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snow-lavender · 5 years ago

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The Last Day of Sanity

AKA, “Ahh, there’s the bitch”

Word Count: 10959

Yeah so this one maybe got away from me in terms of length. But I’m also really proud of it, and proud of getting it done. Thank you for reading if you do!

Warnings: suicidal impulses, discussion of suicide, apparent (but not actual) suicide, mild blood and gore, hospitals, talks of institutionalization, ableism and derogatory language toward those with psychosis and similar conditions, violence (though not very described, mostly implied), and apparent character death. (It's Say Goodbye, so, y'know. Fun times.)

AO3 Link Here

Seán was staring at his ceiling. That wasn’t exactly rare these days.

His head was pounding, just like it had been for the last week. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t get warm. He couldn’t focus. Sometimes, when it was especially bad, he could barely string together a sentence.

Simply put, he was a wreck.

Something flickered at the edge of his vision. When he looked, there was Robin, covered in blood and stab wounds. He didn’t move, just stood by the closet, staring at him.

His breath hitched for a moment, but he forced it back under control. Pushing up to sit, he tried to calm down. “One, two, three, four.” he muttered as he inhaled. He repeated this as he held, exhaled, held.

One, two, three, four.

When he opened his eyes, Robin was still there, a few feet closer. He closed his eyes and tried again.

One, two, three, four.

It’s not real.

One, two, three, four.

It’s not.

He looked again. Robin was looming over him now. “Fuck it,” he muttered, pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of Robin's face.

To: I’m a Cat Man: hey s there anythibg there

A second later, he got a reply.

From: I’m a Cat Man: Nope, you’re all good.

To: I’m a Cat Man: Thx

Sure enough, when he looked back up, he was alone again. Laying back down, he spoke aloud. “Really, man? I know you can only do one of these a day. Why blow it this early in the morning?”

As expected, Scáth didn’t reply.

Seán sighed and closed his eyes again. This whole thing wasn’t exactly uncommon. Something about Halloween made it stronger, and brought out its more sadistic streak. He was used to that; he’d been dealing with it for twenty-some years. But this year was worse than it had ever been. Normally, it was just shadows at the edge of his vision, hearing things that weren’t there, maybe three or four nightmares about his family getting horrifically murdered. This was the first year Scáth had been able to create full-blown hallucinations.

Fucking family curse.

His stomach growled. Seán groaned, but pushed himself out of bed. If he really focused, he might be able to put up a front long enough to make some coffee and cereal. And then go back to bed and nap until he needed to record.

At least this year, he had some help. Marvin had seen him collapse last week, when he’d had his first hallucination. After hours of non-stop prodding, he’d finally weaseled out the truth. That made exactly one person on the planet that knew he was still dealing with this shit.

Back when he was a kid, he’d told his family about the voices and the shadows. The next few years had been frantic, trying to find some sort of “cure”. He’d eventually decided to stop being such a stressor and just fake being better.

After that, he managed to strike up a sort of symbiosis with Scáth. They would talk occasionally. He tried to indulge it every now and then; it must be boring being stuck in the head of some depressed asshole, after all. And in response, Scáth had been a bit more lenient in recent years. He’d thought maybe they were finally sort-of getting along.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

Jackie looked up from his textbook. “Oh hey, you’re finally up! Took you long enough.”

“Mhm.” Seán just walked over to the counter and put on a pot of coffee. He opened up the cupboard. Did he have enough energy to make oatmeal?

Jackie looked at him curiously. “Are you okay? You look pretty out of it.”

“Hmm?” Seán looked up. “What’d you say?”

Jackie stood up from the table and walked over to him. “Seriously, dude. What's up? You look like shit.”

“Feel like shit.” he replied, rubbing at his face. “I must’ve caught a bug or something. I’m dealing with it.”

“How’d you catch anything? You never leave the house!” Jackie said, smirking.

Seán shoved him playfully. “Alright, alright.” He pulled back. “Really, Jackie, I’m okay. I’ll take some Tylenol or something. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” No. This was only going to get worse. But he didn’t want to bother the others with it. He’d dealt before; he could deal now.

Jackie still looked a little skeptical. “Okay, I guess. Yell if you need anything?”

“Yeah, of course. I’m gonna go work, see ya.”

Seán walked out of the kitchen, coffee in hand, and nearly collapsed against the wall. Fuck. He needed a nap before he recorded, but none of the stuff was done up for today yet. He groaned into his mug and started the trek back upstairs. 20 minutes. He could rush out a thumbnail in 20 minutes and then he could sleep. Maybe.

Belatedly, he realized he never actually ate anything. Oh well. The day was already started, and he was not walking back down those stairs again.

Only four more weeks left of the month.

Fuck his life.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“I’m gonna stay on my fucking bongos! Yeah!” Seán smiled, leaning back. “That should be all good, Robin, but tell me if the audio levels need tweaking.” With that, he leaned forward and turned off the camera. The game was much better than the last two, he had to give it that. Still not as good as the first, though. He clicked upload, putting the footage in his dropbox.

The cockroaches swarming his arm chittered. He looked down at them and sighed. “You done?” he asked, brushing them off. He ground a few under his feet for good measure, then got up and headed to the kitchen.

Marvin and Henrik were there already, testing another one of Hen’s hypotheses. Something about manipulating objects and line of sight, he wasn’t sure on the details. Seán ducked under the floating twigs and grabbed some yogurt. He frowned when he heard a thump behind him. Turning around, he asked, “You guys okay-”

Both men were on the floor. Marvin was gurgling, his throat slit. Henrik was motionless, a bleeding hole in his forehead. A man with a knife stood over them, face shadowed.

Seán dropped his bowl with a clatter. He backed up against the wall. “No, no, no,” he panted. “What did you- Who are you?”

The man turned to him, head cocking in curiosity. Then he took a step forward.

“Get away from me!” Seán shrieked, grabbing a steak knife off the counter and holding it out in front of himself. “Don’t come any closer!”

The man didn’t listen. He strode forward, reaching toward Seán. Seán screamed as the man grabbed him. “No, please!”

“Seán!”

He lowered his hands, and suddenly Henrik was knelt in front of him. “Seán, look at me, try to breathe.” Henrik spoke slowly, reassuringly.

“What...Schneep?” Seán glanced back to the center of the room. “But you were...where did…”

“Look at me.” Henrik said. “Just focus here.” He set a hand on Seán’s forehead. “You feel warm. You did not actually recover from that virus, did you?”

“...No.”

“I see.” Henrik stood up. “I will run out to the pharmacy. Marvin, watch Seán.” He stalked out of the kitchen, muttering to himself.

Marvin slowly sat down next to Seán, who had buried his face in his hands. He pulled off his mask and ran a hand through his hair. “Bad one?”

Seán didn’t speak for a moment, instead leaning into Marvin’s side. “Yeah…”

There was silence for a while longer. Eventually, Seán spoke up again. “That was the second one today.”

“What? I thought you said-”

“I did. It’s never been able to do that before.”

Marvin rubbed at his face. “Fuck, man. What should we do?”

“Dunno.”

Marvin bit his lip. “I know what you said before, but maybe we should find someone else. I’m kinda out of my depth here.” “Mhm...”

“Have you thought about maybe getting an exorci-”

“No!”

Seán pulled away from Marvin. “No, please, I can’t..I can’t do that again. Please don’t make me.”

Marvin reeled back, surprised. “Are you okay?”

Seán shook his head. “I don’t- we can’t. Please don’t. They hurt so much.”

“Hey, it was just an idea.” Marvin leaned back against the counter. “What d’you suggest, then?”

Seán didn’t reply. He was too focused on steadying his breathing again. “I can’t see an exorcist.” he repeated.

Marvin looked worried. “Okay, I got it, jeez.” He shuffled away from Seán a bit. “Now what?”

“I don’t know.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Things only got worse from there.

The hallucinations got more frequent and more violent. Seán was trying to weather them, but he was often bedridden with nausea now, and there was no distraction in his room.

He knew Jackie and Henrik were getting suspicious. Hen had prescribed something stronger after the first week, some sort of antibiotic. Seán had just been flushing them down the toilet. He didn’t want a fucked up immune system on top of all this.

Which led to now, the four of them all sitting together in the living room. Seán couldn’t stop fidgeting, and he could see Marvin glancing at the others, concerned. He sucked in a breath, scrunched his shoulders, and spoke.

“I’m cursed.”

Jackie and Henrik both squinted at him. “Come again?” Henrik asked.

Seán closed his eyes. “My family’s got a curse and I got stuck with it and this thing is always haunting me and usually it’s fine but it gets worse in October but not this bad so this is unusual and I keep hallucinating and I feel like shit I’m sorry.” He looked back up.

Jackie looked both confused and on edge, like he usually did around new magic. Henrik, on the other hand, looked perfectly neutral. “I think I maybe misheard, Jack, you said you were cursed and haunted? This is why you have been so off lately?”

Seán nodded. “I don’t know why it’s so much worse this year. It won’t talk to me either, I’ve only seen what it shows me. It’s like it’s...I don’t know. Acting like it’s angry at me or something?”

“And this is normal for you? This talking to it and seeing it?”

“Yeah.” Seán frowned. “I feel like that’s not really the important part here though? I just wanted to let you guys know why I’m all messed up right now. Marvin and I are trying to figure it out.” He waved an arm in Marvin’s direction.

Henrik turned sharply. “You are?”

Marvin glared back. “Just cause I’m not gifted in healing doesn’t mean I can’t help.” He exhaled. “It’s a little hard to research. But I’m getting some wards and potions and stuff. That should keep it under control.”

“I see.”

Jackie broke in, “How can I help, though? I mean, obviously I’m useless with the magic stuff, but there’s gotta be something I can do, right? You’re also just sick, so I could help with food and cleaning and shit.”

“And what about a doctor?’ Henrik asked.

“Are you serious?” Marvin replied, standing up. “Your friend just told you he’s been dealing with something that would drive a lesser man insane, and you’re so focused on your pride that you get upset he didn’t come to you?”

“In case you didn’t notice, I said ‘a doctor’. Not ‘me’.” Henrik pushed himself up as well. “This has nothing to do with my pride.”

“Guys, please.” Seán said, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s a magic thing, Hen, a doctor isn’t going to help. They sure as shit didn’t help when I was a kid.”

“Well, then they were a bad doctor.” Henrik walked over and sat next to Seán. “Please Jack, let me call a taxi. It’s a Thursday, the emergency room won’t be busy.” he pleaded, resting an arm on his shoulder.

Seán leaned into it. “I’ll be okay. October’s half over anyway, this’ll be done after Halloween. I can deal with it,” he said, smiling.

Henrik looked like he wanted to say more, but Seán got up before he could. “I’m gonna try to get some sleep. Night all.”

Jackie trailed behind him. “You need help up the stairs?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks.” Seán gave him a side-hug. “Don’t worry about me, it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

Jackie snorted. “You’re not my fuckin’ dad.”

“Ehh, dad, guardian who’s known you three months, potaeto, potahto.” Seán ruffled Jackie’s hair. “Night, doofus.”

“Night, goober.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Scáth was in his fucking videos.

Seán stared in horror at his monitor. He’d noticed some sort of buzz on Tumblr earlier in the month, but today something had gotten everybody excited enough that the tag was trending. That made him work up the energy to log on; he’d been too tired for social media otherwise. He’d been greeted with an overload of gifs and art, all of some weird, glitchy demon version of himself.

In retrospect, Robin’s text about ‘extra editing’ made sense now.

“What the fuck!?”

Seán looked around his room wildly. “Scáth!” he yelled. “What the everloving shit? What have you done?”

There was no answer. He slumped back in his seat. Maybe it was lack of sleep or something, but he started crying. The channel was his safe place, his people, and now this thing was trying to worm into it. He hated it. He hated it, and he hated how terrible he felt, and he hated this stupid curse. More tears rolled down his face, faster than he could rub them away.

There was a knock at the door. “Jack?” Henrik asked. “I heard you yelling from downstairs. Is all okay?”

When he didn’t answer, Henrik opened the door and came in. Taking in Seán’s state, he gently pulled him out of the chair and into a hug on the floor. “Is okay, my friend. It will be alright.” Seán hugged him tighter, unable to stop crying.

They sat there for some time, Henrik rubbing his back and calmly reassuring him. Seán burrowed into his arms. Hen’s shirt smelled like lavender, and soon he could feel his tears soaking into it. He didn’t move though. The embrace was warm, safe and grounding, just what he needed. Henrik was good at that, physically comforting in exactly the right way,

“What happened?” Henrik eventually asked.

“Scáth is getting into my videos somehow.”

“You saw something in your videos?”

Seán nodded. “I’m so sick of this.”

Henrik pulled back. “Do you want to speak of something else? Have other things been happening?”

“I don’t know. I just feel like I’m always being watched, y’know? Then I keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye but I don’t know if they’re visions or just my imagination. And I keep losing time? Like I zone out and suddenly it’s ten minutes later.” He shuddered. “I don’t know if that’s it, like, possessing me or something.”

Henrik nodded. “Are you ever aware of that? Having a feeling like something else is controlling your body?” he continued.

Seán snorted bitterly. “God, don’t give him ideas,” he said, closing his eyes. He could still feel the tears dripping out of them, slow and sluggish.

“And do you feel like your thoughts are all out of order?”

“I mean yeah, I guess, but I think I’m just tired…” The situation clicked, and Seán stiffened. “Henrik, are you trying to fucking diagnose me? What the hell?” he snapped.

Henrik pulled away fully, looking affronted. “Jack, this is a serious situation. What you have-”

“What I have isn’t something you would have studied! Did you not believe me this entire time?”

“I...what you are experiencing feels real to you, I do not mean to trivialize that. But this...it is dangerous to write off all scientific help, Jack. A professional could help you figure out what this is.”

Seán glared at him. “I know what it is. I told you.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Is this what you’ve been wanting to talk with me about the last few days? Is that all you came up here for?”

Henrik tried to reach out again, but Seán swatted his hand away. “No, of course not! I was worried about you!”

“Yeah, cause you think I’m fucking crazy!” Seán scooted away from him. “Fuck off!”

“Seán, I-”

“Leave me alone!”

Henrik paused, but then stood up. “Alright. Please, call one of the others if you need anything.” He walked out of the room, but stopped in the doorway. “I am sorry. For overstepping.”

Seán didn’t answer, so Henrik left and closed the door behind him. For some reason, he did a one-eighty in the hallway and tried to come back in, but by then Seán had already summoned a gust of air to turn the lock. Eventually, Henrik gave up and went downstairs.

When he was sure Hen was gone, Seán pushed up and headed to the bathroom. He could feel something sticky and flaky clinging to his cheeks.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

He pointedly ignored the book about schizophrenia on the coffee table the next morning.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“Hey, you in there?”

Seán groaned, pulling his pillow off his head. Marvin stood in the doorway, holding a steaming cup of...well, he hoped it was coffee, but the logical side of him knew it wasn’t.

“Dude, you can see me, what d’you mean, ‘you in there’?”

Marvin sat down across from where he was laying, putting the mug on the side table. “You never know, it could’ve been like yesterday.”

Seán pushed himself up, shakily, until he was sitting against the headboard. “Huh? What happened yesterday?”

“You went unresponsive for a while, remember?”

“No.”

Marvin bit his lip. “Oh. Well, you did. Just sat there staring for like, eight hours. None of us could get you to react to anything.”

Seán couldn’t think of a response to that beyond, “Fuck.” He gestured to the mug. “What is it this time?”

Marv leaned back. “Chamomile and Valerian, mostly. Tried to cast some charms on it, but we’ll have to see about those.”

Seán peered down into it, looking at the three lumps sitting in the draught. “And...marble?”

“Nah, just pebbles from the creek.”

“If those break apart and I get a mouthful of sand, I’m punching you.”

“Quit bitching and drink it already.” Marvin sat up. “Oh, I brought some Ibuprofen, too. It’s been six hours, right?” he asked, pulling two tablets from his shirt pocket.

“Yeah, thanks.” Seán reached over to grab them. He pulled a mouthful of liquid from the cup and shook it around the room quickly to cool it, before drinking it out of the air to swallow the pills.

“Well, at least your magic’s more under control?”

“Mhm,” Seán replied, taking a sip from the cup. “Still crazy nauseous though.”

“Well, Henrik could have something for that…” Marvin said, trailing off as Seán stiffened. He folded his arms. “You two are going to have to make up eventually.”

“Coming from you.”

Marvin scowled. “Hey, that’s different!” He fiddled with a strand of hair. “You two are close, I...look, just, he cares about you. Don’t fuck that up.”

Seán sighed. “Can we not do this right now? Please? My head’s hurting like a bitch”

“I guess.” Marvin stood up, brushing off his pants. “I’ve got to run to the store. Let me know if that one helps more than the others, yeah?”

“Will do.” Seán answered, burrowing back under his blankets.

Marvin flicked off the lights as he left, and Seán turned to block out noise with his pillow again. Before he could, however, there was a light knock on the door.

He pushed himself back up to a sitting position. “Did’ja need something else- oh. Hey, Jackie.”

The teen pushed in further at the acknowledgement. “Hey Jack.” He wavered by the side of the bed until Seán patted the spot next to him. Looking relieved, he sat down.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know, just...how are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. Why?”

Jackie exhaled shakily. He fidgeted a bit in place. “I..”

Seán caught on and opened up his arms. Jackie immediately fell into them and started crying. “Last night was horrible,” he said between sobs. “I thought you were gone. I thought you were going to be a vegetable and we’d have to put you in the hospital. I thought at any moment you might just stop breathing. I never want to deal with that again.”

Seán tightened his hug. “Jackie, I’m so sorry,” he mumbled.

“You just stopped talking in the middle of a sentence and wouldn’t move. Nothing I did would get you to wake up. I tried shaking you and screaming at you and Hen tried pinching and prodding you and Marvin tried spells and nothing worked. Eventually we had to keep on doing normal stuff with you just sat there and that was even worse. It was...we couldn’t…” Jackie burrowed his face into Seán’s neck. “I was so scared,” he whispered.

Seán stared at the opposite wall. “I had no idea.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t know, I thought I just slept through yesterday afternoon. I don’t even remember going downstairs. Marv mentioned something but-oh God.” He closed his eyes, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t remember.”

Jackie sobbed again. “No no no no-”

Seán didn’t reply. He just felt numb. Hallucinations, panic attacks, fainting, all of those he could deal with. They were awful, but they were over with quick enough and then he could get back to normal. But this, completely checking out, for hours at a time?

What happened to my soul during that? Where was I?

Seán was snapped back into the present when he heard Jackie hyperventilating.

“Woah, hey, Jay, look at me.” He pulled back and lifted up Jackie’s face. “You’re okay. I’m okay.”

Jackie shook off his hand. “Are you though?”

Seán’s breath hitched. Jackie rubbed at his face, shuffling back a bit. “What if this doesn’t stop after Halloween? What if you just keep getting worse and worse until…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but they both knew what he meant.

