons
📅︎ Jun 19 2016
🚨︎ report
Jerry Rhigg can fix anything

  Good memories are the last to fade. I guess that's why the fond memories of Mr. Rhigg are the only ones that keep coming back, despite what he did to our town. To me.

  I can still vibrantly see his five foot stature, wild corn-colored hair and dirty matching yellow jumpsuit behind a network of leather holsters weighed down by every kind of tool imaginable in my childhood memories. I guess everyone in this town has memories of the magic man in his workshop, a workshop that expanded from a single room to an entire city block over the years. I don't know where he got the money from to expand- he charged next to nothing for his services, sometimes just half of cup of coffee or a bite of a sandwich for a repair that would have been expensive or impossible. That's why everyone I know had been to Jerry at least once in their lives, to fix something- or just watch the show.

  From five in the morning to ten at night, a solid 100-plus line of customers slowly shuffled towards the great, vast red warehouse in the center of his property, a warehouse large and tall enough to dissect a blue whale in. Townies and tourists carried, towed, rolled or limped their problems into Jerry's shop. Everyone waiting in line was able to see how Jerry Rhigg worked, and it was always a wonder to watch him work. Some of those fonder older memories are of his hands blurred from the speed of repairing everything from single prop airplanes to TV sets, microwaves to ripped antique paintings, muscle cars to leather jackets to misplanted seedlings with only a few motions. And how he worked, my god. It was something out of a cartoon, or at least a hard-to-believe movie.

  Half of the things brought to Jerry were fixed with a single smart tap or jostle, much to amusement of everyone. He could flick off bolts, snap glass shards together so tightly they didn't need glue....one time, the university put a very complex piece of their spectrometer on his workbench, and Jerry loosened the screws and slammed his fist on the workbench, sending the screws, back panel and guts of the piece to flop out perfectly and land in neat little rows on the table. He popped something from a light blue circuit board, re-soldered it and reassembled it in less than a second. He always made the impossible seem easy. That was hard for me to accept as a kid that struggled with every school subject, and I even harbored a little jealously against Rhigg until he he finished

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👍︎ 533
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Dec 27 2018
🚨︎ report
I'm Afraid it's Time

Have you ever glanced at an analog clock to find that the second hand has frozen. You instinctively know that a second, perhaps even two, has passed. Even as the timepiece refutes your ingrained theories. This is a known phenomena. Studied, cataloged, discussed and dubbed chronostasis. It is the same phenomena that prevents you from seeing your own eyes move in a mirror as you shift your gaze back and forth between your right and left eye.

We humans are more sure of the machinations that we set in motion, than we are of our own perception. When perception does not meet the expected reality we target the mind itself. Turning in on our own consciousness, an imperfect machine fighting for self-repair and avoiding the truth. That the glitch is out there. That the clarity and logic we construct of the world each passing minute applies only to ourselves, not to our universe.

My mind flutters and buzzes with these thoughts, becoming more scattered and incoherent as time passes and the room darkens. The book on my lap falls to the floor, disturbing me only slightly as I press back into the leather chair.

I always felt some small amount of guilt sleeping in the library. I wanted to be there for Karen each and every night. Warming her, warming myself, wrapping my arms around her. I was beyond lucky to share a bed with such an incredibly beautiful and youthful woman. While our friend's wives struggled to retain every last ounce of attractiveness they once held, Karen was steadfast. As beautiful as the day I met her. But I could never sleep deeply beside her. As long as I've known her, Karen would vocalize her dreams relentlessly through the night. It was neither quiet nor infrequent. I had considered remaining awake at her bedside to log everything she said, many times. I thought she would be shocked at the sheer amount of material it would produce, even in addition to the intriguing content.

Karen had always been a fan of period drama. She took her fill of plays, books, reenactment programs, and the History channel constantly. She would end each evening excitedly explaining some long forgotten but important historical fact to me, before turning in. And her nocturnal mutterings followed suit. Snippets about rebellions, cholera outbreaks, children being crushed by wagons. It was quite like reading William Burroughs. Cut up pieces for you to try to assemble. This made sleeping near her even worse for me, being inclined toward over-analysis. But I

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👍︎ 121
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
👤︎ u/hashbanger
📅︎ Jan 22 2019
🚨︎ report
[Hire Me] Do you want to build a stronger connection with your eCommerce customers? Then I want you to spend every morning away from your computer, and with your loved ones this holiday season. (Minus the Mother-In-Law, Of Course)

Do you want to build a stronger connection with your eCommerce customers?

You know content is king when it comes to building a lasting connection with your customers. I’ll handle your article writing today. Then, you can take a load off, and relax with your family over the holidays. It’s worth every penny to focus on what really matters.

I completely understand how tough it can be to get the right work/life balance when running your own eCommerce site. Your goal is financial freedom doing something that you love, and all the leg work of content creation is sucking hours out of your life every month.

