#all the clock's hands point at 6pm with 6 minutes and 6 seconds

[darabeatha]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ:Only spreading the correct energy:

[thepulta]

Part 5

The problem wasn’t even the house, it was the chill. The entrance was bright and airy with little cream fleur-de-lis on the walls. Relia had placed a little semi-circle of bronzewood chairs with green upholstery in a semi-circle around the parlor, off the entranceway. There were wood bookshelves on the wall and a fireplace that the maids lit at precisely 6pm. It was bright from the light of the Clockwork Sun and the whole airy place stank like a dead rat rolled in lavender. It was a cesspit of lies and deceit and Stars- just the fucking arrogance of those goddamn lace curtains curling over the fucking windows like little haunting ghosts. Chilly.

Morgan shrank from the parlor and absentmindedly tossed her carpetbag into her other hand. There were light footsteps in the hall. Unfamiliar. Morgan scanned the face of a maid with short white hair who was probably a year older than her. The maid smiled cheerfully, like a little puppy. “Oh! You must be Miss Morgan!” Wow. I hate you. “Captain Faire mentioned you’d be arriving today. I can take your bag, miss. You must be tired.” I’m not tired. “If you pardon me, miss, where’s Miss Westlie?”

“On the trellis outside.” Morgan said, completely serious. 

The maid blinked in confusion. 

Morgan grinned back and winked. It was a predatory grin and a predatory wink. The chill of the house had infected her face. She wasn’t good at hiding her emotions when she didn’t want them hidden and indignation bubbled just under the surface.

The maid laughed nervously. “Right then.” She took her bag and started up the staircase. She shot a look over her shoulder to see if Morgan was following- she was- and then seemed to shrink into herself. She didn’t chatter again.

How long had the maid worked here? She seemed to know Westlie, but Morgan would’ve remembered her ashy hair, so she must have been hired in the past four months. There were little tells too. If you stepped on the fifth or seventh step on the stairs, the painting of Captain Faire tilted ten degrees to the left. Captain Faire always wanted the portraits level. The maid stepped on them both. 

There was a hallway at the top of the stairs. To the right was the master wing. At the top of the stairs was a little sitting room, and then directly to the left of the sitting room was Morgan’s godawful lilac-smelling shithole. The maid opened the door respectively with a little of her initial pep, like Morgan was supposed to enjoy coming home, and stood there while she walked in.

I really need to put some old books under the bed to make it smell better, was Morgan’s first thought, like it always was, and I really need to make the walls more interesting, was the second, like it always was. There were still nails and blemishes in the wallpaper from her and Arthur’s cold war as a teenager. Nothing interesting was allowed to spice it up, although Morgan had managed to drag in several more “acceptable” bookshelves than Westlie’s room and arrange the thicker ones near the door, so the corners of the room were shrouded. This was permissible chaos.

There was a bed with its headboard against the wall. Boring. (Again, Morgan had tried repeatedly to angle it but it always ended up in the same position as before.) Along with a desk in the corner. She had managed to get the desk closer to the bed so her favorite reference materials were in the bookshelf by the window right against it, there was her desk, and then the bed was adjacent in the middle. It made the corner cozier. But that in itself had been an arduous process, inching the bed against the side of the desk so slowly nobody had questioned why it wasn’t in the middle of the room. She had a dresser by the closet.

The whole room was covered in the same fleur-de-lis wallpaper as the rest of the house, although there were several patches in the corners of Morgan’s room that had clearly been sliced and the same wallpaper had been matched against it.

“Thank you.”

The maid bobbed a curtsey and shut the door. And Morgan was left alone.

The loneliness from the house sparked boredom and the boredom hit her like a pound of bricks to the face. It never got any easier. It was an itch that started in her extremities and slowly moved inward until her whole body was screaming that it needed something (the desire was never named) and it needed it now. The boredom, like it always did, brought memories of trying to fix it because there was nothing in the room but the fucking wallpaper to stare at. Morgan hissed and threw open the window, trying to ignore it and inexplicably unable to.

Five years ago, she had been fifteen and adorable and not hellishly jaded. She’d wandered one of the museums and seen a series of cute shelves placed about two feet from the ceiling - about 6ft up, still grabbing distance – wrapping around the whole room supported by well-placed supports nailed into the wall. It was brilliant. A bookshelf you could reach from anywhere.

She scrounged all night for the proper wood at the docks, snuck it into the room in the morning with some definitely-not-stolen tools and got to work bright and early at 6am. She had to give Arthur credit for not caring enough about her he waited 3 full hours to slam the door open. At that point she’d had the supports attached and she was fucking around with the shelf placement, trying to see if she could make them fit without too much sawing. She could still remember his red face and the way he stopped dead in the doorway trying to take in the boards she was sawing in half on top of the footpost and a bookshelf she’d dragged into the center of the room. Morgan couldn’t help the grin on her face. “Good morning.”

“What.” He blustered. “What. Is this.”

“Bookshelves! They’re going to be lovely.” Morgan had stopped sawing and swiveled to look at the supports with pride, hands on her hips. “Look, they wrap all the way around the room. I put a break there for the other bookshelf. It is kinda tall, isn’t it?”

“Get them off. What the fuck are they doing here? You’ve fucking ruined the wallpaper.”

The wallpaper? He was worried about the wallpaper? He’d said more words to her now than all year and it was about the fucking wallpaper? Morgan actually cocked her head to count what he’d said to her in the last two years. 1) He’d caught Westlie embezzling again and he decided to go to the source of the problem. 2) She was a leech and a problem to be endured and she should be grateful. 3) She should be grateful he didn’t ship her off to Leadbeater for good- which was the most recent jab about six months ago when she ran into him in the hall. She didn’t actually bother to retort that one, just raise an eyebrow, walk away, and book her spot to Leadbeater that evening (ironically). She’d left Westlie a short note. And then she’d traveled until Arthur had demanded – through Westlie in an equally commandeering manner – that she come home and Westlie was going to make sure she did it by meeting her in Port Prosper. (Which was rich, Morgan realized, because all she had to do was not show up, and then Westlie would ask where she was twice, and then Westlie would go back to London to get chewed out by Arthur, and Morgan would stay safely away. But that would require Westlie to be chewed out.)

Speaking of Westlie, she deserved to get chewed out right now because Morgan was sitting on the bed staring at this motherfucking godawful cream-ass wallpaper. FUCK.

The itch to move roared back and Morgan flung her carpetbag over to the dresser and scrambled at the window latch. They had to be inside at this point, unless Westlie had gotten too soft in the months she’d been gone. Lizzie seemed more than capable of climbing in. Morgan finally got the window unlocked – it tended to stick, which was why she went and climbed out of Westlie’s more than she should – and she looked at the garden. There was a small indent in the gravel where they’d jumped over the wall and Westlie’s window had been shut. Fine. They were in. Was it seven yet?

Morgan glanced at the clock on the wall – 6:35, fuck – and her eye was drawn back to the wallpaper that was ever so slightly misaligned so you could see where it’d been cut. That had all happened after Arthur confronted her. She refused to take it down. He fumed and left. When she left for the day, it had all been torn down when she got back. At the time Morgan had the energy to be furious and she wanted those shelves. She cut it all out again and put them back up when he was out on a weekend business trip. They got torn down again. Up and down, up and down, until she was red in the face and the docks started putting locks on their fucking wood – which wasn’t a problem really, it was just annoying that they needed to because her fucking father couldn’t fucking stand to have shelves in her room. After a year and a half of trying, Morgan bitterly gave it up. It was futile. The maids were relentless, and they flocked to Arthur’s beck and call. All she could do was sit there, rearrange her bookshelves, and be bitter as the maids rolled out new wallpaper to cover the blemishes of the wood and the nails. A constant reminder of failure.

Twenty minutes.

Morgan snatched up the newspaper and aimlessly flipped through it. It didn’t scratch the itch but it helped.

She slipped into the hallway at exactly 6:59 and cracked open Westlie’s door to see- Oh. Great. Lizzie was crying. Westlie had completely forgotten about dinner. Morgan could already see it. Westlie stood at attention, always; it was her way of being prepared, and she hated stooping because it felt vulnerable. Morgan was generally good at making the facade crumble. She couldn’t always manage it in the house but when they were walking in the street, at the pub, in quiet places, when they were sitting and swinging their feet and Westlie’s shoulders drooped; her eyes got softer and she looked human. When she felt something intensely it shone through too and she would lean, or soften, or some change so she wasn’t ramrod straight.  Lizzie however, had done a great job of getting Westlie to bow the knee even though the woman clearly didn’t know what the everloving fuck she was doing. She was not good at comforting.

Ire burst in Morgan’s stomach. “It’s seven.”

… oh, she’d definitely forgotten. Westlie offered Lizzie her handkerchief and glanced up. “I-”

You can’t make it. I know. Another burst of anger. Morgan bit her tongue that time.

“Morgan… she’s scared.” Yes. She’s extremely frightened by the lilac-smelling shithole you brought her to. “I’m not leaving her like this.”

She hadn’t asked her to leave Lizzie like that, although, Morgan guessed, she had insinuated it- That was unfair, saying that though, because she should be happy her sister had a fucking soul, right? So kind and benevolent for no reason- for no goddamn reason to a stranger. Anger nearly burst out of her mouth and Morgan swallowed hard. The ball of fury settled in her stomach and she tried to speak again. Lizzie was staring at her with wide tearful eyes now; Morgan wasn’t hiding the struggle well.  “Of course.” 

It dripped sarcasm. She didn’t intend for that. She did, but she didn’t.

Westlie caught the undertone and her eyes flashed as her body shifted ever so slightly in front of Lizzie. It was the same predictable physical block she used when Morgan, Arthur, and her were trapped in the same room, but this time Morgan wasn’t the one being protected. “I’ll come out when I’m ready. Where are the blankets?”

I hate you. Morgan’s anger bubbled over. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate your face. I hate that look. I hate how stupid you are. I hate your fucking skirt. I hate your hair. Take your hair down. I hate your shoulders. I hate your eyes. I hate your face. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

But she didn’t, not really, and Morgan hated that most of all.

“Don’t bother. I’m going out.”

“Morgan-”

She spun on her heel and stalked past the two of them to the window. The rope was in a pile on the floor. Morgan flipped open the window and tied it with an expert knot. “Attic. Top shelf. Under the pile of maps. I hope you choke on the mothballs.”

-=-

It took a while for Morgan Faire to get good and properly drunk, so she rarely tried. She was fourteen when she had her first drink of mushroom wine; it was fine. The drink had a nice after-tang. She didn’t realize you were supposed to feel something until a year later when the world of pubs opened to her and three glasses of the stuff had most skyfarers reeling. After a good amount of experimentation, Morgan found she could get buzzed after four glasses of wine, drunk after seven, and fucking sloshed after nine. It varied a bit, especially with whiskey, which was more expensive but worked faster with the high alcohol content.

Which was why she was full bottle of whisky into the evening and starting on the second. The world was starting to spin a bit, and she had to blink at the bartender when he asked for money. The downside of getting drunk was she couldn’t smile at him, wink, and charm him into another glass. She tossed down whatever she had in her pocket after the travel fare. The bartender shoved a few coins back towards her. At least she still looked presentable enough for that.

She poured herself another glass and tossed it back, trying to ignore the room spinning when she slapped the glass back on the counter.

She could still think that was the problem. She never- she never stopped thinking. Even when she was drunk, it quieted, but she could feel the itch of boredom surrounding her, even at the bar. When you looked sulky at a bar people ignored you, and if they ignored her, she couldn’t be distracted, and she was too drunk to go bother them into entertaining her. Morgan picked at the glass indentations on the whiskey bottle. They filled the label in with black paint in thick imprudent letters. Joyce’s Choice. Fuck you, Joyce.

Morgan poured herself another glass. The bartender was eyeing her at this point, probably wondering why she wasn’t fucking dead on the floor yet. If it was John-her-regular-bartender he wouldn’t be wondering, he’d just bring her another glass and drag her into the closet when she passed out and also make her clean in the morning to pay for everything. He was fair. John was great. This guy was less great, but at least he hadn’t kicked her out.

There were other bars, Morgan guessed, but she didn’t feel like walking. Actually, she might not be able to walk at this point. Or hold a conversation? Who knew. She didn’t feel like having one now. She downed another glass and shivered at the burn. She was starting to lose coherency now. Her hands were freezing while the rest of her body tried to process the massive amount of alcohol. The bottles on the shelf looked fuzzy. Everything was floating. Westlie- Westlie- Was she angry at Westlie? Why was she angry at her sister? Westlie was everything good in the world. Westlie- Morgan’s head dropped and she nearly faceplanted on the bar. She shook herself awake. Westlie-

“There you are.”

Westlie. She was too drunk to punch her sister in the face- which didn’t really make any sense but it seemed like the right thing to do. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth; couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. Good. That was the reason she got plastered in the first place. The room swirled and Morgan vomited a little in her mouth.

“You look like shit,” but the words were soft. Morgan yelped as someone slid her – as kindly as possible – off the stool and she drooped against the counter. “Let’s go home.”

“Don- Don’t want-”

Westlie looped one arm around her waist and slid Morgan’s arm over her shoulders. “We’re going home.” It was a command, but it was gentle and even Morgan couldn’t resist. She slumped into it as they made their way out of the pub and slowly down the street. The whole world spun, but it was mostly empty. One person passed; a man with a gold pocket watch and top hat. It was late. How late was late? Was late early? Why was Westlie up? How had she found her?

They stumbled down the streets. Morgan could feel Westlie’s exhaustion the longer they walked together. A little slip of the boot here, a little stagger when the world spun and Morgan had to droop on her. She hated it, a little. She didn’t ask to be dragged home. Westlie never slept at the best of times; now she was out at stars knew when, taking her home when she didn’t need-

Home... Home-?

They made it against the brick wall of the Faire house and Morgan drooped against it. The barrier she usually vaulted over seemed fucking insurmountable. “F-f’king stupid. I can’t climb.”

Westlie’s arms tightened gently around her waist. “We’ll take the stairs this time.”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Please, no. Something inside Morgan screamed and she jerked out of Westlie’s grasp as they made their way up the front walkway. She managed two steps on her own, stumbled, tripped, and staggered into the front porch where she slid to the ground. She shoved her back against the porch steps away from Westlie so she couldn’t drag her up the stairs. “N-no- No. No.”

“Morgan-”

She was too drunk to be angry. The emotions welled up in fat tears that nearly choked her.  “Pl- please. Please, I can’t. Westlie, I can’t. Please-”

“Hey, hey,” Morgan couldn't face her but she knew the look. Westlie kneeled on the ground and Morgan felt her arms wrap around her. How long had it been? How- Why-? The tears came harder.

“Please, Westlie please.”

“I love you.” Westlie smoothed her hair back; she curled around her in a protective embrace and Morgan could feel the sobs come harder. “You’ll feel better after you sleep, I promise.”

“I- I don’t want to sleep- p-please- I’ll stay here. L-leave me here.”

“I can’t leave you here.” The whisper was gentle. “I care about you.”

“You don’t! You d-don’t- you don’t- You don’t c-care about me a-at all.”

“Morgan, that’s not true.” The voice was soft and concerned and Morgan wanted to trust it so hard her stomach ached. She choked on her tears. Westlie.

“You d-don’t care- you don’t- you don’t care I c-ome back,” the sniffles turned into heaving sobs and Morgan could barely get her tongue to work. “I don’t want to- to go home- I don’t- I hate it. I h-hate it, Westlie- You c-can’t replace me- Westlie, please- I need y-you don't replace me, please- Westlie, please-”

She was twenty and drunk on whiskey and still covered in coal dust from travelling; they were in the fucking gravel in the garden, her hair was a haystack, but Westlie dragged her onto her lap without hesitating. Morgan sobbed harder against her. The embrace was temporary. It was always temporary. They were so bad at this. But it felt good anyway. Westlie dug her fingers into her hair and wrapped herself around her like a shield. “I love you,” she whispered back. “I’m here, and I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Maybe it was real, maybe it wasn't. Morgan gave herself up, and she cried.

-=-

When she woke up in her room, it was mid-morning without a hangover, boots off, a glass of water on the nightstand, staring at that motherfucking fleur-de-lis wallpaper.

[trauma-13]

Birth story.

I'm posting this mostly so I can remember it down the line when it's not as fresh in my mind.

On may 27th, I had my weekly OB appointment. I was 38 weeks and 2 days. I went in, peed in a cup, and waited for my appt time. I got called back shortly, and had my vitals take. My blood pressure was 128/88. Not bad, but higher than it had been, even just the day before. I honestly didn't think much of it. My provider comes in, says she wants to recheck my BP, draw labs, and schedule me for a induction once I got to 39 weeks. She was concerned because my BP was higher and I had slight protein in my urine-for those not in the medical field reading this, she was concerned I was developing pre-eclampsia which is a very serious complication of pregnancy. So the MA comes back, rechecks my pressure-136/96. I assumed it was from anxiety of now being told I may have pre-eclampsia. My provider was in another room, so the MA had me go to the lab area to start blood work while she waited for the doc to finish in the other room. My doctor walked in the room a couple minutes later and said "nevermind labs, I want you to go to Shea (my delivery hospital)" I immediately started to panic, and asked "why, am I going to be induced?" She told me she didn't know yet, but wanted me to get stat labs, and be monitor vitally and the baby monitored for a couple hours. She said depending on labs would depend if I would be induced. She told me she'd see me at Shea.

Needless to say, I was pure panic. I'm not sure how I didn't burst into tears right then, but I some how didn't. I was terrified. Being a nurse, I know the bad things that can happen, and of course that's all I was focused on. I got to my car, still not crying, and called my husband. I told him to get dressed, and grab stuff to go to Shea, that I was fine and that I would tell him everything when I got home. Still no crying. I called my mom, because well she's my mom and she was going to come and stay with our dogs when I went into labor so they weren't alone for potentially days on end. As soon as mom answered the phone, all the walls came down and I started crying. Not just normal crying, full blown, can't talk, sobbing. She, of course, panics. She knew I had an OB appt, and she assumed the worst. I finally got my self together enough to tell her "I'm fine, the baby is fine," I explained everything that was going on, and that I was heading to the hospital shortly. I talked to her the entire 6 minute car ride home, still crying, and scared. She asked me if I wanted her to come up, and I said yes. She lives 3 hrs away, so it's not like she's close. I didn't know what the next few hours of my life held, and that was terrifying.

I got home, James had grabbed all our stuff, and had made sure to get the extra last minute things too. He asked if I was okay because I'd obviously been crying, I told him physically yes, emotionally no and that I was afraid of the next few hours and the uncertainty. We took the dogs out, stopped to get gas, and headed to Shea.

We get to the hospital around 1pm or so. I told them everything my doc had said, and the tech checking me in said my doc had called ahead and let them know about me. Even more fear sets in. We get back to a room, I give them a urine sample and change into the lovely gown. My nurse comes in and does her exam and tells me the plan. We're going to draw labs, monitor me and the baby and depending on all of the results would determine our next steps. At this point I had let my mother in law, and 3 best friends know what was going on incase we did get admitted for induction.

We sat in the room for a couple hours. I was contracting basically the whole time, but they were about 20 mins apart. I asked the nurse about it, she said they were fairly strong on the monitor, but weren't close enough yet. So around 5pm or so, another nurse comes in, she says my original nurse got pulled into an emergency delivery, but that she was going to discharge me so we could go home. I was a bag of emotions at this point. I had accepted that I'd be induced and would meet our baby soon, and had gotten over the fear and now I was being discharged. I was given strict orders to go home, relax, drink lots of water and "come back in 24 hrs for repeat labs, and make sure to bring your hospital bags when you come tomorrow," to me, that meant we were being induced tomorrow. Apparently it's some insurance thing, that they couldn't induce me that day. No clue.

So we go home. My mom's at the house. I told her everything they said and the plan for the next day.

Fast forward to 4pm the next day, it was time to head back to Shea. We got all of our things together and head over. I got checked into triage and brought back to a triage room. They hooked me up to the monitors, and at that point everything looked okay. Babys strip was great, I wasn't really contracting and my BP was doing okay at 130s/80s. They drew blood and then it was a waiting game.

I had started contracting again about 45 minutes after getting to the hospital. They were strong, and painful, and about 8-10 mins apart. They were painful enough that I was having to completely stop whatever I was doing, and just focus on breathing. I was assuming it was because I was stressed because the same thing had happened the day before. Of course, my blood pressure started to go up. Nothing crazy, but it was higher, about 140s/90s. My doctor came in around 6pm and said she wanted to admit me and induce me. She was concerned that if I went into labor naturally my BP would elevate too much and cause further issues. The plan was to admit me to labor and delivery, start pitocin, do an epidural, and have a baby! My doctor said, "around 4am we'll have this baby, so try to nap and relax once you get to the other room." Shift changed happens at 7pm, so one of the triage nurses started an IV, some fluids and we waited for the night shift nurse to come on for me to go over to the other room.

Around 715-730ish my L&D nurse came over and we headed over to the other room. During the *maybe* 1 minute walk over to the other room I had to stop and just breathe because holy contractions! Again, still convinced I wasn't really in labor. We got to L&D, I sat on the bed, and my nurse started asking me all the normal questions and asked what my plan was reguarding an epidural and if I wanted to do that before or after the pitocin. I was right in the middle of a VERY strong and painful contraction, and I didn't answer her right away. After the contraction passed, she said I looked incredibly uncomfortable and asked if I was okay. I straight up just started crying and told her I was so uncomfortable, and frankly I was terrified of pitocin. James was rubbing my back, and she grabbed my hands and said "don't worry, I'll go page the anaesthesiologist right now and we'll put the epidural in before we even think about pitocin. I want you comfortable first and foremost." I tried to lay down and get as comfy as possible until the doc came in.

Around 8pm he came in, explained the whole procedure and we got it done. It was so quick, and easy and I had such immediate relief. I could finally relax!! Physically and mentally! After the epidural was in, my nurse checked me, I was 4-5cm dialated, 90% effaced and 0 station. My nurse called my doc to ask if we wanted to start pitocin or wait and see what my body did naturally, my doc wanted to start the pitocin just because my BP was still elevated at this point even with the epidural and pain relief. We started the pitocin around 830pm or so, and my water still hadnt broken at this point. The plan was for my doctor to come in at 930pm and break my water if it hadn't happened naturally at that point.

Fast forward to 945ish and my doc comes in to break my water. Weirdest feeling ever. She also put Baby J on one of the internal monitors because he kept coming off the external monitor. At that point I was 5cm, 90%, and still 0 station. My nurse helped me lay on my left side and we were going to try to nap since we were in for a long night. James had started dozing pretty quickly, and I started feeling contractions again. Crazy strong, very frequent, maybe about 1 minute apart or so. I was holding his hand and felt like I was going to break his fingers Everytime I had a contraction. I remember looking at the clock and it being around 1010 and thinking "okay if my nurse hasn't come in by 1015, I'll call her" because DAMN were those contractions painful.

Within a few minutes my nurse came in, I honestly don't know how many minutes it had been because I was busy breathing hah! She said she was going to have the doctor put in an internal contraction monitor as well because she wasn't sure that the external was super accurate. My doc comes in within a few mins, and goes to place the monitor and says "oh, oh, you're complete and we need to push now because he's practically crowning" (apparently all that pain and pressure was my body saying hey let's do this!)

Nothing was ready! We weren't planning on having a baby for another few hours so the birth cart wasn't even in the room. The nurse grabbed one really quick while my doc was putting on shoe covers, she had enough time to throw on the sterile gown and gloves before i felt like I needed to push. My nurse had barely had time to page the baby nurse!