“I won’t.” Seán said firmly. “He’ll be gone after Samhain, I promise. That’s how it works.”

Jackie looked unsure, but didn’t argue.

“And I mean, failing that, we could just end it all.” Seán shrugged.

Jackie reeled back. “What?!”

“Kill myself. End it. Just stop. No more of this and I get control of the situation.” Seán leaned back with a smile. “Wouldn’t that be nice? No responsibility, no pain, no anything. Just nothingness and an empty body left over.”

“What are you talking about?”

He looked over. “Wouldn’t that be nice?” he repeated. “I bet you’d really enjoy it.”

Jackie got up off the bed. “I’m getting Henrik. Something’s wrong.”

Humming contemplatively, he got up as well. Jackie backed away from him, bristling. He turned and rummaged around in his bedside table. “It’s a shame you’re wearing a green hoodie today. We could have had a nice Deadpool scenario going on. That’s what you want, right? To be a superhero.” He pulled out the large butcher’s knife. “When you mix green and red, you just get a gross lookin’ brown.”

Jackie bolted for the door. He’d almost reached it when a gust of air slammed it shut. He tried the doorknob, but quickly pulled away. “Ow! What the fuck?” He cradled his burnt hand as the knob glowed, then began to slowly melt. Jackie turned back to Him in horror. He smiled. The teen was so scared and desperate, it was hilarious. Even funnier, though, was the sadness in his eyes. That’s what came with loss and grief, right? How silly, he wasn’t gone! He grabbed the teen’s shoulder, throwing him to the floor. He knelt over him, a knee on his chest to keep him down. “Hello!”

Jackie was crying now, breaths coming uneven and whiny. “Why, what, who are you?” he gasped.

He hummed. “Let’s see, how to do this.” He looked over at the knife in his hands. “I don’t think this can get through a skull. Chest it is!” He grinned. “You’ll like it! Empty and painless and out of my way.”

He stabbed. Jackie screamed.

He stabbed, Jackie screamed.

He stabbed, Jackie whimpered.

He stabbed. Jackie didn’t respond.

He looked up. The door was open. Someone else screamed.

Standing in the entrance were two other men, the magician and the doctor. More fun!

He stood up, allowing Henrik to run to Jackie. Marvin raised his hands, and vines sprouted around His arms, binding them together.

Henrik frantically buzzed around Jackie, attempting to stem the bleeding, calling 999, turning him on his side into recovery position. “You’re too late,” He spoke up helpfully. “He’s all cleaned out. Nice and empty and gone!”

Henrik kept trying to find a pulse, started CPR as Marvin stood by, horrified. It took a very long time, (frankly He was rather bored by the end of it) but eventually the doctor stopped. “Herr Gott nochmal...” Henrik looked up at the magician, eyes full of tears. “I couldn’t...he’s…” A sob cut him off as he buried his face in his hands. Marvin fell to his knees, expressionless.

“Are you done?” He burned through his plant-handcuff, rubbing at His wrists.

Both men turned to look at Him, furious. “What the fuck have you done?” Marvin yelled at him. The magician strode forward, eyes glowing. “You’re goddamn insane! We should have kicked you out after your first hallucination, you psycho!”

“You can’t kick me out, the apartment lease is under my name.”

“How could you-”

He slit Marvin’s throat.

The magician hit the floor with a gurgle. Henrik screamed, moving towards the door, but He glitched over on top of him. “Hi!” he said with a smile. “Believe me now?”

Blood squirted all over his pajama pants.

“Jack.”

He smiled, surveying the three corpses. No one but Him now.

“Jack!”

He sobbed. How could he have done something like this?

“Seán!”

He jolted.

Seán was sitting back on the bed, still swaddled in blankets. Jackie was shaking him, a hand on either shoulder. “Please, please answer me!” he begged.

“...Jackie?”

Jackie’s arms dropped. “Holy shit. I...fuck. You- you just started screaming, I had no clue what was going on, I thought you’d checked out again-” He breathed harshly. “You’re here, though.”

Seán stared at him. “You’re alive?” he murmured, reaching up a hand to cup Jackie’s face.

Jackie looked confused. “Yeah? I’m fine, it’s you we should be worried about.”

“You’re alive,” he repeated, pressing his other hand to the teen’s unmarred chest. “Thank fuck, I thought he...I thought I..” Another sob cut him off, and he curled in on himself.

Jackie hesitantly wrapped his arms around Seán. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Seán didn’t answer. He just kept crying, letting Jackie hug him.

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The next morning, Seán had had enough.

He’d whipped up his recordings as quick as possible, not bothering to check for the glitches he knew were there. After eating as much yogurt and ginger ale as he could stomach (about half a cup of each), he stumbled back up to his bedroom.

Henrik had a 10 hour shift today, so he didn’t have to worry about being disturbed for a while yet. Seán half-heartedly kicked the clothes on the floor toward the hamper, then pushed Schneep’s scattered papers and notes into a pile next to the desk. Having cleared enough space, he set one of his pillows down on the floor between their beds and laid down. He’d had problems in the past, falling out of bed when he did this.

He fidgeted for a while trying to get comfortable (and calm his nerves). Hopefully, the two of them could strike up some deal, something that would make Scáth happy and make next October more bearable. He didn’t think he’d be able to come out of another month like this unscathed.

Breathing deeply, Seán closed his eyes and tried to blank out, focusing only on his thoughts. When he opened them again, he was in a black nothingness.

“Scáth, I know you’re there.”

He took a few steps forward. “Don’t ignore me, asshole. We need to talk.”

“Oh, do we now? So when you ask for something, I’m to respond right away?

Seán whipped around, furious. “What the hell is wrong wi-” He stopped abruptly.

Scáth looked like….him.

They’d met like this before, a few times. If either was particularly pissed off, this served as a place for parlay, or whatever. But all of those times, Scáth had been, well, a shadow; a dark green, gaseous silhouette. Now, it looked almost human. Ripped jeans, combat boots, gauges, and a shock of green hair. And his face. It was as if Seán had an edgier, demonic twin.

Scáth grinned at him with a mouthful of nearly normal teeth. “You like the new style?”

Seán took a step back. “Why do you look like that?” he asked, voice wavering.

“Oh, you know. Reasons.” He took a step forward. “Gosh, Jack, you look terrible. Something keeping you up at night?”

“Fuck off.” Seán spat, fists tightening. “What do you want?”

“Wasn’t it you that called for me? I didn’t come to this wanting anything!” His tone was mocking, patronizing.

“You know what I mean. What happened with you? Suddenly you’re, fucking like, attacking me and making me hallucinate, disassociate, whatever, making me sick, looking like me? And talking in full sentences, what happened to the ominous one word thing?” Seán gripped at his hair. “Did I do something to piss you off? Is that what this is, some revenge thing mixed with your fucked up interests? What do you want, Scáth, I’m at the end of my rope here.”

Scáth laughed. “What, you think I haven’t wanted to do this our whole life? I’ve been dreaming of this since day one, McLoughlin! You, half insane, begging and pleading, surrounded by people who want you institutionalized,”

“Don’t-they don’t want-”

“Oh, is that right? Look me in the eyes and tell me your parents wouldn’t be locking you in another priest’s basement if we were still living with them. Tell me that doctor isn’t going to drop you in a psych ward the moment he has the chance.”

Seán couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. Instead, he looked down, scrubbing at tears. “Why now, then? I don’t understand, what changed? What did I do?”

Scáth knelt down to his level, still grinning. “Not a goddamn thing. I just finally got the strength I needed.” His smile turned into a snarl. “Do you have any idea what this is like? My line was powerful enough to force a Taoiseach onto his own sword. And suddenly, because someone’s family stopped having kids for two centuries,” he spat, “I’m stuck with a pathetic, whimpering, traitorous, English speaking c̛̹h̛̪͙i̙l̬̘̫ͅd̪̱̜̤̤, and not even enough power to manifest in the real world.” Scáth grabbed the front of Seán’s shirt, hoisting both of them up. “I was going to bring this land to its knees, bring us back to where we should stand, and instead I got landed with Y̶̛̻̤͕͟O͇͕̜͈̖U̹̕.” He dropped Seán a few inches, wrapping his claws around his neck.

“Shit- Let go of me!”

Scáth snarled. “Here’s a secret I figured out, Jackaboy.” He leaned in, black eyes suddenly glowing a brilliant green. “That community of yours has more power than you could ever imagine. And their ideas! Holy shit, you should see what some of them come up with. They’ve got creation bursting at the seams. Give ‘em a few crumbs, they’ll make the loaf of bread themselves.” He grinned, teeth spiky and horrible. “Say hello to your newest figment.”

Seán was thrown to the floor. He pushed himself up, rubbing at his throat. “Scáth...please, please tell me you didn’t,” he gasped.

Scáth grinned wide. “I prefer Anti, thanks.”

“Oh, God.”

The demon snorted. “He didn’t help your ancestors, buddy, and he sure as hell ain’t helping you.”

“No, there’s no way, you couldn’t have…”

“You should hear them, Seán. ‘Ooh, wouldn’t this be cool, what if he did something for Halloween, what do you think that character would be like.’” He nudged Seán with his foot. “I’m just giving the people what they want!”

“You’re manipulating them to gain power.” Seán growled.

“Eh, same difference.”

“Scáth...just stop, we can figure-”

The demon glitched, and suddenly he was holding Seán up by the shirt again. “I told you to call me A̛̹n̷̫͚̱̗͕t̥͓͡i̝̻!” he yelled.

Seán wriggled in his grasp. “Like hell I will.”

“Oh, that’s how it is? You’ll use the kid’s new name, but not mine? Favouritism isn’t a good look, Jack.”

“Leave him out of this. Leave them all out of this, I’m the one you’re bound to!” Seán wrenched sideways, forcing Anti to drop him. He pushed himself back up to stand opposite.

Anti shrugged. “And?”

Seán gulped. “I- you can’t, please. Please. You can do whatever you want to me, fine, just don’t hurt them.”

Anti stared at him blankly for a few moments. Seán met his gaze, tearful, still gasping for air.

Then the demon laughed. It started low, but raised in pitch and fervor, bouncing around the space without rhyme or reason. Seán glanced around as it echoed around his head.

Anti glitched into his face again. “Well, you offered. How can I refuse such a generous invitation?”

“Huh?” Seán staggered backwards, replaying the conversation in his head. He froze as the weight of his words sunk in. “Oh, God, no. No no nonono…”

Anti wiped at his eyes. “Like a fuckin’ fiddle, holy shit,” he chuckled. “And they say loyalty can’t be a fatal flaw.” The demon waved with a flourish. “Have fun over the next few days, Jack, there’s only so much more time till Samhain.”

Seán surged upwards, knocking his head into Marvin’s.

“Ah, shit!” Marvin fell backwards onto his hands.

Henrik turned around from the desk, looking relieved. “Seán! Thank goodness, I couldn’t wake you, but it looked intentional this time, so I called Marvin up.”

Seán ignored him, turning to Marvin, panicked. The magician looked back, rubbing his forehead. “Seán? What’s wrong?”

He swallowed. “I fucked up. I fucked up real bad.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“No wait, turn it that way a bit...yes, there!” Jackie exclaimed triumphantly as he and Marvin maneuvered the table into the recording room.

Seán entered behind them, carrying a pumpkin and bag of tools. “I’m sorry, if I’d known it wouldn’t’ve fit through the door, I would have asked you to grab the other table.”

“It’s fine,” Marvin reassured him, leaning back to stretch. “I think the other one is even bigger, anyhow.”

Seán set his things down, unpacking and laying out the knives. “Well, thanks then. I can take it from here, guys.”

He noticed Jackie and Marv glance at each other. “You sure about this? If you space out or slip while carving, you could really hurt yourself,” Jackie said

Seán sighed internally. “I’m good!” he replied, turning around to face the other two. “I have to film something for Halloween anyway, so it doesn’t really matter.” Jackie and Marvin’s grimaces only deepened at that.

He leaned against the table behind him. “I think that last spell you tried really worked this time. I haven’t felt this good since September!”

Marvin’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you serious?”

He smiled wide. “Yeah, I wouldn’t lie about that stuff. You know what I told you, he said this week was going to be hell, but I haven’t seen a thing! Just heard one or two, that’s nothing compared to before.”

Marvin seemed shocked at that idea. “Wow. I uh. Didn’t think we’d actually figure this out.” He was trying to hide it, but Seán could see the subtle joy in his eyes.

“Hug?” Seán asked, arms opening. Marvin nodded loosely wrapping around him, smiling all the while. After a moment, Seán gestured for Jackie to join them. The teen complied happily.

The three of them stood there, huddled together in the recording room. After a bit, Seán pulled back. “I really do have to get this done, though. It’ll be an hour, tops, then I’ll come back down.” He hesitated a moment, then continued, “Henrik’s going to be back soon, right? Maybe we can all go out to dinner together.”

Jackie’s grin widened even more. “Yes! Yes, please, we haven’t done something as a family since your fight.”

“Yeah, I...I wanna fix that. I’ve been treating him like garbage.”

Marvin patted his shoulder. “Good on you. Have fun recording, let us know if anything goes wrong?”

He waved his phone. “Will do. See you guys in a bit.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

“Okay, so the last thing you wanna do is get your knife, and you’re going to have to do fine-”

What’s happening?

Why can’t I move!?

Shush.

Oh God.

I said shut up.

Nononono, please, don’t-

They’re simple instructions Seán. Be quiet!

Stop the knife, stop the knife, stop the-

Oh for fuck’s sake. I’m going to be so glad when you’re gone.

You can’t do this, this is my body!

Not for long.

No, stop, please, stop!

Shink.

It hurts, please, I don’t want to die, it hurts, stop!

Oop, looks like it’s time to go! Say bye-bye, Seány-boy!

HELP ME!

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Marvin looked at the clock nervously. “It’s been over an hour.”

“As it was twenty minutes ago.” Henrik replied tersely, leg bouncing.

Jackie sat up abruptly. “I’m going to go check on him.”

Marv ran his hands through his hair. “You probably shouldn’t. Everyone still thinks he lives alone, he’ll have to scrap all that footage. What if he’s in the middle of something important?”

“I don’t care, I feel like something’s up. What if he spaced out again?”

Henrik bit his lip. “You said he was more or less cured.”

“We said he said he was more or less cured,” Marvin murmured.

“I’m going.” Jackie said adamantly. Before Marvin could protest further, he turned and bolted up the stairs.

He came to a stop at the end of the hallway. “Jack?” he asked, knocking. “It’s been a while, you done yet?” When there was no answer, Jackie frowned. “Seán? Everything okay?”

He tried the doorknob, but it wouldn’t turn. He banged on the door. “Seán! What’s going on?” The teen wiggled it more, worried now. “Hey! Talk to me!”

Jackie cursed under his breath when there was still no reply. “Fuck, okay. Sorry in advance, man.” He breathed deeply and steadily, trying to focus. Then he began throwing himself at the door, attempting to ram it open.

Even with all this commotion, no sound came from the recording room. Jackie picked up the pace, the doorframe beginning to creak. “Come on, come on.” Then the lock gave way, the frame splintering as Jackie forced his way in. “Yes!”

He staggered in, balance thrown off. “Seán?”

At first glance, the room appeared empty. It was dim, the curtains closed to make the set consistent. The equipment was still set up, though the lights were all off. He could smell something burnt, as if the bulbs had all blown out. There was another smell, too; something metallic. A fully carved pumpkin sat on the table, knife shoved in the top haphazardly. Both chairs were empty. No one was here.

Jackie pushed inward. There was no way Seán could have left, they would have seen him. Was he in the bathroom?

Then he heard it, barely- a hoarse wheeze, like someone was out of breath. His foot stepped in something wet, then nudged something soft. Jackie froze. He almost didn’t have the resolution to look down. But he did.

Then he screamed.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Henrik looked up quizzically at the first set of bangs. “What is he doing?”, he murmured, sitting up straight.

There was another round of bangs, followed by repeated thumps. Marvin sat up as well, glancing toward the stairs. “What, is he trying to break down the door?”

Henrik paused, listening closely. Then he pushed himself to stand quickly. “Oh for the love of- I think he is.” He rubbed at his face. “He’s going to lose us the deposit. For fuck’s sake.” He hurried out of the room, Marvin following. As they reached the bottom of the staircase, there was the sound of something cracking and the thumps stopped. Marvin slumped his head against the wall and groaned. “Really, Jackie?”

Henrik frowned, sympathizing. “I will help you all pay for damages. I should have better calmed him.”

Marvin gave a subdued thumbs up. As they turned to head back to the living room, they heard a scream. “Henrik! Help!”

Henrik bolted upstairs. Jackie was slumped against the wall opposite the recording room, staring inside. He looked absolutely horrified. His left sock was soaked with blood at the toes.

Henrik cut past him to rush into the room. He flicked on the lights and surveyed the scene. Nothing seemed out of place, but...

He checked the floor.

Seán laid limp, unmoving. His right hand loosely cradled a knife and a pool of blood stained the carpet around his head.

“Scheisse!”

Henrik dropped down to his knees, feeling for a pulse. His fingers came away wet. As he turned Seán’s head he saw the deep, jagged cut across his throat. Henrik’s heart dropped into his stomach.

He fumbled for his phone, dialing 999 while still searching for a heartbeat. He found one just as the operator picked up.

“Hello, yes, I need an ambulance right away!”

“Sir, what is your emergency?”

Marvin’s voice was in the background, likely comforting Jackie, but it was distant, muffled. Unnecessary noise in the current crisis.

Henrik wriggled out of his shirt while yelling into the phone. “My cousin has a slit throat! He is currently unconscious, has a weak heartbeat,” he paused, holding a hand above Seán’s mouth. “little airflow, hypoxia is likely. In fact, the cut is deep, a tracheal transection is possible. The injury occurred sometime in the last two hours, but I don’t know when exactly.” He placed his shirt around the neck injury. “He’s lost at least a litre and a half of blood, perhaps more.”

“Sir, can you give me an address please?”

“Ah, I am not sure exactly. Marvin?” He turned back around. Marvin had his arms around Jackie, murmuring, but he looked up when Henrik called his name. “Huh?”

“What is the apartment’s address?”

He relayed what Marvin told him to the operator. Meanwhile, he kept tabs on Seán’s pulse and breathing.

“Alright, an ambulance and Guard vehicle are on their way. Is there anything else I should know?” the operator asked.

Henrik glanced around. “Uh, the cut was made with a kitchen knife, definitely not sanitized. And-” He paused, breathing deeply. “There is no sign of a break in, and neither I nor our roommates heard anything. The wound is most likely self inflicted.” Marvin and Jackie’s heads snapped up at that, but Henrik ignored them. “He should be placed under suicide watch until we know more.”

“Had he been displaying destructive or out of character behaviours before this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’ll alert the hospital’s mental health crisis team. Keep the wound covered-”

“Yes, I have a shirt on it already. I am a surgeon, I do not need advice. Thank you for your help, go give it to someone else now.”