I set out to start my own journey to financial freedom over two years ago when I made the switch to working for myself. It’s not easy to do it all, but I’m here to help you get one step closer to a relaxing day by taking some of the workload off of you, and putting it on me. Take a minute to kick back, and enjoy your coffee tomorrow morning. I’ll handle all of your content creation in a common sense approach to give value back to your customers, and you can plan your next big move without being glued to your keyboard.

-Thanks, that sounds like a great plan, Terry. What will you do to help my website?

There are a couple of important practices that I stick to when writing automotive content. Here’s a really quick look at the common sense principles I strive to offer for every customer experience. You don’t have to wait hours for a sample of my work, I’m going to give you everything you need to know about my process. You can take this information and keep writing your own content. But, I’m so confident that you’ll love my method, and I know you’ll be beating down my door so you can start enjoying your mornings again. Hey buddy, you just take a load off, and put your alarm clock on snooze tomorrow. I’ve got this.

All I want to do is leave you wondering this one question at the end of my post:

-If Terry can do this much with just one idea, then what great stuff can he do for my business?

I want you to seriously ask yourself that question. If I don’t have you wondering in the next five minutes, then turn off your screen, walk outside, and forget I even exist. Because if I can’t get that thought into your head, then I’m not worth the salt on your scrambled eggs. But if I do get your wheels turning and a few great ideas start bouncing around, then you know how to get in touch.

Let's get started: You can be Bob for a minute, and I'll

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👍︎ 4
💬︎
📅︎ Dec 08 2019
🚨︎ report
Lost Time: the First Neverglades Mystery (Part 1)

Pacific Glade is a quiet town, mostly. That’s one of the perks of living so far away from everyone else. It’s the kind of place where you’d let your kids wander long after the sun goes down, a place where you don’t mind animals coming out of the forest to nuzzle your heels and beg for scraps. We get next to zero tourism. Some people joke that we should call it the Neverglades. We’re that blip on the map you’d never notice unless you were driving through. The whole town could disappear from the face of the earth one day and the rest of the world would never notice our absence.

If you’ve spent most of your life here, like me, you grow used to its idiosyncrasies. Take the weather. We’ve had hailstorms in July and hot December nights that would make you want to jump headfirst into Lake Lucid. The woods make noises too. The usual hoots and howls, of course, but sometimes when it’s late, you can hear these strange scraping sounds from the trees that make the fillings in your teeth tingle. And let’s not forget that summer when every single chicken in the Glade vanished overnight. They never found a trace of those critters – not even a single feather left behind.

Par for the course for the average citizen. But when you work here as a homicide detective, you notice other things. Bodies with unexplained wounds and markings. Trails that lead nowhere. Pieces that don’t quite fit together, no matter how much you turn them. Eventually you have to accept that not all cases can be solved. It’s a shitty feeling, but that’s reality for you. Some killers never get caught. Some deaths have no satisfying explanation. You take the good cases with the bad and hope you leave the world at least a little better than you found it.

The case that changed everything for me started out no different from all the others. I was driving down the highway in my police cruiser, flipping through radio stations on the dash, when Olivia Marconi’s voice came crackling over my walkie-talkie. “You there, Mark?” she said. “We’ve got a suspicious death at the gas station on Minnow Street. This one’s got your department written all over it.”

I brought the walkie up to my mouth. “Be there in a sec,” I said. “Try and keep the body warm for me.”

“Just get over here, asshole.” I could usually tell when Marconi was messing with me, but there was no smirk in her voice this time. That didn’t bode well. My smile fading, I stepped on the gas and rocketed down the highway toward the center of town.

No matt

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👍︎ 242
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Feb 05 2018
🚨︎ report
There's something in the Norwegian woods and I have proof (part 1)

Part 2

As I'm writing this, I'm currently sitting in a cabin in the woods, miles away from civilization. My power is about to go out and I know it’s still outside. I heard it about an hour ago. If you're reading this, it means I’m still alive.

My grandfather passed at the age of 90. My grandmother died from cancer when she was young. I hope my mother has inherited more of her father's genes. She has been going through rough times since she hit menopause though. I guess time will tell. Perhaps my grandfather's old age wasn't so much due to genetics as it was to his habits.

In the 1950's, Jon built a cabin in a remote part of the Norwegian woods, and did so all by himself. He'd lived through the war, and I suppose wanted a place peaceful. That's why he chose this lot, here in the isolated wilderness, where hope of phone reception is a recurring hope crushed, and where the trees tower in their domain, eternal and indifferent. It's a log cabin, carved out of these very woods, overlooking a small lake with no name. One cheap solar panel was installed towards the end of his life. There's no running water and the cold takes care of the refrigeration in the trapdoor cellar.

Despite the remote location, I spent a lot of time here as a child. First, my mother, Jon and me. Then, when Jon's age finally began catching up to him, my mother and I. Now, as my mother too is growing old, the cabin has remained abandoned for nearly a decade.