I pushed 3x over that contraction. Definitely yelled fuck, but otherwise, I don't remember saying anything/making any noise at all. My nurse coached me how to push effectively and how to curl my body to help.

Second contraction, pushed 3 more times. The whole time James was holding my left foot and rubbing my shoulder. He was his usual quiet self, which I expect nothing else hah!

Third contraction I pushed 3 more times. At the end of the third one my doc told me to take a big breath and give one big push. So I did. And little dude was born at 1036pm!

I pushed for around 7 minutes total (per James) before our little one was born. I had to get stitches, but I don't even remember it happening. As soon as they put my son on my chest, nothing else mattered. I couldn't stop shaking, or crying. It was completely uncontrollable. I was so overwhelmed! I went from the thought of having a baby hours from now, to having a baby in my arms 7 minutes later! It happened so fast we didn't even have time to tell my mom that it was game time. The plan was to have her on FaceTime so she could help talk to me and support us even though she couldn't physically be there.

Baby J was a few minutes old and I asked James to call my mom on FaceTime. When she answered she immediately started crying once she saw the baby and heard him crying. I kept apologizing for not calling her, I felt so bad even though it's so silly! James told her I started pushing about 10 mins ago and had a baby so quickly we didn't even have time to think about anything else. Of course she wasn't upset at all.

Once I was stitched up, my nurse shut off the epidural and helped clean me up a bit. After she said she was going to step out, and give us time to ourselves with our little one, but to call if we needed her. I held my little boy and just stared at him. He was perfect! The only better thing than holding him myself, was seeing James hold him for the first time. Que crying all over again.

He was born on May 28th, 2020 at 1036pm, 6lbs 1oz, and 19 inches long. I didn't get my June baby, but he's absolute perfection and has our entire hearts. Our little one is turning 7 weeks on Thursday. I can't believe he's been here for 7 weeks already. Motherhood has been the hardest most rewarding thing I've ever done in my life.

[loverelatedvoodoo-blog]

Just for tonight.

As I sat there, quivering, unable to move my fingers from the pure anxiety that engulfed me. My Squad mates on the other end of the voice comm were just straight chillin.

For them, it was just business. For them, it was just the 10th match of the day. For them, it was just another victory royale. For the past 2 weeks, this was all they've done: Fortnite grinding.

I mean, it is winter break after all. It's the time of the year when the sun sets at 6pm (way too early), and the streets are off limits — just from the sheer ridiculousness of how much snow there is outside.

In suburban Maryland, there's nothing else to do but stay indoors and play video games; and what better game to play than the latest hot-topic shooter game that all the youngins are crazing over: Fortnite Battle Royale.

Everyone in the entire state of Maryland was playing Fortnite. Everyone except for me!

I wasn't like the other kids. I didn't like shooter games. I liked to play dating sims: dialogue-heavy simulations where you, the main character, is ridiculously likeable for no apparent reason. I liked how I was able to interact with people of the opposite sex — even if they were two-dimensional. I liked the attention they gave me, and how I was able to bend my fate and end up with the girl I liked by just answering a few multiple choice questions. It was easy and fun, and I liked the attention I was getting.

But it's been two weeks of non-stop dating sims. I've played through every game at least five times already. Am I really satisfied with being cooped up in my dimly lit room playing erotic visual novels by myself though? No. Not really. I didn't like being lonely.

It was then, when I decided I should "Squad Up"; interact with other kids my age — not with two-dimensional anime girls. I downloaded Fortnite Battle Royale on the Epic Games launcher. It took about 45 minutes to install. 45 minutes of pure excitement, only to be crushed by my mental incapacity. I didn't have enough motor skills to aim, shoot, and build at the same time. I've never felt so unfamiliar before. I grew up only knowing how to answer multiple choice questions from anime girls.

It was hard but, nevertheless, I got over it. I got over it and queued up for a four man, fight to the death, battle royale.

A quick thirty seconds passed, and there I was, with my three new friends: Buttsmacker69, xXSaiyanLordXx, and n00bSl@yer. 

"Where we droppin' boys?" I asked, attempting to fit in.

Silence.

"How about Tomato Town?" I asked again frantically searching for any sort of human interaction.

Nothing.

I was lost. I was being ignored, like in every other situation in my life. I was ready to call it quits; anime girls were the only people there for me. 

Until I realised that my mic was muted the entire time! My mood turned 180 degrees. I've never felt so alive. They weren't ignoring me. They actually were my friends. I quickly changed my sound and mic settings and held my microphone up to my mouth.

I asked loudly. Confidently.

"Where we droppin' boys? 😎"

"Uhhh, Idk, let's just drop tilted lol"

"Yeah that works"

"okay. dropping"

Red. Blue. Purple.

Pings started popping up on my mini-map.

A smile emerged from my face. 

I pinged as well.

Yellow.

There it was. My first human interaction in 6 months. My first interaction with my best friends: Buttsmacker69, xXSaiyanLordXx, and n00bSl@yer. 

We dropped at Tilted Towers. Buttsmacker69 landed on the roof mining away at the ceiling; xXSaiyanLordXx landed in the clock tower and picked up a golden Scar; n00bSl@yer managed to pick up a blue Tactical Shotgun and got first blood.

Then it was my turn. Enthusiastic and ready to get the second kill on the team, I landed in the convenience store. To my right I saw an SMG: perfect for close range combat. To my left, there was John Wick, unarmed. 

We both knew what each other wanted. I was closer to it, there was no way I would lose to John Wick.

Why wasn't I moving?

All I have to do is hold W and press E when I get to the SMG. 

Why wasn't I moving?

I looked away from the screen and towards my left hand. My keyboard hand. It was shaking. 

Why aren't you moving?

My hand felt further and further away from me the longer I stared at it. Why can I not control you? These were not my hands. 

These next five seconds that felt like a million years. I watched as John Wick slowly walked over to the SMG on my right. He turns around and looks dead straight at me. He saw the fear in my eyes. He saw that I was weak. Helpless. 

I never would've thought in a million years that watching John Wick do the Fortnite default dance emote would be so painful, but it was. It hurt. I was powerless. I was being "disrespected" and "styled on", and I couldn't do anything about it.

In a frame perfect transition from the default dance to neutral position, he shot me. I was down. I called for help, but he shot me again. 

Two minutes into the game, I was dead.

"I knew I shouldn't have queued up with randoms"

"Don't play squads if you suck"

"Holy shit, ur so bad"

They were talking about me. I suck. The people who I thought were my best friends turned against me. 

I took off my headphones and turned towards my wall. I looked at my favorite poster of Hatsune Miku: Winter 2018 edition. Miku chan would never turn against me. I loved Miku chan.

I didn't need human interactions. I didn't need Fortnite. Afterall, life is only so long, you shouldn't be wasting your time with people who aren't there to support you. The anime girls in the dating sims genuinely loved me, and I loved them. 

Am I satisfied with being cooped up in my room with my anime girls by my side? Yes. Yes, if it means that I receive love and affection. This is who I am, I don't need to fit in with pop culture to feel happy. I never felt anxious with my anime girls — I should've taken that as a sign. Being nervous on something like a first date is O.K., but being so anxious to the point where you lose control of yourself is not.

-Brian Feng, Jan. 2020

[meltingalphabet]

You don't know what you've got till it's gone

Would you describe yourself as spoiled?

My pencil glided over the paper, a smooth trail of graphite following. With a satisfying scratch, I circled “No.” The smell of fresh paper and pencil shavings took me back to high school. Before I was an adult. Before I knew how difficult life could get.

Would you describe your close friends as spoiled?

I hesitated.

First there was Meredith. Meredith, whose parents made damn sure she never endured hardship. Who paid for her Ivy League degree out of pocket and financed extended trips abroad in the name of their only child’s self discovery. Who owned the luxury apartment Meredith called her own. Who nested her in the comfort of unearned extravagance.

Meredith is an artist, they’d say. Meredith is a tortured soul who needs freedom to work on her novel without the hideous distraction of a 9 to 5. She is a creative who cannot be caged by the struggle of the common folk, but must sit and be and think and ponder and write and give a voice to the common folk and their struggle.

Then there was Erica. Erica, who glided by on her looks. Who didn’t have to work on her personality because she didn’t need one. Who could be rude without consequence. Her instincts unchecked, her id free to roam. Why would she think about you when everyone won’t stop thinking about her? It’s not inconsiderate if there’s nothing to consider. If she forgot who you were, you should’ve made yourself more memorable.

I circled “Yes.”

My eyes scanned the last question.

On a scale of 1-10 with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

What did I have? A shitty job, a tiny overpriced apartment. Jiggly upper arms, frizzy hair. My hand hovered over the 4. Robert’s warm smile. His soft kisses.

Sighing, I circled 8. I had a shelter, a stable relationship, a loving family. Life was good. Even if other people had it better than me.

Around me were 11 other people seated at small identical desks completing short identical surveys. Different shapes and sizes, ages and races. All completely forgettable.

A woman in her mid twenties sat at the front of the room poking at a tablet. She wore a neat expensive looking grey sweater. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The desk she sat at was modern but simple, the desktop empty but for a plain water bottle. Both the desk and woman looked like they were from an IKEA catalog. Generic but tidy, desirable but empty.

I walked towards her, my completed survey in hand. She looked up from her tablet with a small smile and gestured to the corner of the desk.

Her voice was smooth but neutral. “Thank you, Laurie.”

I placed my answers face down beside her, completing the nostalgic experience of taking a quiz.

“Please proceed to the waiting room. We will get you once it has been processed.”

Not wanting to make additional noise, I nodded and smiled at her, but she was already looking back at her screen.

An hour later I sat in front of another tasteful but bland desk. Dr. Howden scanned the tablet in front of him, his fingertips pressed together.

Finally, he looked up at me. “Thank you for participating in our study, Ms. Cartland. We here at the Galvin Institute depend on volunteers such as yourself.”

I smiled. $300 to come fill out a survey, yeah no problem mister.

“Of course.” I said politely.

“We’d like to invite you to continue as a participant. The study is 6 days and pays $900 a day, along with a $1,000 signing bonus.”

My mouth fell open. “Sorry, how much?”

Dr. Howden’s smile tightened. “At the completion of the study you will have been awarded $6,400.”

I quickly calculated the cost of my morals. Is it worth $6,400 to inject myself with something that would make me lose all my hair? I shrugged internally. It’ll grow back. Probably. There’s always wigs.

“Is the study risky?”

“Oh no, not at all. All we ask of you is to answer 3 simple questions every day.”

“You just want me to answer questions?”

Dr. Howden opened one of the desk drawers and placed a tablet in front of me. It was identical to both his and the woman from the study’s.

“The Galvin Institute will provide you with this tablet for the duration of the study. Every night at 6pm it will notify you to answer three simple questions. You will then have an hour to answer them. Once your answers are submitted, $900 will be directly deposited into your bank account.”

He looked at me over his wire frames. “Do you accept?”

My heart thudded in my chest. “What happens if I answer incorrectly?”

He smiled again. “The questions are subjective, so there is no wrong answer.”

I bit my lip, looking down at the desktop in front of me. There must be a catch. There’s always a catch. Hesitant to accept his insane offer without some sort of probing, I looked back up. “Can I opt out at any time?”

His smile faltered for a moment before he continued. “Of course, but you will forfeit all payment up to that point.”

I picked up the tablet and examined it. On the back was a subtle green logo with the initials “GI” in a pyramid.

Dr. Howden continued. “The focus of this study is appreciation and gratitude. The questions are designed to encourage self reflection.”

I nodded, “sounds easy.”

“It is!” He said, turning his own tablet towards me to reveal an electronic contract. He held out a thin stylus. “Oh, and please note that your tablet is programmed to only ask the questions and cannot be used for any other purpose.”

The drag of the stylus was smooth and frictionless as I signed my name.

“Thank you, Ms. Cartland. We look forward to working with you here at the Galvin Institute.”

“This has to be a scam.” Robert said, his beer hovering in front of his mouth as he eyed the tablet resting on the table beside us. We had both tried playing with it, but the screen would only illuminate to show a timer counting down to 6pm. No games, no other screens.

I shrugged. “The building was super nice and it all seemed on the up and up. I doubt they’re going to try and use my information to drain my bank account or something. Besides,” I rested my hand on his, “it’s for the wedding.”

He sighed. “You know, you’ve got to stop pushing that.”

I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly.

A loud electric jingle made me jump. The screen of the tablet was now bright white. Black font was neatly written across at the top.

I picked it up as Robert stood to look over my shoulder. On the screen was a question:

What was something bad that happened to you today?

Other than applying for the study my day had been pretty uneventful. I clicked my tongue thoughtfully before answering.

Nothing.

A circle appeared at the bottom right corner that read “submit.” I pressed it and the second question appeared:

What was something good that happened to you today?

I smiled.

Dinner with my boyfriend.

Robert kissed my head as I hit submit.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

The numbers 1 through 10 were beneath in small circles. I felt Robert’s warmth beside me and pressed “9.”

The tablet made a small chime as the words “Thank you!” jumped on screen. Little bits of blue and yellow confetti fell around it before the screen went black again.

My blood vibrated hot beneath my skin as I excitedly logged into my bank’s mobile app. My checking account was, indeed, two grand larger.

“Not a bad day’s work.” Robert said as he returned to his seat.

I woke up the next morning to the shrill sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the clock. 9:31am.

“Ugh, fuck you!” I groaned at the ceiling. I closed my eyes tightly before opening them again, my room slowly focusing around me. Without looking I reached over and yanked it from it’s charger. My phone’s screen was filled with the smiling face of Meredith. I groaned again as I answered.

“Dude, it’s Saturday. What...” A high pitched squeal interrupted me.

“Random House bought my book!!!”

I sat bolt upright. “Sorry, what?”

“Random House, Laurie. Fucking Random House!!”

The meaning of her words slowly dawned on me through the cloud of sleep.

“Random House the publisher bought your book?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yes!! Ah, we need to get coffee NOW!”

Thirty minutes later I sipped my latte while Meredith regaled me with the story.

“I thought it was really weird when they scheduled a meeting first thing Saturday morning, but you know? It’s Random House, so I couldn’t say no! Apparently one of their agents saw some of the chapters I published online and fell in love!! They’re offering me a $20,000 advance!”

I choked on the warm liquid running down my throat.

“I know, right!?” Meredith squealed.

“Twenty grand!?” The words came from my mouth violently as I tried to regain control of my breath. “Twenty grand for your first novel!?”

Meredith nodded, beaming.

“It’s not even done!”

“Oh, I know! I know! But you know what, I think this is really going to help motivate me to finish! My skin is tingling with creative juices!”

Your skin is tingling with $20,000. I bit back my tongue and gave her a weak smile.

“Congratulations Meredith. That’s awesome.”

Meredith and I met in college. We were both wannabe novelists, both women, both freshmen, and both living in Andrews Hall. We didn’t become friends because we connected artistically, we became friends because it was easy.

While I had thrived in school, Meredith had coasted. She graduated because she went to most of her classes and turned in most of her homework. Like our friendship, she succeeded because she didn’t fail.

After graduation I got a job in publishing as a lowly editorial assistant. I was paid the bare minimum to review encyclopedias written by retired middle school teachers. It sucked but it was a job. Without it, I’d be homeless.

Meredith was a trust fund kid. I was not.

I made a point of working on my novel for at least three hours every week. I was 60,000 words deep into a dramatic look at the repression of women in the early 19th century through the eyes of Charlotte, a lowly chambermaid working for a handsome but distant oil tycoon. Meredith, on the other hand, would write a few pages when the mood struck. Since graduating, we met monthly to discuss our progress and keep each other motivated, but more often than not the night would devolve into expensive drinks at bars filled with men with shirts inexplicably half unbuttoned. And while I woke up regretting all my decisions and trying not to vomit in my cubicle trash can, she’d remain untouched. She’d wake up at noon to order pizza and watch a marathon of shitty reality shows about overly dramatic rich people who also didn’t have any responsibilities.

Meredith’s novel, smartly titled A Rabbit Disturbed, was about an evil toy bunny that traumatizes a young boy. Imagine if Stephenie Meyer wrote a novel adaptation of The Velveteen Rabbit after watching the entire Chucky canon while on acid. Oh, and Miss Meyer also doesn’t know what a rabbit is.

The three chapters I read, the only three Meredith had bothered to write, were so bad that my main criticism was towards our college for giving her a degree in creative writing.

But maybe I was being pretentious. Maybe I just didn't understand Meredith's genius. I took another swallow of my latte as she planned out the evening’s celebratory activities as if planning a bachelorette party.

I was in a bar bathroom when the tablet chimed. I steadied myself against the sink before pulling it from my bag.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

It was early but my mind was already drenched in vodka. I definitely wasn’t happy. I had thought drinking would make me feel more euphoric, would let me get caught up in Meredith’s excitement, but instead I felt ineffectual and ignored. I thought of my novel and the stupid melodramatic character that I had poured all my creativity into for the past two years. I was miserable. Frustrated and defeated.

But what was I going to write? That one of my oldest friends had succeeded?

If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. With my bare fingertip I rubbed my answer against the screen.

Nothing.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I gritted my teeth.

Nothing.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

I pressed “3” without much thought and dropped the tablet back into my bag as the bright “Thank you!” lit up the screen.

I woke up Sunday with a pounding headache. I looked at my phone to see several Facebook and Instagram notifications. All likes and comments on the many celebratory photos I was tagged in, all congratulating Meredith. I let my phone fall from my hand as I turned over, allowing myself to sleep in.

The chime of the Galvin Institute tablet rang out as I sat on my couch mindlessly watching tv.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

It was an innocent question. At least, it seemed innocent. And yet I felt a pang of frustration. Meredith was still riding the high of the best day of her life while I sat there very consciously not working on my novel. Robert was busy with his family all night, leaving me alone to wallow in my self-pity.

I wrote “hangover” before clicking submit.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I lifted the stylus, preparing to write “nothing,” but stopped short. This was a study of gratitude and here I was with absolutely none. I thought of Dr. Howden reading my responses. Judging them.

I got to sleep in.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

I pushed thoughts of Meredith out of my head as I surveyed my apartment. It was small and sparsely furnished, but the walls were lined with well read novels. I hugged my soft throw and took a sip of my tea, letting the worth flood down into my stomach. Ignoring the split second of burning at the back of my throat that told me it was still too hot to drink that fast. Feeling as if I had thoroughly experienced a moment of mindful appreciation, I pressed the tip of the stylus against the 7 with a sense of accomplishment. I was rising above my disappointment and struggle.

Dr. Howden would be proud.

My phone vibrated and I was surprised to see a text message from Robert’s mother.

Hi Laurie! Happy early birthday! Are you and Robbie free next weekend to come over for a birthday dinner?

I scrunched my eyebrows together. That’s odd. I guess Robert already went home.

Curious, I called him. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh hey, is this a good time?”

“Sorry babe, I’m still at my parents. Can I call you back afterwards?”

Icy fingers clasped around my heart. I swallowed.

“Oh, sure. Um, do you want to come spend the night when you’re done? I miss you.”

There was a pause before he continued. “Sorry, Laurie. I can’t tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The next morning I lay in bed feeling empty, worthless, and defeated.

I stared at my ceiling, trying to rationalize staying in the comfort and safety of my bed. What would happen if I just don’t go to work? I’m so unimportant. Would anyone even notice?

It was bagel Monday though. And I did like bagels.

Three hours later I sat at my desk regretting my decision. One of the other editorial assistants had called out sick and I was getting the brunt of my boss’ post-weekend wrath.

How fucking ironic, I thought as I scrolled past unread email after unread email. One email was three paragraphs of all caps red text berating me for the misspelling of Juan Ponce de León in an entry that was written and published five years before I was hired. I took a bite of my free bagel as I kept scrolling.

At lunch, Erica and I went to our favorite burger joint. Erica was an editor and close friend whose long blonde hair and curvy figure made her the center of attention more often than not. And she knew it. She could be narcissistic at times, but she could also be really sweet and what I needed that day was fried food and a friendly ear.

Her eyes lit up and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Maybe he’s ring shopping.” She whispered, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

I brought a french fry to my lips. I hadn’t thought of that. I put the fry back down on the plate untouched.

“You really think so?” I asked, butterflies fluttering low in my stomach.

She winked before taking a bite of her burger.

Returning to my cubicle, my high spirits were immediately dashed by an unread email marked important. The subject line was empty and only two words were written, all lowercase, in the body of the email: see me.

Harold Bradford sat behind his desk, the glow of his computer illuminating his glasses. He was a chubby man in his late fifties with wiry grey hair that wrapped around his head, leaving a round dome of perfectly hairless scalp in the middle.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, please sit down Ms. Cartland.” He said, his eyes never leaving the screen. “This will only take a minute.”

I sat down as he continued to tap at his keyboard. I pulled the hem of my skirt mindlessly as my eyes scanned the shelves of books behind him.

Finally, he looked up.

“Ms. Cartland, I asked you here to discuss your recent work performance.”

My stomach sank.

“Your work has been…” He tilted his head back, eyeing me through his thin spectacles. “Slipping.”

A heavy silence fell between us.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Mr. Bradford.” I stammered.

“You seem to think this job is... beneath you.” He sniffed. “And while your BFA from Dartmouth is quite impressive, your work here lately is not.”

“I understand.” I nodded, cringing at the waiver in my voice.  “I promise to work harder in the future.”

“There is no future, Ms. Cartland.”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

He turned back towards his computer, “Mrs. Littleton will explain your severance package.”

My body and mind was numb as I left his office.

The warm water lapped at my skin as I sat in the bathtub. A glass of white wine stood at the side of the tub, the half empty bottle on the floor. Robert had suggested that I could use this time to work on my novel, but I knew that was misguided. I needed to immediately focus all my attention on finding a job. Once that severance ran out, I wouldn’t be able to pay my rent, let along my bills or student loans. Oh sure, there’s forbearance but that’s just an ugly band aid. The interest would gather like bacteria in an infection, following me for the rest of my life.

The smell of Robert’s spaghetti and meatballs permeated the steam of the bathroom and I felt comforted slightly.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

I was fired.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I brought the stylus down, thinking I’d write something like, “my soon-to-be fiance was there for me,” but I hesitated. I thought of the phone call last night. The uneasy feeling that came with it.

Instead I wrote, “Bagel Monday.”

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

“Babe!”

The sound shook me and I jumped, cold water splashing around me.

“Babe, wake up!” I squinted to see Robert looking down at me.

“What happened?” I sat up and looked around. The wine glass had fallen from the tub, shattering on the tile floor.

“It’s okay, stay there.”

He left and I stood, grabbing my towel from the door and wrapping it around my shivering body. I must’ve been dreaming.

“What time is it?” I asked the empty room.

“Almost seven. You’ve been in there for almost two hours.”

Panic rose like an electric shot through my spine.  

“The tablet! Where’s the tablet!” I cried, jumping out of the bath. Glass cut into the bottom of my foot. “Ow, fuck!” I cried.

Robert appeared in the doorway holding a broom. “Laurie, stop! What are you doing?”

“The survey! The survey!” I pushed him out of the way, limping into the living room. “Where is it? Where’s my bag?”

Robert grabbed my arm. “Laurie you’re injured, stop!”

“$900!” I desperately pulled myself from his grasp, falling painfully to my knees. “$900!”