“But-”

“Have a good evening.”

“Sir!”

Henrik hung up, slumping. “Marvin. Go get Jackie a blanket and some water. He’s having a panic attack.”

Marvin stared at him, dumbfounded. “Henrik, you don’t actually think he-”

“A blanket, Marvin.” Henrik repeated numbly. He fumbled with his phone one handed, opening the clock and placing it on Seán’s stomach. He kept one hand on Seán’s wrist and one over the wound, watching the time.

Marvin entered the room. He glanced back toward Jackie, who was now huddled in a blanket. The teen seemed to be shaking less, that was something. Marvin cleared his throat.

“Could you two go wait for the ambulance, please?” Henrik said.

Marvin wrung his hands. “Hen, he wouldn’t have-”

“Marvin.” Henrik looked up, keeping his hands in place. “Right now I need to focus on keeping him alive. Please, go wait for the ambulance.”

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

Two days later, Seán hadn’t woken up.

“Not too worrisome,” Dr. Heaney had assured them. “Given the trauma, a state like this isn’t unusual. Just give him time.”

Henrik had added later, over dinner. “His pupils still respond, and he verbalizes sometimes. That is good.”

Still, he could see how worried Jackie and Marvin were. They’d all taken time off of work or school. Every possible minute was spent in the ICU, waiting for something to change.

Henrik could see the pitying looks his coworkers kept giving him. He’d brushed them off initially, when they asked about his lack of scrubs, but it was a rural hospital. Word got around. By the next day, nearly every doctor or nurse had given him an awkward shoulder pat or asked to pray for him. He could see Marvin bristle every time one of them walked by; every 10 minutes, it seemed, someone was sticking their head in the room and asking, “You three okay in here? D’ya need anything?” Frankly, Henrik was amazed Marvin hadn’t snapped at them yet.

Jackie was pacing again. He alternated between that and sitting in a chair wringing his hands. He’d be inconsolable the moment they got back to the apartment, if the last two nights were anything to go off. Henrik had tried to comfort him verbally, but he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. So he’d resorted to just holding the teen as he cried, screamed, panicked, the works. Then it was off to bed for more of the same tomorrow.

Marvin was eternally tense and pissed off. Yelling at the two of them, baristas, pizza guys, anyone not in the hospital. Henrik had given up on trying to get him to talk about his feelings. He clearly wasn’t going to express them willingly. Nothing to do but wait for the emotions to build up until they exploded out in a breakdown. Henrik just hoped the magic wouldn’t be a factor. Their landlord was mad enough about the broken door. A miniature jungle would not help their case.

Henrik himself just felt numb. He couldn’t cry, couldn’t get angry, hadn’t even felt shocked after the ambulance left. His emotions had crashed that night, and had yet to resurface. The small moments he did feel something, it was guilt over not feeling anything. He was a robot, pushing forward as his human roommates broke down around him.

This was their new cycle: wake up, eat, come to the hospital, refuse to talk to each other or anyone else, grab lunch downstairs, come back, go home, fall apart, repeat.

Henrik didn’t know how much more any of them could take.

The heart monitor started beeping rapidly. Marvin startled from his nap, blowing hair out of his face. Jackie froze, turning toward it. Henrik slowly got to his feet, crossing the room. Seán’s heart rate had picked up abruptly, jumping up as if he’d run a marathon. Henrik squinted at it. That didn’t make any sense, even if he was waking up it’d be slower…

Jackie gasped. Henrik glanced at him, but the teen was already rushing forward. “Seán?”

Sure enough, Seán’s eyes were slowly opening. He blinked, eyebrows furrowing. Henrik backed up, reaching towards the call button. Just as he touched it, a painful shock seared up his arm.

“Ow!”

“Hey!”

The doctor turned toward Jackie while he flexed his hand. Seán was grabbing Jackie’s arm firmly. It almost looked like he was digging his fingernails into the skin. Seán’s head remained slumped, looking down. “Let go, man!” Jackie protested, trying to pull away. Seán didn’t reply. His chest heaved

Henrik strode forward, reaching out to touch Seán’s shoulder. He flinched away, not looking at him. Henrik raised his arms placatingly. “Seán, try to relax around the breathing tube, you’ll hurt yourself!” Marvin was up now too, all three of them surrounding the bed.

Jackie finally wrenched himself away. Checking quickly, Henrik could see small dots of blood in his hoodie. A small part of his brain was screaming to get a nurse, but he’d been waiting for this for days. He wasn’t leaving.

Seán stared down at his hands, looking terrified. Marvin bent down, asking what happened, was it the curse, why would he hurt himself, but Seán ignored him. “I..Oh my god...” he murmured. Then he started laughing, high pitched and insane, and that…

That wasn’t right.

He shouldn't be able to talk with the tube in. How could they hear him perfectly?

The door suddenly slammed shut.

The three of them whipped around at the sudden noise.

“What the hell?” Jackie yelped. He ran to the door, trying to pull it open. Marvin’s hands began to glow. “Jay, get back!” he yelled, as a bolt of fire flew into the door. There was a flash, but when it cleared, the door was untouched.

Marvin took a step back. “What? That’s not possible!”

Jackie ran forward and began banging on the door. “Hey, we need help in here! The door’s stuck and my cousin is freaking out! Help!”

Henrik blinked. All the sound around him was muffled. The lights were too bright, why were they so bright? All he could hear was the buzzing. Buzzing coming from all around. Multicoloured lights flashed behind him. People moved and screamed in front of him. He couldn’t figure out what was going on. Any reasoning he tried was too much to stomach. Was this…

“Seán.”

Henrik whirled around and ran toward the bed. “Wait!” Marvin yelled behind him, but he ignored it. The doctor grabbed onto the side of the bed, skidding a bit.

Seán was sitting ramrod straight, staring forward. He was still laughing. Why was he laughing? How was he laughing? What on Earth was going on?

“Seán!” Henrik repeated. He reached out to grab Seán’s arm. “You need to lie back down, your body’s been through a lot.” Seán didn’t look at him. He kept staring forward. Henrik shook his arm. “Can you hear me?”

Seán’s head whipped toward him, almost inhumanly fast. He looked at Henrik, smiling around the breathing tube. “I’m not supposed to be here,” he said plainly.

“What?”

“Why am I still here? I don’t want this, I’m supposed to be done with this. I’m supposed to be dead!” He was crying now, tears streaming down his face around his constant smile.

The other three bristled. Jackie stepped forward slowly. “Seán, you can’t actually mean that-”

“I’M NOT HIM.”

All the lightbulbs in the room blew out. The heart monitor overloaded and sparked. Static screamed at a deafening level. Jackie, Marvin, and Henrik all covered their ears, wincing. When they straightened, they noticed a new silhouette, standing over Seán’s bed.

The figure looked like a man, average height and wearing all black. Meanwhile, Seán had collapsed back onto the bed, lying still. Marvin waved a hand, summoning a handful of glowing flowers. As he moved forward, the light fell across the stranger’s face.

“What?” Henrik murmured, hand flying to his face. Jackie stood frozen in horror. Marvin, however, was glaring daggers at this person. He conjured a burst of flame, preparing to strike.

The figure stared down at his body in wonder, flexing his shoulders and wiggling his fingers. “Cad a tharla?” he whispered. He jolted as the air around his hands sparked. He then turned to look across the bed to Henrik, then down at Seán.

He stretched out a hand, frowning. Abruptly, Seán’s body began to seize and Henrik could hear muffled screaming. “Stop!” he yelled, grabbing the person’s hand just as Marvin fired.

The figment’s body glitched, and suddenly Henrik had a fist to his temple. He reeled to the side as Marvin’s flame flew past and scorched the wall. Henrik stared. “What- how did you?”

“Amach leat.” Marvin growled, raising a hand again.

The person cocked a head to the side. “Cad atá tú ag dul a dhéanamh, a bhuachaill deas? Ní féidir leat mise a bhualadh.”

“Amach leat.” Marvin repeated.

The figure shrugged. “Cibé. Is maith an rud é tú a fheiceáil ag úsáid tine arís.”

Marvin’s scowl deepened. He threw another fireball, but the person smiled, glitched, and disappeared. Henrik yelped, ducking down to avoid being hit.

“Fucker.” Marvin muttered.

Jackie unfroze. “What the hell was that?!” he shrieked, waving his arms around.

Henrik uncovered his head. He stood up slowly, looking at Marvin. “That...was that?”

The magician opened his mouth, looking angry, but both of them were interrupted by a strangled noise coming from the bed.

Seán’s eyes were open. They bolted around frantically, and his chest heaved. Henrik grabbed his hand. “Relax, let it breathe for you. You’re safe, you’re in the hospital.” Seán vocalized, panicked. Henrik squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, you’re okay..” His eyes drifted over to the equipment. The heart monitor was broken, beeping intermittently. Thankfully, the ventilator was still operating. Henrik looked up at Jackie, who was standing at Seán’s other side. “Can you go get a nurse?” he asked.

Jackie’s head shot up. “What? But the door-”

“It’s probably fine now.” Marvin said tersely. He was standing with his arms crossed, glaring at Henrik. Henrik looked away quickly, focusing on Seán. “Please, try to calm down. You’ll be okay, no one here will let anything happen to you. Here, squeeze my hand,” he soothed. He jerked his head toward the door. “Jackie, go.”

The teen hesitated, then took off down the hall. Marvin and Henrik could hear him yelling for help, quieting as he ran further. Marvin stepped up to take Jackie’s spot next to the bed. He avoided looking at Henrik, instead grabbing Seán’s other hand. He didn’t say anything, just held it.

Jackie and a nurse came bolting back into the room. The woman looked around the room, at the three of them, the glitching monitors, the scorch marks. She grabbed her pager, typed something into it, then approached them. “What happened? Why are the walls...are they burnt!?”

“I don’t know, the electronics went on the fritz and it seems like something in the walls burnt.” Henrik blurted out.

“What on earth would have caused that?” She said, shaking her head. Then her eyes widened. “Henrik, your cheek!”

Henrik raised his hands, dropping Seán’s grip. “Ah, it is nothing! I ran into the door at home. It’s been stressful, you know, I wasn’t looking.”

Her eyes narrowed, then darted down to Seán’s panicking form. “Alright, out, all of you.”

“But we-” Jackie spoke up.

“Out, now. This isn’t safe and we need to work. Heaven knows it’ll be enough work stabilizing and moving him already.” She pointed toward the door sternly.

“Don’t fight right now.” Henrik whispered. Marvin’s mouth snapped close. The nurse herded the others out of the room. The last thing he heard was “I need Doctor Heaney, the crisis team, and a maintenance worker in Room 072. Yes, all at once! Hey, it’s alright, honey, you’re safe-” And then the door clicked shut.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

When they got home that night, Jackie found the video. They had watched it, morbid curiosity overtaking them. At the climax, Henrik dropped the phone in shock and Jackie had to run to the bathroom to vomit. Marvin walked over to the couch and started throwing pillows and blankets, furious but silent.

Henrik found himself hyperventilating. He tried to speak, but couldn’t get the words out. “How did, he didn’t, upload, people will, have to take it down!” he stuttered.

“We can’t.”

Jackie stood in the doorway, still looking sick. “I tried to delete it on Seán’s computer. The button isn’t even there.”

Henrik stared at him. “What, you, how, you know, when did-” He tried to take a few deep breaths. “You know his password?”

“Jesus fuck, Henrik, priorities.” Marvin spat from behind him. The magician pushed past Henrik into the hall. He pulled on his sneakers.

Henrik and Jackie followed him. “Where are you going? The hospital said we can’t go back until Wednesday.” Jackie said.

“Pharmacy.”

“Why?”

Marvin didn’t look at them as he zipped up his coat. “We can’t just let that be without any follow up. I’m going to go get some clippers and dye.”

Henrik’s jaw dropped. “You said you’ve been growing your hair out for years!”

“Priorities, Henrik.” Marvin slammed the door behind him.

When he got back, he went straight to the bathroom, ignoring either of them. Henrik confiscated Jackie’s phone after the teen had another panic attack looking at Tumblr. An hour later, he heard the door upstairs slam. An hour again, and the door opened, someone crossed the hall, and it slammed again. Henrik opened YouTube on his phone. Sure enough, there was another video up on the channel. The thumbnail featured “Jack” smiling happily. Unharmed. As Henrik put down the phone, he heard a guttural scream come from Marvin’s room. All the plants on the windowsill withered and crumbled to dust. Henrik merely leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He couldn't go back into the shared bedroom, not now. So he might as well try to get some sleep here.

Henrik spent the next twelve hours staring at the ceiling and trying desperately not to think.

>=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=•=<

They stood awkwardly outside the room. No one wanted to go in, not after what happened last time.

“The receptionist said this one, right?”

“Yes.”

No one moved.

“Heaney said he’s been back to a normal sleep schedule. He’s probably awake.”

“That is good.”

Marvin ruffled his newly shorn hair. Jackie shifted his weight, fidgeting in place.

“So uh…”

“Hm?”

Henrik scratched the back of his neck.

Jackie dropped his hands. “Fuck it,” he said, grabbing the doorknob.

The door swung open. They stared in, not moving.

Seán stared back at them. The new room was brighter, with more windows, and it made him look much less pale. He was lying propped up by the hospital bed. The breathing tube had been replaced with an oxygen mask. He had several drips running into his arm. Two sets of handcuffs secured his hands to the rails of the bed.

He smiled slightly and waved as much as the cuffs would let him.

Jackie was the first to break away. He entered cautiously. “Seán?” he asked quietly, reaching the bed. Seán nodded. He sat up, reaching out a hand. Jackie grabbed it in a flash. He stared for a few seconds more, biting his lip. Then he lunged, pulling Seán into a tight hug. Seán let out a breathy laugh, reciprocating as best he could.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jackie sobbed. “So fucking glad.”

Henrik and Marvin walked in as well. Marvin’s face darkened as he looked at the cuffs. Henrik went over to the side and pulled two chairs over from the wall. “We don’t have enough for everyone, sorry.”

Jackie hopped onto the foot of the bed. Henrik passed on a chair to Marvin, then set his own on Seán’s opposite side. Seán’s eyes widened as he got a good look at Marvin. He opened his mouth, but Henrik was quick to interrupt. “Don’t even think about speaking. That will only give you more time in here.”

Seán closed his mouth and resorted to just pointing, at Marvin’s hair and then his own.

“Yeah,” Marvin said. “Don’t worry about it. We needed an emergency video for the channel. Besides, this way I can fill in until you get out of here.” He looked down at the cuffs. “Are you okay with those on?”

Seán paled. He made a so-so motion with his hand, but his eyes were panicked. Marvin quickly grabbed the hand and squeezed firmly.

Henrik cleared his throat. “I brought your laptop.” Seán perked up. Henrik dug into his bag and pulled it out. “I cleared it with your doctor, it’s fine as long as you don’t have the charging cables.”

“Oh!” said Jackie. “You guys gotta see this video the Grumps did recently, it’s so good.”

Seán unlocked the laptop, then passed it over to Jackie. Soon, they were huddled up together, falling down a YouTube rabbit hole.

They were interrupted by a knock. A nurse stood in the doorway. “Sorry to bother you,” he said sheepishly. “Just making the rounds.” He stepped in. “How’re you doing, Mr. McLoughlin? Any pain from the IVs?”

Seán shook his head. “What about your throat?” He shook his head again. The nurse checked some of the drip bags. “Alright, your next dose is in a few hours, but call someone if the pain gets bad again, alright?” Seán nodded.

The nurse turned to the others. “You guys haven’t had any problems, have you?” he asked quietly.

“What d’ya mean?” replied Jackie.

“Well, he hasn’t, ah,” the nurse gestured to Henrik’s cheek. “You know?”

Seán’s eyes widened. He looked at Henrik’s bruised face, then to the nurse, then back to Henrik. Then he raised a shaky hand to point at himself.

“It’s alright!” Henrik said quickly. “You weren’t yourself! I am fine!”

“Why is he in handcuffs?” Marvin interrupted, arms crossed.

The nurse looked dumbfounded. “Are you serious- I literally just-” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “With the sudden move and all this equipment, we couldn’t ensure his safety without them. Or ours,” he added under his breath.

Marvin’s scowl deepened. He moved to stand up, but Seán grabbed his hand. He shook his head, eyes wide. Marvin slowly sat back down, still tense.

The nurse looked uneasy. “Okay...well, if that’s all, I’ll leave you all be for now.” With that, he left down the hall.

Marvin watched him go testily. Then he rounded back on Seán. “You’re okay with this!?”

“I’m not safe to be around.” Seán whispered hoarsely. He didn’t meet any of their eyes.

Marvin deflated at that. Jackie and Henrik shot each other a look. The latter got up and moved to the door. He glanced out into the hall before closing the door and walking back. “Seán, you literally weren’t yourself. Some...some thing came out of you and attacked me.”

Jackie nodded. "It was, like, a shadowy, angsty, demon you."

Seán blanched. Henrik took a deep breath. "Is that what your demon looks like?" Seán nodded. Henrik buried his face in his hands. "God, I'm so sorry."

Seán patted his arm. He then turned to Marvin and made a 'continue' motion.

Marvin sighed. "Honestly, there's not much more to it. It showed up, blew out the electronics, glitched around a bit, taunted me, and left."

Seán made a motion toward himself. "No, not back into you, just disappeared. Poof." Marvin answered.

Seán looked sick. He opened his mouth again.

"I don't want to hear anything out of your mouth, especially if it is an apology for something out of your control." Henrik said without looking up.

Seán slumped back, taking a deep breath. Then he made a gathering motion with his hands. Jackie stared at him for a second before going "Oh!" and shuffling over to curl into Seán's side. He then looked expectantly at Marvin and Henrik.

They spoke up at the same time. “No, you guys do your thing, I don’t want to ruin that-” and “I doubt we all would fit, Marvin can take the other side, I’ll just stay here-”

Seán leveled a look at them. Jackie snickered into his hand.

Henrik and Marvin both squirmed, neither moving for a moment. Then the magician huffed. “Alright, fine, move over.” he said, shoving the bed railing down. Seán gasped as he was pulled sideways with it.

“Ah, shit!” Marvin caught him. “Fuck, right, sorry.” He raised it back up and let Seán get his balance. Henrik laughed as he lowered the other rail slowly.

It was clumsy, but eventually they all managed to cuddle together on the bed. If Jackie felt some tears falling onto his head, he didn't mention it.

The four brothers stayed like that, watching Game Grumps until a doctor ushered them out at the end of visiting hours.

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twinflowcreates · 6 years ago

Text

The Feelings of a Mother hen

Quell + Rikka.

Okay so this has been in my drafts for over a month now?? I’m not entirely confident it’s good so I guess i’ll just leave it here.

It was a soft utter of his name that caused Eichi to pause, eyes trailing to meet Shu's reassuring ones, his own hands still nestled in his hair. Whilst everything about Shu said 'reassuring', the man had somewhat of an amused look on his face as he looked up at Eichi.