I remember being small, waking up to the sound of wooden whispers and the smell of bacon cooking on the gas stove. I remember Lemon Tree playing on the old FM receiver, and the glow of the kerosene lamp, holding the dark at bay as we played our board games, most of which were missing pieces, so we had to use coins or matches to play. Although these memories, the good ones, will remain with me for life, there's something that remains with me in a much different manner, and that's my grandfather's stories.


We had a curfew, and that curfew was enacted at nightfall. You had to make sure you had peed before the sun set, because the outhouse was off-limits when night came. The first time I was there, at least at an age where any form of self-agency had developed, I asked him why we couldn't go outside. He smiled playfully.

“Or else the monsters gonna get

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👍︎ 704
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ Oct 29 2017
🚨︎ report
Account of Iwo Jima from the USS Nevada

I was going through some old papers and found an envelope containing letters and a first hand account from my grandfather who was on the USS Nevada during the battle of Iwo Jima. I have begun transcribing them, but there is a lot so I am just going to post the first part here and will update with the rest once I have finished transcribing (and assuming there is interest)

Prologue: I was called to active duty from Naval Reserve status in April, 1942 and was stationed at Treasure Island in San Francisco Bay from then until in the summer of 1943, assigned to duty in connection with the training of radio technicians. I was then assigned to the same type of duty in Chicago, Illinois until about February, 1944 when I was sent to Washington, D.C. for specialized training in radar counter-measures and on completion of this training in the summer of 1944 I was assigned to the staff of the Commander-in-Chief of Pacific Forces at Pearl Harbor and from there was assigned as countermeasures officer on the staff of the Commander, Service Squadron 10 who was stationed at Ulithi atoll in the Southwestern Pacific.

All of the above outlined duties had been in the nature of tedious hard work in which, while I found it highly interesting and absorbing, failed to satisfy a certain adventurous quirk in my nature so that when I was assigned to install certain new and untried (in battle) radar equipment on the USS Nevada in preparation for the attack on the Japanese held island of Iwo Jima, I was presented with an opportunity to see some real action which was a very great desire on my part as well as to test out the new equipment. I therefore obtained permission from the Commander of Service Squadron 10 and Admiral Halsey to be assigned to duty with the Nevada for the Iwo Jima campaign on account of which follows as seen by me under the circumstances described.

Dear ________: By now you have read in the papers or heard on the radio that the NEVADA participated in the invasion of IWO JIMA, so I am sending you this letter in order to bring you up to date. After leaving Hawaii, we moved out to join up with other unit of a large Fleet. We continued to have intense training practice enroute in preparation for the big event that we knew was coming. After the preliminaries were completed, we move on to the forward area (I joined the Nevada here) to await the time when we would participate in the pre-invasion day bombardment. At dawn on the scheduled day we approached the island o

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👍︎ 59
📰︎ r/history
💬︎
📅︎ Apr 07 2018
🚨︎ report
Prince, You Mustn't Fall in Love with Me! [Part 3]

Part 1 | Part 4


I am sixteen years old, but, really, I feel like I’m six again.

My first few days at King Rupert’s Preparatory School passed in a half-hearted flicker. Though the girls aren’t entirely ignoring me, none care for more than returning my greeting. They’re mostly girls from my previous school, but it’s not that they’ve grown up, more that the scenery changed? I mean, it’s easy to brush off something you did when thirteen and not so much at sixteen. Not to mention, they don’t want to give the boys the “wrong” impression.

Anyway, that’s of little consequence to me.

My past years have been busy with all sorts of things. Right now, I am in my room—not a shared one. The result of much effort, I whisper a pretty chant to the faeries, running my hands through my hair as a warm and gentle breeze seems to flow from my fingertips. As a result, my wet hair quickly dries.

At school, I have a simple look that is a ponytail and a blank expression, and it is a magic all of its own, making me near invisible. Now, with another chant, I borrow a little help to braid my hair into a neat updo, only taking minutes for what would have taken Ellie an hour.

That’s but the first step.

I have pretty clothes that I sewed last year, which look cheap and common due to being repurposed curtains, the fabric heavy and with a flower pattern. There’s a cap like what a maid would wear, a white cloth neatly trimmed and an elastic thread added to keep it from falling off. Unfortunately, the hat does cover most of my hair, my hair colour being pretty recognisable.

Not to boast, but it all looks rather good on me, the fit tailored and stitching neat.

Earlier on this Saturday morning, I told the manservant at the gatehouse that I would be expecting a servant later in the day and so he made a note. That’s to allow my return, the same manservant saying nothing as I now walk out through the gate. After all, his job is to check the people coming in. (Leaving, well, students can go out, but they have to be in a group and accompanied by a couple of servants.)