The alarm rang distantly from where my bag lay forgotten by the front door. I crawled towards it, shaking with sobs. I could hear Robert talking to me as I reached it, but his words were muffled and inconsequential. As I opened my bag my hands felt bloated and numb, as if I were wearing gloves. My fingers clasped around the hard familiar plastic and I pulled the tablet out.

4 seconds remained on the timer. Tears flooded my eyes as I poked desperately at the screen but it wouldn’t respond to my waterlogged touch.

“No, no, no.” The black digits counted down to 1 before dissolved into nothing.

A wave of despair crashed over me as I watched the numbers appear once again. 23:59:03. The seconds ticked down. Tiny insults adding to the bloody mess of my ego.

The next thing I remember was waking up late in the afternoon. My body was sore, my head foggy. A sharp pain radiated from my left foot and I wanted to cry, but there were no more tears.

There was a buzzing coming from my nightstand. I picked up my phone to see a new text message alert.

Hey babe

I stared at the words in confusion. Behind me I could hear the shower running. Robert hadn’t left. I saw the name at the top of the screen. “Erica.”

That’s odd. I opened the app to a chat I didn’t recognize. Messages I didn’t remember sending or receiving. I scrolled up to an image. It was a selfie of Erica, but she was wearing lingerie.

Realization hit like a cement brick. The phone in my hand wasn’t mine.

The shower stopped. My breaths grew short and ragged, catching in my throat in sharp gasps.

“Babe, are you okay?”

A shadow filled the door and approached me as my vision turned red.

I awoke on a hard, cold surface. I tried to move but my body screamed in pain. A bright light hurt my eyes as I slowly blinked them open. The room was grey and dingy. I sat up stiffly and looked in front of me at a wall of metal bars.

My head buzzed with questions, my eyes wide and seeing, no longer blinded or discomforted by the sudden light. Above me stood a police woman.

“Glad to see you finally awake, Ms. Cartland.”

“Wh-what happened? Where am I?” I tried to recall recent memories. The bath. My foot. Erica. Robert.

“We got a call about a domestic disturbance at your residence. You were found standing over your boyfriend's body, a pair of bloody scissors…”

The cop continued but the sound was eclipsed by a sharp ringing noise in my head. My brain buzzed with shock as I sat back against a wall, bringing my knees to my chest. The room began to spin and it felt like I was falling into the buzzing. Into the void of complete and utter surrender.

An electronic alarm echoed off the cement walls, shrill enough, and familiar enough, to burrow into my numb thoughts.

“It’s 6 o’clock, Ms. Cartland.”

I looked up to see the cop holding out the Galvin Institute’s tablet through the bars of the cell. I stared at it, uncomprehending.

“It’s time to take the survey.”

“What?” I looked at the cop, tears I didn’t think could exist forming at the corners of my eyes.

The cop cleared her throat and dropped her arm, the tablet hanging uselessly beside her.

“What was something bad that happened to you today?”

I looked at her with confusion and pain.

“What was something good that happened to you today?” The cop’s voice was flat and stiff. Robotic.

A sob broke out of my mouth violently. I clutched my hands to my ears, desperately trying to block out her voice.

“On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?”

I opened my mouth, a scream pouring from my throat like vomit, filling the small room.

Reality snapped around me, as if a door opened in a vacuum. The world sucked past my body as I ascended painfully to the heavens.

My eyes were assaulted once again with a bright light, but this light was softer. Cleaner. Nicer. I was in a white room, a simple desk in front of me. Behind it sat Dr. Howden.

“Thank you, Ms. Cartland, for your participation in the study.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled with a warm smile.

My breaths came to me in gasps. I looked around at the innocuous room. It was just like it had been days before.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Dr. Howden gave me a tight smile. “Only a few hours have passed since you completed your survey. You have been under electronic hypnosis. Since signing the contract none of your actions, or the actions of your loved ones, actually occurred. It was all…” he twirled his finger, “in your head. I gave you a slight sedative before you awoke to help the transition along. You should be feeling more…” He smiled, “relaxed soon.”

I nodded dumbly. The numbness weighing my body down was no longer raw and uncomfortable but calming.

“Now,” he said, sliding a tablet across the desk. “If you’d please sign these release forms, you can be on your way.”

My hand shook slightly as I reached out and drew a simple line across the center of the page.

“Very good. You may now be excused. Your designated contact is waiting in the lobby.”

I stood uncertainty and began to leave the room before he added, “oh and as I explained before, since you opted out prematurely you forfeit all reimbursement.”

My stomach tightened as I saw Robert. His face set in bored concentration as he scrolled through his phone. Feeling my stare, he looked up and smiled warmly. “Babe!” He stood and walked towards me, arms outstretched. “How did it go?”

I clenched my jaw as he brought me to his chest, his body pressed against mine. My skin grew hot with anger and my stomach turned with disgust, but the tranquilizer slowly quelled my hatred.

He hadn’t really cheated on me, had he?

Robert took me home and made me spaghetti, just like he had last night. Except last night never happened.

The next day was a normal Saturday. I had coffee with Meredith as she told me about a new guy she met. On Sunday I had dinner with Robert and his parents. Monday I nodded at Mr. Bradford’s requests and listened to Erica complain about her yearly review. Friday Robert took me out for my birthday and proposed.

My life is meaningless now. Trivial and petty. These people I once loved no longer feel real. Their lives are stupid and useless, filled with made up milestones to give the illusion that life is moving forward. That they are making progress.

I could no longer pretend to enjoy it, so I left. I don’t have a destination, but instead I’m letting my short life roll over me like the waves of an ocean. Massive and unknowable. It doesn’t matter where I am or where I end up. It’s all so permeable. All so temporary. Why bother clinging to something when it’s not really yours to begin with. And yet the questions still run through my mind.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

Nothing. Nothing bad happens anymore. Nothing happens anymore. Life passes. I exist. I question reality and then find I’m too tired to care.

What was something good that happened to you today?

Nothing. Objectively, nothing good has ever happened to me. It’s all a farce. Life is just a series of signals that our mind misinterprets as something organized and purposeful. And yet we run forward with abandonment, counting the seconds until there are no seconds left to count.

Tonight I’ve found myself somewhere in Pennsylvania. The red numbers of the clock illuminated 6:00.

The sky is a beautiful amber above the mountain tops.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

No longer applicable.

[laurensomebody]

An Overnight Shift

I get the urge at 10:45pm in mid-August. I grab my laptop and run out, announcing I’ll be at the nearby 24/7 convenience store. I hope the chatty guy is on-duty, the one who always leaves me inching away guiltily from our fun banter or his war stories about the working men who changed forever once they started buying beer in the morning.

Instead, it’s the stoic bearded guy in a turban who rarely speaks and who once took a photo of me to test my phone’s camera. But if I don’t do this tonight, I never will. I ask when he’s off the clock- 6am- and he hoists a black milk crate over the counter halfway through my next question: “Can I stay here with you to find out what it’s like and then write about it online?” He casually points to a spot between the newspapers and ATM as if that’s where the bloggers sit. Then I catch him smirk and side-eye me as I settle in and feel guilty that he’s so obliging. Better late than never, we exchange names. I reassure the man I’ll call Tom that the essay will only get a few readers. He’s up for it in any case, seemingly glad for the company despite there being no other incentive. I spot a scary, official No Loitering sign on the wall and freeze, then realize jail would still be something to write home about.

Tom has been here “about nine months” and is a long-haul truck driver waiting to renew his license before leaving to hit the road again. I’m instantly relieved about the lowered stakes, which I hadn’t even considered due to the refreshingly ungoverned feel of the place. “How come everyone who works here seems so chill, and not scared or like they have to change their personality?” Tom shrugs. “It’s our culture. Hospitality.” I wonder whether he considers faking it to be inhospitable by definition. But I’m afraid to ask too many questions yet. I check the time- almost seven hours to go, the background silence already stretching the minutes. This might be rough, but I’ll look even crazier if I walk out now. Plus Tom has been here since 6pm. I can’t bail when I get to sit down while he’s working.

An older guy walks in, points at me and mumbles something, then tells Tom he’s been coming around “probably before you were born.” Another white man in his 70s walks in for “Pall Mall Oranges and Newport 100s.” The two seem like friends, and I wonder why they entered separately. What the hell are they up to? I check the second guy’s bright red hat to see if it says MAGA. It doesn’t. Disappointed, I slump back down on my crate and ask myself what kind of drama I’m expecting.

On the other hand, anything could happen! I came in recently at 3am to find bananas strewn all over the floor, broken display cases on the counter and cops arriving. I imagine an emergency shotgun stashed out of sight and wonder if that’d make me feel safer. I smile and wave at one of several cameras on the ceiling, happy to have proof in case something outrageous happens. It’s also a habit. I smile sarcastically at the first camera I see while shopping for groceries or clothes, just to let the watchers know I’m not a threat and they’re creepy for spying. Except this time I might actually be a criminal. I regret the gesture right away.

Folks stream in one after another to buy drinks, tobacco and little else. I’m shocked there’s so much foot traffic and predict it’ll die down between 2 and 6am when alcohol sales are banned. Some see me and laugh or look concerned. Others pointedly stare straight ahead and sneak glances. I’m glad to blend in as a fly on the wall, then insulted that no one is asking about my groundbreaking exposè. After awhile, I resent them all for bogarting Tom. Turns out I should’ve considered not giving this man an unsolicited volunteer job while he’s already on the clock. At least he seems unbothered.

I reach into my purse. My phone has been on silent all day. I see several missed calls from Kevin at the apartment, and texts asking why I’m at the store with my laptop. I start to call but look up to see him approaching. He barges in, pauses while I stand to explain- “This is a project!”- then walks over to Tom, who’s mopping in the back corner. I stay put, stunned by the most non-confrontational person I know. I hear Tom say, “Hey, boss...it’s okay, boss...hey, boss” and nothing else. Kevin exits without stopping; this time I follow and yell. “Talk to me, not him! This is so unprofessional!” He turns and speaks with restraint. “Lauren, this is weird.” He walks away with “Enjoy and be safe.”

I’m pissed. If I were a surgeon, would he crash the operating room and start cutting? How dare he bother an interview subject? Now Tom stands across from me with an incredulous smile. “He kept saying, ‘That’s my girlfriend and it will never happen. It will never happen.’” I can’t believe my ears and apologize profusely. Tom says he promised he’s a good guy; nothing bad is going on. I keep saying sorry on Kevin’s behalf. Then it hits me. Maybe I should’ve filled him in a little more before rushing out for this harebrained assignment, and I’m a teensy bit responsible. I confess, “Yeah, I’m sorry. I kinda didn’t tell him exactly what I was doing or why.” Tom stares. “...You should have.”

I sit down and lean back as Tom returns to his work. I relish the lack of customers and replay what just happened, angry at myself but also at Kevin for assuming I was ignoring him on purpose and too irrational to speak with onsite. But seeing him charge forward with such steely determination was kinda hot. And I’m relieved Tom didn’t laugh in his face for implying he might attempt a tryst. Wait. Did I subconsciously orchestrate all of this as a sick ploy for attention? Did I secretly need to be chased and claimed in public? Nah. I like to be in full control of my humiliations. Occam’s razor- I’m just selfish and impulsive. I go back to taking notes.

I notice a very large man buy baked Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and am impressed by the healthy choice; I’d never gamble $1.69 to find out they’re not as tasty. One customer asks if they have chocolate-covered strawberries (no), then pays for his ice cream and water with half-card, half-cash. A middle-aged drunk guy runs in after his lady friend and stops to point at me, asking why “this bitch is in the corner.” When he yells at the woman to hurry, a younger guy squares up and mocks him for trying to start a fight in the store. They all leave. I ask Tom if that sort of thing is common. He nods.

Business slows again and we get to talk more, ice fully broken by the tense moments we’ve just survived. Tom works nearly all week and commutes from a suburb 30 miles away. He sleeps, eats, and showers for work while at home, leaving “no time for videogames.” Tom is Sikh and from Punjab, but he’s been here most of his life. He’s saving himself for marriage in India, where his parents live and will one day arrange his match. His wife will have to show that she’s been playing intense sports if she knows her hymen will be missing before the moment of truth on their wedding night. Tom avoids temptation with American girls and constantly imagines what it’ll be like with his very nervous new wife. I tell him it’s good he has reasonable expectations; an awkward start won’t mean they’re not a good fit. I’m still with my first love, so anything’s possible.

Tom asks if my boyfriend keeps me up at night “giving me headaches,” needing “one more glass of water or one more thing to eat.” I laugh and say I like cooking but not late or on-demand. When I reveal I’m 33, Tom asks why we don’t have children. I say I’m still trying to grow up, that I left another job a few months ago, that I can only handle my little dog for now and have been trying to reset in general. He dismisses my excuses and says children are the most important thing, so I should have them right away no matter what. Why wouldn’t I want to “make life happier?” He turns wistful, tugs at the air and asks me to imagine “little babies crying ‘Mommy, Mommy, I’m hungry!!’” He snaps out of it and asks, “Won’t that be great?!” I wonder how such a stressful thought can be his go-to parenting daydream.

In the middle hours, Tom greets soft drink delivery trucks, stocks shelves and plays prayers aloud from his phone. I hold myself in the cold and rock back and forth. I enjoy listening to the chants without talking. Tom listens everyday for hours, probably why he’s so calm. I make a mental note to meditate more as I abandon the notes in front of me about which brand of cigarettes each customer is buying. I can no longer keep track, and nothing matters anymore.

Suddenly, what has felt like infinity becomes the home stretch. It’s 4:30. I’m more tired than I would be at this hour in bed, scrolling, tapping and dreading another day. Tom is visibly more drained as he powers on, handling paperwork, odds and ends. I can’t believe I let him watch me vacation at his labor site in hopes of finding some big scoop when the most dramatic scene was one I regrettably helped bring about.

It’s almost 5am. Tom leans on the counter for a moment of rest and asks me when I plan to leave, then repeats the question when I don’t hear. He says I don’t have to stay until 6. I take the hint and start packing up. He’s been kind and welcoming for longer than I should ever expect but he’s reached his limit. I thank him repeatedly and leave without ceremony. While crossing the street, I fear he was testing me and now he thinks I couldn’t cut it in the final hour.

I get home and walk little Dmitri, send him to bed and crawl into my own. I curse myself to sleep, planning to trash my notes like always, since just sitting there under the fluorescent lights was enough to dull my curiosity into anticlimax. I’m not a reporter. I’m an asshole for not having to go back there tomorrow. I pestered Tom on his own turf for nothing- what a bother and a waste, like everything else in life. Stupid idea; failed mission. Maybe this is the exhaustion talking?

But I feel the same way the next day and for several days, until Kevin goes to get coffee and sees Tom again. He apologizes for how he acted that night, for making rude assumptions. Tom readily forgives, saying he would have done the same thing with such little information. They share a hug at the counter. As Kevin recounts it, I almost cry imagining that hug. Now I can justify every moment leading up to it. Stoic bearded guy is a real person to us both; one less stranger in our ‘hood! Nevermind that the hug wouldn’t have been necessary without my reckless behavior, or that Tom is no more excited to see either of us now than he ever was before, or that things have returned to normal and it might as well have never happened, or that I won’t be invited to Tom’s wedding and we’re not friends, or that I’m not a big people person anyway, or that I could still be in trouble if that whole thing was indeed illegal. It still feels like something new, anyhow.

[undersummerskyy]

Oh! Are you still doin prompts? Can you do one with Beca naked on her room. Nothing sexual, she's just too lazy to put on clothes, maybe because it's too hot and maybe Chloe went home early and saw Beca asleep naked. I dunno, up to you :) love your fics btw!

Hey, thanks for the prompt! I’m definitely still excepting and writing them :) I hope you like your story, anon! I kinda forgot about the part where Beca was supposed to be asleep when Chloe got home, so she’s not, but I tried to stay as close to the prompt as I could :) I hope you’ll like it!

Shit. That’s Beca’s only thought when she realizes that she once again was too lazy this morning to do something about her laundry. She really, really should have done that, because she didn’t even have clean clothes in the first place. Great. She really annoys herself sometimes. She just got out of the shower and there’s seriously nothing she can wear. Plus, now she has a wet towel too.

She stares at the clock and realizes that it’s only 6pm. Chloe won’t be home until at least another two hours (she has an evening shift today), and god knows where Amy is, but she most likely won’t show up at all today, so she might as well wear nothing for now.  

It’s surprisingly comfortable actually, the not wearing any clothes thing. She’d do this more often if she didn’t have two roommates that were around a lot. Because she’s pretty sure she’d scar them for life. However, for some reason, it feels really awkward to sit on the couch like this, and their dinner table is even worse, so her only option is to sit on the bed. She doesn’t get under the covers, because it feels weird, plus it’s pretty hot in their apartment. It’s a little strange still, and she’s suddenly even more aware that she shares this bed with her best friend, who she’s had a crush on for years.

Still, she tries to forget about it as she gets herself a beer from the fridge (hoping it will help her feel a little more at ease), then moves back to the bed and reaches for her laptop, ready to do some work. She puts the headphones on her ears and just like that, she has forgotten about her lack of clothes.

Chloe is pleasantly surprised when her boss tells her she can go home earlier today. Apparently, they scheduled in too many people and he’s told her to go home. She works too much anyways. She doesn’t mind it, the long hours. It’s better than sitting at home and having to watch Beca work on her music or do.. well, basically anything. Because she’ll want to kiss her, and she can’t.

Still, she’s relieved today, because she’s exhausted and really all she wants to do is go home and sleep. She sends her best friend a text, saying that she’ll be home around 6:45, but she doesn’t get a response. Beca must be working on her music already.

Out of all the things she expected to see when she walked into the apartment, Beca sitting on their bed naked is the least of them. Still, that’s what she finds. She stands there for a second, just staring, because Beca hasn’t seen or heard her yet, until she makes a sudden move that Beca can apparently see from the corner of her eye, and then suddenly she’s pushing her laptop off her of her – which really doesn’t make it any better because she can now see everything – and then dives under the covers.

“Dude! What the hell are you doing?” Beca yelps once she’s fully covered.

“Uh. I could ask you the same thing.”

“I didn’t know you were going to be home so soon.” The brunette answers, realizing her face is probably as red as a tomato by now.

“Yeah, I uh- I got off work earlier. I sent you a text.”

Beca dares to reach for her phone, giving Chloe another quick glance at her chest (she’s a creep and she should really stop staring but then again, can you really blame her?!) before she disappears again. “Oh shit.” Beca then says, having clearly seen the text by now.

“Yeah. So uh- you wanna explain this situation?” Chloe asks as she starts taking off her own coat and putting it on the floor next to the bed, figuring it’s probably best if she keeps herself busy so that she’s not staring at Beca too much.

“It’s not what you think.” Her friend answers, clearly still super embarrassed.

“Really? Because I think that you were too lazy to do laundry, again, so decided that your only other option was to walk around naked.” Chloe says with a teasing smirk.

“Okay, it’s exactly what you think.”

She bursts out into laughter then, because it’s such a Beca thing to do, yet so extremely out of character at the same time. Sure, Beca is lazy sometimes when it comes to washing her clothes, or making sure she eats during the day, but this is also the girl that will blush every single time your shirt lifts even the slightest bit. Beca’s awkward, and if they’d swapped places, she’s sure the brunette would have stormed off. But not without muttering something along the lines of “shit” and “dude why?” and probably “sorry” and then she would have knocked over a bunch of their stuff before leaving.

But their roles aren’t swapped, and Chloe’s not running.    

“You could have just borrowed something from my closet, you know.” She says then, honestly wondering why Beca didn’t do that. “I mean,” she then adds bravely, because really.. they don’t have that many lines to cross anymore, “Not that I’m complaining.”

“You’re not? Because it seems like you are.” Beca fires back, her voice surprisingly steady.Chloe laughs, and while she does so she accidentally falls over her coat – the stupid goddamn coat that she just dumped on the floor moments before – and goes diving forward. Of course, of fucking course, she lands right on top of Beca, who lets out a shriek when she suddenly feels all of Chloe pressed against her. The redhead, looking for anything to break her fall, ends up groping Beca’s boob over the blanket.

“Dude.” Beca says, once she realizes that Chloe’s hand is still there even after she has regained her balance. “What is this about?” She asks, gesturing down towards her chest.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just.. I fell.”

“Yeah. I got that.”

There’s an awkward silence between them, and Chloe is not sure what to do.

“So, this got even weirder really fast.” Beca says, just trying to break the sexual tension in the air.

“I mean, I don’t think it’s too weird. The ‘accidentally grabbing your boob thing’ probably wasn’t my best move, but uh- nope. Not complaining. You know that I’m very confident about my own body, I’m just happy to see you feel the same about yours.”

“Oh, I don’t.”

“You don’t?”

“Nah, I’m just really, really tired right now, plus a little tipsy, and I’m kinda praying that this is just a bad dream.”

“It’s not.” Chloe says, to which Beca rolls her eyes.

“I’ve realized. Are you going to stop staring at me?”

“Are you going to put on clothes?”

“Probably not.” She says with a shrug, because honestly, why bother at this point.

“Then I guess I won’t.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Quite the contrary in fact.” Chloe says, winking at Beca before moving to sit next to her on the bed, choosing to stay on top of the covers though.

“Oh.” Beca responds, clearly taken aback a little by Chloe’s forwardness. She knew she was flirting too though, and Chloe was.. well Chloe was Chloe and of course, she’d be flirting with her in this moment. However, it seemed more serious this time. She still had that same teasing smirk on her face, but something in her eyes gave her away. Like she really wasn’t actually joking around when she said that she didn’t mind. And Beca didn’t know what to do with that information.

“You know, maybe I should just put on one of your shirts..” She finally says, after they’ve both been staring at her laptop in silence for a few minutes.

“Whatever you want. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before anyways.”

Beca frowns, suddenly having forgotten what Chloe is talking about. “The shower, Becs, your freshman year.”

“Oh, right.”

“I’ll go get you something.” Chloe says with a soft smile, noticing how uncomfortable Beca suddenly is. The alcohol and tiredness must be wearing off. She walks over towards her closet and pulls out one of her old shirts. She knows Beca likes this one on her, because Amy once sent her a picture of Beca wearing it when she was visiting family for a couple of days. Back then, she hadn’t said anything of course, but it had made her heart beat faster in her chest. Beca wearing her clothes was such a turn on for her, and she couldn’t help but admit that the brunette looked absolutely adorable in them.

She hands Beca the shirt, who stares at it questionably for a little (probably wondering if Chloe knows about the shirt stealing) before she takes it with a muttered ‘thanks’. She sits up in the bed, letting the covers fall down – allowing Chloe one final glance at her body – before quickly slipping on the shirt. It’s already quite long on Chloe, so on her it’s definitely long enough to cover everything that she wants to be covered.

“So, are you happy now?” Beca asks once everything is in place and she dares to look at her friend again.

“I wasn’t the one who was complaining, Becs, in case you forgot.”

The brunette rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but dude, you’re like.. super confident and whatever. Of course you don’t care about that stuff.”

Chloe chuckles. “You honestly think that I would have done the same thing if I had been Aubrey or whatever?”

Beca shrugs in response. “Uh, yeah?”

“You’re an idiot Becs. I mean, you’re a cute idiot, but you’re an idiot. You think that if I walked in on Aubrey like that I would have been as flustered as I was? You think I would not have been able to drag my eyes away from her because she’s just so beautiful. You think I would have encouraged her not to put on a shirt?”

“I’m guessing from the way you’re saying this the answer is no.”