"Everything will be fine." He said, with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. And who was Eichi to disagree, the man was always right it seemed. Yet his face still twisted in desperation to find some reason to return home.

"But what if something happens to them?-"

Shu simply shook his head, not a good enough reason it seemed. "Rikka will be there and will call us if that were the case." Eichi bit his lip in thought, any reason he could find to return to the twins they had left alone at home. But alas he had run out of worst case scenarios, Shu had been proven right once again. The taller man could only sigh with a sheepish smile as he scratched his cheek. "You're right, let's leave before I actually run back home" Shu chuckled leading the way ahead to their two-day work trip. ~~~ Issei barely even flinched as Ichiru plopped down on the couch beside him, too engrossed in the book Shiki had surprisingly recommended to him. Ichiru didn't seem to mind that, switching on the TV and placing his feet on the coffee table (recently placed in the empty space). He held back a smile as no one told him to take them down, more than happy Issei was engrossed in his book to care. This could be a relaxing two days after all. "So we're home alone, huh?" The younger twin asked, after a few minutes of silence. He received a hum in reply. "Until Rikka-san gets here" Murmured Issei. 'So he's not completely unaware of his surroundings' Ichiru thought to himself, shifting to get more comfortable. "No nagging voices and Shu's perfectness for 2 days~" Ichiru continued, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. Issei slowly lowered his book, peering over at his twin. "You love them really though" He stated, after all there was no one who knew Ichiru better than Issei. The said teen unable to contain his small smile at the tiny flush to his twin's cheeks. "You've opened up to them a lot since we first met them, even if you still refuse to show it." Ichiru let out a small huff as he looked away mumbling to himself, the blush growing on his face. He hates how observant Issei is of him, and how well he knows him - or rather he wished he could. There's no part of him that could ever hate anything to do with his brother. "You've changed a lot too" Said Ichiru, after a few minutes, turning to face his twin. "Not in a bad way" he added when he saw the look on his face. Issei simply nodded, the faintest of smiles remaining on his face as he returned his attention back to his book. It wasn't long before Ichiru was speaking up again. "We'll surpass them one day" Issei wasn't sure if he was thinking aloud or wanted him to reply, he settled for a hum of agreement and a slightly wider smile before there was a knock at the door startling them both. Ichiru was the one to stand up and walk to the door, as if 'Don't answer the door to strangers' had left his mind in the short period Eichi had told him in. Issei peered over the couch to see who it was. "Ah it's only you" he heard Icchi say, before the younger teen stepped aside revealing Rikka and to both their surprise Tsubasa. Ichiru's reaction is how one would say, expected. Issei found he had no time to scold the younger teen for his greeting to their SolidS friends, as the boy was already exclaiming and struggling against Tsubasa's playful grip. "Why are you here too?!" Ichiru groaned, finally wedging himself free from his 'surprise assault' - hair dishevelled. "I just came to say Hello~!" Replied Tsubasa with a bright, teasing, smile. It only caused Ichiru to scowl more. "Well you've said it now leave-" Issei drowned out what was going on between them after that, standing up to the kitchen counter where Rikka was getting set up to make them dinner. He would be staying with them until Shu and Eichi returned, or at least cooking for them and checking on them throughout the day. They had yet to get a fair understanding of what Rikka was like, despite becoming closer with the group lately. He seemed nice in the very least. "Issei, how are you?" Asked the said man, snapping the teen out of his thoughts. "Im okay, thank you. You?" He asked politely, earning a smile in return. "The same, anything you boys fancy for dinner?" Issei glanced over at his brother, who seemed to have finally gotten rid of Tsubasa. "Anything that's not too much trouble." He replied. "I'll make one of my specials then" He can't say he never tried. ~~~ "This is delicious" Ichiru gushed, before continuing to shove his food in his mouth. Issei let him off, at least he wasn't talking with his mouth full. Rikka chuckled, taking his time to finish his portion much like Issei - who had a look on his face as if he wanted to say something. So, Rikka promoted him, "Issei? Something wrong?" The older twin looked up from his meal with a small shake of his head, "No, just you didn't have to make us this much. We- I don't want to be a bother." Rikka frowned slightly at his correction, was this something he pondered often? Being a bother? His mind went to all he heard from Shu and Eichi as well as what he's learnt from being around them, Issei is a good kid - Ichiru too. Rikka only hoped one day he wouldn't feel like a bother and instead enjoy things as they are. "My, my you're far from a bother. Tsubasa is more of a bother, well in the kitchen. I wanted to cook you both something nice." Rikka reassured, a soft smile on his face. "It's not as good as Eichi or Shu's" Ichiru commented, 'quietly'. Issei nudged him as If to remind him not to be rude, in his own honest way. Rikka took no offence to the comment, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "Seems I have competition. You must be a big fan of their cooking, Ichiru." The younger of the three blushed faintly, turning his head to the side with quiet mumbles. Rikka smiled more. ~~ It was the sound of hushed whispers and the smell of food that roused Rikka from his slumber. He had made himself a bed on the couch from the blankets and pillows the twins had given to him, after trying to offer him their room at first. It took him a few seconds to adjust to waking up, a hand coming up to rub his eyes as he looked around for any indication of the time. ‘Ah pretty early’ he discovered after a few more seconds, peering over the couch to catch the twins in action. ‘I wonder why they’re up so early’ He couldn’t help his tired smile watching them both try and figure out how to go about whatever it is they’re trying to make. He decided to speak up for their safety and the house. “What are you both doing at this time?” The two jumped at the voice, a clatter soon followed. Rikka sat up properly, “Everything okay?” he asked watching them both hurry to catch something. “We’re fine” Ichiru claimed quickly, hissing as the pan spat at him. The man stood at once, swiftly making his way over to the two. “I’ll handle this, why don’t you boys get comfortable” He smiled, taking over the frying pan and food. Ichiru bit back a huff moving out the way, Issei following behind. “Why were you both cooking so early? Shouldn’t be enjoying lay ins?” Rikka asked once they had sat down. “We wanted to make you breakfast” Issei started, “as a thank you for looking after us.” Icchi nodded along, a tiny blush tinting his cheeks as he mumbled “I think we just made a mess.” Rikka felt his heart swell, so this is how Eichi feels around them. What precious boys. ~~~ Rikka found it was incredibly refreshing to spend time with Issei and Ichiru, a certain change in atmosphere from what he was used to staying with his unit. They didn’t do much in the day and a half they’ve spent together. In fact it almost seemed as if they were refraining from causing any inconveniences by keeping quiet and to themselves. When Rikka initiated conversations it seemed to only last for a couple of minutes before they were back to sitting in silence, the TV keeping it from being overwhelming. They did, however, help prepare lunch which brought a bit of life to the place once they began to get comfortable around him. He found it a great relief when they began to ask him questions, curiosity clear in their eyes whenever they asked something. He told them about Solids, what he did before joining the unit and what he thought of how things were going now. He was surprised to find them listening intently throughout the whole thing. However their second day was slowly coming to an end, Eichi had called earlier saying that they'd be a little late home - or rather apologised a dozen times and asked if the twins were okay.

Eichi was something special, Rikka had decided. He seems the most worried for boys who are old enough to take care of themselves at this point, yet it was an endearing trait about the man. He can understand why he would worry so much after spending time with them. Still, there was at least a couple more hours until dinner. Rikka decided he'd stay until later on, for the sake of being around the twins for longer. They've made a home in the soft spot of his heart and there was no reason to return to his own quarters just yet. So, he sat with the two in the living space, the TV acting as background noise at this point as their attention lingered on separate things. It didn't feel awkward at all, surprisingly, perhaps Rikka had gotten used to their quietness - they did all have a lovely chat earlier so it wasn't as if he hadn't got the chance to speak to them. Maybe that was why he jumped at the sound of a voice gaining his attention, the filing of his nails coming to a stop. "Pardon?" Rikka asked, looking over at the two to see who had asked the question. "I said do you paint everyone's nails? I've seen the others with it too" Issei repeated, eyes following the movements of the man's hands - or more specifically his nails. Rikka smiled at his observation, "I do. It's quite relaxing." He replied. "Would you like me to do yours?" Issei paused, seeming like he was considering the offer. A quiet scoff caught Rikka's attention, 'Guess I'll take that as a no from Ichiru' he thought to himself but smiled at the nod he received from the elder twin. "I'll go get some nail varnish" ~~~ Issei seemed fond of watching what people do, or it could just be a subconscious habit he's unaware of. Whichever it was, Rikka found it cute how his eyes followed the strokes of the brush on his nails.

He noticed Ichiru watching every once in a while, apparently trying to be discreet. He made a mental note to ask the younger boy to reconsider having his nails done, though it seemed he may be doing so already.

Rikka leaned back to admire his work once he was finished, a proud smile rising on his face. A fine job indeed, not a single smudge in sight. He’s definitely a lot better at doing it to other people than on himself, Issei seemed happy with it too a small smile tugging at his own lips as he too admired it.

“Ichiru, look” said the older twin, holding his hands out towards his brother. Rikka couldn’t help but smile more, he might have to take these twins home with him.

“Red?” Ichiru asked, shifting a little closer to get a better look. Rikka assumed they were having some sort of conversation via expressions and eye contact as Ichiru soon blushed faintly a soft smile directed towards to the older teen.

“Would you like me to do yours?” Rikka asked, holding up the varnish with a little shake. Ichiru looked conflicted for a few seconds, his eyes shifting between Issei’s nails and the varnish before the blush steadily grew a shade darker on his cheeks and he gave a short nod.