I had the idea from listening to Clarice. She has many stories, from her time here, of maids or footmen delivering sweets and such. That my plan works first time, well, it’s merely a reflection of my own ability—and how bli

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👍︎ 4
📰︎ r/mialbowy
💬︎
👤︎ u/mialbowy
📅︎ Sep 02 2019
🚨︎ report
I don’t bleed anymore

They were watching me and every move I made, and I wouldn’t let them know that I knew they were there. In a catatonic trance, I watched a Monarch butterfly fly into my bedroom window landing on my left ring finger as I laid in my bed. I didn’t move I just watched it and the sense of freedom it possessed. A breeze blew in and rattled my hanging dream catchers hanging from my ceiling. They swayed all of them in their rainbow colors, red, purple, orange, yellow, green and blue. The butterfly floated across the room toward an old movie poster from the Wizard of Oz. I didn’t move even when I heard the vibration rushing through my bones as I floated from my bed up to the ceiling in a trance. The clocks on the wall around me seemed to melt into the walls and I closed my eyes with pain surging suddenly from every part of me. My body remained in that position until I felt myself back in my bed. I looked around and sat up with sweat dripping from my back and forehead. It was getting hard now to stop them, what did they want?

My life had become strange and even now as I wake from this dream I can feel my body as though it is no longer part of me. This is the here and now, but once upon a time I was normal just like you.

I had weird roommates in the past, like in college when I roomed with a girl from Russia who got pissed if I ran the water when I brushed my teeth, but none ever as strange as when I bought Henley House to restore it to its previous splendor. I had been in the business of repairing homes for years with my late husband, Mitchell, before he passed away in a car accident. In that one instant, my life changed forever, and no one can prepare you for that.

Luckily our finances were okay and in excellent condition, so money wasn’t an issue, but the night terrors and the anxiety started and kept getting worse from that day forward. I had switched my medication a few times until my doctor finally got the concoction just right. Following my husband’s tragic death, I ended up feeling an overwhelming need for a change and so I bought an old property not far from Kent Ohio. It was livable, but it needed to be restored badly. I was game for a new project and so I started renovating the house on my own with little outside help. It began to take up most of my spare time and eventually the house became harder to finance as one leaky pipe turned into new floorboards and a new roof. The house had so many things that needed to be worked

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👍︎ 29
📰︎ r/nosleep
💬︎
📅︎ May 04 2018
🚨︎ report
[PI] The Disturbances – Worldbuilding - 3774 Words

Bears (original story, based on this prompt by u/cheeseguy3412)

The bell above the door tinkled.

I looked up from behind my display cabinet at the incomers, casually stowing the bear that I had been mending, out of sight.

The woman in the dress was pale, but her tightly clenched jaw spoke of inner determination. Beside her was a small boy, all of six years old. Both showed signs of having been through a recent struggle, he had scrape marks on his face and arm, and she was sporting what was going to be a magnificent black eye. The child clutched an old tartan bag tightly.

Because of my dealings in the classic market, it is seldom that I get young mothers with their charges visiting these premises. There are enough upmarket vendors out there where folk can get all the latest in insipidly bug-eyed furware, stuffed with all the sensors and automated voice/reactive sprays that any modern-thinking person could desire. That's just not my line of business.

The woman looked up at the array of dark eyes that looked down on us, each bear securely banded to its place on the stout oak shelving that lines these walls. I know the names and histories of most of them. Stoic muzzles and warm amber depths in the glass of their gaze. Good solid bears, every one.

"Mrs MacAvoy?"

"That's me, dearie. Name on the door. Now what can I be doing for you?"

"My name is Janet Price, and this is my son James. We had an incident last night - It was terrifying, all arms and claws - it.. it came through the window."

She chewed anxiously on her lip, as I adjusted my spectacles.

"You had it open on the new moon..?"

"Only the smallest crack..."

I shook my head, and hauled my body upright, letting the joints settle as I rested my hands on the counter. I'm not as agile as I used to be. "Sounds like a Danish Bogle took that wee gap as enough of an invitation. Blue, cutty spikes along the forearms?"
Mrs Price nodded mutely. I nodded as I made my way around to the front. The little boy's eyes were watering, even as he gripped the bag tighter still. He didn't take his eyes off me for a second. Like mother, like child.

I removed a little tin from a pocket in my dress, popped it open, and offered it to the pair. Mints, infused with lavender - very soothing. They also have a minor benefit in easing residual toxicity from some attacks, as well as not making my

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👍︎ 6
💬︎
👤︎ u/Twoisnoe
📅︎ Aug 05 2017
🚨︎ report
Once upon a time...

Hi everybody,

Here are some stories that my students wrote! Their mother tongue is French and they have been learning English for 3 years now. We hope you will enjoy those stories! Do not hesitate to comment😉

Based on a true story.

Emily Williams is a radio host in the United States, more precisely in New York. She is the mother of two little girls, Hanna and Spencer, Emily is overloaded with work, especially during this Christmas period.

Every morning of the week, except on Sunday, it is a real race against time: she has to arrive on time to school and she has to arrive on time at work despite all the horrible morning traffic jams! Every morning she does the same actions, every morning she races against the clock with only one purpose: not wasting time!... She has no time for other people, no time for the poor and homeless people who ask for money from car to car between each red lights. But it was the Christmas Eve … and when a homeless man arrived near her car, she opened the window of her car and, with her handbag on her knees, she looked for some money. Emily gave him 10 dollars.