“At least you got that right,” She says with a smile. “Bec, listen, I’m not trying to make you even more uncomfortable, but I like you. Like, I really like you. I just want you to know that it’s okay if you don’t like me back. I can live with that, I mean, I have been living with that. Your friendship just means so much to me and I could never lose that. I just.. I had to tell you. So if you just want me to go right now I can probably find another place to-“

“Chloe.”

“Yeah?”

“Stop talking right now.”

Beca pushed forward and pressed her lips against Chloe’s. The redhead was clearly surprised for a second or two, but then started kissing her back passionately. Beca immediately realized that they really should have done this sooner. Hell, she’s honestly considering never washing her clothes every again anymore. Turns out that sometimes being lazy will have its benefits. She deepens the kiss, letting her tongue trace Chloe’s bottom lip before entering her mouth. It’s amazing.. for three seconds. Chloe pulls back instantly and all too soon for Beca’s liking. Suddenly she feels like she just messed up. Did she go too far by deepening the kiss?

“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to catch her breath, “was that not good?”

Chloe smiles, a little breathless herself. “No.. it uh- it was.. trust me, it so was. It’s just- I’m suddenly a little too aware of how you’re naked underneath that shirt. My shirt, to be specific, which doesn’t help. Also, that doesn’t help either.”

Beca smiles broadly in response, then looks down at her own body. She suddenly understands why the redhead had pulled back. Chloe’s shirt is thin, and it’s pretty easy to tell that the kiss got her a little.. excited.

“Sorry.”

“Once again, not complaining. I just want to do this right, which means that I’d really love to take you out tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

Beca smiles again. “I’d love that.”

The redhead returns her soft smile, leaning in to give Beca a quick peck on her lips.

“Oh and Bec?”

“Yeah?”

“Please forget to do your laundry more often.”

They both laugh, and Beca surprises even herself by rolling over and into Chloe’s arms. She nuzzles her face into her best friend’s neck and exhales contently.

“Is this okay?”

“Perfect.”

[jarienn972]

Only a Little Superstitious - Chapter 15

I'm going to preface this chapter with the revelation that it came together as the result of a very stressful couple of weeks for me. So, that said, this one is going to be heavy on the angst  - with just a couple of major developments playing out both in Phoenix as well as back home in Storybrooke. I promise, there is going to be a happy ending, but there's still a bumpy road ahead for both Emma and Killian..   @killian-whump, I’d forgotten to tag you on the last couple of chapters, but I didn’t want you to miss out on some juicy angst.

 AO3   FF.net

From the beginning on Tumblr:  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14

Evening was quickly descending on Storybrooke as Regina yanked open the heavy front door of the town library, here thanks to an urgent message from Belle stating she'd discovered something very important. Regina didn't see the brunette librarian anywhere as she entered but she could hear a couple of muffled voices off in the distance.

"Belle?" Regina called out, having recognized Belle's voice as well as a male one – David. "You've got news?"

"Regina!" Belle's voice shouted back from further back in the dusty, musty building. "We're back here – in the computer room."

"We?" Regina asked. She had only made out two voices so she wondered who else might be present.

"David and I," Belle replied as Regina came around the corner into the library's make-shift computer room which also housed most of the reference section. David, clad in a blue plaid flannel shirt and jeans, was leaning against the wall across from Belle. "I figured he should be here as acting Sheriff so he could hear this as well…"

"Must relate to Emma and Hook then," Regina said in what came across as a perpetually annoyed tone.

"Sort of…," was Belle's cryptic response as she took a couple of steps over to a huge, solid oak library table stacked with piles of leather-bound first editions and reference materials. Belle pushed one of the stacks to the side and produced a fistful of papers. "Actually, it has more to do with Yzma's partner, Kronk…"

"Kronk? The guy who stabbed Hook then followed my daughter and son-in-law through the portal to Arizona?" David queried.

"That Kronk," Belle confirmed, plucking the first page from her pile of papers, one that looked like a poor quality photocopy. "I've been doing some research into both of our recent troublemakers, both Yzma and Kronk."

"Okay…" Regina hadn't expected the the petite librarian to continue looking into the pair once they'd been identified, but maybe this was a good thing.

"Well, we know that they arrived here with Mr. Hyde and his cronies from the Land of Untold Stories," David stated, curious as to what else Belle might have uncovered.

"Yes, they did come from the Land of Untold Stories," Belle verified. "I confirmed that through some of the journals found with both Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde's belongings. Each seemed to be trying to keep records which partially identified the story book characters trapped in that realm. Thing was, neither of them made any mention of Nehemiah Kronk or what his story was. That got me very curious so I started to do a little digging and, with the help of some modern technology, I found something very interesting…"

"Are you going to kill us with suspense?" Regina deadpanned, eager to get home after a long day.

"Sorry, let me get to the point," Belle responded, voice dripping with sarcasm as she had no intention of being bullied by the mayor's insolence. "Nehemiah Kronk isn't a fairytale character at all…"

"What?!" both David and Regina chimed in unison.

"What do you mean he isn't a fairytale character?" Regina repeated Belle's revelation. "He has to be…"

"He's most certainly not," Belle replied very matter-of-factly as she passed the paper clutched in her hand to Regina. "Nehemiah Kronk is from this world, the Land Without Magic. Look…"

Regina perused the slightly blurry page before her which appeared to be a badly preserved copy of a very old newspaper article. "What exactly am I looking at? Old news?"

"That is a printout of an article I uncovered, published by the Arizona Republican newspaper in 1892…" Belle started to say as Regina handed the barely legible page to David.

"This says something about a missing US Marshal?" David asked as he glanced down at the page, confused as to what this had to do with Yzma's dangerous henchman. "I guess I'm missing something here…"

"Let me finish?" Belle asked, to which both David and Regina agreed, promising not to interrupt again. "That article talks about the mysterious disappearance of United States Marshal Nehemiah Kronk who vanished somewhere outside of the city Phoenix, then in the Arizona territories, while escorting a prisoner from Denver to Los Angeles. He and his partner turned their prisoner over to the California team, but when his partner checked in the next morning before they were to board the train back to Denver, Kronk was nowhere to be found. Witnesses reported he was last seen in a tavern talking to an old man. No one ever saw Kronk again and he was suspected of becoming a victim of one of several Apache attacks that week."

"Okay, but this is from the 1890s… How could someone from this world still be alive and unaged over a century later?" David wondered. "I'm sure the frozen time aspect of the Land of Untold Stories had something to do with it, but how did he get there if he isn't from a story? And how did he manage to hook up with Yzma?"

"I can't give you answers to those questions, but it's definitely the same guy…" Belle peeled the second page from her pile which contained a grainy, black and white photograph of the missing Marshal and while the hairstyle, attire and facial hair were different, David recognized the face of the man he'd fought alongside his son-in-law.

"Damn… that's him…" David sighed, unsure what this would mean for his daughter and her wounded husband.

"Well, at least we now have something that explains how they ended up in Arizona," Regina spoke up. "If Emma's right about the dagger being the object that opened the portal, not the scepter, Kronk may have had an impact on their destination."

"You think Kronk had a reason to go back to Arizona after all of these years?" David asked.

"Maybe. There are a lot of things we aren't going to be able to answer, but maybe this information would help Emma's friends track him down before he finds them?" Belle questioned. "Maybe we should call her?"

"She's still waiting for the dagger and potion to arrive," Regina said as she glanced down at her gold, diamond encrusted watch. "It won't get there for a few more hours but she's supposed to call when the package arrives and let us know if the potion works."

"Emma's got enough on her mind right now," David began. "Let's wait until we know the potion worked before we give her something else to worry about…"

"Agreed," Regina said. "Let's not bother her with a story about a century and a half year old former Federal Agent until the dark magic is dealt with. As for me, I'm heading home. If you happen to hear from your daughter sooner, let me know."

Sunsets in the Valley of the Sun were always spectacular and Carlos found his eyes immediately drawn to the blaze of color stretching across the Western sky as he exited his battered old pickup truck. The last few rays of sunlight could be seen reflecting off of the front windows of the nondescript office building in Scottsdale that he'd parked in front of, one which housed the National Parks Service field office. At nearly 6pm, only a few of his fellow government employees would still be here, most swapping their assigned Parks Service SUVs for their personal vehicles after a long day of patrolling the surrounding expanse of Federal lands.

He tapped his ID badge against the electronic security panel to the right of the entrance, tugging the door open when the panel buzzed and flashed a green light. Ana, their receptionist, glanced up from her desk as he entered, momentarily startling her as few people entered through the front door at this hour.

"Littlecreek? What are you doing at the office at this hour?" she asked, her dark eyes narrowing in confusion. "And isn't it your day off?"

"Hey, Ana," he greeted her with a friendly smile, hoping he could sell her on the basic story without going into a lot of detail. "Yeah, sorry for the confusion. I've got a package being delivered here from back East. It's pretty important so I didn't really want to risk having it dropped off at my place."

"Ooh, the mystery deepens, huh?" Ana teased him as he pulled one of the waiting area chairs away from the window and flopped down onto it. "Must be pretty important for you to show up here on your day off…"

"Yes, it is. Important enough to warrant private, same-day courier delivery. Good thing it's not on my tab. Figured I'd get over here early though in case the plane lands earlier than scheduled."

"Okay, well, you're on your own. I'm not sticking around while you wait," Ana stated as the clock on her desk now read six o'clock. "My day is over and I'm heading home. See you later, Littlecreek."

"Goodnight, Ana," he replied as she retrieved her purse from beneath her desk and scurried out the door. While he would have preferred the company, the less prying eyes, the better. He didn't want to have to go over the story of the package's contents more times than necessary.

He'd nearly drifted off from boredom when a loud knock sounded against the thick glass door forty-five minutes later. Carlos sprang to his feet and took a step towards the door, taking in the sight of a slight, blond haired man in his early to mid twenties dressed in a navy blue uniform and clutching a small box wrapped tightly in clear tape.

"Evening," the courier greeted Carlos from the opposite side of the thick glass door. "I've got a package here for a Mrs. Emma Jones, care of a Ranger Carlos Littlecreek?"

"And that would be me," Carlos replied. "One moment. Let me buzz you in…" Carlos found the button to his left and pressed it before pushing the door open for the courier to enter the office lobby.

"Thank you," the courier said as he took a few steps inside toward the reception desk. He rested the package on the desk while fumbling through his pocket with his free hand to find his tablet so he could collect Carlos' signature confirming the delivery. It was only as the package was placed atop the counter that Carlos noticed that one side was dented significantly. "I just need you to sign here but I'd also like you to take a look over the package and the contents and make sure they're intact in case you need to file a claim. We had a pretty bumpy flight and everything in the cargo hold got jostled around a lot. 'Found this package beneath a heavier one that got bounced on top of it and since the manifest stated it contained medicine, I was a little concerned…"

"Yeah, it contains some cough medicine for a colleague of mine. Desert air doesn't quite agree with her," Carlos chuckled as he hunted around Ana's desk for a pair of scissors so he could cut through the many layers of tape securing the box. Upon closer inspection, it appeared the courier had valid reason for his concern. He could see that beneath the tape, corners of the cardboard seemed to be damp with a reddish liquid and as he lifted it, the bottom was sticky against his palm. It was all adding up to be a little disconcerting. What if the potion bottles were damaged? There might not be time to wait for another batch… He cautiously cut through the tape securing the top flaps of the box and pulled them open to reveal layer after layer of bubble wrap lining the carton. He dug into it, easily finding the first prescription bottle and breathing a small sigh of relief upon discovering it was intact. They'd have one dose at least.

Unfortunately, as he discovered more of the sticky liquid clinging to the plastic, it became fairly evident that the second container hadn't been spared and as much as he hated it, he was right. He found the second bottle positioned against the dented side of the box sporting a large crack down the side. Grabbing what looked to be a clean coffee mug from Ana's desktop, he carefully extracted the second bottle, trying to preserve as much of the precious liquid inside as he could. He dropped the damaged container into the mug so it could catch any additional spillage, then slowly removed layer upon layer of bubble wrap, pouring what he could salvage into the mug.

"Damn…," the courier sighed. "I'm so sorry about that. We'll notify the sender so they can put in a damage claim if they want."

"Nothing you could do about the turbulence," Carlos assured the courier, not blaming him for this setback. At least one bottle had survived so they had one full dose and he was doing all he could to collect every drop he could rescue from the broken bottle. "Here, let me sign that so you can get out of here and I can get this stuff over to my colleague." The courier handed him the tablet and a rubber tipped stylus to sign and Carlos scrawled out his name as best he could with his now very sticky fingers. Once the transaction was all completed, he buzzed the courier out and tried to decide if he should call Emma now to warn her or just explain it all in person. Neither option was particularly pleasant at the moment.

Deciding it preferable to explain face to face, Carlos packaged the borrowed mug inside the box with the unblemished container and the still wrapped dagger then hurried out to his truck. He headed south toward Mesa, driving as quickly as he could without drawing too much unnecessary attention. Last thing he needed was to get pulled over for speeding and lengthen the delay the snarled traffic was already causing.

He finally arrived back at the hospital just after 7:30pm, box carefully tucked under his left arm. The unusual package had gotten a bit of scrutiny from security, but a casual mention of Tim Stillwater's name managed to get him through without too many questions. As he at last approached the room, it looked like Killian was asleep. Emma's back was to him but Grandmother spotted him lurking in the corridor and waved him inside.

"Why were you standing out there just staring?" Grandmother scolded him. "You could have just entered."

"I saw that Killian was sleeping and I didn't want to disturb him," Carlos replied in defense of his stalling.

"Right now, I don't care who you wake," Emma stated, standing up and hurriedly retrieving the box Carlos was carrying. "This package right here is the only thing I'm worried about right now."

"Well, the potion is definitely in there, as was the dagger," Carlos told her. "I wasn't even gonna try to bring that thing in here though so it's locked in my truck, but unfortunately, we may have a small problem…"

"Problem?" Emma's gaze shot up to meet Carlos', the earlier eagerness now tempered with a hint of trepidation. "What kind of problem?" She had already placed the cardboard box atop the rolling side table and was lifting the flaps to open it, not yet noticing that the corners were damp and discolored, but Grandmother's eagle eyes had spotted the stains.

Sharing a knowing glance with her grandson, the old woman was already asking "What happened?" even before Emma had the lid open, knowing not all of the potion had survived the journey from Storybrooke. Grandmother's intuitive suspicions were confirmed when Emma peeled back the sticky bubble wrap to discover the ceramic mug holding the cracked prescription bottle and the remnants that Carlos had managed to salvage.

"One of the bottles was broken?" Emma asked with a very audible sigh, lifting the mug carefully from the box so she wouldn't spill any more of its valuable contents. "It's all soaked through the box…"

"The courier said they hit some nasty turbulence and some other boxes fell on top of this one," Carlos explained. "I salvaged what I could from the broken one, even what I could manage to save from inside the layers of bubble wrap. 'Borrowed a friend's mug so I'd have something to catch it all. Looks like there's maybe a third of the original amount left…"

"The other bottle is intact?" Grandmother asked just wanting to be certain.

"Yes, it's fine," Emma responded as she withdrew the undamaged bottle from the package and placed it atop the table. Resting the mug beside the prescription container, she extracted the broken bottle and removed its lid, dumping the remaining contents into the mug. The thick, reddish-brown liquid certainly looked and even smelled like cough syrup. Regina had done well disguising it, but they had only a little more than a single dose. "Might as well have him drink all of it now," Emma decided, raising the second bottle to remove its cap and emptying it into the mug as well. Now all she had to do was get Killian to drink it.

"You're not worried it might be too much?" Carlos wondered, figuring there had to be a reason it was split into two separate doses. He didn't really expect Emma to answer as there definitely wasn't enough left to make a second dose that would likely have any effect, but he was still curious that too much could be equally as troubling as not enough.

"I don't see much of a choice," Emma replied as she gently nudged her husband's shoulder in an attempt to get him to stir. "Killian? If you can hear me, you need to wake up…" There was little response from her first effort so she had to try a bit harder this time, stroking his upper arm as she called out to him once again. "Killian – we've got the potion… You need to wake up so you can drink it…" This time, his head lolled toward the sound of her voice, followed by a faint, pained groan of displeasure. "That's it…" Emma continued to encourage him out of his drowsiness. "C'mon, talk to me…"

"'M tired, Swan…" Killian complained, eyes still closed tightly.

"I know," she apologized. Emma hated forcing him, but deep down, she knew it was for the best. "You've got to wake up and drink this to fight off that dark magic that has a hold on you." Killian's eyelids parted to slits, barely enough to make out the shape of his wife's face as she leaned over him. He took another moment to allow his sleepy eyes to adjust until he could discern a mug clutched in her right hand.

"Regina's potion?" Killian asked, his left eyebrow arching with suspicion.

"Yes," Emma smiled at him. "It's the potion we've been waiting for." She gently took a seat beside him on the narrow bed. "Let me help you sit up…" She found the controls for the adjustable bed and pressed the button to raise his head, slipping her left hand behind his shoulder to help ease him forward until he was seated upright, nearly eye level with her. He immediately grimaced and nearly tumbled back against the pillows as a twinge of pain shot through his chest. "Ooh, sorry… Shouldn't have done that so fast…"

"Be fine in a moment…," Killian insisted, gritting his teeth until the discomfort lessened. "Where is it?"

"Here," Emma replied, offering the ceramic mug. He managed to wrap his fingers around it, but found his hand shaking too much to keep a grip on the handle. "Maybe I should hold it?" his wife offered, to which he nodded in agreement. "Okay… take it slowly, but you'll have to drink it all." She raised the mug to his lips and gradually tipped it. When he nearly gagged on the first mouthful, she instinctively pulled the offending vessel away, fearful that it might be too much right now, but Killian shook his head and reached for her.

"It's fine, Love," Killian assured her despite a crinkled nose and a frown stretching across his lips. "It's a bit much. Rather distasteful, to be honest, but I can do this…" The frown melted into a weak smile as he cupped his hand around hers, still trembling from even such a slight exertion. His fingers stayed with hers as she brought the mug back to his open mouth again. Killian wasn't shy about displaying his displeasure at the foul-tasting liquid but he drank all of it. Emma lowered the mug and passed it to Grandmother as Killian forced himself to swallow the last of the potion.

"Feel any different?" Emma asked, remaining at her husband's side while Grandmother placed the mug on the counter next to the sink to wash later.

"Burns a little," Killian responded, his fingers latching onto Emma's upper arm for support. "Kinda like heartburn after eating that noxious substance Granny calls chili…" That statement had Emma trying to stifle a chuckle even as she felt his grip tighten.

"You sure you're okay?" Emma asked, no longer amused. "You've got a death grip on my arm."

"Sorry… Don't know my own strength…" Killian grinned, but the forced smile was soon betrayed by a powerful spasm that sent his body tumbling into his wife's arms.

"Killian?!" Her arms immediately wrapped around his torso as she caught him crashing into her, nearly knocking her over. His heart was thumping against his chest wall; his breaths coming rapid and shallow and suddenly, the electronic monitor behind him was beeping in time with his racing heart. This was definitely going to draw attention they didn't need.

Sensing what was happening, Grandmother shooed Carlos away from the door as Emma clung to her trembling husband. These spirits weren't going to give him up without a fight, but the old woman recognized that an interruption by medical personnel at this critical moment would disrupt the process so she moved swiftly to intercept the nurse before she entered.

"Is everything alright here?" the nurse asked suspiciously as she saw her patient clenched in his wife's embrace, apparently wrought with tremors. The first thought as the monitors had lit up with alarms was that Killian Jones was suffering another seizure. "This might be another seizure so if you'd please, move out of my way so I can examine my patient."

"Everything is fine," Grandmother insisted, voice calm and steady so that she might sound more convincing. "It's not a seizure. Mr. Jones merely woke from a very visceral nightmare – the poor man forced to relive the horror of being stabbed by an assailant that has yet to be captured. His wife is attempting to comfort him. She gave him a little bit of water and is holding him while the shaking subsides. Please, give her some time before you interrupt them. You might startle him anew." The nurse relented, partially because she noticed that the monitor displaying the patient's heart rate showed his pulse returning to normal and partially because she didn't want to argue with this old woman standing before her.

"I'll be back in two minutes to check his vitals," the nurse insisted. Grandmother responded only with a nod, returning to the room to find that Killian had passed out, his body slack in Emma's arms as she eased him back against the mattress, lowering the bed's angle to a more comfortable sleeping position.

Once Killian was resting seemingly peacefully, Emma drew her arms back from beneath him, but then raised her right hand to sweep away the unruly strands of dark brown hair that had cascaded over his temple when he'd fallen forward. His forehead still felt a bit warm to her touch, but perhaps not as much as earlier? "Please let this work." Her plea came out in a barely audible whisper.

"I don't sense the evil spirits here in this room any longer," Grandmother stated as she extended a hand to help Emma to her feet. Emma's gaze remained fixed on Killian as she stood, allowing him to rest without crowding him.

"I sure hope you're right," Emma responded, her voice quivering as she allowed only a single tear to escape. "I guess only a little time will tell us for sure…"

[frederickwiddowson]

The writings of Luke the physician starting with his version of the gospel - Luke 23:44-49 comments: a darkness at noon

Luke 23:44 ¶  And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. 45  And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. 46  And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost. 47  Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly this was a righteous man. 48  And all the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their breasts, and returned. 49  And all his acquaintance, and the women that followed him from Galilee, stood afar off, beholding these things.

Now, here comes one of those perplexing verses for modernists who want to interpret the Bible like they do the owner’s manual for their car. It says literally in verse 44 that in the sixth hour, which would be noon, as the daytime measured by the Sun, if it was visible, was from 6am to 6pm our time, there was a darkness over all the earth.

First, though, let’s talk about time.

John 11:9  Jesus answered, Are there not twelve hours in the day? If any man walk in the day, he stumbleth not, because he seeth the light of this world.

This is a general understanding of the hourly divisions of the typical day. These are not, “it was 12:01pm.” In the ancient world a reference to time was a general thing, say, within the hour. They were more likely to say, “work begins at first light,” rather than, “show up at 7am for work.” The industrial regime of time where your days are commanded by a clock and you are expected to be at a certain place by a certain minute would not have been understandable by most people until the last couple of hundred years. This is one reason why factories had such a hard time with employees who came from a farm tradition although mechanical clocks were common by then. Time was relative, not exact, and a person could understand showing up at dawn but the concept of being “clocked in” by 7am was, at first, very strange. Whether the darkness started at noon exactly or at 12:15 or 12:37 we cannot know in this life because it came over the earth in the sixth hour, sometime in the sixth hour, so the apostle John would not have been standing in the crowd consulting with his non-existent stopwatch.

Sun dials were in use for thousands of years and are the oldest known device for measuring time. In Isaiah, at least seven-hundred years before Christ, we have a mention.

Isaiah 38:8  Behold, I will bring again the shadow of the degrees, which is gone down in the sun dial of Ahaz, ten degrees backward. So the sun returned ten degrees, by which degrees it was gone down.

Some sources report that the earliest use of a minute for dividing an hour into 60 periods of 60 seconds is reported in the 1200s AD. Just want to point out not to read today’s “accuracy” back into the Bible measurement of time. It is not necessary to do so to understand what is being said to us.

This reference to all the earth might be a reference only to that part of the world and not necessarily a solar eclipse that would have been seen in that part of the world although God does use “natural” events to accomplish His purposes. So, whether it was a solar eclipse or not I am not saying and evidence that there was one at that time that would have been seen in Judea is just not there. Although as I said before I do not want to make this study of Luke a harmonization of the Gospels I think some cross-references here, as in other places, would be most helpful.