Smiling, Rikka waited until the two had switched places to begin once more.

~~~

“Eichi, slowdown” Shu quietly called after the racing man, quickening his pace to catch up with his long strides towards their door. He’s surprised Eichi can move this fast after his slumber on the way back here, it seems even Shu can be fooled in thinking Eichi was exhausted.

Of course, those words hardly met Eichi’s ears as he fumbled to get the door open, bags soon discarded on the floor in his rush to look around �� despite the time of night.

“Isse, Icchi-”

“What is it?” Shu asked, once he finally caught up to the man who simply shook his head a wide smile on his face.

“They were fine after all” Eichi whispered, eyes locked on the sight in front of them. Shu breathed a laugh, a small smile of his own painting his face as he too took in the sight of both twins and Rikka fast asleep cuddled together.

“I told you” He replied, quietly.

Eichi only took out his phone to snap a picture, ‘I hope Rikka-san won’t mind’ he thought to himself. ‘It was too cute not to’

Little did he know there would now be competition.

Bonus:

“Ah Rikka you’re finally back” stated Shiki upon the man’s arrival. “How did it go?”

“I think I have children now”

#Quell #sera rikka #kuga issei #kuga ichiru

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peacefulheartfarm · 4 years ago

Text

Thanksgiving Tradition

Thanksgiving tradition is the topic today. I try not to date my podcasts, and today is no different this will be appropriate today and for many years to come. I promise.

Let me take a minute to say welcome to all the new listeners and welcome back to the veteran homestead-loving regulars who stop by the FarmCast for every episode. I appreciate you all so much. I’m so excited to share with you today George Washington’s First Thanksgiving Proclamation and a little bit about Abraham Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation.

Our Virginia Homestead Life Updates

Let’s do just a few homestead updates. Some of you will be upset with me if I don’t let you know how Claire and the girls are doing as well as the donkeys, sheep and goats. And then there are those quail.

Cows

Let’s start with the cows. Cloud finally got some relief for her overgrown hooves. I mentioned this ages ago. We even had to stop milking her because she was so sensitive to us getting close to her rear hooves. Both were quite overgrown. Well recently she had begun to limp quite profoundly. And we just don’t let our animals live in pain. They must be treated as soon as possible. That required finding what is called a squeeze chute to be able to get to her hooves. It holds her comfortably without Cloud being able to kick the vet in the face and anywhere else she could land a hit. It took a day or two to get the device, set is up and coordinate with the vet. But it has all been accomplished. Yay!!

While the vet was here, we also had her cut off the sharp ends of Rosie’s horns. That didn’t go as well as we would have liked, but Rosie is fine and no longer able to intimidate the young calves with very sharp horns. While the vet was doing the trim, Rosie decided to kneel down. That caused the vet’s angle on the cut to be off and Rosie caused herself a bit more bleeding than we would have liked. It’s all over now and she will heal up just fine. I was biting my lip with anxiety and it was all for naught. She is fine. Rosie is a strong young lady. Scott says she is doing very, very well. She is alert, attentive, in no apparent distress.

Donkeys

The donkeys are still awaiting their pedicure appointment. With the holidays and company arriving, this was put on the back burner for a few days. We are looking to get that done in the next few days.

Both sets of donkeys came up to say “hi” to the vet. There was a substantial amount of braying and hee hawing. There is nothing quite like a chorus of four donkeys trying to outdo one another.

Sheep and Goats

Nothing really much to say about the sheep and goats. They are all just grazing, chewing their cud and wandering around the pastures. We are blessed to have no problems with these beautiful animals.

Quail

The quail, which also seemed to easy, are proving to be a little bit of a challenge right now. I talked about the one white bird that was beat up by her companions. And I mentioned the one that had a mite infestation. Neither faired well when we tried to re-introduce them to their cage mates. Both ended up back in their individual brooder housing, completely separate from the others and also from each other.

Shortly after that, another hen from the same cage as the one with the mite infestation got bloodied. Because of recent experience, I moved her out immediately. And one of the roosters from the same group showed signs of being pecked on too much. He is also in his own brooder condo. Four birds in four separate living quarters. At this point we may just cull that whole cage of birds and be done with it. Once they show they will be too aggressive with each other, I don’t know that there is anything we can do about it. As I mentioned in the last podcast, Pecking Order, it’s a real thing. These birds can be vicious with each other.

Praise be to God, the rest of them seem to be doing fine. And the eggs are starting to come in at a much faster rate than we can consume them. It seems that 35 breeding hens is a bit much. We have plans to cull out eight birds, six of which are hens, so that should bring down the egg population a little bit.

There are 10 hens on each side of the penthouse. Yesterday, I got nine eggs from side and seven from the other. Previous to that day I was regularly getting seven and four respectively. It looks like we could be getting 10 on each side soon. On the bottom level are 12 hens out of the usual 15 in those cages. Three are in quarantine in the brooders. Those 12 hens are laying 10 to 11 eggs each day. I harvested 26 eggs yesterday. So you see, way too many. Realistically, we only need 15 to 20 eggs a day. We may have to cull even more before winter is done. Else we will be overwhelmed with tiny, cute quail eggs.

If you are interested, I will have them for sale at the farmer’s market. Three dollars a dozen. I’ll even have some recipes for you to try.

That’s it for the homestead updates. I’ll talk more about the creamery next time.

Thanksgiving Tradition

I briefly mentioned that I had company earlier in the week. My son and daughter-in-law came all the way across the country for a visit. It was wonderful to see them again. Their Thanksgiving tradition is to arrive here on Saturday or Sunday before Thanksgiving and spend three to four days with us before moving on down the road to visit the other parents in South Georgia. Then a quick swing back to Oklahoma and back to work for both of them.

The Thanksgiving tradition of families getting together has been around for a long time in this country. Today, I want to talk about how that tradition originated. Likely there is going to be some information here that you have never heard. Or perhaps, like me, you may remember some of it vaguely and other parts are completely new. Let me start by going over some of the things that happened at the first Thanksgiving in 1621.

It is unlikely that any of you learned of the political disagreements between the native tribes. And there is a great deal of history leading up to 1621 that is left out of history books, and indeed today, is even being rewritten. I’m going to leave it to you to investigate this information. There are two articles that I will link in the show notes to get you started. The first is “History of the First Thanksgiving” by Rebecca Beatrice Brooks and published on the “History of Massachusetts Blog” on August 31, 2011. The second, “The First Thanksgiving Was Nothing Like What You Were Taught” by John Daniel Davidson was published in “The Federalist” dot com website on November 22, 2017.

These articles look at this bit of history as seen through the political eyes of the native population. One is written with a politically left vision and the other from the right. It is fascinating reading. The same native peoples appear in both accounts and the factual events are nearly identical, but the motivations for the events as told by the two authors are vastly different. It was very educational for me to say the least.

Neither of these perspectives speak to the motivations of the settlers which is what was presented in the history books of my childhood. The popular story is that the Pilgrims put on a feast and invited the natives to attend to thank them for their assistance in teaching them how to fish and hunt the local fowl and animals. The Pilgrims also learned how to use the hides of the animals to make clothing. There was much to be thankful for that year.

I’ll give a very brief historical account as I know it. I’m not vouching for the complete accuracy of what I’m about to say. But I think it is pretty close. You can fact check me. I’m okay with that.

The Pilgrims landed in November 1620 far north of their intended destination in the Virginia Colony. After a failed attempt to head south and go ashore in Virginia, they landed their ship, the Mayflower, in the bay that would become known as Plymouth Bay, Massachusetts. Winter was already upon them and they pretty much stayed on the ship throughout the winter of 1620-21.

In the spring of 1621, they emerged and began treating with the natives. I won’t get into all the details there. The politics are deep. Again, I’ll link to two articles that will give background on politics and motivations of the natives. It wasn’t all roses and daisies on either side. The settlers wanted to survive to fulfil their contracts with those who had sponsored them, as far as I can tell. The natives were trying to recover from a pandemic a few years back and rivals were vying for control of the area. Should they fight these newcomers or help them? What would benefit them the most.

As I mentioned, the natives did help the settlers – of the 102 that made the journey across the ocean, only 41 were the religious sect known as Pilgrims so I will refer to the entire group as “the settlers”. There is a lot more to that story as well. Anyway, the natives helped the settlers with planting, hunting and fishing. That assistance got the settlers through their first spring and summer and produced some provisions for the winter. When the harvest came in, they held a feast in honor of their success. They thanked God for getting them through this very trying ordeal where many died.

Now fast forward to George Washington’s Thanksgiving proclamation. It was delivered October 3, 1789 and was a one-time event. It was Abraham Lincoln that created the fourth Thursday of November as a national holiday to be held every year. Indeed, there have been many thanksgiving celebrations given in many different parts of the very young country even before Washington’s proclamation. But the text of Washington’s is inspirational. I’ll read it. It’s not that long. I’ll leave a link for this document as well.

“‘Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor—and whereas both Houses of Congress have by their joint Committee requested me “to recommend to the People of the United States a day of public thanksgiving and prayer to be observed by acknowledging with grateful hearts the many signal favors of Almighty God especially by affording them an opportunity peaceably to establish a form of government for their safety and happiness.’

“Now therefore I do recommend and assign Thursday the 26th day of November next to be devoted by the People of these States to the service of that great and glorious Being, who is the beneficent Author of all the good that was, that is, or that will be—That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks—for his kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation—for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his Providence which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war—for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed—for the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted—for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.

“And also that we may then unite in most humbly offering our prayers and supplications to the great Lord and Ruler of Nations and beseech him to pardon our national and other transgressions—to enable us all, whether in public or private stations, to perform our several and relative duties properly and punctually—to render our national government a blessing to all the people, by constantly being a Government of wise, just, and constitutional laws, discreetly and faithfully executed and obeyed—to protect and guide all Sovereigns and Nations (especially such as have shewn kindness unto us) and to bless them with good government, peace, and concord—To promote the knowledge and practice of true religion and virtue, and the encrease of science among them and us—and generally to grant unto all Mankind such a degree of temporal prosperity as he alone knows to be best.

“Given under my hand at the City of New-York the third day of October in the year of our Lord 1789.”

Do I have time to read Lincoln’s Thanksgiving Proclamation? Sure, why not? It is also delivered on October 3rd. This time in the year of our Lord 1863 in the midst of the civil war.

“The year that is drawing toward its close has been filled with the blessings of fruitful fields and healthful skies. To these bounties, which are so constantly enjoyed that we are prone to forget the source from which they come, others have been added, which are of so extraordinary a nature that they cannot fail to penetrate and even soften the heart which is habitually insensible to the ever-watchful providence of Almighty God.

“In the midst of a civil war of unequaled magnitude and severity, which has sometimes seemed to foreign states to invite and provoke their aggressions, peace has been preserved with all nations, order has been maintained, the laws have been respected and obeyed, and harmony has prevailed everywhere, except in the theater of military conflict; while that theater has been greatly contracted by the advancing armies and navies of the Union.

“Needful diversions of wealth and of strength from the fields of peaceful industry to the national defense have not arrested the plow, the shuttle, or the ship; the ax has enlarged the borders of our settlements, and the mines, as well of iron and coal as of the precious metals, have yielded even more abundantly than heretofore. Population has steadily increased, notwithstanding the waste that has been made in the camp, the siege, and the battlefield, and the country, rejoicing in the consciousness of augmented strength and vigor, is permitted to expect continuance of years with large increase of freedom.

“No human counsel hath devised, nor hath any mortal hand worked out these great things. They are the gracious gifts of the Most High God, who while dealing with us in anger for our sins, hath nevertheless remembered mercy.

“It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently, and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American people. I do, therefore, invite my fellow-citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next as a Day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the heavens. And I recommend to them that, while offering up the ascriptions justly due to Him for such singular deliverances and blessings, they do also, with humble penitence for our national perverseness and disobedience, commend to His tender care all those who have become widows, orphans, mourners, or sufferers in the lamentable civil strife in which we are unavoidably engaged, and fervently implore the interposition of the Almighty hand to heal the wounds of the nation, and to restore it, as soon as may be consistent with the Divine purposes, to the full enjoyment of peace, harmony, tranquility, and union.

“In testimony whereof, I have hereunto set my hand and caused the seal of the United Stated States to be affixed. Done at the city of Washington, this third day of October, in the year of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and sixty-three, and of the Independence of the United States the eighty-eighth. Abraham Lincoln.”

Final Thoughts

That’s it. I know people say that our founders were not religious; that they didn’t have much to do with religion at all. Some say they were atheists or agnostics. But George Washington’s Thanksgiving proclamation tells me otherwise. The holiday tradition we know as Thanksgiving is about turning our attention to being grateful for the blessings in our lives. And it truly is about giving thanks to God for each and every one of those blessings. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Let all celebrate as they choose, with or without thanking God, but the truth about this traditional holiday is indisputable. The Pilgrims thanked God. George Washington thanked God. Abraham Lincoln thanked God.

If you enjoyed this podcast, please hop over to Apple Podcasts or whatever podcasting service you use, SUBSCRIBE and give me a 5-star rating and review. If you like this content and want to help out the show, the absolute best way you can do that is to share it with any friends or family who might be interested in this type of content. Let them know about the Peaceful Heart Farmcast.

Thank you so much for stopping by the homestead and until next time, may God fill your life with grace and peace.

References:

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beaflower77 · 7 years ago

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Ninety Nine

“That is a ten.,” Enaria said. “Why are you putting down the ten card?”

Beatrice lay the ten card face up, on top of the remaining deck, and looked sheepishly confused. “Beatrice,” Avorndis suggested clearly enough, “The ten card will subtract from the number. Did you wish to subtract or add to the pile?”

She looked at them both as if they were the ones confused and not the other way round. “I am adding. I’m adding the ten, so the number becomes eighty six.” Beatrice plopped the card down onto the pile, giving them a ‘What?’ look and took a drink from her flowered cup.

Avorndis tried to clear up the mess. “No Beatrice, you have subtracted. So the number is really sixty six. Nice try, but no ceegar.” Smiling instead, Beatrice laughed it off. Avorndis lay down the Queen, “Seventy six.” Beatrice had to count her fingers to keep up. Avorndis turned, nodded toward Enaria, “Your turn.” Enaria smiled, smirked and laid the King down, lifting her head, “Automatic Ninety nine.,” she pronounced. “Try and get out of that predicament Beatrice.”

“Oh. Ho. I will.,” Beatrice said, and laid the four card, reversing the order of the cards right back to Avorndis. Her face turning sour, “You dirty rat.,” claimed Avorndis and produced a nine card. “Skip. And, right back to Enaria.,” clearly enjoying placing Enaria in her own predicament once again. “No!,” Enaria cried. “Fine. I have..an..Ace. Bringing it down to ninety eight.,” laying the card down, feeling she outwitted them both. “That will again, bring it round..to Beatrice. Well?” Finding no way out, Beatrice tossed a coin into the pot, tossed her cards on the table. “I’m out. You both win.” They collected, divided the winnings.

The three had been playing, occupying themselves for three straight hours. The cards with their little playful, boldly swirled, curled numbers, were to assist someone in learning, who was not so proficient with them in the first place, learn to be. Beatrice thought it was merely teaching her more frustration and giving her a dent in patience. She somehow blamed Erestor for this idea of a lesson. Somehow, it wasn’t working as well as the two elliths equally had hoped. The more the numbers dashed by, through her eyes and fingers, the more confusing they became for Beatrice, until she was randomly placing any number fancy enough down. The main cards, Beatrice knew well enough to get out of a jam.

Scooping up the cards, dipping them twice on the table, beginning to shuffle again, “Have you heard back from Miwnis yet, Beatrice?,” Avorndis asked. “It has been four months now.,” shuffling, tossing, dealing the cards again. “She really seemed to be interested in you when she was here last. Too bad she had to leave for Lorien again. She was kind to you. Greatly interested.” Beatrice shrugged, made a face, tried not to think about the new friend she had made with too much of a letdown. “It’s okay. Maybe I’ll see her again. I really liked her though. Miwnis was perky, lovely. And nice. She was really nice to me. I do miss her.,” shrugging again, trying to keep any wistful thoughts from settling still.

Sensing Beatrice’s longing to have a friend, “She was really nice to you, wasn’t she.,” as Enaria scooped up her new cards, arranging them to her advantage. “Miwnis even liked the cats.,” Enaria shared. “And you know how they can be.,” glancing down at her cards, hiding a face, quietly she grumbled, “I finally found my citrine circlet. Under my bed.” Glancing over the two of them, “I am sure you will see her again Beatrice. It is only a matter of time.,” Avorndis concluded. “I know.,” Beatrice said, and shying away from Enaria’s comment, she mumbled back, “Maybe Lord Easter’s cat took it.” Fanning out her cards, placing one over, next to another and back again. “My turn.,” and Beatrice lay a Queen to start. “Ten.”

It was at this time, Haldir, on a visit, another lengthy visit, enjoying the quiet, the sun and the gardens, unknowingly invaded their sitting room. And their private conversation. Haldir, bold, but extremely private himself, who had briskly returned to Rivendell, after a short trip back and forth from his enchanted, well guarded Lorien, walked in the sitting room, consequently startling himself in the moment. And almost tripped into them and their table of cards. Not knowing the three would be present, and he, harboring certain unpleasant information, Haldir felt trapped, a momentary encasement within the room, and he in the middle of it.

Standing but a moment, making up his mind, Haldir had no choice but to stay and wait for his friend, or turn tail, appear rude, with a made up farce of an excuse. He stayed, reluctantly. Deciding to give a slight nod of his head, Haldir headed for the safety of the windows and looked down below. Curses, Haldir thought to himself, of all the places to wait, I would have to end up here. The South side in the afternoon is the worst area for them to be. They would have better viewing advantage in the east wing. Oh, but for her, the woman, with her extreme sensitivies. This room is closer to her chambers. And those cats. Haldir sighed. And he began to brood. His fingers, hiding behind his back, fidgeted.

The three females noticing Haldir, took full advantage of his useful time and knowledge.

“Marchwarden Haldir,” Enaria cheerfully enough started with. “Would you be interested in a short game of ninety nine?,” placing her five card on the growing pile. Lifting her head, smiling, “Yes Haldir, come join us. Four is always better than three.,” as Avorndis scooted her chair closer to the left, causing Beatrice to hide her cards lower. Having no other choice, Haldir’s mood sank further, resigned himself and joined them. Four is better than three, he thought. Not with these three clucks. I have more important duties to attend, than to sit and study playing cards. “I will only sit, thank you. I am waiting on someone.,” and waved away his play of the cards. Beatrice said nothing. Haldir was..for lack of better words….much too enticing to stare at, too intimidating for her to mince words with. She had had her own private, public encounters with him before. Better to continue looking somewhat intelligent, rather than open her mouth and prove the fool. She calmly placed a six down. “Eleven.,” picking one up in return. Knowing she would soon require a calculator in front of her, Beatrice hid her hands under the table as inconspicously as possible, slouched a little further. Avorndis lowered her eyes in Beatrice’s direction.

“Haldir.,” began Avorndis. “You have recently arrived back from Lorien?,” placing her Queen neatly down, “Twenty one.,” picking up another from the deck. “Have you heard from Lady Miwnis? Any news? Beatrice wrote her four months ago. How is she? Is she alright?” Enaria, placing her card down, “Twenty eight.,” she began. “Four months is a long time, to some of us Haldir. Did Miwnis actually receive Beatrice’s letter? I’m sure you must have seen her?” “Thirty.,” was Beatrice’s turn, glad for a lower number, not having to add too fast, count her fingers under the table. Again. Could they stop bringing her problems up, thought Beatrice. And not in front of him. Couldn’t Haldir leave already? It was too much to concentrate on, numbers, symbols, Haldir. What next? Oh, her bladder. She needed to gracefully unload her near full bladder. The more she drank, the greater her need for privacy. And he was still in the room, sitting, staying, no immediate, foreseeable need to get up and leave. Beatrice quietly crossed her legs.

Miwnis, Haldir thought to himself. Sitting there, captured by females, asking questions of importance. Miwnis. Yes, he thought, she was a real delight, and Haldir’s jaw flinched. And there it was. Miwnis. Lady Miwnis. Yes, Haldir had seen her. Talked at great, dramatic lengths also. Had not found her to be overly engaging, but that was besides the point. Why was she so interested in Beatrice? Or was at the moment. Did it have anything to do with Miwnis admiring certain Lords rather than their ladies? “I have seen her.,” Haldir gave politely, not including any other detail. “And?,” pushed Avorndis. “Forty.,” placing down, picking up. “Did Miwnis receive the letter?” Cocking his head, remaining uninterested in their game of cards. “Yes.”