The poor man who was very happy cleared his throat and with he thanked her with a sublime voice. The man’s wonderful voice stunned Emily with surprise. However the light was turning green and the other cars were honking. Emily had to move forward.

She spent a normal day at work but she often thought of the man and his voice … In the evening when she was going to bed, Emily thought that something had to be done for the man with the sublime voice. It was a rare opportunity and she had to take it.

So, the next day, Emily did not give money to the poor man, she gave him a job ! The man was overjoyed, he directly accepted. Emily suggested him to get a coffee and talk about her job proposal. Of course, Emily asked him a lot of questions. His name was Ted, he was 32 years old, he was divorced and because of his divorce he was homeless. Ted had long hair and dirty old clothes. Emily could not show him to her colleagues with this look. So, she decided to take him to a hairdresser and a stylist … He was another man, stunning with a big smile on his lips.

Immediately her colleagues fell for his charm and loved his wonderful voice.

Ted got a job on Christmas day!

Now Ted is happy and does not worry about money thanks to Emily’s help. That’s what we call a Christmas miracle !

THE END

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👍︎ 2
📰︎ r/stories
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 06
🚨︎ report
UPDATED Top 1000 Japanese Words

行く iku : go

見る miru : see, look at

多い ooi : a lot of, many

家 ie : home, household

これ kore : this, this one

それ sore : that, that one

私 watashi : I

仕事 shigoto : work, job

いつ itsu : when

する suru : do, make

出る deru : go out, leave

使う tsukau : use, make use of

所 tokoro : place

作る tsukuru : make, create

思う omou : think

持つ motsu : have, possess

買う kau : buy

時間 jikan : time, hour

知る shiru : know

同じ onaji : same, identical

今 ima : now

新しい atarashii : new

なる naru : become

まだ mada : not yet, still

あと ato : after

聞く kiku : hear, ask

言う iu : say, tell

少ない sukunai : few, little

高い takai : high, tall

子供 kodomo : child

そう sou : so, that way

もう mou : already, yet

学生 gakusei : student

熱い atsui : hot to touch

どうぞ douzo : please

午後 gogo : afternoon, p.m.

長い nagai : long

本 hon : book, volume

今年 kotoshi : this year

よく yoku : often, well

彼女 kanojo : she, one’s girlfriend

どう dou : how, what

言葉 kotoba : word, language

顔 kao : face

終わる owaru : finish, end

一つ hitotsu : one thing

あげる ageru : give, offer

こう kou : like this, such

学校 gakkou : school

くれる kureru : be given

始める hajimeru : start something

起きる okiru : get up, get out of bed

春 haru : spring

午前 gozen : morning, a.m.

別 betsu : another, different

どこ doko : where

部屋 heya : room

若い wakai : young

車 kuruma : car, automobile

置く oku : put, place

住む sumu : live, reside

働く hataraku : work

難しい muzukashii : difficult

先生 sensei : teacher

立つ tatsu : stand, rise

呼ぶ yobu : call, name

大学 daigaku : university, college

安い yasui : cheap, inexpensive

もっと motto : more

帰る kaeru : go back home

分かる wakaru : understand

広い hiroi : wide, big

数 suu : number

近い chikai : near, close

そこ soko : there

走る hashiru : run

入れる ireru : put in

教える oshieru : teach, tell

歩く aruku : walk, go on foot

会う au : meet

書く kaku : write

頭 atama : head

売る uru : sell

大好き daisuki : like something a lot

体 karada : body, physique

直ぐ sugu : at once, soon

飛ぶ tobu : fly

とても totemo : very

誰 dare : who

好き suki : favorite, liked

読む yomu : read

次 tsugi : next

あなた anata : you

飲む nomu : drink

古い furui : old

質問 shitsumon : question

今日 kyou : today

友達 tomodachi : friend, companion

早い hayai : early

どれ dore : what, which

美しい utsukushii : beautiful

いつも itsumo : always

足 ashi : leg, foot

起こす okosu : wake someone up

見せる miseru : show

娘 musume : daughter, girl

楽しむ tanoshimu : enjoy

色 iro : color

みんな minna : everybody

取る toru : take, get

勉強 benkyou : study

できる dekiru : can do, be go

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👍︎ 17
💬︎
📅︎ Apr 27 2020
🚨︎ report
Room 380: The Mermaid Suite

You know, I never actually found the Moosejaw Lodge and trust me. I looked.

I guess I was lucky that Allison had to work for the last few days of the week and had sent me up to get our room early. Truth be told, I was kinda glad that she wasn’t with me. I could already hear her voice in my head.

“Just look at the map Patricia. Use Waze Patricia. Just pull over and let me drive Patricia!”

There’s backseat driving, and then there’s Allison. Being stuck in the car with her is like doing your driving test all over again and that was the last thing I needed during the drive up.