Matthew 27:45  Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.

Mark 15:33 ¶  And when the sixth hour was come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour.

I believe this was a localized supernatural event. Remember two things. One, that the darkness over the land of Egypt in Exodus 10 would not have been over the entire planet. Two, when the Bible refers to the earth in most places neither is it referring to the frozen tundra of Siberia or the jungles of the Amazon River basin. It almost always is a reference to Palestine where events are taking place after the focus is narrowed down to Abraham’s departure from Ur in Genesis, chapter 11.

Regarding verse 45, the veil in the tabernacle was to divide the people from the most holy place.

Exodus 26:31 ¶  And thou shalt make a vail of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen of cunning work: with cherubims shall it be made: 32  And thou shalt hang it upon four pillars of shittim wood overlaid with gold: their hooks shall be of gold, upon the four sockets of silver. 33  And thou shalt hang up the vail under the taches, that thou mayest bring in thither within the vail the ark of the testimony: and the vail shall divide unto you between the holy place and the most holy. 34  And thou shalt put the mercy seat upon the ark of the testimony in the most holy place.

Solomon carried that over into the temple, of course.

2Chronicles 3:14  And he made the vail of blue, and purple, and crimson, and fine linen, and wrought cherubims thereon. 15  Also he made before the house two pillars of thirty and five cubits high, and the chapiter that was on the top of each of them was five cubits.

Matthew and Mark both report that the veil was torn from top to bottom indicating that this thick piece of fine twined linen was torn by God, not man. The barrier between mankind and God, the profane and the sacred, was ripped apart. God made provision to dwell with mankind, in their heart of hearts. This is an act of God, not performed by human willpower.

John 1:12  But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: 13  Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

The only work that man or woman can do to initiate this act of God is to believe and have faith that what Christ said about Himself was true, to believe that He was God in the flesh, and in His resurrection.

John 14:6   Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

John 6:29   Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.

John 3:36  He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.

John 10:30   I and my Father are one.

Romans 10:9   That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.

The Cross was enough to pay for our sins against God restoring and reconciling mankind to what was lost in Adam and Eve’s sin against Him, which nature we inherited.

1Corinthians 1:18   For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.

Ephesians 2:14 ¶  For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; [Jew and Gentile] 15  Having abolished in his flesh the enmity, even the law of commandments contained in ordinances; for to make in himself of twain [Jew and Gentile] one new man, so making peace; 16  And that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity thereby: 17  And came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh.

Hebrews 9:24  For Christ is not entered into the holy places made with hands, which are the figures of the true; but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us:

25  Nor yet that he should offer himself often, as the high priest entereth into the holy place every year with blood of others; 26  For then must he often have suffered since the foundation of the world: but now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.

The Empty Tomb was sufficient for our justification.

Romans 4:25   Who was delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification.

The receipt of this free gift of eternal life is based on belief and faith.

Romans 4:5   But to him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness.

Ephesians 2:8  For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: 9  Not of works, lest any man should boast.

1Timothy 6:12   Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses.

Hebrews 11:6   But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.

The deposit on this promise of eternal life is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit; the Spirit of God and of Christ. There are so many verses that detail this it would take up many pages to list them all.

John 14:23   Jesus answered and said unto him, If a man love me, he will keep my words: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.

Romans 8:9   But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.

2Corinthians 1:22   Who hath also sealed us, and given the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts.

46 says  And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.

Psalm 31:5  Into thine hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O LORD God of truth.

Matthew and Mark both have Jesus quoting the first verse of Psalm 22, a Psalm about His mission, struggles, agony, and those who will be born of the Spirit.

Matthew 27:46  And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Mark 15:34  And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

Psalm 22:1 ¶  « To the chief Musician upon Aijeleth Shahar, A Psalm of David. » My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?

John reports this;

John 19:30  When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.

For verse 47 Matthew and Mark also report the Centurion, the Roman army officer in charge, as saying something additionally to a righteous man. They have him acknowledging that Jesus must be the Son of God, a declaration that would save the Centurion like the thief on the cross.

People watching mourned in grief and desperation and the women who had helped Jesus and the disciples stood back and watched Him die, no doubt, weeping bitterly.

[boredbookworm]

Movie Night?

Surprise @theyrejustbehindtheveil I’m your Secret Santa this year! Hope you enjoy they fic <3 Thank you @mlsecretsanta for hosting this again!

Rating: T Themes: Fluff, Friendship, Touch of Romance Ships: DjWifi Word Count: 1518 AO3

Cold winter days are meant for staying in and relaxing in the warmth of your home. Under a soft blanket, mug of hot chocolate in hand, and a feel good movie playing.

Nino had all this prepared for the weekend movie marathon with Alya.

He just had to ask her first.

“You’re more nervous than when you were trying to ask Marinette out,” said Adrien.

Earlier that day, Nino had invited Adrien over with the excuse that they would be working on a school project. In reality, the two had decided to spend the day playing video games and planning Nino’s date with Alya the coming weekend.

“And that day turned out terrible. Every time I think about sending her a text I freeze and overthink what I want to say. I feel like I’m going to mess this up like I did with Marinette.”

Adrien could not help but shake his head at his best friend.

“First off, you didn't mess things up with Marinette, it just didn’t work out in the end. And second, you hang out with Alya all the time. All those times you help her with schoolwork or with the Ladyblog,” he pointed out. “What is so different about this?”

“Everything. She’s usually the one that drags me into going along with her insane plans. I’m never the one that starts it off. You were the one that somehow got me the date with Marinette so you can’t even say I have any experience asking girls out.”

While Nino worried himself over how he would ask Alya to hang out, Adrien sneaked Nino’s phone out of his pocket. He opened up Alya’s contact and sent her a brief message asking if she would be interested in a movie marathon at his place. She quickly responded saying she would be free after 6 once her mother is home Saturday evening.

Adrien handled the phone to Nino, “She’ll be over around 6pm on Saturday.”

Nino looked at him in disbelief.

“I swear you’re good at everything you do dude.”

Adrien stayed for an hour more before he had to leave for home. Within that time he tried his best to give Nino the best pep talk he could. He left still feeling that Nino did not believe he was prepared for Saturday evening.  He hoped the best for his friend.

Nino spent the next two days restless. He would double check to make sure he had enough instant hot chocolate for the two of them, had all of Alya’s favorite movies ready, and had the softest blanket in the house washed.

No matter how much he prepared, Nino was still nervous for Saturday. Even at school his nervousness showed. Nino’s conversations with Alya felt stiff and forced. He stumbled over topics that he could in the past handle with ease. He was only saved by Marinette and Adrien joining in to draw attention away from his behavior.

By the time Saturday rolled around, he was a wreck.

Nino sat fidgeting on the couch as he waited for Alya to arrive. Nino tried his best to keep his eyes off the clock as it would just make the time feel longer but he couldn't help glancing from every once in awhile. Finally, his eyes landed on the clock as the time changed to 6pm. Alya would be arriving an minute.

The clock struck 7pm and Nino had yet to hear a knock at the door or recieve a message from Alya.

He gave Alya a few more minutes before going online to check the news. Unsurprising, there was an Akuma attacking the Eiffel tower and the Ladyblog had live footage of it.

“The one day I didn’t need this to happen.”

Nino grabbed his winter coat before rushing out the door. The cold air felt like it was cutting into his skin as raced through every shortcut he knew that would get him to the tower faster.

It didn’t take him long to find Alya hiding behind some overturned cars.

Nino snuck up behind her and asked, “Don’t girls usually send an excuse text before standing up a guy?”

Alya jumped slightly, “Nino! Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“You need to watch your back. I was worried sick when you didn’t show up earlier.”

A loud crash from the other side of the car made them both duck in case of any flying debris. Nino put himself above Alya to shield her just in case. They both stayed huddled together until they couldn’t hear anything else happening. Alya peaked over and saw the fight had moved on to another area.

It was then that Nino noticed that Alya was only in a t-shirt and jeans.

“Did you race over here without even putting on a sweater?”

“I didn’t have time. I had to get live footage for the Ladyblog,” replied Alya. “Now come on let’s go find out where they went.”

Nino grabbed Alya’s arm to keep her from running off. He took off his coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.

“How long have you been out here? You’re going to catch a cold. I’m sure you got enough footage for the Ladyblog so let’s just go so you can warm up.”

Alya was reluctant to go but having finally realized how cold she really was, she followed Nino back to his place. As soon as they arrived, Nino placed the kettle on the stove and begun to heat up some water for their hot chocolate. He grabbed a blanket and handed it to Alya while they waited for the water to boil.

“Still cold?” asked Nino.

“A little,” she wrapped blanket tightly around her as she spoke, “thanks for the blanket. I didn’t realize how cold I was out there until you pointed it out.”

They watched the kettle in silence as they waited. Neither wanted to speak first. Neither knew what to say. A high pitched whistle broke the silence they built around each other.

Nino began making the hot chocolate and tried to break the silence.

“How much milk to you want in yours?”

“Same amount as water.”

The awkward silence fell upon them once again.

Nino had enough of it.

“You could have at least sent me a text. I was worried sick that something had happened when you didn’t show up.”

“I had to get footage for the Ladyblog.”

“You already said that. You could have sent me a text first so I would at least know where you were.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Nino handed her a mug, “It’s fine, but I don’t think we are going to have enough time to finish all the movies I had picked out for today with how late you are.”

“Then let’s get started.”

Alya moved her blanket to the couch and placed her mug on the coffee table in front of her. Nino popped the first dvd in before joining her. She threw the blanket over the two of them.

“How long can you stay over?” asked Nino. “We are almost two hours late starting this and I don’t want you to get in trouble for going home too late.”

“How long can I stay? We don’t have school tomorrow so I can stay the night and just tell my parents I’m staying at Marinette’s tonight.”

“That can work. My parents are out of town until tomorrow afternoon so as long as you leave by then it should be fine.”

“Then I’ll just text my parents and Marinette so she can play along.”

Nino picked up the remote and pressed play for the first movie. Half way through, Alya leaned on his shoulder.

Nino wasn’t sure what to do.

He could either leave her as she was or put his arm around her. Leaving her as is was the safe path to take, putting his arm around her could make things awkward if he was just misunderstanding her actions.

He decided to take the chance.

As casually as he could, Nino lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders. Alya responded by shifting closer.

Success.

“How many movies did you have planned for today?”

“I had five picked out but I wanted expecting to get past 3. Now I'm sure we will only get to see two.”

“That sounds like a challenge,” Alya said with fire in her eyes.

They made it through two movies before Alya yawned.

“Are you getting tired?” Nino paused the movie. “It’s already midnight so we can finish the movies another day.”

“You kidding me? We are at the best part. I’m not sleeping until we are done with all five movies.”

“Okay, but don't blame me if you fall asleep halfway through.”

“I won't.”

Nino resumed the movie.

He let out a yawn as well.

The tv continued to play in the background but neither of the two were watching. Nino and Alya had long fallen asleep under the warmth of their shared blanket. Their mugs still half full of unfishished hot chocolate.

The rest would have to wait for another day.

[starrywinters]

Destined — A Park Woojin Ghost!AU Fanfic

requested by anon!

genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst??

Reader as Im Yumi

warning (not really)!: long(?) one shot ahead;;;

“Yumi-ah! Let’s go on a date tonight! There’s a fair in town and today’s the last day.”

“Alright! I’ll head home and get ready, what time should we meet?”

“No need, I’ll come pick you up at 6PM!”

Heading home, you think about how much fun you and Woojin will have; eating food, winning teddy bears for each other, sharing a cotton candy, basically things couples do. Once you arrive at your house you began planning out your outfit for the night, you decided on a plain white shirt and black shorts. When the clock striked 6, Woojin was at the door, knocking. Guess what? You two were matching, he was wearing a white shirt with a black jacket over and a pair of black ripped skinny jeans. (i suck at describing so basically what he wore in his self-introduction video)

“Oho, sharp as ever Park Woojin.”

“Beautiful as ever Im Yumi,” and he smiles, his snaggletooth showing. inTerNALlY SqUEAlinG!!!!!!

Walking to the fair, your hands brush against each other. You were about to make the first step, slowly inching your hand closer to his to hold onto, but he was a second earlier than you. Grabbing your hand and interlocking them, he swings both your arms happily.

“Let’s win lots of stuffed toys Yumi!”

The fair was crowded with couples and families, he gripped your hand tighter as to keep you close to him, afraid he’d lose you in the sea of humans. You guys passed by a donut stand, and since you were hungry and craved for something sugary, you two bought a donut each. (i..jihoon’s part when he was in the tub full of donuts came up and this happened-)

Passing by many stands, which you kept note of to go back to and win prizes, you see a particular stuffed lion at the basketball shooting booth,

“WOOJINN,” tugging on his sleeve desperately trying to get his attention away from the donut he was very into that donut ok “I FOUND YOUR TWIN OMG, WOOJIIIIINNNNNN!!!1!”

“Ok Yumi, I don’t have a twin, how many times do I have to tell you that???”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN? Your twin is riGHT there!” Points at the stuffed lion plush hanging at the top of the booth. “WE HAVE TO WIN IT, PLEASEEEEEE”

Not wanting to deal with your tantrums right now, he drags you over to the basketball booth and pays the person to play,

“Alright kiddo, if you make 10 baskets in 30 seconds, you can pick any prize you want.”

This is so rigged, 10 in 30 seconds? The baskets move too, wth is this system?? 

However, Woojin wasn’t fazed, I have to win that stuffed toy for Yumi! You can practically see fire surrounding his frame as he determinedly gets in position to shoot.

DING DING DING “WE HAVE A WINNER!”

No, it wasn’t you guys, it was the couple behind you at the other booth, throwing balls into fish bowls to win fish.

You were skeptical of this game as you can see the poop-eating grin on the booth person’s face with his evil conscience telling him to cheat the game and make Woojin play again and again so he can earn money. What a greedy person oh goodness. What he didn’t know was that once Woojin gets into his zonE, nothing can stop him. And I mean nothINGG. Not even this cheating ding-a-ling.

Whispering to him, “You sure you want to do this? This guy seems sketchy…”

“Yes Yumi, I’m 101% sorry my heart still hurts sure! I want to win that toy for you!”

“Ready kiddo?”

“Come at me bro.”

DING DING DING “We have a winner !” (2)

But this time, the tone of the booth person was different, he monotonously announced it as his evil plans failed him. He was so surprised when Woojin began shooting ball after ball into the moving basket, he didn’t think Woojin would win.

Sulkily, he asks, “Which prize would you like?”

“I want that stuffed lion please!” Oh, dear baby Woojin, still so polite even after the guy tried to cheat you. What a pure child.

“AAAHHHH THANK YOU WOOJINNN!!1!” Jumping into his arms, you lean in to peck him on the cheeks. But he moved at the moment to face you and you end up pecking his lips. Frozen (let it gooooo…cough.), you two didn’t know what to do and quickly separated, feeling shy. There was a silence lingering between you two, not awkward but not comfortable either. Trying to get over what happened you grab his hand and pull him to the fishing booth to win fish. Though, the thought of that awkward peck still lingering in the back of both your heads.

Time Skip

As the fair comes to an end, you two start heading home. He walks you all the way to your front door, leaning in he gives you a perfect kiss this time. Not awkward, very comfortable and sweet. He pours all his feelings for you in that one kiss and you respond with the same feelings.

Slowly pulling away, you breathlessly whisper, “I had a great time, Woojin! It was fun! Thanks for spending time with me and winning me these amazing prizes.”

He smiles and responds, “I had a great time with you too, Yumi. This night couldn’t have been better, but it’s time for you to wake up.”

What? Wake up? I’m clearly awake?? “What? Woojin, what are you talking about?”

“Exactly what I said, wake up, Yumi.”

Then everything starts spinning and the words ‘Wake up, Yumi’ continues to echo around you.

Jumping up from your bed, startled, you hear your alarm blaring in the background and your mom shouting at your face to get up.

“DON’T YOU HAVE TO GO DO YOUR DAILY VISITS? WHY AREN’T YOU GETTING UP? YOU’RE LATE.”

Daily visits? Late? To what? Looking at your clock you see that it’s almost 12PM, thinking back to what you usually do in the mornings everyday- Oh, OH. OH SHOOT, I’M LATE. NOOOO. Rushing out of your room and into the bathroom, you faintly hear your mom shouting at you to stop running, but all you could think and care about as of the moment is that you’re late. Late to something important, late to something you promised to do everyday.

Running out of the house, to a flower shop, and then heading to your destination, you arrive there breathless. Taking a break on the nearby bench, trying to catch your breath, you think of the times you used to spend with a certain person. Your light, your world, the one who can make you fully happy. besides family of course.

Heading towards the stone, you grip onto the bouquet of lilies. Why did it happen to you? Why did you do what you did? You should’ve let me be the one to have taken the hit, why did you push me away? At this point, tears were streaming down your face, holding back a sob you walk closer and closer towards the stone.

“Hey Woojin, sorry I was late today, I was dreaming about us again, this time at the fair we went to last year. Remember that?” You feel a gust of wind blowing at you, shivering you glance around quickly, who am I kidding? That’s just wind Yumi, stop reading those ghost stories and get your head out of the clouds!

“How are you today, Woojin? Did you make any friends where you’re at? I still live with the regret of you taking the hit instead of me you know? Why did you do that? Why did you do that to yourself? I was the one that was supposed to be where you’re at right now,” you finally let yourself loose. Sinking down to the ground, you begin sobbing into your knees.

“Yumi.” You hear a whisper in the air, vaguely sounding like Woojin. Looking up in shock, you desperately try to find him, screaming out his name. When your eyes reaches a tree a few yards away, you see a silhouette. Getting up and slowly walking towards the tree, the face of the person becomes clearer and clearer. It’s Woojin! Not believing your eyes, you quicken your footsteps, jogging, running until you get to him.

“WOOJIN!” Your heart is soaring, “It really is you! But I thought- How are you here?”

He doesn’t speak, he looks scared to. He’s hiding something.

You rush to hug him, but you can’t?? Your arms pass through him and you stare in shock. “W-what? Woojin, wha- what just happened?”

“Yumi-ah, I- I’m not alive, I’m really dead. I’m a ghost Yumi-ah, you can finally see me. I’ve been watching over you, you haven’t been well have you? I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

“W-woojin..”

“I’m sorry baby, but I don’t have much time.. Now that you’ve noticed me, I only have a few hours before they take me. My only wish to fulfill before I leave was for us to finally be able to see each other one last time.”

“Let’s- let’s make the most of the few hours you have, Woojin-ah. Okay? I have a wish to fulfill too, and that is to spend a few more hours with you, so don’t leave me yet okay?”

You two end up back at your house, “cuddling” on your bed and watching movies. You didn’t feel like heading out, so you opted to just watching movies with him and spending some quality time together; playing games, dancing, singing, etc.

Time goes by fast when you have fun, huh?

A minute remains until he has to leave.

30 seconds

15

5

4

3

2

“Promise me we’ll meet again in the next life.”

1

“I promise.”

A year later, news of an unfortunate accident involving Im Yumi has been reported in the news. 

A decade later

It was the first day of kindergarten, you were somewhat excited and nervous. “Mommy, can’t you come in with me?”

“No sweetie, mommy is sorry, she can’t. Mommy has to work remember? Don’t worry, the teachers inside are nice and you’ll make so many new friends!”

Heading into the classroom, you take a seat all the way at the back. The table you sat on was near a group of four boys loudly chatting, you felt so awkward until one of the four boys walked up to you.

“Hi! I’m Park Woojin, but you can call me Woojin,” sticking his hand out for a high five. “Nice to meet you! What’s your name?” His smile is cute.

“Hello! I’m Im Yumi and you can call me Yumi, nice to meet you too, Woojin!”

Yumi / Woojin…? She / he seems so familiar?

“Want to meet my friends? Let’s go!” And he drags you back to his table without waiting for a reply.

♡ It was simply faith that we would meet again.♡

not proofread! (like always)

ok so i went too deep with this hahah..hah..ha

anyway! hope you like this! ♡

[trendingnewsb]

20 People Who Think They Were Actually Abducted by Aliens Tell Their Stories

Alien abductions are a serious business for the people who think they were abducted.

The experiences range from deeply unsettling to outright terrifying. Here are some of the strangest, most horrifying ones.

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1. Talking Lights

Barrenfieldofcares has a very freaky story to tell:

[…] I was home alone on our farm as my mom and sisters were at some sort of high school sports thing. I had just finished chores for the night and was heading back to our house. I had to take off my mud encrusted lace up boots, which takes forever, and started listening to what I thought was my mom and sister talking.

I remember thinking it was weird as it really didn’t sound like them, it really didn’t sound like “talking” actually. My brain knew somebody was talking, in a very loud and annoyed way, but I don’t remember actually physically hearing it or able to decipher the language. I was also starting to get a bad feeling over the fact that I did not see anybody come home while I was outside. Obviously, somebody could have pulled in just as I went into our back mudroom, but I never heard either a car door close, the front door open, or the most damming, our psycho rat terrier start to bark. I finally pried my boots off my feet and headed inside, I called out hello while I passed through the kitchen heading toward the front door.

Holy shit. The feeling that I just absolutely fucked up filled my chest and dumped ice straight into my heart. It felt like the time when I was facing an aggressive bull and the fence line was 100 feet away. My logical brain didn’t know why I was fucked but my instincts did. Because I’m lacking in the survival instincts however, I kept walking through the kitchen in order to see who was there. The “voices” were now arguing with each other and I somehow knew they were talking about me, the idiot that was walking toward them.

I eventually got to the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the front door area. There, I could finally make my body stop walking and froze up. Hanging in front of the door were two gray glowing orbs. The voices were very loud and very angry now, but in a weird muffled screaming way, I knew it was loud but my ears weren’t picking it up. Within a second, both of them had stopped talking, twirled around each other several times and then shot through the ceiling. I ended up sitting at the kitchen computer, staring at the blank monitor, until I heard my mom and sister come through the front door about 15 minutes later.

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2. Deep blue light

Redditor ModernMountains says,

I was home alone in this little house I lived in in the middle of nowhere. It was probably around 2 AM and I was just listening to music enjoying having the place to myself for a change, when all of a sudden my dogs started going CRAZY.

Normally, when someone pulls in the driveway or comes up to the backdoor, they go to the door they heard the noise beyond and peek through the blinds to see who it is, but this night they are running all around the house from door to door barking louder than they ever do.

When I stood up to go see what the hell they were on about, I noticed that the whole house seemed to be lit up with a deep blue light. Turning into the living room, it became obvious that it was emanating in from each window. I put on my shoes to go outside and see who was out there, but by the time I got out there the light had faded away. There was no sound of a car engine or really anything, and where I lived you could hear a car coming from a mile away.

I felt a chill run down my spine but I had the weirdest sense of fight or flight where neither option seemed viable, like I was frozen to the spot. I wanted to turn around and get back inside, and then…I just was. Right back in the chair I was listening to music in. As if I just blinked and there I was.

Don’t really like telling people about it because it skeeves me out so bad.

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3. Lights in the sky

Redditor Bathoriel says,

About 20 years ago I was walking home from the shops with my dad and we stopped to watch some really odd lights in the sky.

There were 2 lights, slightly bigger than the stars zooming around and orbiting each other, making figure-8s etc. And then they stopped moving, got bigger and bigger until bright light filled the sky and then they were gone, we carried on our journey home. We hadn’t stopped for more than 5 mins. The whole journey should have been 20 mins.