“Yes?,” Enaria asked. “Yes what? Forty eight.,” picking one up in return. “Your turn Beatrice.” She only had a useful nine, “Skip.,” Beatrice said, put down, picked up. Haldir looked upon Beatrice. Thought he understood her. And Haldir grew perturbed. This was not the time or place for this nonsense. The Lords here should take care of this nasty business. Why leave this untastful task for me? “Yes. Lady Miwnis received her letter.,” as Haldir granted them an answer. “And read it also, I believe.” He let out a resigned breath, wondering what was taking his friend so god awful long. Holding her cards to herself, “Haldir, Lady Miwnis has not written back to Beatrice? Has she not even given any words to bring back with you to give Beatrice?” Oh, there it is, Beatrice imagined. Oh, please, stop, stop, just stop!, Beatrice begged internally, however still wishing for information. I’ll get some news some day. Just shut up, for pity’s sake! Her gut was twisted in knots, still needing the bathroom. Enough with discussing me, just forget it! Make him go away! Just kick him under the table or something, Beatrice wished.

Haldir did not want to be the bearer of this type of news. Looking over the three clucking hens with reluctance, knowing there was no avoidance, he pushed ahead. “I did speak with Lady Miwnis. And…,” purposefully looking at Beatrice, catching, holder her eyes, Haldir said with no hint of malice, “She no longer wishes to be your friend. I am sorry Lady Beatrice.”

Oh, a slap in the face. Beatrice stared at Haldir, an intensity of emotions ringing round her brain. She heard Haldir. She understood, but, what an embarrassment. Beyond embarrassment. She was humiliated. What was wrong with her to not be able to keep a friend? “Why not?,” Beatrice asked in sudden confusion, quite quietly. “She was perfectly happy. Content. When she was here. She said, she wanted to be friends. What did I do?” Taking an entire day to sigh, Haldir shifted in his seat so subtly, but Avorndis noticed. “You did nothing.,” he replied. “I spoke with Lady Miwnis at great length. She…has no interest in you. Any longer.” A contest of stares began, one holding back years of tamed emotions, the other, her emotions spilled all over the place, tumbling, until Haldir interrupted Beatrice’s thoughts of dread. “Beatrice. It is best to continue on without her friendship.” And Haldir wished to say no more, however, no one would let him remain in blissful silence. Beatrice’s usually pretty, and content mouth, slid down as she continued to decipher Haldir’s words out. Those words meant something else, and she began to read between the lines. Or she thought she could.

“Haldir?!,” cried Enaria. “Why the sudden change? What did Miwnis tell you? What was her reasoning?” Looking at Enaria, wanting to know the answer to that question and more, Beatrice turned back to Haldir for more clarity. Watching, waiting for an acceptable response also, Avorndis kept her eyes pinned to Haldir’s answer. Haldir’s hands graced the table, smoothing out the wooded top. He lowered his eyelids in contemplation. Raising them, looking at Beatrice in intensity, “She does not agree with your…entertaining…of Lord Lindir.” Watching Beatrice’s response to his dirty submission, Haldir did not wait, and dropped another bomb on her. “Nor your carrying his offspring.” And left the air thick with bitter acid, to slide over, through and dissolve, permeate her sweet, happy joy and tranquility of just being so.

Beatrice remained silent. And thought. And wished for a hurricane to wash those words from the room. And began to feel demoralized.

“Offspring?!,” Avorndis chocked out the nasty, demon word, while a shocked, iced shudder ran through her. “What do you mean Offspring?! Beatrice carries Lindir’s elfling. Not some…spawn of, of….Haldir!” And Avorndis’ eyes melted in concern and pity.

“Entertain!!,” Enaria threw her cards on the table, stood and glared at Haldir, as he sat and was visually berated. Beatrice only stared, internally wishing all to leave, leave her alone, leave her be with her anger, her hurt, sullenness and fury. “Beatrice is not entertaining any elf!,” Enaria threw at him. Haldir’s head cocked, blinked, resolved not to emotionally engage the three, but remain firm, steady in his delivery. And clearly looked upon Beatrice still, feeling her tumultuous, furious and pained emotions erupt, resolve round and inside her.

A mixture of intense emotions ran through Beatrice in that moment’s blink. How? How was it possible, one moment, to be liked, enjoyed, even physically cuddled, hugged with sincere warmth from a new friend? And the next, the sun lost all it’s shine, leaving her desolate, tarnished and dirtied. Did they all feel this way toward her? And entertaining? Beatrice was not entertaining, social or otherwise. Beatrice was the least entertaining of anyone. Some days, she was downright boring or sullen. Oh, but that one word’s subtle meaning. Entertain. To entertain. To bring visible or purposeful pleasure to an activity or someone. To give selflessly. To entertain. Yes, to entertain, but…Miwnis knew of this. She knew. She was told. She had asked. They had talked about it. What was the issue? Why the sudden disapproval? The sudden callowness, the proud, prudishness? Is that how they all felt? About her, her predicament? Was this a predicament? Beatrice didn’t think so, but…they might.

Haldir could feel the mixing pot of soiled emotions trampling Beatrice’s heart and wished to be the farthest away from this place as possible. Her hands, under the table, went cold. She curled them together, her eyes blinked, her heart was trampled. Standing, Haldir quietly replaced his chair, tucking it into the table as the two elliths watched him make his way to the door. Anger encased that room. Haldir felt it on his back.

“Marchwarden.,” Beatrice’s quiet, but heated words encased him, causing Haldir to stop, turn with unseen reluctance. As Beatrice stood, Haldir had a long moment to watch her stand with difficulty, her protruding abdomen slowing her down physically rather than verbally. “Is that how you feel also, Haldir? About me.,?” she asked, wishing not to know the answer.

Here we go, Haldir thought. Mine is the ultimate answer to all the problems lingering in the world. This one is not so dumb, he thought. Choosing his words, careful to keep himself contained, while also giving an answer in truth, honesty, Haldir looked upon Beatrice. Raising his eyes, looking over Beatrice's body, her shape, from the bottom of her dark universe blue gown, now uncovering her pale silver slippers, up over her rounded, itchy belly to the tip of her coiled, dark, uncovered hair, Haldir merely rested his eyes on Beatrice’s question.

“No.,” he said, nodded with elven grace, turned, walked out, his chest unwinding, gladdened to be a foot or two from their eyes and words.

“Beatrice.,” Enaria started.

“No. Just don’t.,” returned Beatrice, her hand coming between them, and walked toward the windows, looked down, and breathed. She would have to learn to always deal with this. Always.

#Elven Fiction #Haldir Unfortunately Stops By #Haldir Fiction #Beatrice Avorndis And Enaria Fiction #We All Hear Words That Are Not To Our Liking #Haldir Has The Ultimate Answer To All Life's Problems

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allyinthekeyofx · 8 years ago

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Fading Light - Part 1 - 1/6

Summary - Scully’s cancer returns and hope comes at a high price.

This is sort of AU but is set in season seven. There are references to season seven episodes but ‘All Things’ hasn’t happened. We switch between Scully POV and Mulder POV throughout the whole fic.

I will post a chapter every day without fail.

PART ONE

Prologue

My Father once told me that secrets are like old wounds. That no matter how skilfully we hide the scars, they are still there, lingering beneath the surface. Invisible to the eye, but all too obvious if we take the time to really feel them. There are no good secrets. Even the ones we hide in our hearts to protect the people we love will eventually find a way to push themselves up through the layers of deception.

I've discovered that we can never hope to protect through lies and after all, isn't a secret just another name for a lie?

Semantics

Mulder would laugh if he could hear me now. Arguing with myself as I lay, eyes wide open, staring up at the patterns made by the street lamps refracted through the rain that streams down my window.

I'm not sure what time it is. I don't seem to sleep much, which is strange, because all I want to do at this moment is close my eyes and sink down into its welcoming arms.

To escape from the accusatory voices in my head for a short while would be wonderful, but I just can't seem to relax enough. If I'm honest with myself though, I'm well aware of the reason for my insomnia.

It is guilt; pure and simple.

I have a secret, and no matter how often I tell myself that I am keeping it from him to protect him, I still feel its presence every minute of every day. I keep it hidden because in doing so I am attempting to shield him from a truth he is ready to neither hear nor accept.

Every day I keep the truth from him is another day spent tiptoeing around him, so afraid that he will look into my eyes and see my lies. It was easy in the beginning.

Mulder was still shattered over the death of his Mother and I was there for him as he fell apart piece by harrowing piece, supporting him as he has supported me throughout our partnership. I watched over him like the proverbial mother hen as his quest threatened to take him over the edge, ready to drag him back should the need have arisen.

For once he didn't need me to catch him and as each day passed he learned more facts behind his sister's disappearance and finally, finally I was rewarded when he came back to me. Not entirely at peace sure - we have seen and experienced too much for that ever to happen - but I saw the stress literally roll off him as, in his own words, he was set free.

How can I take that sense of peace away from him now?

I have remained silent, promising myself, as I promise myself now, that tomorrow I will tell him, just as I have made the same promise on so many nights past.

Promises to myself I know I won’t keep.

Chapter One

Mulder is not in the sweetest of moods. He tries his best to hide it, but it was obvious from the moment he arrived flustered and dishevelled at my door this morning.

I'm not sure exactly why we started this whole car pool thing. It certainly wasn't out of any sense of wanting to save the planet, it just kind of happened.

I had offered Mulder a ride home one night when he was without his car - I can't remember why he was without it - and he decided it was only right and proper to return the favour. It seems to have set a pattern now that neither of us is willing to break, and it's strange really, but I kind of enjoy it. I like the fact that his face is the first one that greets me every morning.

Usually I like it that is.

But on days like today, when he is edgy and tense, I wish to hell I could just make him stop the damn car so I can escape out in to the clogged Washington streets and hail a cab. We have hardly spoken during the ride in, just the barest early morning pleasantries. No small talk, no innuendo, no teasing glances. In fact, so far all Mulder has given me is the charming view of his set profile as he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead.

We are running late for the office, which is never a good thing, especially not today. Today is the second Wednesday in the month. Second Wednesdays mean inter-departmental meetings. Which in turn usually mean bureaucratic scrutiny of our recently submitted expense reports. I hate the meetings almost as much as Mulder does. The difference being, that I don't tend to show it quite as blatantly. But at least we no longer have to suffer the dubious pleasure of AD Kersch as we attempt to justify flying halfway across the country on nothing more substantial than some redneck's sighting of lights in his cow field. Skinner is no less forgiving when we balls things up, but he’s more used to it and therefore more accepting of it.

Mulder mutters something under his breath as the car in front slows down to a virtual crawl. I don't bother trying to figure out what it was. The very fact that we are attempting to negotiate rush hour traffic pretty much tells me that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant and certainly has no need for a response from me. So instead, I just lean my head against the seat rest and close my eyes against the headache that is beginning to pulse at the centre of my forehead.

I think that the headaches were the first clear sign that something wasn't right, although for a couple of weeks I was able to pretty much deny their existence. Self-denial is a powerful force, a bit like encasing a broken ankle in a plaster cast. The pain is gone, pushed in to the background, and it's almost impossible to imagine that the broken bone ever happened at all. Until of course you walk on it at the wrong angle and the pain is back to remind you to take more care.

That's how it was with me. Only my versions of the plaster cast were non-prescription pain pills. Until they weren't enough, even when foolishly, I was taking well over the required dosage.

And then came the day when I couldn't deny it any longer. I remember it vividly. A Saturday spent shopping with my Mother I was in so much pain I could hardly stand. She noticed of course and I remember making vague assurances that I was fine, made my excuses and headed for home. I made it through the door, watched as the room began to spin in that endearing way I had come to recognize from scant years back in the early manifestations of the disease, and woke up three hours later on the floor, still clutching my house keys in my hand.

I wish now with all my heart that I had answered the basic need that pounded incessantly in my head.

Call Mulder.

Instead I had called Dr Zuckerman.

Every day since then, I have been trying to find the right words, the right moment, to broach the subject with Mulder, and right along with it, I have found a thousand excuses as to why now isn't the right time.

Of course I realize that the right time is never going to happen, and that the longer I keep putting it off, the harder it's going to get.

Especially since I have already decided that this time, treatment to prolong the inevitable is not an option for me and whilst I don’t profess to really know or understand exactly what my ‘cure’ entailed the last time around, I am smart enough to realise that its mechanism would never be found written on a treatment protocol. So I have opted to do nothing. To wait out the inevitable. I will continue to work for as long as I can. Until I’m once again incapable. But for how long I can keep up the pretence is anyone’s guess.

Not to mention the fact that Mulder is neither stupid nor blind. Eventually he will figure this thing out for himself, and deep down, I can't help wondering if he already suspects something. A paranoid little voice is whispering that I am the reason for his dark mood this morning. Which when I think about it is ridiculous.

Oh yeah. Guilt really sucks.

Suddenly, I am catapulted from my musings and transported violently back in to the here and now as Mulder curses loudly, swerving the car savagely to the left even before the word is fully formed on his lips.

"FUCK!"

I'm not entirely sure what he has seen to provoke such a reaction. Mulder rarely, if ever curses aloud. And then I hear it. A sound I have become so attuned to over the years I could recognize it in my sleep.

The sound of gunfire. Close by.

My senses hone in on the sound, and beside me Mulder is already moving, unbuckling his Seat belt and reaching for the door handle in one fluid movement. Even as I automatically follow his lead I am still searching for answers as to why exactly we have come to a halt in the middle of rush hour traffic. But, like pieces of a jigsaw the answers fall together as I finally see what he sees.

My years on the job have taught me to assimilate information pretty quickly. Headache or not, this is no exception. In the space of a heartbeat my consciousness has thrown several words at me.

Bank. Alarms. Guns. Robbery

Great. Just another fun day in the lives of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, where even a ride to work has the capacity to become a fucked up nightmare.

The shoes I chose to wear today are definitely not made for pounding the pavement. More blisters for me tonight.

Mulder of course doesn't have quite the same fashion impairment and even before I have fully cleared the car door he has taken off like a track star, waving his gun around and cutting a swath through the early morning streets like Moses parting the Red Sea. He can move pretty fast for a guy approaching forty, and, whilst I am not exactly a slug myself, an extra six inches of leg length makes all the difference and I find myself trailing further and further behind.

As I run, I can hear Mulder shouting something, but the wind is against me and his words are lost in the slipstream making them almost unintelligible. Instead, I concentrate on keeping him in sight. The perp is somewhere ahead and by the pace Mulder is keeping, seems to have no intention of giving up the fight easily.

I'm not sure what happens next.

A deafening sound that threatens to split my now pounding head in two; Mulders horrified shout.

"SCULLY!"

A blow that stops me in my tracks and slams me to the ground.

It's funny actually, because even as I am aware of falling, I don't feel anything other than a faint buzzing in my head as the pavement rushes up to meet me. No pain, no fear and certainly no understanding as to what has just happened.

But through the white noise that surrounds me, I hear another gunshot. And then another.

The sound seems to act as a catalyst for my own awareness and the dreamlike quality I had wallowed in for maybe a couple of seconds is replaced by a burning hot pain that seems to radiate through my whole body.

Shit. This really hurts.

I am reminded of the time when I fell out of the tree house that my brother Bill had spent the summer building with his cronies. I had been mercilessly chased away every time I dared show my face. A seven year old younger sister - a girl - had not been welcome in that den of pre-pubescent masculinity.

So, tomboy that I was, I had snuck over there one night and undertaken the precarious climb through the twisted boughs to reach what was forbidden to me; I'd made it up ok -getting down though had been a different undertaking all together and trees tend not to be very forgiving to seven year olds who don't have the sense to realize when they are way out of their depth. I nursed a broken wrist for the rest of the summer, and it had taken years for me to forget the white hot pain I felt as that fragile bone snapped cleanly.. But, with typical childhood resilience I had forgotten.

Until now that is.

Flesh wounds hurt. Gunshot wounds hurt. Damaged bones hurt like a bitch.

I'm unsure as to how much time has elapsed since I first heard Mulder shout out my name although I suspect it is no more than a few seconds at most.

Mulder

Shit, where is he?

Three shots Dana.

Count em.

Three.

Oh Fuck.

My eyes snap open, which in itself is futile really because I can't seem to focus on anything other than the pavement which is tilting at an impossible angle before me. I can just make out a collection of coloured blobs in the near distance and although they are fuzzy around the edges I am able to recognize them as being human. From their size and shape I am also able to determine that they are crouched down, hugging the ground as thought their lives depend on it.

But my only thought right now is for Mulders well being. Nothing else matters to me and not for the first time I am aware that what I feel for him goes way beyond the accepted boundaries of our friendship, because, had it been anyone other than Mulder, I would just close my eyes and allow myself some respite from the terrible pain that now overwhelms me.

But sometimes, even the purest love cannot conquer the frailties of the human body. As I shift my weight fractionally to the right in order to release the arm that is trapped beneath me, I am engulfed in a wave of agony so intense that despite myself I close my eyes and scream. Maybe I screamed out his name. I don't know. But it doesn't matter anyway. Nothing matters except the sudden feeling of Mulder's hands on my face, smoothing away the hair that is plastered against my cheeks. And I hear his voice from far away. He is frightened. I have frightened him.

Just like he's frightened me in the past.

So much fear for two people to bear in a lifetime.

"Sssshhhhhhh Scully, It's ok....don't try to move...it's gonna be ok. Ssssshhhhhhh."

Slowly the pain diminishes a fraction and I am able to open my eyes again. Maybe a little of the initial shock has subsided, or perhaps a gnawing desperation that needs me to know he's ok, allows me to finally focus enough to look deep in to his eyes.

Mulder has beautiful eyes, the most expressive eyes I have ever seen in my life. I could easily lose myself in their depths, which is why I don't allow myself to stare in to them too often. Right now he is fighting tears and not making a very fine job of it. I know how he feels. I've been there too. I've watched him hurting far more times than I care to remember and each and every time I have found myself crying real tears for him when he has been unable to shed his own.

Just like he is crying for me now.

Despite the pain, I am able to shakily reach up a hand that feels like a dead weight and catch that first tear as it escapes its confines. Watching as it traces a crystalline trail down my finger. I want to speak, to let him know I'm fine, but just that small movement has left me as weak as a day old kitten snatched from its Mother and I just want to close my eyes and sleep. Instead, I fix my gaze on his; attempting to communicate to him through sight what I am unable to do with speech.

I'm so sorry I didn't tell you Mulder. And now it's too late.

He is going to find out.

My secret is no longer going to be mine alone and I need to hang on to consciousness for as long as I can, because, I know that if I close my eyes now, the next time I open them, everything will have changed.

Continued chapter 2

#Fading Light part 1 #My fic #MSR #cancer #angst on angst on angst #but lots of love too

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jenbrookmodel · 8 years ago

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Philomena

Have you ever heard a story that sounds somewhat familiar? A story that could easily be your own? A few weeks ago, I read Kirsty Mitchell’s recent blog; a chapter of history repetition, in a way that couldn’t be made up. From the healing journey of grief, that we’ve followed throughout Wonderland, to the unexpected tale of breast cancer coming for her too.

I read her story with wide eyes and a dry mouth. Not three weeks earlier, I’d discovered a breast lump all of my own.

At a regular pill check previous to this, I’d mentioned the unusual mass to the doctor in passing. “Worry not, hen” reassuringly she had said “tethered lumps are nay to be concerned aboot”. As I very much reside in the headspace that there’s ‘nowt worth worrying for, unless there’s reason’, I saw myself out, feeling satisfied.

As I read Kirsty’s story, top to bottom and back to the top over again, I commented about my own lumpy friend. “Go back” said Kirsty. “They told me that and I’ve had cancer. Go back and make them check it again”.

Still convinced they’d give me the same spiel, I hurried not, back to the surgery. However, January 4th finally came near; the closest date I’d been able to get an appointment. I removed my coat, my top and my bra...one of the few winter days I was only 3 layers thick. I lay on the cold plastic covering of the consultation bed protected by a sliver of ripped paper I’d torn. She raised my arm above my head and pushed her hard palm against me in all positions.

“Well, I know what you mean. I can certainly feel it. Who was the person who told you to leave it?” The grape sized ball that had made its home in my boob, was standing proud and present as I’d told her. She agreed to leave it a week in case it went. However I was a little confused as to why my previous mentioning had not even been noted.

One week later: she rang me. “Hello Jennifer, is the lump still there?”. I was at work and hadn’t really thought about it. In the office toilets with my hand up my top, I searched for the pesky rogue of my problems. Yep. Still there. Still proud and present. “I’m going to give it one more week...it could very well be a hormonal swelling and we have to acknowledge all possibilities before forwarding this on. You understand that, don’t you?” Not wanting to question the authority of a person in the know, I marked one week in my calendar for a repeat conversation.

Four days passed...five days passed. I’d admit it was starting to play on my mind. I wasn’t worried and certainly not held back, as I continued to work all day and plan Walter’s Wardrobe by night, setting up venue visits each weekend. Six days passed.

Wednesday 2:40pm...*ring ring*

Damn. I was caught in a meeting.

3pm: meeting ended. Voicemail left.

“Hello Jennifer, this is Dr Anyan. I tried to contact you today to follow up our discussion as agreed. Unfortunately the surgery is now closed. However, I will call you back first thing tomorrow morning.”

I couldn’t believe I missed the call, having sat and stared at the damn phone all morning. Oh well, one more sleep isn’t going to grow it any bigger...is it?

Thursday 19th January 2017, 8:31am, the phone rang. The lump was still there and the word had been given. Within two hours, the NHS referral line rang with my appointment for the following Wednesday. All systems a go, the wheels were in motion. It was happening.

Fast forward to Wednesday (25/1/17), where I mentally began this blog from another cold plastic bed and another paper cover that I’d torn. I was at Manchester Hospital, having parked in the only space for miles around and been handed a parking ticket by a kind soul with two hours left on the meter. “That was lucky” I thought, “I’m feeling lucky”.

Five professionals, three examinations, an ultrasound, a Brucey bonus additional lump discovered and one needle aspiration later, I was on my way home feeling slightly thrown by the unexpected need to take a cell sample. But I arrived back at my car with one minute left to spare...it was definitely a lucky kind of day.