I suppose it’s obvious that Allison and I weren’t doing so well. There was a time when I was ready to marry her, but over the past six years she’d slowly worn me down. It’s the little things at first. Bits of playful criticism that still manage to have a fair bit of bite behind them. Then the bite becomes less subtle. Then you decide you’re going to say something and that’s when the argument starts. Rinse and repeat, over and over again.

I’d heard about Moosejaw through a friend. I’d mentioned to her that things weren’t going so well between Allison and I, and that was when she’d told me all about where she'd gone to revitalize her own relationship.

“Look, we all get stressed. That’s life,” she’d said to me. “But you’ve got to make time for each other. Remind yourselves why you fell in love. I get so preoccupied with work, and my wife really gets busy. We both get stressed. So I know exactly how you feel. My friend told me about this place up North though. It’s a nice little lodge called Moosejaw. You’re far away from everything, it’s just the two of you and it’s nice. You can just reconnect. I don’t think I’ve seen my wife that happy in a long, long time… Maybe it’ll do you and Allison some good too.”

I’d been sold, or at least as sold as I could get. I did love Allison, even if she was a pain in my ass and I wanted to set things right. I wanted our relationship to go back to the way it was, before we were constantly yelling at each other and fighting. I missed that and I would’ve done anything to get it back. Besides, we could probably both use a vacation and I loved going up north. My grandfather had, had a cottage when I’d been a kid and I had a lot of fond memories of diving into the cool, clear waters of the lake out behind his cottage. I used to swim and fish for hours on end. Used to. It had been years since I’d been up north and I missed it! Swimming in the po

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👍︎ 103
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 03 2020
🚨︎ report
Don't Trust His Smile

18th April, 1991

My dad used to tell me a story when I was a child, of a hereditary spirit known only in our family as the grinning man, passed down through generations. He would warn of tragedies, appearing before misfortunes to alert the bearer of his curse that something terrible would shortly happen. One day, he said, once his body has returned to the weeds, the grinning man would come to me.

The borders of the cemetery were teaming with crowds of reporters and journalists, all eager to take that one perfect picture to go on the front of which ever paper they were there for, I suspected as much. But I was a step ahead. As my father’s casket was lowered into the ground, I scanned the surrounding crowd of mourners for my private hire, the only photographer I would allow into the ceremony, Jeremy Winger. I spotted him on the other side of the hole, his fluffed russet hair sticking out between a couple of suits that I couldn’t quite place. Business partners of my father I figured; he had many. Once Jeremy locked eyes with me I nodded to him subtly, he nodded back and began doing what he was there to do.

I could see that the constant flashing of Jeremys camera was upsetting the already upset people in attendance. Namely my brother, Edward, he shot me a brief look of disappointment. Listen, if people are going to take pictures the least I could do was make sure they would be good ones. It was a win win, I made sure Jeremy would get the best shots, that way he could sell them to all the papers and its not as though they would use any of their own, all the other photographers were a hundred feet away. As the eldest son I was now the honorary head of the family and I had to make a good first impression, I sure as hell wasn’t going to let some hack, amateur journalist cover the event or let a shoddy blurry image make it to the front of tomorrows paper.

The car ride home was uncomfortable, my wife, Liliane glared at me the entire way there. Not just because of Jeremy, there were lots of reasons for her to be upset. I wish I understood that at the time.

Later that night me and my wife crawled into bed, not saying so much as goodnight to each other. She rolled over, her back facing me, I waited to see if she would say anything to me. she never did and eventually I drifted off. It couldn’t have been more than two hours before I awoke to her prodding my back. I rubbed my eyes and perked up, ‘perhaps she was about to apologise’ I thought. “Are you goin

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 6
💬︎
📅︎ May 15 2020
🚨︎ report
The Strange Tales of Killian Barker: Dark Child

Killian rechecked the address before looking up at the rundown old parking structure.

658 Thrunewood drive was a corner lot in Atlanta, Georgia's business district. It should have been a towering glass edifice full of men in suits and women in blazers. It should have been a tech startup or a trendy bar. Hells bells, it should have been a functional parking garage at the very least. Instead, it was a crumbling, five-story concrete monstrosity. Spray paint and graffiti-covered the walls, and the thick scrub grass grew up between the cracks in the cement. He could see the leavings of people, probably kids who came to smoke or homeless looking to get out of the weather. As he stepped inside, he could already tell that it was cleaner than most places in such disarray. Homeless people stayed for the night but never for the whole night. Necking teens and junkies looking for a place to flop did not come here after dark. He didn't need the little card that was in his pocket to tell him that this place was a hot spot.

Killian would have wagered that it practically thrummed after dark.

He stepped inside the crumbling structure and stepped around the broken security arm that was meant to keep cars out until they'd paid for a ticket. Someone had snapped it in the middle, and now it just hung lamely, wobbling in the setting sun. The guard booth it fronted had windows caked in dust, and the seat inside seemed to be a chewed hole for mice now. On the desk sat a lonely can of Pepsi that had probably been there since the last person who sat that seat departed. He betted there was still Pepsi inside too.