When we got home, my mum was freaking out, we had been gone for 65 mins, our watches were both still working but were 45 mins behind every clock in the house. She had neighbors/friends bout looking for us. I don’t know what happened to us or what we saw, maybe nothing.

EDIT: There was no search party organised, I worded myself badly. My mother simply had nearby neighbors and friends who would lived on/near our route home checking to see if they had seen or could see us because it was winter with freezing temperatures outside, it was a dark country road we were walking home along and I was only 8 years old.

We also didn’t have mobile phones yet and weren’t prone to detouring.

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4. Triangular formation

Redditor Trewdub says,

I live in a pretty secluded part of Washington state. I was in my late teens and my parents had gone to Seattle for something, so I was put in charge of the property.

I was closing everything up (i.e. the barn we own and some other small utility buildings) when I look up and see three reddish-orange lights in a triangular formation. They were just floating there, as if they were magnified stars. So magnified, in fact, that everything was slightly illuminated by their warm hue.

I’m mesmerized, standing there, and suddenly lose my sense of balance, as if the ground in front of me has begun rising, and I pass out. Next thing I know I’m on the ground in the barn I had locked up (according to my watch) half an hour before. Needless to say, I was petrified. I scurried to the house with my tail between my legs scared and confused. I slept not at all that night and any sense of security I had was gone. Even though I was locked safely in my house, I felt hopelessly exposed.

In hindsight, I think it’s possible I was light-headed, opened the barn door and fell down, but it still shakes me up thinking about it.

Possible, or…?

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5. Missing sexy time

Redditor Danielpottypants relates this tale of woe:

Not entirely sure if we were abducted, but my wife (who was a non believer) and I both have missing time. We were having sex on our bed when we suddenly both came to, and were in totally different places in the room. Not sure how much time had past, but she looked at me and said “what the fuck just happened?” I said I wasn’t sure. Neither of us were scared, and we were both incredibly tired. We decided we would just go to bed and talk about it in the morning.

I looked up instances of missing time and a lot of them said the same thing. When they came to they were just very tired, knew something was totally weird, but just wanted to go to sleep.

Edit: We had a carbon monoxide detector. Fully functional. It was an apt. not a house so it was routinely checked and up to code at all times.

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6. Skeletal hand

Redditor Shivoe writes,

Between the ages of 5 and 10, I lost time a lot. One of the more notable times that I clearly remember being confused, was when I was laying on the floor watching tv. It was about 6pm, and I looked out the window. It was still bright outside, and then I blinked. When I opened my eyes again it was 3am, the tv was off and I was sitting on the sofa. That sort of thing happened a lot for a few years.

Then there were the things I would see. I never had curtains or blinds on my bedroom windows. I was also, absolutely terrified of Windows and I still am. Most nights, before falling asleep, I would see head shapes outside. Not peaking up from the bottom of the window, but either from the side, or looking in from the top of the window, like it was upside down with a cocked head looking in.

I had a second floor bedroom, so I thought it was impossible for something to be looking in, so I would just cover my head and try to sleep. Most of the time I ended up sneaking into my parents or my brothers bedroom at night because of it, but, I would see the shapes in their windows as well. But at least I felt safer because I wasn’t alone.

Then, when I was closer to 10, I basically slept in my brothers room every night. We had moved into a new house, and his room was in the basement. It wasn’t really a room, but it had one wall, then a big, open side that was separated from the rest of the basement with a long curtain. I had pretty bad insomnia by that point, and I didn’t typically fall asleep until 3-4 in the morning.

I was laying on the floor in my sleeping bag, watching Harvy birdman, and the curtain started to move. I looked over to see a hand, reaching through the bottom of the curtain. It was somewhat skeletal looking, with long fingers, and very pronounced bone structure. The wrist it was attached to was also very thin, and had no hair. I sat up and screamed, and when I did the hand froze, and then quickly went back under the curtain. I then heard something running up the stairs, but I didn’t hear a door open or close. I curled up on the foot of my brothers bed, and stayed awake until morning.

That was the last thing I remember happening. I still lost time off and on until I was about 16

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7. Eyes glowing orange

Redditor Tain01 has this horrifying tale:

I was about 4 or 5 years old and my father was working nightshift. My mother was watching football in our living room and I went to sleep on some chairs near the entertainment center; I don’t recall how or why, just that I conked out in that spot. I “woke up” (quotes because I don’t actually know if I was awake or dreaming) some undetermined time later.

The lights were still on, but the TV was off and the house was unnaturally quiet, like the sound was getting sucked up. I looked at the TV first, then turned my head left and saw my mother floating about a foot off the ground with her eyes glowing orange and her mouth hanging open.

Naturally, I panicked. I didn’t know where I was going or what I planned to do, just that I had to get out of that room. So I bolted for the hallway that lead to the bedrooms and found myself unable to move. Something walked out of my bedroom in the back. It couldn’t have been much bigger than me as a child, but I remember it was brown and leathery-looking with arms that were too long for a human. The eyes were red and flashed like bike reflectors. I didn’t even know what E.T. was much less seen the movie at this point in my life, for the record (needless to say, after this being burned into my memory, I did not find the movie endearing).

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even scream even though I was trying. All I could do was stand there while the thing hesitated at the end of the hallway. Then it screamed like a bird with something stuck in its throat and waddle-ran straight for me. I woke up on the chairs again screaming and crying until I couldn’t anymore from exhaustion. My mother didn’t/doesn’t remember any of it.

After that I was pretty well spooked by any feasible account of alien abduction or UFOs in general. Several episodes of feeling like I was getting jerked leg-first out of my bed all the way into my teenage years. Thankfully, nothing like what I remembered from before though.

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8. Grey head

Redditor iamtheblaizingturtle says,

This happened when I was 10.

I looked out my window, as I always did before bed to make sure nothing is outside since my window faced the street, and suddenly, I started hearing a massive mechanical hum and the light outside became bright like a spotlight was on the home.

I then locked eyes with a grey head, freaked the fuck out, jumped in my bed and pulled the covers up close and stared at the window waiting to die and wondering what is going on. I saw the grey figure pacing in front of my window, stopping to stare through the bent corner in my blinds with its black eyes.

I remember it very vividly from the sound to the sensations. It was like a vibrating at a high frequency.

I couldnt muster the courage to call for my parents, or even yell. Not like i would hear my own voice anyway. Another one showed up on the other side of the window just staring while the first continued pacing. Just as i was gathering the courage to run, everything stopped.

Next thing i knew, it was a few hours later, everything was dark ane night again.

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9. More grey

Redditor UnauthorizedGoat can relate:

Since you had this experience as a kid I will tell you my son’s experience.

He was 5 years old and we had just redecorated his bedroom. He was sleeping in a new bed. And had a nightlight so the room wasn’t dark. He had chosen a geen apple colored paint so with the night light everything had a green sorta glow.

I was one room away sleeping when my son let out a blood curdling howl of. “Mooooomy!” I was out of bed like a shot and flew into his room. The minute I appeared at the end of his bed he launched himself into my arms and buried his face in my neck as he trembled.

I brought him to my room where my husband was much much slower to wake sat up and we put our arms arounf my son to calm him. He told us there were three, green, bald men with big black eyes in his room. It took most of the night to get him back to sleep and he would not set foot in his room for a long time.

The next morning I googled a picture of a gray alien with black eyes and he freaked out and said thats what they looked like. It took three years to get him to sleep alone in his room again.

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10. Abduction, or…?

Nonpalo says,

I’m not sure if I’d say I was “abducted” but what happened was really weird.

Was laying on my couch with a blanket over me and I look at the clock and it says like 11:23 AM or something. Suddenly a white flash happens and it’s 12:40 PM. It happens again three more times and by the time I could comprehend what was going on it was like 5:30 PM. Every time it would happen there would be like 15 minutes of confusion and trying to move. I was stuck in a dreamlike state until it stopped happening.

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11. Abduction of consciousness

Doofwars says,

I wouldn’t say I was abducted by aliens specifically, but I was definitely taken somewhere. It was more of an abduction of consciousness if that makes sense? I don’t know, it might have been my body too, it was a weird feeling I can’t really explain.

I was sitting at the park one day in broad daylight with 4 or 5 friends. I lived in a small community in the Midwest so the park was empty except for us. We were talking and smoking (just cigarettes for me, nothing that would alter my consciousness) when suddenly everyone just kind of slowed down and eventually froze completely, myself included.

I couldn’t move or talk, I couldn’t blink, I had to focus really hard on just breathing, and then I blacked out. I woke up alone in a dark, nearly pitch black room with 3 large illuminated screens around me. On the screens I saw the park from above, the exact spot where my friends and I were sitting. It felt like I was in that room for hours until I blacked out again.

I finally came to and realized I’d been crying hysterically on the ground. The rest of my friends seemed pretty wrecked too, like they all just experienced something equally terrifying. I was the first one of us to speak, I said “I think I met god,” and they all responded with similar brief statements. I remember one girl saying “We’re on TV somewhere,” which expressed the feeling of being watched, unsafe, and violated really well. I can’t remember what anyone else said, just the general idea of “we just got taken somewhere.” We didn’t talk about it besides one weird, short sentence each. That was the strangest part for me, that we didn’t talk about it but we all understood that we’d seen the same thing. It felt like we couldn’t talk about it where “it/they” could see us.

We left immediately and haven’t spoken about it since. I don’t keep in touch with those friends anymore but it would be interesting to know if they felt like it was an abduction of some kind too.

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12. Extremely long road

Iddiamond has an eerie story about loss of time:

I was around 10 years old, I was riding around on my bike and it was time to go home for lunch. A direct route through my town would of taken about 10 minutes but at the time I had a couple bullies that prevented me from taking that path. So no biggie there is another scenic route that takes about 40 min to go around.

It was early afternoon, summer time. I take the scenic route, I make it home almost 7 hrs later. The funny thing is I never noticed anything weird until I got home and it was started to get a bit darker. I peddled all the way, and never took any other detours.

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13. Aliens through the window

Redditor forgotmyusernamedamn says,

When I was four Aliens came in through my bedroom window. I was terrified but I couldn’t move. My sister was asleep in the bed next to me. The aliens had big heads and big black eyes. It was as if I was in a dream but I was very much awake. I tried to cry out but I couldn’t make a sound. The aliens left and eventually I was able to crawl into my parent’s room. Completely freaked out I didn’t talk for 24 hours. My mom was very protective and patient for which I’m still extremely grateful.

It wasn’t until I was an adult, and heard people’s description of sleep paralysis, that I had an explanation of what happened to me. Such a relief to understand that what I went through was not abnormal. In spite of this knowledge, a part of me still has trouble letting go of the hallucination that happened to me that night. It’s never happened again.

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14. Spaceship?

Redditor TheBigDilbowski once saw something very odd:

When I was twelve, I was playing RuneScape on the computer while my mom and stepdad were out for the night. This was special for me, as I always had to get off the computer when they went to bed.

I remember seeing a light through out thin, white curtains and thinking that they had come home when they were supposed to be gone all night. I went outside and our driveway was empty. Turned out the light was coming from a huge, black triangle with three points of light that was hanging in the sky right above my house.

I went inside to grab my parents’ digital camera, but by the time I got back outside it wasn’t there. I know that night happened, but has felt like a dream since the day after. Made me believe.

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15. Through the woods

Juan6025 saw proof of his abduction:

Ok, so on March 24, 2015 I walked out of my backyard, around 11pm and I live in boring Oregon. So honestly where I lived it was isolated. I felt like many times there is supposed to be something waiting for me in the backwoods everyday. I felt like somebody wanted me to go in the woods and kept sending signals. Wether it was random sounds at night or small glares of light.

I kept questioning what the heck could it be that is so obnoxious. I always go there during the day and there is nothing, but branches and trees. So 11:25 I wanted to yell into the woods and asked to stop messing around but it was difficult to. I was honestly frozen and i felt paralyzed, I tried to scream for help but no words.

I kept walking towards the woods and I felt something grabbed me by the arm, and shoved me through the woods. Then I woke up and I thought it was a dream, I went outside of course and went where I was shoved and for the first time in my life i see branches broken and all the leafs on the ground were swept away from each other.

I left around that month, and the house is still on sale at century 21, and I plan to go see it this summer and set up a paranormal crew and wait out at night. I honestly thing aliens took me and put me back to bed as an experiment.

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16. This is only a dream…

Wonderflex had an encounter that made him question everything:

As a kid I lived in a tiny mountain town in Central Oregon. We were very poor and instead of having a bedroom I would sleep on a futon in the living room with my younger sisters in our double wide.

One night around the age of 10, I was woken up by the room flooded with a bright white light. At first I thought a semi must have overturn on 97 and was shining on the curtains. I decided to get up and see what it was, but to my surprise I wasn’t able to move at all, much like sleep paralysis. I tried to yell out to my sisters so they could help me, but just as I couldn’t move, I found myself unable to speak.

At this point I was in a full on panic attack. Then one of your stereotypical grey aliens passed through the wall and floated me out through the wall to a flight of the navigation shaped craft. The intense light that bathed me made it impossible to see. Suddenly an oxygen mask was put over my face and I blacked out as if on anesthesia.

Some undetermined amount of time passed and my vision started to become unblurred. I was back in my futon, light still filling the room as the alien looked down at me. Using some sort of telepathic communication they said to me, “I’m going to inject this into your neck. It won’t hurt, won’t leave a mark, and it will make you think this was all a dream.”

They progressed to inject my neck and then float off through the wall. The light faded away in an upword direction leaving me to stare into the darkness. Slowly my eyes adjusted to the dark, restoring my night vision. Without ever opening my eyes (must have been sleeping with my eyes open) I woke up from this dream, looked over at my sleeping sisters, climbed out of the futon, walked into the kitchen and ate a sweet cherry pepper. I followed that with a glass of water and went back to bed.

Today I’m still sure it was just a dream, and I have great dream recall. I don’t know if I think this because it keeps me from looking crazy or if it is exactly what the alien in my dream said that the shot would do.

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17. An abduction at dinner?

Clonedanmarino writes,

Like everyone else I’m hesitant to say I was abducted… but something happened.

I was about 15 at the time. I was at my grandparents house with my parents and sister. We were about to eat dinner that my grandma had made before I left to use the bathroom. My grandma is an immigrant from the Caribbean and she always leaves her bathroom window open. It’s a mix of being really frugal and just the island custom of leaving windows open for breeze. I found it very uncomfortable to pee in there with the window open so I was always on high alert looking through it when I had to. I was peeing when I heard a noise that I honestly could never explain with words. I guess you’d call it like a high pitched grating? Either way, it was a strange sound, and the strangest thing about it is that it sounded like it was coming from my own head. It must have been a second later that I saw a blinding light, then everything went black, like an instant sleep.

What felt like a moment later I was back in the dining room with my family. They were sitting around at the table, dirty plates in front of them. There was a dirty plate in front of me. I was sitting with them. I had eaten? They were talking casually, in that transition between dinner and saying goodbye to go. They were talking to me about my soccer team, and the conversation felt like we had been talking about it for a while.

I could hardly speak but no one noticed. We drove home and I went directly to sleep. I was so tired. The next morning I thought about it. I tried to figure out what it was but it felt so overwhelming to do so that I just decided it was best not to. Something happened, I just have no idea what it was. I guess I honestly don’t even want to know what it was at this point because it never happened again, and I’m ok with that.

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18. UFO encounter

Browasthetics writes,

Well, we weren’t abducted, but my husband and I had a UFO encounter that still boggles my mind to this day. We live in an apartment complex, in a highly populated “nicer” urban area. We arrived back at home late on a Saturday night about 1AM.

Walking from the parking garage back to our apartment building, I happen to look up at the sky. I immediately noticed this HUGE triangle like object, slowly gliding above us and we watch as it disappears behind another building. Meanwhile both of us are arguing over what the fuck this thing was.

It was silent. I mean zero noise, with 2 rows of lights on either side. We walk around the side of the building looking into the sky, and about 10 minutes later, we see it again. It was closer and clearer this time, I could even see minor details on the body, lights and all.

We are both almost screaming at this point, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THAT???”

As we watch, this thing pulls straight up into the air, and slowly disappears right in front of our eyes. Not kidding. We watched this thing slowly become transparent until we couldn’t see it anymore. We kept looking for it for about another hour.

Cellphone cameras pointed to the sky from the top of the tallest apartment building. We finally gave up, and did enough research to compare what we saw to a stealth bomber plane. The shape is similar, but this thing was completely silent, and could disappear…Where we live is home to tons of tech company headquarters, literally across the street from us. We are next to two major highways and its generally a super busy area. I’m only mentioning this because it seems most ufo encounters happen in rural and not so populated areas. I’m still freaked out, and I’m always checking the skies at night.

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19. Thing of lights

Iamiq has a very strange story to tell:

In the 90s, my family lived in a coastal city in Saudi Arabia.

My parents were doing up the flat we lived in so my brother and I had to sleep on the same king-sized bed for a week or so. I was probably around 10 years old and my brother was 13 years old.

One night my brother started shaking my shoulder trying to wake me up, saying ‘iamiq, iamiq, do you see this too?’.

I don’t know what the time was but it was dark. I was under my duvet and had no idea what he was talking about, i opened my eyes and saw this featureless, lanky, tall person made of dim light. It was standing by my brothers side of the bed.

Before I could process what was happening, it extended its neck over to the middle of the bed between my brother and I and disintegrated into tiny lights across the room with a massive static sound.

My brother and I screamed and hid under our duvets.

Next thing I know, I wake up in the morning at the exact same time as my brother, and we just look at each other and run out of the room.

We have talked about this incident a few times over the years and we still don’t understand what happened. A mutual shared episode sleep paralysis? monoxide? We had our windows open, the flat was ventilated properly. My parents don’t remember hearing any unusual sounds, they slept soundly in their room.

I asked my brother when he noticed this ‘thing’ as he woke me up. He remembers waking up to a glow in the room, opened his eyes and saw this ‘thing’ of light walk up to his side of the bed and just stand there with a soft humming sound coming out of it. He thought he was dreaming so he tried to ignore it and turned to his other side, he looked back after a while and it was still there so he decided to wake me up.

No idea what to make of this incident. I’m over 35 years old now, I’ve had a few incidents over the years that I can’t explain but I’m healthy so all good.

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20. Multiple abductions

Redditor Gishgress has an eerie tale to tell:

The abductions started when I was really young. They were not scary experiences but more like odd dreams. Every night I would sneak down to our living room which had a large window. I would face the window and say “How-Woo” after that a large wolf head would materialize and say “How-Woo” back to me and my next memory would be waking up. I was never caught getting out of bed or going down the stairs but I do remember that occasionally there would be leaves or dirt on the living room floor that my parents had no clue where it came from.

We moved into a suburbs and that changed the nature of the experiences. I don’t remember being afraid when I lived in the country but once I lived in the suburbs I was terrified of going to sleep. My first memory of an abduction experience was caused by a doctors visit. Someone I went to school with got sick with something and everyone who had contact had to get a shot.

I had never had a shot before but when the nurse approached me with the needle I lost my shit. I was probably nine or ten but it took three nurses and poor old Dr. Li, my pediatrician, to hold me down. I remember telling them to get that thing away from me and getting images of shadowy figures and flashes of pain in my eyes. After that I was always awake when they came. I’d wake up and they’d be next to my bed or looking in the window but they never tried to hide their intentions after that.

The abductions peaked around 13 or 14 with about one every two months. By that time I had adjusted my life to try to deal with it, going to sleep as soon as I got home from school and waking up at around midnight and staying awake until I went to school hoping it didn’t happen. It might have worked but it didn’t help with school and family life. Slowly the incidents became less frequent to maybe once a year.

My last abduction was on my 27th birthday. I was fully conscience and had just got done calling into work saying I would not be coming in that night. I walked outside to my car and looked up and saw something moving through the sky. It was black and amorphous and kept changing shape, at one point I thought it looked like the space shuttle but then it started heading towards me. I got in my car and tried starting it but it didn’t even turn over.

Right after that I got this buzzing ringing in my head that was jarring and painful. By then the craft was right over top of me and ahead of my car one of them just materialized and moved towards me. My car door just kind of opened on it’s own and it touched me with this rod thing it was carrying and I blacked out. I came to an hour later and immediately went to work even though I called off.

I haven’t had any experiences since but I still live the way I did when it was happening. I can’t sleep at night so I work at night and sleep during the day. Relationships were difficult to maintain but I’m doing much better now. I have some feelings that my parents were slightly aware that something was going on when I was younger. I’ve had several experiences of waking up some distance away from where I was previously or sleeping at. Twice I was wearing clothes that were not mine. If anyone has any questions I’ll answer as best I can. Thanks for asking this seriously.

Share this on Facebook with your friends who believe in aliens!