I was told that I would recieve word of the results within a week and suddenly I was feeling lesser levelled, as I once was before. I was snappy and grumpy and frustrated with life. There was no point in the gym, if i was going to die anyway. It sounds so dramatic, but these are the thoughts that passed through my head - more erratic, less tolerant, unnerved.

Thursday passed. Friday passed. Saturday I sobbed into my boyfriends bobbly brown jumper for the first time, as a Disney advert interrupted our tea - asking him if I’d make it to our booked and paid for summer holiday, or if I’d be bald at home, clinging on. There was nothing he could say to console me as I remembered the woman sat next to me in the waiting room with yellow skin, black eyes and a headscarf. He was scared, as much as I was.

I spent seven hours on the road for Walter’s Wardrobe this weekend. Through all of the stress and denial that I could possibly be ill, I’d continued to work on my passion. The next venue was a necessity for the upcoming event. Perhaps, subconsciously, my brain knew I’d be ok. I travelled to three locations, in search of the perfect place with just the radio to keep my mind company.

Today: Monday morning. I checked our external mailbox three times or more. There was no sign of the postie coming for me. So I rang the surgery. Forty eight hours longer was too much of a wait. I’d rather go to the gym tomorrow feeling healthy.

The receptionist informed me that the results had arrived. “The doctor will ring shortly Miss Brook, he’ll discuss it all with you then. It’s important that you keep your phone with you. Ok?”

“F*CK” I thought. I was really in bollocks valley now. What results needed to be discussed over the phone that can’t wait for the post? This was exactly what Kirsty’s story had said! With her blog entitled ‘In my Mother’s Shoes’...I was tip toeing dangerously close to her clogs.

12pm passed, 2pm passed...even 4:40pm had passed when I cracked. I rang back to say I’d been waiting for 7 hours and I needed to know. I just needed to know if I had cancer! Having waited all day for the call to come, at 6:25pm, twenty five long minutes after closing time, the phone finally rang.

After an initial outburst in response to his “can I help you?”, I said I was told he had results for me. Despite being originally unaware of exactly what he was calling for, it turned out he had access to the hospital’s notes. “I’m pleased to tell you it’s a fibroadenoma. From the sample they’ve taken, it’s a non-cancerous....” - I’d heard all I needed to. Philomena. It’s a Philomena. Thank the sodding Lord for bloody benign Philomena!!!!

So there we have it. My story isn’t someone else’s; it doesn’t have to be. MY story has concluded with an alternate ending...and I’m ok. I have to go back to the hospital in six months time, but until then, there’s nothing more left for me to do. I have so much empathy tonight, for those who aren’t so lucky, because my goodness, I SO want to live.

Who’d have thought these tiny tata’s that barely fill an A-cup, would have the power to cause such drama. A lesson to be learned for the future and a whole lorra thankfulness to follow...THANK YOU life, for letting me be a lucky one.

** Follow me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/jenbrookmodelling and Instagram @jen_brook_ & my website www.jenbrook.com **

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thecoroutfitters · 6 years ago

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Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

Editors Note: Another article on chickens from R. Ann Parris to The Prepper Journal. If you have information for Preppers that you would like to share then enter into the Prepper Writing Contest with a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies!

The faithful chicken is a common choice for preppers and homesteaders. Once the bird bug bites, talk regularly turns to breeding and natural rearing, the dual frustrations that can be a broody bird, and the back-and-forth debate about whether we’ve “bred out broodiness”.

The genetics we choose – and allow – is important. Our husbandry practices, common wants from birds, and changing society has affected poultry’s traits, some of which would have immediately gotten birds a glass-jar coop even in pretty recent decades.

One of those now-inherited traits is clutch abandonment by the fake-broody bird. There’s also an age factor that affects our livestock’s brood-rearing reputations, none so much as chickens. In other cases, we set our birds up for failure with their brooder boxes and our keeper practices.

Understanding the genetic selection and dynamics at play will help increase our successes as we move into breeding our birds.

Standard reminder: I don’t actually like chickens (but do fully appreciate their well-earned place in backyard and big-spread production). I have no problem whatsoever buying that particular species butcher-paper blankets for trips to Polar Camp. However, they are living creatures that deserve respectful treatment in life and death. Know what you’re getting into with multiple-source research, start small-scale to avoid overpopulations problems if you can’t actual kill and butcher something you raised, and be prepared to put ill and injured animals out of their misery rather than prolonging their suffering for hours, days, and weeks.

Broodiness

A broody hen is one that’s ready to sit a nest. Some hens want nothing else from an early age, but mostly it’s mature hens and typically the desire peaks and ebbs by breed, season and individual.

Breeding-In Traits

We’ve repeatedly selected even dual-purpose homestead and long-storied heritage breeds for a focus on laying, not necessarily raising young. It makes sense if you think about it, backyards to big operations, now and all the way back in history.

“A chicken in every pot” was a promise of prosperity, not sustenance. We eat way, way more chicken meat in the last 5-6 decades than ever before. Worldwide, it’s always been eggs that make our chickens such effective, efficient livestock.

For most of modern history, keepers big and small have only needed a small fraction of hens to raise chicks for some meat-grow-outs and adding young-blood laying rates to the flock.

We don’t want all of them to stubbornly insist on raising a family.

While that hen raises her clutch, we’re losing her productivity for a month – up to a quarter or third of the year if she’s inclined to keep nannying for 12+ weeks. Hens also regularly lose some condition while they’re sitting and-or throughout the span they’re raising a clutch. Recovery time adds to lost egg production.

Mail-order chicks and affordable incubators and brooders means we don’t even need a hen to raise new birds now. That makes a broody-prone hen even less desirable for many.

Skewing the Bell Curve

Most hens don’t successfully go broody until they’re 3+ years old. The best mothers tend to be secure, upper-echelon birds hitting 4-6 years old.

However, due to laying drop-offs of 10-15% per year, many keepers *ahem* transition their laying hens after the second or third production year. So the average age of most birds out there is pretty young. That skews some of the general expectations, like broodiness.

Even allowing for altered averages, there’s still a hefty percentage of hens that betray just how much we’ve affected broodiness in our chickens.

Fakers & Schitzo Sitters – 20-50%

If you have 10-20 hens 3+ years old, at some point 2-5 if not 8-12 of them are probably going to cost you either eggs or aggravation with fake-outs or schitzo-sitting.

That’s a pretty huge failure rate. We wouldn’t accept it for ammo, canning-jar lids, batteries, milking teats/animals, emails, garden plants, or tires. Our great-greats and grandparents wouldn’t have accepted it from hens. But we just shrug it off now, far too commonly.

So what are they, exactly?

Faking is when a hen starts accruing her eggs and then breaks off, abandoning the partial clutch. It’s also when, after she’s counted and is pleased with her number, after she starts to actively sit without further laying, she abandons the clutch partway through incubation.

She’s signaled that she’s broody, but she’s not really.

(Days Five and Twelve are way better than the Steel-Tent-bound hen that gets to Day Seventeen-Eighteen before changing her mind about motherhood.)

Maybe she just isn’t actually ready (first 1-2 times, a young hen 9-months to 2-3 years old) and will come around in time. Maybe she had good cause. Mostly, though, she’s faking, and we’re losing days/weeks of her production and possibly that clutch because of it.

*Older birds aren’t making an egg every 24-36 hours like when they were young. Aging hens also take “weekends/holidays” (temporary breaks in laying), longer and more frequently as they go. That’s not faking or schitzo. That’s just bodily function slowing, just like us. Make sure she’s not being wrongfully accused, but also crunch her feed-waste-destruction versus her value – including potential broodiness.

Especially for smaller flocks, fakers need to be discounted when they show the broody cues. If she’s young, sure, give it 1-2 years and let her try again if you like, but if it’s a 4-6 y/o, persistent, and insistent … the Big Steel Tent isn’t unreasonable.

Then there’s the hen that seems to be sitting her clutch with dedication, but somewhere in there, she’s heading off for normal daily activities, nest ignored for hours or even days at a time.

*Sitting hens need food and water readily available; they usually can’t forage enough and maintain the clutch.

If she’s pushing stubborn broody behavior for 5-14 days, takes her vacay, then pulls the broody card again, and again, or defends her box but leaves it for hours or the day, Schitzo Sitter needs a glass-jar coop.

Fakers and schitzo’s regularly aren’t worth it in normal “today” soft times.

Unless you’re mid-crisis, down to just a few hens, and need every egg and chance to make more birds that you can get (weighed against providing litter and feed/forage for repeat freeloaders), fakers and schitzos are even less worth the aggravations *later*.

We for-sure don’t want to keep their eggs for the next generation, further perpetuating that failure rate.

Due Diligence

There’s some chance a hen had a good reason to abandon her partial or full clutch. Once she’s sitting in a box 24/7, a canny hen might have started seeing something (activity, a previously unnoticed drip, drafts) that she didn’t while she was popping in and out, and is cutting her losses early. Usually, it’s one of four things if she’s not a faker.

1 – Too much human interest and handling. We have to get in there some, but we do not need to get in there even daily once she’s sitting.

*Even if she’s going to be a surrogate, don’t bug her daily. Match her laying cycle when adding eggs. We can maintain interaction by delivering goodies (while the layers are elsewhere or distracted – chickens are smart and vicious).

2- Insufficient laying boxes or a popular/preferred laying box, with other hens forcing in to lay.

*It’s the very rare hen that can manage a full incubation cycle on an active community laying box; she’ll almost 100% need a nursery/brooding pen for the chicks if she does.

3 – Even with sufficient boxes, a more-dominant broody-prone bird may be harassing her, trying to take the clutch for herself.

4 – By the time you have 10-20 hens, chances are good that one of them is a broomstick-riding … uhm, Character. The Character doesn’t even want the clutch or box. She’s just being a Character.

In my world, it’s the problem bird that visits lovely Camp Kettle.

If a bird is abandoning partial or full clutches, she’s usually a faker. However, relocating and immediately resuming laying with broody cues intact is also a warning sign about box activity/placements, wanna-mothers, or Characters, so we have to do some watching.

Breed Expectations

We haven’t completely bred broodiness out of chickens, but we have selected for less of it, especially from high-production breeds.

From backyards to big operations, we also aren’t removing some of the birds/traits from the genepool. Allowing behaviors that wouldn’t have been tolerated in a Renaissance through 1950s farmhouse also changes the capability of our birds, with dedicated, reliable broodiness high on the list of affected traits.

Average age may skew a breed’s broodiness rating, but use general breed reviews to set your expectations. It’ll get you pretty close.

If you want hens laying and sitting lots of nests to raise out for meat, “high/yes, very broody prone” works.

If you’re mostly after the eggs and maybe a replacement clutch or two every so often, “high” is likely to be a problem.

“High” usually means one way or another, you’ll fight broodiness often. Especially if descriptions mention “persistence”, possibly often enough to impact the eggs-per-week or eggs-per-year numbers listed somewhere nearby that rating (stressors reduce laying).

“High” also tends to mean you’re going to be dealing with cranky hens less willing to quietly let you take their eggs, more likely to find places other than the box to lay, and more likely to get huffy with each other.

“Low/not prone” is not always the answer, though. It’s really not the answer if you’re only going to have one breed and <3-5 keeper hens per person/dog.

“Low” means you’re going to have fewer birds willing and able, they’ll be willing less often, and you’ll usually be further into the old, slow-laying ages before hens truly go broody.

Mostly, if you’re mostly looking for eggs but you do want hens to periodically raise a clutch or serve as a surrogate, aim for the middle-road “occasional”-average listings.

Many sources only give a yes-no broodiness rating, so read the reviews and consider contacting the suppliers to ask for recommendations.

There are a ton of aspects that go into breeding and flocks, some of which you can find here http://www.theprepperjournal.com/2016/11/22/dont-know-can-hurt-us-livestock-edition/.

Make sure reliable broodiness is one of the factors that gets weighed when picking breeds, as well as deciding which hens to keep or kettle.

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The post Truth-Checking Chickens – Broody Hens v. Sandbaggers appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

from The Prepper Journal Don't forget to visit the store and pick up some gear at The COR Outfitters. How prepared are you for emergencies? #SurvivalFirestarter #SurvivalBugOutBackpack #PrepperSurvivalPack #SHTFGear #SHTFBag

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atthismoment1d · 7 years ago

Text

Tips Concerning How To boost Chickens

For some, waking up early in the morning to harvest recent free vary eggs is most rewarding. In the event you happen to be only a beginner and delighted of the idea on how you can efficiently start your own chicken farm. Elevating Chickens? Chicken Coop Plans Made Straightforward! Writer: Steven B Your flock will take pleasure in all of the desk scraps you can give them, that is after all less the bones and citrus peels. Chickens are not very fussy and can eat absolutely anything from your kitchen table. Something which will come as a bit of a shock is they like fish and meat. But if you could complement their diet as effectively chances are you'll consider growing their food or purchasing other goodies for them. Writer: Stan Simmons Whereas chickens can endure the seasons, you want to be sure that they do not endure for a long time. This text discusses what you can do during these instances. Writer: Paul Cernay Chickens are not only a sensible pet, they are a enjoyable pet to maintain around! Chickens make for surprisingly clever pets. However, there are some issues to keep in mind before having pet chickens. Publisher: John O Toole Raising chickens and constructing chicken coops have grow to be incredibly standard actions these days. And there are sound monetary, environmental and health reasons for this enhance in popularity.

Angus and Woody in the junior brown male class. Sue and that i have been getting a bit twitchy by now (effectively I used to be anyway), no rosettes (or mini ribbons on this case) and only the two big boys to come back. We have by no means come away from a present with nothing, but there's a primary time for every little thing. Considering what was going on in the background at dwelling (or on the vets) we needed some glory, we wanted one thing tangible, we wanted ribbons, any ribbons would do, we just wanted something! Then got here the junior handler class. After all - a assured ribbon! Angus took Woody in but was up towards some pretty powerful operators. Gus answering the questions from the junior handler judges. He was carrying out my instructions to look as cute as he might. However, he was up in opposition to some previous masters in this specific class. In fact he was up against the South West Champions if not Nationwide Champions at this self-discipline. He was up against Chris and Isla Might!

Excited about elevating chickens in your back yard? Are you excited to have fresh poultry and eggs every day? Do you hate spending money on meat at the store, realizing it’s been pumped stuffed with hormones and antibiotics? Wish to grow to be self sufficient so you don’t must depend on mass manufacturing farming strategies any longer? If this sounds such as you, then raising chickens in your again yard can be an exciting alternative for you! Listed here are three things you want to think about before you start your personal again yard alpaca Facts Hensting Alpacas informaion rooster farm. How many chickens would you like? If you happen to just want a few chickens, you don’t want much house. However in case you are interested by scaling it up, it is easier to get a large number of chickens abruptly. Should you try to introduce extra chickens later, the others might not accept the brand new chickens. You'll be able to plan ahead by deciding what number of eggs you would like per day, and going from there. The typical, younger, healthy chicken lays roughly 250-280 eggs per 12 months.

I guess it's fairly protected to say that not many people like critters rustling about of their attics and ceilings while they're trying to get some shuteye, am I right? In truth, it may be nothing short of enraging when you are trying to sleep but all you possibly can hear is that incessant gnawing! There are several species out of which one or more are most certainly the culprit/s. In fact, your geographic location can change the record of suspects somewhat, but in any case, there are a couple of universally key figures within the "attic migration" business. Area mice 2. Rats three. Squirrels four. Raccoons 5. Birds 6. Snakes 7. Bats. This is not a complete checklist by any means, but it could provide you with an concept of what you are up towards. There might very possible be an animal that's not on the record however that's native to your particular area, and simply so occurs to be very prevalent. It might assist to do a little bit of research on this. Another hypothesis identified as the Brownian motion model of evolution posits that animals get huge and small at random. On this state of affairs, the descendants of an animal can be each bigger and smaller than their ancestor, however this didn’t match with the data both, since whales got only greater. Pyenson’s coauthor Graham Slater, an evolutionary biologist on the College of Chicago who did the evolutionary modeling, thought maybe whale measurement was influenced by drops in ocean temperature. Previous researchers have famous that it is advantageous for animals to grow massive in cool climates because they've much less floor space relative to quantity and subsequently lose less heat. But that wasn’t the case. I actually thought we'd discover some signature effect of temperature because it simply made sense,” Slater stated. After looking at fossil data in ocean sediments, the scientists in the end concluded that whales expanded in dimension as a response to a change in the way in which their food supply was distributed within the ocean.

Animals can smell the electricity and are much much less most prone to endeavor to push by way of a fence that could be electrically charged, however after they do push into it they may acquire an electric shock. The shock goes to be ample to get their focus, however not sufficient to cause any genuine damage for the animal. The wire that the electric cost courses through is not going to lower the animal. The electric fence might also be utilised to create sure that predators don’t come into an animal’s enclosure and kill them. A rooster is actually a defenseless animal. Contained in the wild the chicken can fly and get into tree tops for some safety from fox, raccoons, possums, and minks. When the hen is penned in a rooster pen they’re no longer in a position to fly into the security from the bushes to hide from these predators. The predator can merely tear the wire about the electric fences enclosure and kill the chickens. If the fence is electrically charged predators can’t tear into it and kill the chickens as easily. This means that these fences could also be placed about any animal enclosure, no matter how distant the enclosure is. Individuals right this moment have the power to shield the animals they’ve of their care, and that is what we should actually be enterprise. Once we take an animal from their all-natural habitat and enclose them we accept the responsibility for their meals, their shelter, and their care.

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joannaluvsnonsense · 7 years ago

Text

Tips Concerning How To raise Chickens

For some, waking up early in the morning to harvest recent free range eggs is most rewarding. In case you happen to be only a newbie and delighted of the thought on tips on how to efficiently start your own hen farm. Elevating Chickens? Hen Coop Plans Made Straightforward! Writer: Steven B Your flock will get pleasure from all the table scraps you may give them, that's in fact less the bones and citrus peels. Chickens are not very fussy and will consume just about anything out of your kitchen table. One thing that may come as a bit of a shock is they like fish and meat. But when you have to supplement their eating regimen as effectively chances are you'll consider rising their meals or purchasing other goodies for them. Publisher: Stan Simmons Whereas chickens can endure the seasons, you wish to ensure that they don't endure for a very long time. This text discusses what you are able to do during these instances. Publisher: Paul Cernay Chickens aren't solely a practical pet, they are a enjoyable pet to keep around! Chickens make for surprisingly clever pets. Nevertheless, there are some issues to keep in mind earlier than having pet chickens. Writer: John O Toole Raising chickens and constructing rooster coops have grow to be incredibly popular activities these days. And there are sound monetary, environmental and well being causes for this increase in recognition.

Angus and Woody in the junior brown male class. Sue and i were getting a bit twitchy by now (nicely I was anyway), no rosettes (or mini ribbons in this case) and solely the two huge boys to return. We've got by no means come away from a show with nothing, however there's a primary time for the whole lot. Contemplating what was happening in the background at residence (or at the vets) we wanted some glory, we wanted one thing tangible, we needed ribbons, any ribbons would do, we simply needed something! Then got here the junior handler class. In fact - a guaranteed ribbon! Angus took Woody in but was up towards some pretty robust operators. Gus answering the questions from the junior handler judges. He was finishing up my directions to look as cute as he might. Nonetheless, he was up against some past masters in this specific class. The truth is he was up against the South West Champions if not Nationwide Champions at this self-discipline. He was up against Chris and Isla Could!

Serious about elevating chickens in your back yard? Are you excited to have recent poultry and eggs day-after-day? Do you hate spending cash on meat at the store, understanding it’s been pumped full of hormones and antibiotics? Need to develop into self enough so that you don’t should rely on mass manufacturing farming strategies any longer? If this sounds such as you, then raising chickens in your again yard will be an thrilling various for you! Listed here are three stuff you want to think about earlier than you begin your personal back yard Alpaca Farm New Forest hen farm. How many chickens would you like? If you just want a couple of chickens, you don’t want much area. But if you are excited about scaling it up, it is less complicated to get numerous chickens abruptly. If you happen to attempt to introduce extra chickens later, the others may not settle for the brand new chickens. You can plan ahead by deciding what number of eggs you desire to per day, and going from there. The average, young, wholesome rooster lays approximately 250-280 eggs per yr.

I guess it's fairly protected to say that not many people like critters rustling about of their attics and ceilings whereas they're trying to get some shuteye, am I right? In reality, it can be nothing in need of enraging when you're trying to sleep however all you'll be able to hear is that incessant gnawing! There are a number of species out of which one or more are most definitely the perpetrator/s. After all, your geographic location can change the listing of suspects considerably, but in any case, there are a number of universally key figures in the "attic migration" enterprise. Field mice 2. Rats three. Squirrels four. Raccoons 5. Birds 6. Snakes 7. Bats. This is not a comprehensive checklist by any means, but it may give you an idea of what you are up against. There might very likely be an animal that's not on the listing but that is native to your specific space, and just so happens to be very prevalent. It could assist to do a bit of research on this. Another hypothesis recognized because the Brownian motion mannequin of evolution posits that animals get big and small at random. On this situation, the descendants of an animal would be both larger and smaller than their ancestor, however this didn’t fit with the info both, since whales obtained solely bigger. Pyenson’s coauthor Graham Slater, an evolutionary biologist at the College of Chicago who did the evolutionary modeling, thought maybe whale size was influenced by drops in ocean temperature. Previous researchers have noted that it is advantageous for animals to develop massive in cool climates as a result of they've less floor area relative to volume and therefore lose less heat. But that wasn’t the case. I really thought we'd find some signature impact of temperature as a result of it just made sense,” Slater stated. After looking at fossil knowledge in ocean sediments, the scientists ultimately concluded that whales expanded in measurement as a response to a change in the way in which their food provide was distributed in the ocean.