He kept moving, looking for her.

She was the reason he had been sent by the Agency. She had caused quite a stir the last time someone had come after dark. She had given a homeless man a heart attack and scared three more near to death. They had run, but the dead man had stayed. He stayed, and she's fed on him. She had tasted life force, and that was why he was here. She was a ticking time bomb, and he was here to offer her a way back before it was too late; if it wasn't already too late.

He found her sitting on the hood of a rusty car on the deck below this one.

In the semi-darkness, she appeared as any other normal little girl. She wore a school uniform, though the garment was filthy with dirt and mud. Her dark hair hung limply in its sodden pigtails, and he could see a single bare sock dangled next to its shiny leather counterpart. She sat far too sti

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👍︎ 16
💬︎
👤︎ u/Erutious
📅︎ May 11 2020
🚨︎ report
Hotel Non Dormiunt - Room 380: The Mermaid Suite

You know, I never actually found the Moosejaw Lodge and trust me. I looked.

I guess I was lucky that Allison had to work for the last few days of the week and had sent me up to get our room early. Truth be told, I was kinda glad that she wasn’t with me. I could already hear her voice in my head.

“Just look at the map Patricia. Use Waze Patricia. Just pull over and let me drive Patricia!”

There’s backseat driving, and then there’s Allison. Being stuck in the car with her is like doing your driving test all over again and that was the last thing I needed during the drive up.

I suppose it’s obvious that Allison and I weren’t doing so well. There was a time when I was ready to marry her, but over the past six years she’d slowly worn me down. It’s the little things at first. Bits of playful criticism that still manage to have a fair bit of bite behind them. Then the bite becomes less subtle. Then you decide you’re going to say something and that’s when the argument starts. Rinse and repeat, over and over again.

I’d heard about Moosejaw through a friend. I’d mentioned to her that things weren’t going so well between Allison and I, and that was when she’d told me all about where she'd gone to revitalize her own relationship.

“Look, we all get stressed. That’s life,” she’d said to me. “But you’ve got to make time for each other. Remind yourselves why you fell in love. I get so preoccupied with work, and my wife really gets busy. We both get stressed. So I know exactly how you feel. My friend told me about this place up North though. It’s a nice little lodge called Moosejaw. You’re far away from everything, it’s just the two of you and it’s nice. You can just reconnect. I don’t think I’ve seen my wife that happy in a long, long time… Maybe it’ll do you and Allison some good too.”

I’d been sold, or at least as sold as I could get. I did love Allison, even if she was a pain in my ass and I wanted to set things right. I wanted our relationship to go back to the way it was, before we were constantly yelling at each other and fighting. I missed that and I would’ve done anything to get it back. Besides, we could probably both use a vacation and I loved going up north. My grandfather had, had a cottage when I’d been a kid and I had a lot of fond memories of diving into the cool, clear waters of the lake out behind his cottage. I used to swim and fish for hours on end. Used to. It had been years since I’d been up north and I missed it! Swimming in the po

... keep reading on reddit ➡

👍︎ 6
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 03 2020
🚨︎ report
My Name is Lily Madwhip and I Have to Murder My Friend For a Dead Woman

My name is Lily Madwhip and I have to murder my friend for a dead woman.

“Make sure you check the air in the tires.”

That’s Jamal. He lives next door to me and he’s my second best friend, though he thinks he’s my first. I’m borrowing his bicycle to get across town to the Red Moon Hotel, where my third best friend Meredith is currently staying. It’s a long story, so let me just get you up to speed.

Meredith has a melted Barbie named Nathaniel that makes her able to burn things when she’s angry. I mean like burn things without matches. I’ve burned things when I was angry, but they were old journals from second grade and I used a magnifying glass and the heat from the sun. It took forever, but I managed to burn a hole right through them. That’s-- that’s beside the point.

Meredith has to die. The ghost of a dead police officer named Office Flowers told me this. It was backed up by my doll Paschar. If I was someone else, this would sound crazy to me. So I’m not telling Jamal why he’s loaning me his bicycle. He thinks it’s because Meredith is in danger from a man who looks very weasel-like who happened to assault my dad, kidnap me, crash our car leaving my dad in a coma, and try to turn Meredith into a supervillain.

I guess that’s more believable to Jamal.

It’s been three days since Officer Flowers told me I had to kill Meredith if I wanted her to help my dad come out of his coma. I’ve been going to school every day since then, waiting for her to show up. I’m not sure how I would have killed her if she had shown up, I was still working that out, but when I’m around Meredith the things I say tend to come true, so I could just tell her that she was going to accidentally stab herself with her pencil and --boom.

Except that would be awful. Ugh. Just thinking about it makes my tummy hurt. I don’t want her to die. I've got to do this though, as an act of vengeance for the angel of death. Because Meredith killed Officer Flowers. On purpose I think. Maybe by accident. Whatever the reason, Officer Flowers died and wants revenge, and now it’s my job.