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Read more: http://twentytwowords.com/people-who-think-they-were-actually-abducted-by-aliens-tell-their-stories/

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[kitcatcait]

Traveling adventures: July 17, 2016

My last 30 hours of travel home: I leave the hotel in a taxi the security people approve of. I get to the airport at 1:36pm for a 4:47pm flight. There is no one at the Volaris check in counter. I was told they'd be there at 2pm. So I start the line and hang out. 2:17pm people finally show up and about 5 minutes later check my bag in. I go through security easy and kill lots of time doing nothing. There's only four gates and I keep checking for my flight info. Nothing. Finally, as it's getting close to boarding time, it appears and says on time. Awesome. Suddenly it appears again and has estimated boarding 35 minutes delayed. I go to talk to someone at the counter. He says it's an hour delayed not leaving until after 6pm and his supervisor will come up to talk to me since I was concerned about the connection I have at 6:57pm. 20 minutes later a girl finally asks if I need something. I explain the situation, she looks it up on her computer and says the connection appears to be on time but maybe it's not updated, maybe it's delayed too and to just go on and wait to see, that it'll be fine. I land in Mexico City a few minutes before my connection is supposed to leave. I have hope. Then we sit on the runway for 15 minutes and that hope slips away but I remain optimistic. I tell the main guy at the door I have a connection that supposedly left 20 minutes ago at this point and he made a face then smiled and said he'd check on it but that it'll work out. The stairs finally pull up to the plane and when I get off he says to check with the representative at the bottom of the stairs. I ask that guy and he says he'll check but to go ahead and get on the bus. I get on the bus, it fills up, the guy walks away and the doors close. No answers. We are driven over to baggage claim/connections. I go up the stairs to connections and have to wait in line for security screening. Again. The guy manning the X-ray machine is on break apparently and all the other security officers are useless to answer any questions or do anything until he returns. I get through that and one person finally said "I don't work for Volaris, Miss, you'll have to go to their counter at the other end on the left." I walk a quarter mile and see an info booth in the middle, stop and ask that lady if the flight left or was delayed and what gate. She says it left an hour ago and told me to go to the Volaris booth almost another quarter of a mile away on the left. I finally get to the damn booth and the guy says he can't help me but to go down the flight of stairs, turn right, go past gate 12 then go down another flight of stairs, go left past baggage claims, exit through the doors go right and find gate 6. Wait, huh? So a girl comes over thinking his English was bad and tries again. Their directions were terrible. Well, probably fairly accurate but I couldn't comprehend them. I get down to baggage claim and see a Volaris booth at the very opposite end another quarter mile away and make my way there. The chick sitting there just glares at me, puts a finger up and gets a co-worker. He finally comes out and tells me to exit baggage claim, turn right, find gate 6 and they can help. I ask him about my checked bag since it was supposed to go straight through to my destination but we didn't make it in time for the connection... So where is it and should I pick it up? He said yeah maybe get it first but it'll be a 15 minute wait but maybe I should get the bag then go to the other booth at gate 6. I wait and everyone else's bags come and they turn off the conveyer. I panic a little wondering what the hell. At this point it's after 8:00pm, I haven't eaten since breakfast, I strategically used all but 37 pesos expecting to be on a flight home and I'm exhausted still hoping there's another flight out tonight. The guy from the counter a quarter mile away sees me asking the security guy about my bag and comes running over and says no to wait at baggage claim number 6 instead of 5 because my bag was in the connection area instead of with everyone else's. He can tell I'm getting frustrated and bordering on falling apart so he says to wait another 10-15 minutes and he'd go track it down. I show him my little bag and said it's the big version he's looking for and he leaves. Eventually he comes back and goes through security, says it's there, points to the other baggage area where I see nothing coming out. He then decides that it was a bad idea to point at nothing since I'm a little fragile and he walks over there to get it for me from behind the rubber tassel things. I thank him profusely, fighting back tears, clarify where I go to get my flight changed and exit to turn right and find gate 6. Apparently I was at gate 1 and had a looooooong way to go. Plus, I might add, they weren't really gates, they were exit ports on to the street that were kind of well marked but I didn't know what I was looking at since they weren't gates per say. So I walk for what seems like a mile and see a Volaris counter. Eureka! I show the girl my boarding passes and ask for assistance and she says I need to go down to gate 6. Are you bloody serious?! I haven't seen a gate number yet but apparently it's down there somewhere. I ask her to be more specific with her directions and include landmarks because this is getting ridiculous. She says to go past the escalator and on the right is Volaris across from Viva or something and they can help at that counter. I finally find this illusive place and ask the guy greeting people, tell him my situation, show him my boarding passes. He says just a minute and takes them then wanders around with them for 5-10 minutes talking to people, greeting people and doing other things. Finally he gives them to a girl (8:30pm) and she asks for my passport and says it'll take a while and leaves!!!! With all my important documents!!! Like left the counter and wandered down towards the direction I had come from into never never land. I try not to panic too much and have faith she'll work things out while whatsapping my concerns to my folks which helped to vent a little. 20 minutes later she comes back and says she has my boarding pass for the same flight 24 hours later and that it's the only flight daily, nothing sooner. Ugh. Heart sank a little. Then she says the airline will put me up in the hotel Camino Real attached to the airport, feed me and I'll check in for my flight tomorrow. A little better. I sign her form, take my copy and her instructions to go up the escalator, turn left, go down to the second bridge and take it across to the hotel, give them the paperwork and settle in for the night. I'm thinking, okay, maybe I can do some exploring around Mexico City and things will be fine. I follow her directions, get all my crap to the hotel and the guy says that the form she gave me from Volaris needs to be stamped over the signature and that they can't take it. Are you kidding me right now?! It's after 9pm, I'm exhausted and I almost fall apart on this poor guy. I tell him I'm exhausted. Take a deep breath and I ask what I need to do. He says go back to the booth and have them stamp it. I asked if there was any other way around it, that I can't even bear the thought of going back over there, he said no he needs it stamped and that's the only way. I must have looked like I was about to clock him because he quickly signaled for the concierge to come over and offered to have them hold my bags while I went back. Well, thank goodness for minimally small favors! I take my purse and little backpack, leave the big and little luggage there and make my trek back to the damn counter by gate 6 which has become my nemesis. I tell a different girl at the counter now the situation. She looks about as dumbfounded as I am, then she realizes what I'm saying and what's missing but can't seem to locate the bloody stamp. The girl who originally helped me joins the party (there are like 6 employees at the counter) and the one with my paper looking for a stamp shows her it wasn't stamped. They stamp it, she gives it to the girl to give it to me and she says "sorry Miss." Yeah. Sigh. Thanks. The coworker giggled and made the hand motion like she was smacking her around for screwing up. They all giggle. I try to find it funny but can only muster a smirk and an eye roll as I leave with the stamped form to make my way up the escalator, down the walkway, across the second bridge, back to the hotel and wait in line to be checked in. Some random dude is standing in the middle of nowhere acting like he's been there all night and no one was in line and he's next...and cuts in front of me. Fucking figures. Whatever. Some new lady helps me check in, says to give my room number to the food places and they'll be billed to Volaris. I ask her about my bags that were being held there at the counter and she looks at me like I have two heads and said she doesn't have my bags. Meanwhile my first guy had come to make sure I got the correct stamp on the form and wandered off, so I told her to ask him where the bags are. She did, he got someone to bring them out to me and I go up to find my room. 6th floor, farthest far corner from the elevator, overlooking the street and airport. Noisy and smelled super musky. Whatever. I go down to eat. It's about 9:45pm. They give me a menu. Then when I say Volaris is paying they ask my room number, take the good menu away and give me a crappier menu. I couldn't make this shit up. Fine. I order, I eat, I go up to my room about 11:30pm to crash. My checked luggage had been zip tied together, there was no way I was getting into it. Plus my clothes inside had been carefully bagged because a previous room had bed bugs and I didn't want to risk any stowaways or eggs so I bagged all the clothes up tight anyway. I slept in what I wore all day. Awesome. I was awakened at 8am by housekeeping entering my room "Buenas Dias!" I grumbled something and she left. Then at 9:30am housekeeping broke in again and I grumbled something else and she left but I couldn't get back to sleep although I tried. The Frida/Diego museum I wanted to see was a half hour away per maps, opened at 10, I'd have to find a taxi and pesos since my 37 pesos wouldn't cut it. I still needed to eat and clean up and check out by 1pm. They wouldn't give me a later check out without another voucher from the Volaris counter at gate 6 and let me tell you how badly I wanted to go back down there! So I blew off Frida. I went down to the lobby, asked someone at the counter for scissors to cut off the zip tie on my luggage, who reluctantly let me borrow them. I went back to my room, cut off the zip tie I had earlier tried to nibble off with my teeth, laid on the bed with a cold wash cloth on the puffy eyes and relaxed a bit. I put coconut oil on my peeling face, went downstairs to return the scissors and get breakfast. It's about 10:30am. It's a buffet and the food was good. The girl gave me a table and put a ticket there with my room number and Volaris on it. I go look around, the chilaquiles were out so I asked a guy to refill it, wait, finally get those but no protein on them so I wait for the custom omelette/scrambled egg guy who thinks I want mushrooms not bell peppers so he had to remake it. I finally go to my table and the lady is seating someone else there. I just put my stuff down and sit, she realizes her mistake and leaves. I eat my now cold chilaquiles and scrambled eggs. Then I get up to get something else and a guy rushes over with my tab. I tell him I'm going to get fruit and I'll deal with that later. I get juice and fruit, sign the tab, try to relax, grab a churro and then head to my room to clean up. Another cold wash cloth on my puffy eyes, shower, same clothes I've been wearing for 24 hours, minimal makeup and more coconut oil all over my sunburned/peeling body. It's 12:30pm so I laid down until I had to check out at 1pm. I take all my crap down, check out and sit on a chair with all my bags around me and use their wifi for a couple hours. I make my way across the bridge to the airport, go to the Volaris counter and apparently it was the domestic flight counter not international counter so I'm sent another half mile away back upstairs. I finally get there, check my bag, get a temporary gate number to check in at and find out my actual gate number 50 minutes before the flight (WTF) then make my way through security. Apparently the little onyx lamp I got looks suspicious in the X-ray machine and they asked if I was bringing someone's ashes back. They did a chemical test swab, scolded me for checking my voicemail while waiting, then I opened up my bag, showed him which souvenir bag was the lamp, he unwrapped it. He and his coworker admired it. Then he put it back half-assed so I had him wrap it better, and he sent me on my way. Oh joy. I get to my temporary gate, chat with a friend who is moving to Hawaii via whatsapp which can be a challenge in and of itself, get my actual gate number and it's in a whole different wing. I make the trek over there, charge my phone and wait. Of course it doesn't board on time, someone says their gate was moved so I gather my stuff and go ask at the counter if it's still the right gate. The guy says yes it's the right gate so I wait. They announce everything in Spanish which is to my disadvantage since I only understand about 1/4 of what's being said. I hear the flight number, I heard the zone so I gave the lady my boarding pass to get on. She said zone 4 hadn't been announced. I said I just heard all zones, she said I had to wait. I move aside. Then I heard two lines so I got in the one closest to me. Well, that was a connection line to be searched apparently and I needed to be in the other line since I had a direct flight boarding pass. Of course! So I march to the end of that line 40+ people deep. I finally get on the plane 24 hours later and the customs form for the US I have to fill out to claim stuff etc I get from the airline is in Spanish and when I ask for it in English they say they have to track down an English form for me at the back of the plane like it's a huge inconvenience, but I have learned I sure as hell don't trust my limited Spanish well enough to complete the form accurately and sign my life away in Spanish. Good grief. It's been a super fun adventure but it'll be nice to be home! I was the third off the plane, first through customs, then waited 20+ minutes for my bag to arrive. I wait in line about 30 people deep for the bag check to exit. I get to the bag check lady, told her the only food I have are tamarindo candies and she told be to get out of there! Off I went. I went out to the curb and sent my request for an uber ride to Alameda. I make my way out of terminal 1 to section 2E which is set up only for app rides. As I walk up rolling my bags along, I hear a guy yelling at his lyft driver "We are here, where we are supposed to be for app drivers but you aren't here! Where the hell are you?! Everyone else is here but you! I'm the guy raging mad in a green shirt and my girls are in pink. Yeah. Okay. I'll still be here waiting for you!" I chuckle and wander down to the ladies in the yellow vests working and say "You girls must see it all here on this curb! I hope you write a book!" They laughed and said "Girl, you have no idea!" Well, I'm pretty sure I do, actually! So I wander back and track my uber guy on my phone...1 minutes away and right next to me...but he's not there. He calls. We talk, I ask him if his car is blue. I see him through the glass wall at the first curb looking over his right shoulder for me. I tell him to look left, the other left, turn around.... I wave to him so he sees me and direct him to loop around to the second curb to 2E. I watch him loop around on my app. Then he pulls up to the third curb and gets out of car and comes to the 4+ foot high fence and waves. The ladies crack up laughing and say "Oh my gawd, he's over there now! How'd he get there? I even heard you tell him directions!" I crack up and say "Sorry, girls! I hope it's okay that I hop the fence or I'll be here all night! Add this to your book!" And I wheel my bags across the road, heave my 55 pound bag and carry on bag over the fence, climb up and hop over and off we went! Turns out this was his first day and he had never been to the Oakland Airport! Hilarious. We finally find my car, I get my key from the hiding place, load up and hit the road. 80 miles until my gas tank is empty. Well this could get exciting but I have zero desire to stop for gas at this point so I make the trek home. When I was 8 miles from home, I had 5 miles to empty so I stopped for gas at a place that keeps their pumps on all night thankfully. I made it home just after midnight and boy was I happy to see my parents (who chatted with me on the way home and waited up for me next door to greet me) and my sweet cat! What a couple days of travel!

[hvsafstanzi]

My 3-day juice detox/cleanse (best for spring/summer) #1

Before I start with the juicing I have two days in which I don’t eat anything that contains added sugar i.e. fruits and vegetables with natural sugars are ok.

I also stop drinking teas that contain high levels of caffeine and drink green tea and herbal teas. Tea cleanses or detoxes at night both those days is something I can recommend that you do too.

Also, be mindful of the amount of water that you drink on a normal day. Is it enough for you? If not, spend the two days before the juicing starts with drinking the amount of water your body actually needs - this will balance your water levels in your body and also start the natural cleansing of your system. You might notice you need to go to the bathroom more often if you usually drink less than what is recommended for you - this too is a good way to get used to the juice cleanse - as you will only live on liquids and most probably experience a greater need to go to the bathroom more often during those three days.

I am a vegetarian, but if you are not then do try to only eat a vegetarian diet the two days before you plan to start your detox. Also I’d recommend to eat as little carbs as possible. The less hard work your stomach has to make, before the detox, the better!

And lastly I want to point out that I don’t own a juicer, I (only) have a food processor but I have no problems making my juices there by mixing it all very fine into a pure and then putting it through a strainer. Obviously if you have a juicer - use that! But don’t worry if you don’t - as long as you have a food processor all these juices are easy to make. Obviously if you have a juicer you can easily use the stalk and peel of most fruits and vegetables. If you have a food processor - like me - you will need to peal some and remove some stalks. In recipe (*) = remove if using a food processor

On Friday, after uni, a friend and I went to the gym, we spent a good 1,5 hours there - workout is also a good way to get rid of toxins in your body and I too recommend doing this before you start a detox. Workout should be kept to a minimum during the days of the actual juice detox - some mild workout are fine but as your body is removing toxins - if you sweat and exercise to hard your body won’t be that happy, as you aren’t getting as much in the ways of ”building blocks” as your mussels need when exercising to perform at their best. Maybe use those three detox days to do a thorough cleanse of your home too? You know, get moving that way if you fear getting restless!

After the gym we went to the supermarket. There I bought all the necessities for the first day of my detox. Make a list. I brought the recipe with me (in my mobile phone) so that I could get the exact amounts as some recipes need some of the same ingredients this way I knew if I had to buy more or not.

Before heading to bed I prepared tomorrows first juice and left all the glass bottles I’ll be needing clean and ready for the coming days.

Day 1 - Saturday 20/05/2017

As I had made my breakfast juice the day before I didn’t need to start my day making juices.

I had a calm morning by my computer, email correspondence, and drinking water before 9am when I had my breakfast juice. The juice has a very fresh and healthy taste, it’s not at all bad but I would be lying if I said that it was delicious. It’s plainly good. I’d say it tasted mostly of celery and lemon.

After breakfast I had a cup of green tea. Then i sipped on water until it was time for lunch. My day had continued calmly and around 11am. I started making my lunch juice, chopping the ingredients and mixing it all before putting it through a strainer. Once I had poured the juice into a glass bottle I cleaned all the things I’ve used including washing up by hand. I need to use the mixer and strainer again for my dinner juice so placing these few things in the dish-washer fells (and is) rather environmentally unconscious. Once done it was 12am. and so it was time to drink my lunch. Delicious is only the middle name of this drink. It’s so über-delicious it feels like it can’t possibly be good for you - yet it is super-good for your body - amazing!

After lunch I started on this blogpost. I also noticed I had lost my mobile during the cleaning up process before so I logged in on FB to send a message to my friend Lina to call my phone at her earliest connivance. When she called (I found my phone) I spent some 15 minutes talking to her before I continued to write on this blog-post. It’s soon time for my midday snack now. I realized around one that I had already drank a cup of tea and half of all my water so I started to take really small sips from my water bottle after that. (Now I’ll have a break from my computer before the clock turns 3pm.)

If you want a workout - ride your bike to the supermarket after snack time but forget your cardholder so you have to ride back home then back to the supermarket to pay then ride your bike all home for the second time! Felt slightly foolish at the supermarket when I realized I had forgotten my cardholder.

Now I’ve prepared tomorrows breakfast and tonights dinner. It’s 6:10pm so I’m ten minutes behind on schedule but the times aren’t set in stone. I’m drinking my dinner juice and writing this in-between sips. This juice is nice - sweet due to the beetroots and carrots but zingy due to the lemon and ginger. I stil have a last bottle of water to drink and some herbal tea before bed. And I have to take a shower… I’m tired but it feels so nice to go to bed newly showered. Just a quick scrub and I don’t need to wash my hair as I did that last night.

Good bye and good night for now,

~Stanzi

Juices day 1:

500ml water (7am)

Green Juice - Breakfast (9am)

5 stalks of celery

1 cucumber

2 green apples

4 massive leaves of kale

4 massive leaves of romaine

massive handful of spinach

Less massive handful of parsley

1 lemon (*with peel)

+ 300ml herbal tea

+ 500ml water

P.A.M. - Lunch (12am)

1/2 of a pineapple

1 large green apples

4 leaves of mint

1 limes (*with peel)

+ 300ml green tea

+ 500ml water

Midday Snack (3pm): 200ml almond milk

+ 500ml water

+ herbal tea

C.A.R. - Dinner (6pm)

2 green apples

2 beets (*green stalks and all)

3 large carrots

1.5 tablespoons of ginger (*with peel)

1 lemon (*with peel)

+ 300ml herbal tea

+500ml water

End the day with a good shower (body-scrub) then moisturize with a bodylotion that is free from perfume (and preferably organic). This will help with the elimination of those toxins that come out through the skin.

[meltingalphabet]

You don't know what you've got till it's gone

Would you describe yourself as spoiled?

My pencil glided over the paper, a smooth trail of graphite following. With a satisfying scratch, I circled “No.” The smell of fresh paper and pencil shavings took me back to high school. Before I was an adult. Before I knew how difficult life could get.

Would you describe your close friends as spoiled?

I hesitated.

First there was Meredith. Meredith, whose parents made damn sure she never endured hardship. Who paid for her Ivy League degree out of pocket and financed extended trips abroad in the name of their only child’s self discovery. Who owned the luxury apartment Meredith called her own. Who nested her in the comfort of unearned extravagance.

Meredith is an artist, they’d say. Meredith is a tortured soul who needs freedom to work on her novel without the hideous distraction of a 9 to 5. She is a creative who cannot be caged by the struggle of the common folk, but must sit and be and think and ponder and write and give a voice to the common folk and their struggle.

Then there was Erica. Erica, who glided by on her looks. Who didn’t have to work on her personality because she didn’t need one. Who could be rude without consequence. Her instincts unchecked, her id free to roam. Why would she think about you when everyone won’t stop thinking about her? It’s not inconsiderate if there’s nothing to consider. If she forgot who you were, you should’ve made yourself more memorable.

I circled “Yes.”

My eyes scanned the last question.

On a scale of 1-10 with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

What did I have? A shitty job, a tiny overpriced apartment. Jiggly upper arms, frizzy hair. My hand hovered over the 4. Robert’s warm smile. His soft kisses.

Sighing, I circled 8. I had a shelter, a stable relationship, a loving family. Life was good. Even if other people had it better than me.

Around me were 11 other people seated at small identical desks completing short identical surveys. Different shapes and sizes, ages and races. All completely forgettable.

A woman in her mid twenties sat at the front of the room poking at a tablet. She wore a neat expensive looking grey sweater. Her brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The desk she sat at was modern but simple, the desktop empty but for a plain water bottle. Both the desk and woman looked like they were from an IKEA catalog. Generic but tidy, desirable but empty.

I walked towards her, my completed survey in hand. She looked up from her tablet with a small smile and gestured to the corner of the desk.

Her voice was smooth but neutral. “Thank you, Laurie.”

I placed my answers face down beside her, completing the nostalgic experience of taking a quiz.

“Please proceed to the waiting room. We will get you once it has been processed.”

Not wanting to make additional noise, I nodded and smiled at her, but she was already looking back at her screen.

An hour later I sat in front of another tasteful but bland desk. Dr. Howden scanned the tablet in front of him, his fingertips pressed together.

Finally, he looked up at me. “Thank you for participating in our study, Ms. Cartland. We here at the Galvin Institute depend on volunteers such as yourself.”

I smiled. $300 to come fill out a survey, yeah no problem mister.

“Of course.” I said politely.

“We’d like to invite you to continue as a participant. The study is 6 days and pays $900 a day, along with a $1,000 signing bonus.”

My mouth fell open. “Sorry, how much?”

Dr. Howden’s smile tightened. “At the completion of the study you will have been awarded $6,400.”

I quickly calculated the cost of my morals. Is it worth $6,400 to inject myself with something that would make me lose all my hair? I shrugged internally. It’ll grow back. Probably. There’s always wigs.

“Is the study risky?”

“Oh no, not at all. All we ask of you is to answer 3 simple questions every day.”

“You just want me to answer questions?”

Dr. Howden opened one of the desk drawers and placed a tablet in front of me. It was identical to both his and the woman from the study’s.

“The Galvin Institute will provide you with this tablet for the duration of the study. Every night at 6pm it will notify you to answer three simple questions. You will then have an hour to answer them. Once your answers are submitted, $900 will be directly deposited into your bank account.”

He looked at me over his wire frames. “Do you accept?”

My heart thudded in my chest. “What happens if I answer incorrectly?”

He smiled again. “The questions are subjective, so there is no wrong answer.”

I bit my lip, looking down at the desktop in front of me. There must be a catch. There’s always a catch. Hesitant to accept his insane offer without some sort of probing, I looked back up. “Can I opt out at any time?”

His smile faltered for a moment before he continued. “Of course, but you will forfeit all payment up to that point.”

I picked up the tablet and examined it. On the back was a subtle green logo with the initials “GI” in a pyramid.

Dr. Howden continued. “The focus of this study is appreciation and gratitude. The questions are designed to encourage self reflection.”

I nodded, “sounds easy.”

“It is!” He said, turning his own tablet towards me to reveal an electronic contract. He held out a thin stylus. “Oh, and please note that your tablet is programmed to only ask the questions and cannot be used for any other purpose.”

The drag of the stylus was smooth and frictionless as I signed my name.

“Thank you, Ms. Cartland. We look forward to working with you here at the Galvin Institute.”

“This has to be a scam.” Robert said, his beer hovering in front of his mouth as he eyed the tablet resting on the table beside us. We had both tried playing with it, but the screen would only illuminate to show a timer counting down to 6pm. No games, no other screens.

I shrugged. “The building was super nice and it all seemed on the up and up. I doubt they’re going to try and use my information to drain my bank account or something. Besides,” I rested my hand on his, “it’s for the wedding.”

He sighed. “You know, you’ve got to stop pushing that.”

I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly.

A loud electric jingle made me jump. The screen of the tablet was now bright white. Black font was neatly written across at the top.

I picked it up as Robert stood to look over my shoulder. On the screen was a question:

What was something bad that happened to you today?

Other than applying for the study my day had been pretty uneventful. I clicked my tongue thoughtfully before answering.

Nothing.

A circle appeared at the bottom right corner that read “submit.” I pressed it and the second question appeared:

What was something good that happened to you today?

I smiled.

Dinner with my boyfriend.

Robert kissed my head as I hit submit.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

The numbers 1 through 10 were beneath in small circles. I felt Robert’s warmth beside me and pressed “9.”

The tablet made a small chime as the words “Thank you!” jumped on screen. Little bits of blue and yellow confetti fell around it before the screen went black again.

My blood vibrated hot beneath my skin as I excitedly logged into my bank’s mobile app. My checking account was, indeed, two grand larger.

“Not a bad day’s work.” Robert said as he returned to his seat.

I woke up the next morning to the shrill sound of my phone ringing. I looked at the clock. 9:31am.

“Ugh, fuck you!” I groaned at the ceiling. I closed my eyes tightly before opening them again, my room slowly focusing around me. Without looking I reached over and yanked it from it’s charger. My phone’s screen was filled with the smiling face of Meredith. I groaned again as I answered.

“Dude, it’s Saturday. What...” A high pitched squeal interrupted me.

“Random House bought my book!!!”

I sat bolt upright. “Sorry, what?”

“Random House, Laurie. Fucking Random House!!”

The meaning of her words slowly dawned on me through the cloud of sleep.

“Random House the publisher bought your book?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yes!! Ah, we need to get coffee NOW!”

Thirty minutes later I sipped my latte while Meredith regaled me with the story.

“I thought it was really weird when they scheduled a meeting first thing Saturday morning, but you know? It’s Random House, so I couldn’t say no! Apparently one of their agents saw some of the chapters I published online and fell in love!! They’re offering me a $20,000 advance!”

I choked on the warm liquid running down my throat.

“I know, right!?” Meredith squealed.

“Twenty grand!?” The words came from my mouth violently as I tried to regain control of my breath. “Twenty grand for your first novel!?”

Meredith nodded, beaming.

“It’s not even done!”

“Oh, I know! I know! But you know what, I think this is really going to help motivate me to finish! My skin is tingling with creative juices!”

Your skin is tingling with $20,000. I bit back my tongue and gave her a weak smile.

“Congratulations Meredith. That’s awesome.”

Meredith and I met in college. We were both wannabe novelists, both women, both freshmen, and both living in Andrews Hall. We didn’t become friends because we connected artistically, we became friends because it was easy.

While I had thrived in school, Meredith had coasted. She graduated because she went to most of her classes and turned in most of her homework. Like our friendship, she succeeded because she didn’t fail.

After graduation I got a job in publishing as a lowly editorial assistant. I was paid the bare minimum to review encyclopedias written by retired middle school teachers. It sucked but it was a job. Without it, I’d be homeless.

Meredith was a trust fund kid. I was not.

I made a point of working on my novel for at least three hours every week. I was 60,000 words deep into a dramatic look at the repression of women in the early 19th century through the eyes of Charlotte, a lowly chambermaid working for a handsome but distant oil tycoon. Meredith, on the other hand, would write a few pages when the mood struck. Since graduating, we met monthly to discuss our progress and keep each other motivated, but more often than not the night would devolve into expensive drinks at bars filled with men with shirts inexplicably half unbuttoned. And while I woke up regretting all my decisions and trying not to vomit in my cubicle trash can, she’d remain untouched. She’d wake up at noon to order pizza and watch a marathon of shitty reality shows about overly dramatic rich people who also didn’t have any responsibilities.

Meredith’s novel, smartly titled A Rabbit Disturbed, was about an evil toy bunny that traumatizes a young boy. Imagine if Stephenie Meyer wrote a novel adaptation of The Velveteen Rabbit after watching the entire Chucky canon while on acid. Oh, and Miss Meyer also doesn’t know what a rabbit is.

The three chapters I read, the only three Meredith had bothered to write, were so bad that my main criticism was towards our college for giving her a degree in creative writing.

But maybe I was being pretentious. Maybe I just didn't understand Meredith's genius. I took another swallow of my latte as she planned out the evening’s celebratory activities as if planning a bachelorette party.

I was in a bar bathroom when the tablet chimed. I steadied myself against the sink before pulling it from my bag.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

It was early but my mind was already drenched in vodka. I definitely wasn’t happy. I had thought drinking would make me feel more euphoric, would let me get caught up in Meredith’s excitement, but instead I felt ineffectual and ignored. I thought of my novel and the stupid melodramatic character that I had poured all my creativity into for the past two years. I was miserable. Frustrated and defeated.

But what was I going to write? That one of my oldest friends had succeeded?

If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. With my bare fingertip I rubbed my answer against the screen.

Nothing.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I gritted my teeth.

Nothing.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

I pressed “3” without much thought and dropped the tablet back into my bag as the bright “Thank you!” lit up the screen.

I woke up Sunday with a pounding headache. I looked at my phone to see several Facebook and Instagram notifications. All likes and comments on the many celebratory photos I was tagged in, all congratulating Meredith. I let my phone fall from my hand as I turned over, allowing myself to sleep in.

The chime of the Galvin Institute tablet rang out as I sat on my couch mindlessly watching tv.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

It was an innocent question. At least, it seemed innocent. And yet I felt a pang of frustration. Meredith was still riding the high of the best day of her life while I sat there very consciously not working on my novel. Robert was busy with his family all night, leaving me alone to wallow in my self-pity.

I wrote “hangover” before clicking submit.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I lifted the stylus, preparing to write “nothing,” but stopped short. This was a study of gratitude and here I was with absolutely none. I thought of Dr. Howden reading my responses. Judging them.

I got to sleep in.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

I pushed thoughts of Meredith out of my head as I surveyed my apartment. It was small and sparsely furnished, but the walls were lined with well read novels. I hugged my soft throw and took a sip of my tea, letting the worth flood down into my stomach. Ignoring the split second of burning at the back of my throat that told me it was still too hot to drink that fast. Feeling as if I had thoroughly experienced a moment of mindful appreciation, I pressed the tip of the stylus against the 7 with a sense of accomplishment. I was rising above my disappointment and struggle.

Dr. Howden would be proud.

My phone vibrated and I was surprised to see a text message from Robert’s mother.

Hi Laurie! Happy early birthday! Are you and Robbie free next weekend to come over for a birthday dinner?

I scrunched my eyebrows together. That’s odd. I guess Robert already went home.

Curious, I called him. He answered on the fourth ring.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Oh hey, is this a good time?”

“Sorry babe, I’m still at my parents. Can I call you back afterwards?”

Icy fingers clasped around my heart. I swallowed.

“Oh, sure. Um, do you want to come spend the night when you’re done? I miss you.”

There was a pause before he continued. “Sorry, Laurie. I can’t tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The next morning I lay in bed feeling empty, worthless, and defeated.

I stared at my ceiling, trying to rationalize staying in the comfort and safety of my bed. What would happen if I just don’t go to work? I’m so unimportant. Would anyone even notice?

It was bagel Monday though. And I did like bagels.

Three hours later I sat at my desk regretting my decision. One of the other editorial assistants had called out sick and I was getting the brunt of my boss’ post-weekend wrath.

How fucking ironic, I thought as I scrolled past unread email after unread email. One email was three paragraphs of all caps red text berating me for the misspelling of Juan Ponce de León in an entry that was written and published five years before I was hired. I took a bite of my free bagel as I kept scrolling.

At lunch, Erica and I went to our favorite burger joint. Erica was an editor and close friend whose long blonde hair and curvy figure made her the center of attention more often than not. And she knew it. She could be narcissistic at times, but she could also be really sweet and what I needed that day was fried food and a friendly ear.

Her eyes lit up and she leaned in conspiratorially. “Maybe he’s ring shopping.” She whispered, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

I brought a french fry to my lips. I hadn’t thought of that. I put the fry back down on the plate untouched.

“You really think so?” I asked, butterflies fluttering low in my stomach.

She winked before taking a bite of her burger.

Returning to my cubicle, my high spirits were immediately dashed by an unread email marked important. The subject line was empty and only two words were written, all lowercase, in the body of the email: see me.

Harold Bradford sat behind his desk, the glow of his computer illuminating his glasses. He was a chubby man in his late fifties with wiry grey hair that wrapped around his head, leaving a round dome of perfectly hairless scalp in the middle.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, please sit down Ms. Cartland.” He said, his eyes never leaving the screen. “This will only take a minute.”

I sat down as he continued to tap at his keyboard. I pulled the hem of my skirt mindlessly as my eyes scanned the shelves of books behind him.

Finally, he looked up.

“Ms. Cartland, I asked you here to discuss your recent work performance.”

My stomach sank.

“Your work has been…” He tilted his head back, eyeing me through his thin spectacles. “Slipping.”

A heavy silence fell between us.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Mr. Bradford.” I stammered.

“You seem to think this job is... beneath you.” He sniffed. “And while your BFA from Dartmouth is quite impressive, your work here lately is not.”

“I understand.” I nodded, cringing at the waiver in my voice.  “I promise to work harder in the future.”

“There is no future, Ms. Cartland.”

I stared at him, mouth agape.

He turned back towards his computer, “Mrs. Littleton will explain your severance package.”

My body and mind was numb as I left his office.

The warm water lapped at my skin as I sat in the bathtub. A glass of white wine stood at the side of the tub, the half empty bottle on the floor. Robert had suggested that I could use this time to work on my novel, but I knew that was misguided. I needed to immediately focus all my attention on finding a job. Once that severance ran out, I wouldn’t be able to pay my rent, let along my bills or student loans. Oh sure, there’s forbearance but that’s just an ugly band aid. The interest would gather like bacteria in an infection, following me for the rest of my life.

The smell of Robert’s spaghetti and meatballs permeated the steam of the bathroom and I felt comforted slightly.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

I was fired.

What was something good that happened to you today?

I brought the stylus down, thinking I’d write something like, “my soon-to-be fiance was there for me,” but I hesitated. I thought of the phone call last night. The uneasy feeling that came with it.

Instead I wrote, “Bagel Monday.”

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

“Babe!”

The sound shook me and I jumped, cold water splashing around me.

“Babe, wake up!” I squinted to see Robert looking down at me.

“What happened?” I sat up and looked around. The wine glass had fallen from the tub, shattering on the tile floor.

“It’s okay, stay there.”

He left and I stood, grabbing my towel from the door and wrapping it around my shivering body. I must’ve been dreaming.

“What time is it?” I asked the empty room.

“Almost seven. You’ve been in there for almost two hours.”

Panic rose like an electric shot through my spine.  

“The tablet! Where’s the tablet!” I cried, jumping out of the bath. Glass cut into the bottom of my foot. “Ow, fuck!” I cried.

Robert appeared in the doorway holding a broom. “Laurie, stop! What are you doing?”

“The survey! The survey!” I pushed him out of the way, limping into the living room. “Where is it? Where’s my bag?”

Robert grabbed my arm. “Laurie you’re injured, stop!”

“$900!” I desperately pulled myself from his grasp, falling painfully to my knees. “$900!”

The alarm rang distantly from where my bag lay forgotten by the front door. I crawled towards it, shaking with sobs. I could hear Robert talking to me as I reached it, but his words were muffled and inconsequential. As I opened my bag my hands felt bloated and numb, as if I were wearing gloves. My fingers clasped around the hard familiar plastic and I pulled the tablet out.

4 seconds remained on the timer. Tears flooded my eyes as I poked desperately at the screen but it wouldn’t respond to my waterlogged touch.

“No, no, no.” The black digits counted down to 1 before dissolved into nothing.

A wave of despair crashed over me as I watched the numbers appear once again. 23:59:03. The seconds ticked down. Tiny insults adding to the bloody mess of my ego.

The next thing I remember was waking up late in the afternoon. My body was sore, my head foggy. A sharp pain radiated from my left foot and I wanted to cry, but there were no more tears.

There was a buzzing coming from my nightstand. I picked up my phone to see a new text message alert.

Hey babe

I stared at the words in confusion. Behind me I could hear the shower running. Robert hadn’t left. I saw the name at the top of the screen. “Erica.”

That’s odd. I opened the app to a chat I didn’t recognize. Messages I didn’t remember sending or receiving. I scrolled up to an image. It was a selfie of Erica, but she was wearing lingerie.

Realization hit like a cement brick. The phone in my hand wasn’t mine.

The shower stopped. My breaths grew short and ragged, catching in my throat in sharp gasps.

“Babe, are you okay?”

A shadow filled the door and approached me as my vision turned red.

I awoke on a hard, cold surface. I tried to move but my body screamed in pain. A bright light hurt my eyes as I slowly blinked them open. The room was grey and dingy. I sat up stiffly and looked in front of me at a wall of metal bars.

My head buzzed with questions, my eyes wide and seeing, no longer blinded or discomforted by the sudden light. Above me stood a police woman.

“Glad to see you finally awake, Ms. Cartland.”

“Wh-what happened? Where am I?” I tried to recall recent memories. The bath. My foot. Erica. Robert.

“We got a call about a domestic disturbance at your residence. You were found standing over your boyfriend's body, a pair of bloody scissors…”

The cop continued but the sound was eclipsed by a sharp ringing noise in my head. My brain buzzed with shock as I sat back against a wall, bringing my knees to my chest. The room began to spin and it felt like I was falling into the buzzing. Into the void of complete and utter surrender.

An electronic alarm echoed off the cement walls, shrill enough, and familiar enough, to burrow into my numb thoughts.

“It’s 6 o’clock, Ms. Cartland.”

I looked up to see the cop holding out the Galvin Institute’s tablet through the bars of the cell. I stared at it, uncomprehending.

“It’s time to take the survey.”

“What?” I looked at the cop, tears I didn’t think could exist forming at the corners of my eyes.

The cop cleared her throat and dropped her arm, the tablet hanging uselessly beside her.

“What was something bad that happened to you today?”

I looked at her with confusion and pain.

“What was something good that happened to you today?” The cop’s voice was flat and stiff. Robotic.

A sob broke out of my mouth violently. I clutched my hands to my ears, desperately trying to block out her voice.

“On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?”

I opened my mouth, a scream pouring from my throat like vomit, filling the small room.

Reality snapped around me, as if a door opened in a vacuum. The world sucked past my body as I ascended painfully to the heavens.

My eyes were assaulted once again with a bright light, but this light was softer. Cleaner. Nicer. I was in a white room, a simple desk in front of me. Behind it sat Dr. Howden.

“Thank you, Ms. Cartland, for your participation in the study.” The corners of his eyes wrinkled with a warm smile.

My breaths came to me in gasps. I looked around at the innocuous room. It was just like it had been days before.

“I… I don’t understand.”

Dr. Howden gave me a tight smile. “Only a few hours have passed since you completed your survey. You have been under electronic hypnosis. Since signing the contract none of your actions, or the actions of your loved ones, actually occurred. It was all…” he twirled his finger, “in your head. I gave you a slight sedative before you awoke to help the transition along. You should be feeling more…” He smiled, “relaxed soon.”

I nodded dumbly. The numbness weighing my body down was no longer raw and uncomfortable but calming.

“Now,” he said, sliding a tablet across the desk. “If you’d please sign these release forms, you can be on your way.”

My hand shook slightly as I reached out and drew a simple line across the center of the page.

“Very good. You may now be excused. Your designated contact is waiting in the lobby.”

I stood uncertainty and began to leave the room before he added, “oh and as I explained before, since you opted out prematurely you forfeit all reimbursement.”

My stomach tightened as I saw Robert. His face set in bored concentration as he scrolled through his phone. Feeling my stare, he looked up and smiled warmly. “Babe!” He stood and walked towards me, arms outstretched. “How did it go?”

I clenched my jaw as he brought me to his chest, his body pressed against mine. My skin grew hot with anger and my stomach turned with disgust, but the tranquilizer slowly quelled my hatred.

He hadn’t really cheated on me, had he?

Robert took me home and made me spaghetti, just like he had last night. Except last night never happened.

The next day was a normal Saturday. I had coffee with Meredith as she told me about a new guy she met. On Sunday I had dinner with Robert and his parents. Monday I nodded at Mr. Bradford’s requests and listened to Erica complain about her yearly review. Friday Robert took me out for my birthday and proposed.

My life is meaningless now. Trivial and petty. These people I once loved no longer feel real. Their lives are stupid and useless, filled with made up milestones to give the illusion that life is moving forward. That they are making progress.

I could no longer pretend to enjoy it, so I left. I don’t have a destination, but instead I’m letting my short life roll over me like the waves of an ocean. Massive and unknowable. It doesn’t matter where I am or where I end up. It’s all so permeable. All so temporary. Why bother clinging to something when it’s not really yours to begin with. And yet the questions still run through my mind.

What was something bad that happened to you today?

Nothing. Nothing bad happens anymore. Nothing happens anymore. Life passes. I exist. I question reality and then find I’m too tired to care.

What was something good that happened to you today?

Nothing. Objectively, nothing good has ever happened to me. It’s all a farce. Life is just a series of signals that our mind misinterprets as something organized and purposeful. And yet we run forward with abandonment, counting the seconds until there are no seconds left to count.

Tonight I’ve found myself somewhere in Pennsylvania. The red numbers of the clock illuminated 6:00.

The sky is a beautiful amber above the mountain tops.

On a scale of 1-10, with 1 being the least, how appreciative are you of what you have?

No longer applicable.

[frederickwiddowson]

Luke 23:44 ¶  And it was about the sixth hour, and there was a darkness over all the earth until the ninth hour. 45  And the sun was darkened, and the veil of the temple was rent in the midst. 46  And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost. 47  Now when the centurion saw what was done, he glorified God, saying, Certainly this was a righteous man. 48  And all the people that came together to that sight, beholding the things which were done, smote their breasts, and returned. 49  And all his acquaintance, and the women that followed him from Galilee, stood afar off, beholding these things.

 Now, here comes one of those perplexing verses for modernists who want to interpret the Bible like they do the owner’s manual for their car. It says literally in verse 44 that in the sixth hour, which would be noon, as the daytime measured by the Sun, if it was visible, was from 6am to 6pm our time, there was a darkness over all the earth.

 First, though, let’s talk about time.

 John 11:9  Jesus answered, Are there not twelve hours in the day? If any man walk in the day, he stumbleth not, because he seeth the light of this world.

 This is a general understanding of the hourly divisions of the typical day. These are not, “it was 12:01pm.” In the ancient world a reference to time was a general thing, say, within the hour. They were more likely to say, “work begins at first light,” rather than, “show up at 7am for work.” The industrial regime of time where your days are commanded by a clock and you are expected to be at a certain place by a certain minute would not have been understandable by most people until the last couple of hundred years. This is one reason why factories had such a hard time with employees who came from a farm tradition although mechanical clocks were common by then. Time was relative, not exact, and a person could understand showing up at dawn but the concept of being “clocked in” by 7am was, at first, very strange. Whether the darkness started at noon exactly or at 12:15 or 12:37 we cannot know in this life because it came over the earth in the sixth hour, sometime in the sixth hour, so the apostle John would not have been standing in the crowd consulting with his non-existent stopwatch.

 Sun dials were in use for thousands of years and are the oldest known device for measuring time. In Isaiah, at least seven-hundred years before Christ, we have a mention.

 Isaiah 38:8  Behold, I will bring again the shadow of the degrees, which is gone down in the sun dial of Ahaz, ten degrees backward. So the sun returned ten degrees, by which degrees it was gone down.

 Some sources report that the earliest use of a minute for dividing an hour into 60 periods of 60 seconds is reported in the 1200s AD. Just want to point out not to read today’s “accuracy” back into the Bible measurement of time. It is not necessary to do so to understand what is being said to us.

 This is not an eclipse but a localized, supernatural event although God does use “natural” events to accomplish His purposes.  Although as I said before I do not want to make this study of Luke a harmonization of the Gospels I think some cross-references here, as in other places, would be most helpful.

 Matthew 27:45  Now from the sixth hour there was darkness over all the land unto the ninth hour.

 Mark 15:33 ¶  And when the sixth hour was come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour.

 Remember two things. One, that the darkness over the land of Egypt in Exodus 10 would not have been over the entire planet. Two, when the Bible refers to the earth in most places neither is it referring to the frozen tundra of Siberia or the jungles of the Amazon River basin. It almost always is a reference to Palestine where events are taking place after the focus is narrowed down to Abraham’s departure from Ur in Genesis, chapter 11.

 Regarding verse 45, the veil in the tabernacle was to divide the people from the most holy place.

 Exodus 26:31 ¶  And thou shalt make a vail of blue, and purple, and scarlet, and fine twined linen of cunning work: with cherubims shall it be made: 32  And thou shalt hang it upon four pillars of shittim wood overlaid with gold: their hooks shall be of gold, upon the four sockets of silver. 33  And thou shalt hang up the vail under the taches, that thou mayest bring in thither within the vail the ark of the testimony: and the vail shall divide unto you between the holy place and the most holy. 34  And thou shalt put the mercy seat upon the ark of the testimony in the most holy place.

 Solomon carried that over into the temple, of course.

 2Chronicles 3:14  And he made the vail of blue, and purple, and crimson, and fine linen, and wrought cherubims thereon. 15  Also he made before the house two pillars of thirty and five cubits high, and the chapiter that was on the top of each of them was five cubits.

 Matthew and Mark both report that the veil was torn from top to bottom indicating that this thick piece of fine twined linen was torn by God, not man. The barrier between mankind and God, the profane and the sacred, was ripped apart. God made provision to dwell with mankind, in their heart of hearts. This is an act of God, not performed by human willpower.

 John 1:12  But as many as received him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on his name: 13  Which were born, not of blood, nor of the will of the flesh, nor of the will of man, but of God.

 The only work that man or woman can do to initiate this act of God is to believe and have faith that what Christ said about Himself was true, to believe that He was God in the flesh, and in His resurrection.

 John 14:6   Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

 John 6:29   Jesus answered and said unto them, This is the work of God, that ye believe on him whom he hath sent.

 John 3:36  He that believeth on the Son hath everlasting life: and he that believeth not the Son shall not see life; but the wrath of God abideth on him.

 John 10:30   I and my Father are one.

 Romans 10:9   That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.

 The Cross was enough to pay for our sins against God restoring and reconciling mankind to what was lost in Adam and Eve’s sin against Him, which nature we inherited.

 1Corinthians 1:18   For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness; but unto us which are saved it is the power of God.

 Ephesians 2:14 ¶  For he is our peace, who hath made both one, and hath broken down the middle wall of partition between us; [Jew and Gentile] 15  Having abolished in his flesh the enmity, even the law of commandments contained in ordinances; for to make in himself of twain [Jew and Gentile] one new man, so making peace; 16  And that he might reconcile both unto God in one body by the cross, having slain the enmity thereby: 17  And came and preached peace to you which were afar off, and to them that were nigh.

 Hebrews 9:24  For Christ is not entered into the holy places made with hands, which are the figures of the true; but into heaven itself, now to appear in the presence of God for us:

25  Nor yet that he should offer himself often, as the high priest entereth into the holy place every year with blood of others; 26  For then must he often have suffered since the foundation of the world: but now once in the end of the world hath he appeared to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself.

 The Empty Tomb was sufficient for our justification.

 Romans 4:25   Who was delivered for our offences, and was raised again for our justification.

  The receipt of this free gift of eternal life is based on belief and faith.

 Romans 4:5   But to him that worketh not, but believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is counted for righteousness.

 Ephesians 2:8  For by grace are ye saved through faith; and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God: 9 Not of works, lest any man should boast.

 1Timothy 6:12   Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and hast professed a good profession before many witnesses.

 Hebrews 11:6   But without faith it is impossible to please him: for he that cometh to God must believe that he is, and that he is a rewarder of them that diligently seek him.

  The deposit on this promise of eternal life is the indwelling of the Holy Spirit; the Spirit of God and of Christ. There are so many verses that detail this it would take up many pages to list them all.

 John 14:23   Jesus answered and said unto him, If a man love me, he will keep my words: and my Father will love him, and we will come unto him, and make our abode with him.

 Romans 8:9   But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his.

 2Corinthians 1:22   Who hath also sealed us, and given the earnest of the Spirit in our hearts.

 46 says  And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit: and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.

 Psalm 31:5  Into thine hand I commit my spirit: thou hast redeemed me, O LORD God of truth.

 Matthew and Mark both have Jesus quoting the first fast of Psalm 22, a Psalm about His mission, struggles, agony, and those who will be born of the Spirit.

 Matthew 27:46  And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani? that is to say, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

 Mark 15:34  And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani? which is, being interpreted, My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?

 Psalm 22:1 ¶  « To the chief Musician upon Aijeleth Shahar, A Psalm of David. » My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?

 John reports this;

 John 19:30  When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, It is finished: and he bowed his head, and gave up the ghost.

 For verse 47 Matthew and Mark also report the Centurion, the Roman army officer in charge, as saying something additionally to a righteous man. They have him acknowledging that Jesus must be the Son of God, a declaration that would save the Centurion like the thief on the cross.

 People watching mourned in grief and desperation and the women who had helped Jesus and the disciples stood back and watched Him die, no doubt, weeping bitterly.