“Lily... hey, Lily.” Jamal snaps his fingers in front of my face. I was zoning out again. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll check the air in the tires.”

Meredith didn’t show up for school. Not Wednesday, not Thursday, and not Friday. I should have figured she wouldn’t. I mean I ended up with two broken ribs, trapped in a bur

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👍︎ 968
💬︎
📅︎ Feb 25 2019
🚨︎ report
Cannery Robed.

Third Report to Mr. Eggs, Monday, March 23, 2020.

Here's your code phrase: Early Bird Prosthetic Femur Salesman. Happy Googling.

Like you told me, I'm inserting my first reports in this one. All the usual codes.


First Report to Mr. Eggs, Friday, March 6, 2020.

Wed, Mar 4, 2020. Driving through Monktown, Arkansas, I found a rock shop selling big chunks of raw glass. I loaded a forty-pound pink lump into my trunk. I also did a little scouting around Lake Ouachita, looking for quiet access points.

At a hardware store in Hot Springs, I bought eight feet of 1/16" steel cable. Cash for everything, of course.

Thu, Mar 5, 2020. In Hot Springs, I contacted the amateur historian you hired me to deal with. Frankly, at this point I believed you were getting scammed, this historian was running some weird con. Seriously, a cannery that appears and disappears? Complete crock.

The gangster part of it didn't bug me, from you or from him. I'd heard of Yankee gangsters like Capone and Dillinger vacationing in Arkansas. My own grandfather claimed to have seen John Dillinger on Bath House Row when he was a kid.

Sounds crazy today, but in 1931 Bugsy Siegel's Las Vegas was still fifteen years away. Hot Springs was wide-open, gambling and drinking, classy natural-spring bath houses, whores high-toned enough for a Boston cathouse.

I told the guy I'd buy him lunch, a place out near Lake Ouachita. I let him chatter as I drove, all about how once Al Capone's favorite Suite 443 at the Arlington Hotel in Hot Springs was unavailable. So Capone stayed at the cannery instead.

The guy tried to describe his research, rambling about how he'd traced the granddaughter of a Depression-era whore. "She remembered all her granny's stories about Capone." Did he tell you all this crap, too?

Capone had taken two suites and several regular rooms on the C floor, the same rooms you told me. After two weeks he went back north. "Last time Capone came to Hot Springs," the guy said. "A month later he was on trial for tax evasion." He shrugged. "Unlucky place to stay, at least for him."

He thought I wanted every detail of his research. "The cannery was only here for a few weeks, so I had to track it down. I found it in San Antonio in 2014. Two blocks from the Alamo." I half-listened as he rattled on about bribing janitors and wheedling the foreman.

I didn't tell him you'd already told me the numbers. I also didn't mention the videos you took on your

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👍︎ 2
💬︎
📅︎ Mar 23 2020
🚨︎ report
A tall barefooted man in a black suit came to our town because he needed his pocketwatch fixed

  Good memories are the last to fade. I guess that's why the fond memories of Mr. Rhigg are the only ones that keep coming back, despite what he did to our town. To me.

  I can still vibrantly see his five foot stature, wild corn-colored hair and dirty matching yellow jumpsuit behind a network of leather holsters weighed down by every kind of tool imaginable in my childhood memories. I guess everyone in this town has memories of the magic man in his workshop, a workshop that expanded from a single room to an entire city block over the years. I don't know where he got the money from to expand- he charged next to nothing for his services, sometimes just half of cup of coffee or a bite of a sandwich for a repair that would have been expensive or impossible. That's why everyone I know had been to Jerry at least once in their lives, to fix something- or just watch the show.

  From five in the morning to ten at night, a solid 100-plus line of customers slowly shuffled towards the great, vast red warehouse in the center of his property, a warehouse large and tall enough to dissect a blue whale in. Townies and tourists carried, towed, rolled or limped their problems into Jerry's shop. Everyone waiting in line was able to see how Jerry Rhigg worked, and it was always a wonder to watch him work. Some of those fonder older memories are of his hands blurred from the speed of repairing everything from single prop airplanes to TV sets, microwaves to ripped antique paintings, muscle cars to leather jackets to misplanted seedlings with only a few motions. And how he worked, my god. It was something out of a cartoon, or at least a hard-to-believe movie.

  Half of the things brought to Jerry were fixed with a single smart tap or jostle, much to amusement of everyone. He could flick off bolts, snap glass shards together so tightly they didn't need glue....one time, the university put a very complex piece of their spectrometer on his workbench, and Jerry loosened the screws and slammed his fist on the workbench, sending the screws, back panel and guts of the piece to flop out perfectly and land in neat little rows on the table. He popped something from a light blue circuit board, re-soldered it and reassembled it in less than a second. He always made the impossible seem easy. That was hard for me to accept as a kid that struggled with every school subject, and I even harbored a little jealously against Rhigg until he he finished

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👍︎ 35
💬︎
📅︎ Dec 23 2018
🚨︎ report

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