Animals can scent the electricity and are a lot much less most prone to endeavor to push by means of a fence which may be electrically charged, but after they do push into it they might purchase an electric shock. The shock is going to be ample to get their focus, however not sufficient to trigger any real injury for the animal. The wire that the electric charge courses by way of is not going to minimize the animal. The electric fence may also be utilised to create certain that predators don’t come into an animal’s enclosure and kill them. A chicken is actually a defenseless animal. Contained in the wild the hen can fly and get into tree tops for some protection from fox, raccoons, possums, and minks. When the chicken is penned in a rooster pen they’re no longer able to fly into the security from the trees to hide from these predators. The predator can merely tear the wire concerning the electric fences enclosure and kill the chickens. If the fence is electrically charged predators can’t tear into it and kill the chickens as easily. This implies that these fences could also be positioned about any animal enclosure, no matter how remote the enclosure is. Individuals at this time have the power to shield the animals they’ve in their care, and that's what we should really be enterprise. After we take an animal from their all-pure habitat and enclose them we accept the accountability for his or her food, their shelter, and their care.

If you have any type of concerns pertaining to where and how you can utilize facturas, you could contact us at our internet site.

0 notes

cartersdarling · 7 years ago

Text

Pointers Concerning How To raise Chickens

For some, waking up early within the morning to harvest fresh free range eggs is most rewarding. If you happen to occur to be just a newbie and delighted of the thought on easy methods to efficiently begin your personal rooster farm. Raising Chickens? Chicken Coop Plans Made Easy! Publisher: Steven B Your flock will take pleasure in all of the table scraps you can give them, that's in fact less the bones and citrus peels. Chickens are usually not very fussy and can devour just about anything from your kitchen table. Something that will come as a bit of a shock is they like fish and meat. But if that you must complement their weight loss program as nicely chances are you'll consider growing their meals or purchasing different goodies for them. Writer: Stan Simmons While chickens can endure the seasons, you need to ensure that they don't endure for a long time. This text discusses what you are able to do during these occasions. Writer: Paul Cernay Chickens will not be only a practical pet, they are a enjoyable pet to maintain round! Chickens make for surprisingly intelligent pets. Nonetheless, there are some issues to keep in mind before having pet chickens. Writer: John O Toole Elevating chickens and constructing hen coops have develop into incredibly in style activities these days. And there are sound monetary, environmental and health reasons for this improve in recognition.

Angus and Woody in the junior brown male class. Sue and that i were getting a bit twitchy by now (effectively I was anyway), no rosettes (or mini ribbons in this case) and solely the two large boys to come. We now have by no means come away from a present with nothing, however there's a first time for everything. Considering what was occurring within the background at residence (or on the vets) we would have liked some glory, we wanted one thing tangible, we wanted ribbons, any ribbons would do, we simply wanted one thing! Then came the junior handler class. Of course - a guaranteed ribbon! Angus took Woody in however was up against some fairly powerful operators. Gus answering the questions from the junior handler judges. He was finishing up my instructions to look as cute as he may. Nevertheless, he was up against some previous masters on this particular class. In actual fact he was up towards the South West Champions if not Nationwide Champions at this discipline. He was up towards Chris and Isla Might!

Excited about raising chickens in your back yard? Are you excited to have recent poultry and eggs every day? Do you hate spending cash on meat at the shop, figuring out it’s been pumped filled with hormones and antibiotics? Wish to turn out to be self sufficient so that you don’t must rely on mass manufacturing farming methods any longer? If this sounds such as you, then raising chickens in your again yard shall be an thrilling alternative for you! Here are three stuff you need to think about before you start your personal again yard Alpaca Farm New Forest hen farm. What number of chickens would you like? Should you just need a number of chickens, you don’t want a lot area. However if you're eager about scaling it up, it is less complicated to get numerous chickens all at once. When you try to introduce more chickens later, the others won't settle for the new chickens. You possibly can plan ahead by deciding how many eggs you want to per day, and going from there. The common, younger, wholesome hen lays roughly 250-280 eggs per year.

I assume it is fairly safe to say that not many people like critters rustling about in their attics and ceilings whereas they're attempting to get some shuteye, am I right? Actually, it can be nothing short of enraging when you are attempting to sleep but all you'll be able to hear is that incessant gnawing! There are a number of species out of which a number of are most certainly the offender/s. After all, your geographic location can change the list of suspects somewhat, however in any case, there are a number of universally key figures in the "attic migration" enterprise. Area mice 2. Rats three. Squirrels four. Raccoons 5. Birds 6. Snakes 7. Bats. This is not a complete listing by any means, but it could provide you with an idea of what you are up in opposition to. There may very probably be an animal that's not on the listing however that's native to your specific space, and just so occurs to be very prevalent. It may assist to do a bit of research on this. One other speculation identified as the Brownian movement model of evolution posits that animals get massive and small at random. On this situation, the descendants of an animal could be both bigger and smaller than their ancestor, however this didn’t match with the data both, since whales bought solely larger. Pyenson’s coauthor Graham Slater, an evolutionary biologist on the University of Chicago who did the evolutionary modeling, thought maybe whale dimension was influenced by drops in ocean temperature. Earlier researchers have famous that it's advantageous for animals to develop giant in cool climates because they have much less floor area relative to quantity and therefore lose much less heat. But that wasn’t the case. I actually thought we would discover some signature impact of temperature because it just made sense,” Slater said. After looking at fossil knowledge in ocean sediments, the scientists finally concluded that whales expanded in size as a response to a change in the best way their food supply was distributed in the ocean.

Animals can smell the electricity and are much much less most likely to endeavor to push by the use of a fence which may be electrically charged, however after they do push into it they may acquire an electric shock. The shock is going to be enough to get their focus, however not enough to cause any real injury for the animal. The wire that the electric cost programs through won't cut the animal. The electric fence may also be utilised to create sure that predators don’t come into an animal’s enclosure and kill them. A chicken is actually a defenseless animal. Inside the wild the hen can fly and get into tree tops for some safety from fox, raccoons, possums, and minks. When the rooster is penned in a rooster pen they’re not ready to fly into the security from the timber to hide from these predators. The predator can merely tear the wire in regards to the electric fences enclosure and kill the chickens. If the fence is electrically charged predators can’t tear into it and kill the chickens as simply. This implies that these fences may be positioned about any animal enclosure, regardless of how remote the enclosure is. People right this moment have the flexibility to shield the animals they’ve in their care, and that's what we should actually be endeavor. Once we take an animal from their all-pure habitat and enclose them we settle for the accountability for his or her meals, their shelter, and their care.

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anavoliselenu · 8 years ago

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Heart of stone chapter 22

I tightened the belt of the plush robe that I wore and followed a petite Asian woman down the main corridor of the Mandarin Day Spa. Allyson and I had only made it half way through the day, and I was already feeling like a pampered princess. My face felt revitalized after an herbal facial, and my bones were like liquid after the therapeutic oil massage. Next up was a hot stone pedicure and I could hardly wait.

“This is our Serenity Suite, Miss Cole,” the Asian woman said once we reached our destination. “Please, take a moment to relax here while you wait for your friend. Miss Ramsey should be joining you momentarily. There is bottled water for you on the buffet, both sparkling and still. Feel free to help yourself to whatever you’d like.”

“Thank you,” I graciously accepted.

After getting a bottle of mineral water, I made myself comfortable on a sprawling chaise longue. I lay back and closed my eyes, taking note of the soft music that played from a hidden source within the suite. It sounded like a bamboo flute, the melody almost hypnotic.

I could go to sleep right here.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good!” I heard Allyson exclaim through the tranquility of the room.

Or not.

I opened one eye to peer at her.

“Good massage I take it?”

“That masseuse was gifted the hands of a god!” she swooned. She tossed a wicked smile at me. “And he kind of looked like one too.”

“You’re bad,” I laughed, shaking my head. I sat up and gave into a good stretch. “Things not going well with Jeremy?”

“Oh, Jeremy is fine,” she said offhandedly. “However, we’re not til’ death do us part or anything. I’m still allowed to look.”

The Asian woman that brought me into the room came in quietly behind Allyson. Her peaceful demeanor versus Allyson’s boisterous entrance was almost comical.

“Would you like to relax here for a bit? Or are you ladies ready for your pedicures now?” she asked Allyson and me.

“It’s up to Selena. I’m up for whatever.”

“We could go now,” I said.

“Then please, follow me this way,” the small woman said, motioning for us to follow her.

“This place is amazing,” Allyson appreciated, taking in every detail of our surroundings as we walked.

“I agree,” I concurred, sharing in her sentiments. “It’s just what I needed. It’s been a complicated couple of weeks.”

We took our seats in the cushy chairs that would serve as our personal thrones during the pedicure. I relaxed back, trying to find that quiet place that I had in the Serenity Suite, while I enjoyed the feel of various oils and stones being rubbed over my feet and legs.

“You okay?” Allyson asked after a while.

I turned my head to look at her, confused by her question.

“Of course I’m okay. How could I not be when I’m being pampered like this?” I laughed, pointing to the tub of swirling hot water in which my feet rested.

“I was only checking. I thought you might still be stewing over that fact that Justin picked up the tab for all of this,” she said, motioning to our surroundings.

“It was unexpected, but that’s just how he is. I shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised,” I said with a frown.

“Well, if you’re sure that everything is okay…” she trailed off. “You just seem sort of quiet today, that’s all. I mean, you took some major steps recently. I just want to make sure that you’re handling it all right.”

“I’m fine, Ally. Just taking it one day at a time…” I trailed off, closing my eyes again.

I wished that I could tell Ally exactly how big those steps were, and for the first time in our friendship, I felt lost. She knew that I had a secret, but she had respected my boundaries over the years. It pained me to think of how hurt she would be if she knew that I had opened up to Justin before her.

But I couldn’t explain my reasoning for telling Justin without filling her in on the rest of it. She wouldn’t understand the complicated layers that made up my relationship with him, as her worry for my wellbeing would overshadow all else. Telling Justin was a giant leap of faith, one that I had to take if I wanted to continue the path that I was on with him.

Trust and honesty.

That’s what he told me. Without that, we would never stand a chance.

I heard someone say the word Justin, and my ears naturally perked up. I peeked around my chair to see two women walk into the room and take seats behind Allyson and I. They both looked familiar, but I couldn’t place either of them.

Maybe customers from Wally’s.

I dismissed the notion that I knew them from somewhere, and tried to resume relaxing. However, it was difficult because neither woman would shut up.

“Suzy, I trust him, and so should you,” said one of the women.

“I’m sorry if I have a slight trust issue when it comes to him,” the other woman spat out.

“Ugh. You need to get over it. It was a long time ago. Besides, it never would have happened.”

“I know that better than anyone. The man will never commit to anyone.”

I heard Allyson groan beside me and I looked at her.

“Those two sound like a couple of cackling hens. I wish they’d pipe down,” she complained, motioning her head back to where the two chatty women sat.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I agreed. “But, we are almost done anyways. Lunch should be waiting for us once our pedicures are finished.”

“Good, because I’m famished. I discovered that I’m not a big fan of French food and I feel like I haven’t eaten in days. I never want to hear the words haute cuisine again!” Allyson finished with an exaggerated French accent that made me laugh.

“No, I kept it light, with your appetite for American-fare in mind. We’re just having finger sandwiches and a green salad. Nothing too exotic.”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, settling back against her chair and closing her eyes.

I did the same, wanting to cherish the last few minutes of self-indulgence.

However, as hard as I tried, I could not tune out the two women. They were still adamantly going at it.

“But Justine, how can you be sure that what he did will work?” I heard one woman ask the other.

Justine. I know that name.

I turned again to take a closer look at the two women. Sure enough, there was no mistaking that glossy black hair. It was Justin’s sister. The other woman was a red head, the same woman that I saw photographed with Justin in the article that I had read online.

What was her name? Suzanne Jacobs I think…

It was strange to realize that I had only done that research a few short weeks ago. I quickly spun back in the chair, unsure of what to think about the unusual coincidence.

I glanced at Allyson, still resting back with her eyes closed. By some miracle, she had managed to block out the two women. But now that I knew exactly who they were, any hope of ignoring them would be fruitless.

“I know it will work because Justin said it would. His people are all over it. I can’t keep making myself sick about it,” I heard Justine say.

“Charlie is nuts. I just hope Justin and his cronies know what they’re doing.”

“Please, Suzy. Don’t you think I know that? And Justin knows too. Why do you think he’s building that women’s shelter?” Justine spat out bitterly. “I’m sure he’s hoping that one day our mother will waltz through the doors, and then we can have a big ole’ happy family reunion.”

Wait. What? His mother?

The room felt like it was buzzing, feeling overwhelmed with shock by the fact that Justin’s mother was alive. He had told me that his parents were dead.

I respected his decision to not divulge his story to me, but telling an out right lie was another thing.

Why did he lie about it? Is his father alive too?

I tried to listen to the two women again, but the pedicurist announced that we were finished and began draining the footbath. She started talking some nonsense about our lunch, and I had to fight the urge to shush her. I just wanted to scream.

Be quiet! I’m trying to listen!

“Selena, what’s wrong?” Allyson asked.

I blinked once. Then twice, forcing myself to focus on the people standing in front of me. Allyson and the pedicurist were looking at me with concerned expressions.

“Nothing. I’m fine. It’s just a little warm in here,” I lied.

Allyson shot me a look that might as well have said that I sprouted another head, but said nothing as I got up from my seat. The quiet Asian woman appeared again out of nowhere, and motioned for us to follow her.

As we exited the room, I chanced a glance back at Justine and Suzanne. Unfortunately, they were no longer talking, but sitting back and enjoying their own spa treatments. A part of me wanted to go up to them and demand an explanation, but I thought better of it. This wasn’t the sort of place to risk making a scene. It would be best if I just waited and confronted Justin about it later.

Allyson and I sat down to lunch. She chattered endlessly about her time in Paris. I listened and nodded at all the appropriate times, but I wasn’t fully into the conversation. I kept thinking about what I overheard in the pedicure room, as a million and one questions swirled in my head.

What was Justin’s relationship to Suzanne Jacobs? Why didn’t she trust him?

Who is Charlie?

And what about Justin’s mother and the woman’s shelter?

Should I demand truth from Justin? Or should I wait for him to come to me?

My stomach was tied up on knots, causing the food to taste like cardboard. It was a real struggle pretending to enjoy the tiny sandwiches.

My cell pinged with a text notification, distracting me from my thoughts. Allyson continued talking while I looked at my phone.

“I wish that I had time to go and see the Eiffel Tower,” she said wistfully. “That would have made the trip worthwhile at least. But I was there for work purposes after all, so I guess –,”

“Oh, no! Not now!” I exclaimed, unintentionally interrupting her.

“What do you mean not now? What happened?”

“It’s my mother. She had told me a while back that she was planning a trip in sometime soon. Apparently that time is now. She just sent me a text to let me know that she’s in town.”

“So what?” Allyson asked. “It’s not like this would be the first time that she’s shown up unannounced.

“True, but I had plans for the rest of the weekend. Now I either have to cancel them, or tell my mother about Justin.”

“Oh…I didn’t even think of that,” Allyson said.

Her eyes were round and full of dread, for she knew that once my mother found out that I was seeing someone, all hell would break loose.

When Allyson and I arrived home, we found Frank and my mother already inside of our apartment. My mother was ordering Frank to bring a bunch of packages into the guest bedroom, and neither once of them noticed that we had come in. By the looks of things, she had apparently been shopping.

The living room was littered with bags from various retail shops throughout the city, making a disaster area out of the normally tidy apartment. I had half a mind to ask my mother to return her key. However, I knew that I couldn’t do that as long as Frank was paying the rent. So I defaulted to politeness, rather than throwing a fit about the mess that my mother had made.

“Hi, mom,” I greeted.

My mother was the only woman I knew that could pull of such casual elegance by simply wearing a cardigan and a pair trouser pants. She appeared to be examining her nails for a chip and looked up when she heard my voice.

“Oh, good! You’re home! I didn’t hear you two come in!”

“Hello, Mrs. Long,” Allyson said.

“Allyson, you look marvelous as always,” my mother swooned. Her silver bracelets jangled as she came over to give Allyson and I a hug. “I’m so happy to see you both. It’s been too long since my last visit.”

As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t long enough. It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy to see her, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with her today. After my day at the spa, I now had more pressing matters to attend to.

“When you told me that you were planning on a visit, I thought you would have given me a heads up,” I said, perhaps a little bit too harshly.

“I’m sorry, honey. But you know Frank’s schedule. Things come up at the last minute with the dealerships, which makes long term planning tough. The weekend was free, so we decided early this morning to take the drive in.”

“Selena!” I heard from behind me. I looked over my shoulder to see Frank coming out of the guest room. I smiled when I saw him, and was happy to see him looking so well. He was a little grayer than when I had seen him last, but still looked trim and fit despite the fact that he was pushing sixty.

“Hey, Frank,” I said.

“Come here, girl. I missed you,” Frank said, pulling me into a fierce bear hug. “Thank goodness you’re home. I think your mother had me walk half the streets in the city in just a few short hours. We only came back here to drop off packages. It’s your turn now.”

“I’m up for a shopping trip,” Allyson chimed in.

“That’s a great idea!” my mother exclaimed. “The three of us girls can shop, then Frank can meet up with us for a late dinner afterward.”

My mother’s face lit up like a roman candle at the idea, and I dreaded being the one to extinguish it.

“I’m sorry, mom. But I can’t go shopping tonight.”

“But, dear – why not?”

“I have plans,” I said, deliberately evading the specifics. I looked to Allyson in a silent plead for help.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Long. The two of us can go,” Allyson offered. “Besides, I’m way over due for a new pair of boots.”

I was grateful to Allyson for jumping to take the reigns, but there was no fooling my mother. She saw the look that passed between Allyson and I, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What sort of plans do you have tonight, Selena?” my mother asked. She tried to pose the question as being off the cuff, but I knew her too well.

“There’s just something I have to do, that’s all,” I tried to shrug off. “If you’re up for more shopping tomorrow, I can go with you then.”

My mother wasn’t falling for it, so she turned to Allyson instead.

“Has she met someone?” my mother asked.

Here comes the third degree interrogation…

“I’m standing right here, mom. You don’t have to ask Ally.”

“So? Have you?” she asked, staring pointedly at me.

Allyson began to rummage through her purse with the pretense of looking for something, while Frank made a loud show of clearing his throat.

“Um, I’m going to check the car to see if there are any more bags,” he announced. Moving quickly to the door, Frank made fast work of slipping his shoes on and out he went.

Thanks for the support.

I knew that there would be no putting this off. I had barely been home for five minutes, but my mother’s radar was already honed in.

“I am talking to someone, but it’s nothing serious,” I admitted.

“Selena, you barely just broke up with Trevor. You don’t need the distraction of another guy right now. You should be focusing on building a career.”

I closed my eyes and tried to count to ten. Just once, I would like to have a normal mother daughter visit, one that I didn’t have to face a lecture or jump on the defense about my personal business. By the way my mother acted, you’d never know that I was a recent college graduate. She still treated me like I was in grade school.

“Actually, it’s been two years since Trevor. And for your information, I found a job. It’s a good one, too. I start on Monday,” I said proudly.

“I’m glad about that, but it’s even more of a reason why you shouldn’t be wasting your time on dating. You should be giving all of your attentions to getting ahead in life.”

I should have known that she’d focus on the guy thing, rather than be happy that I landed the job that she had been hounding me about. I pursed my lips in annoyance.

“I’m sure that I can manage to juggle both a career and a relationship,” I said dryly. It was a good thing that she didn’t know my new boss was the relationship.

“Selena, I wish you would just take my advice for once. It’s like I’ve always said, you should wait to –,” she started, but I cut her off.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I should wait until I’m established in a career before

I think about getting serious with anyone. I know your stance on the matter, mom.”

Allyson, knowing that the situation was starting to spin out of control, decided to speak up.

“Mrs. Long, would you like something to drink? Why don’t you sit down and relax for a bit? I’m sure you’ve had a tiring day, with the drive and full day of shopping and all.”

“I’m fine, dear. But thank you,” my mother dismissed. Then without skipping a beat, she came at me again. “Selena, I just don’t want you to make the same mistakes that I did.”

“Mom, I’m not you,” I said in a warning tone.

“I know that, and I’m not comparing. I’m talking in general here. Too often women rely on men for support, only to be left high and dry when things don’t work out. I don’t want that for you.”

“It won’t be,” I said through gritted teeth.

“How can you be so sure? You never know if –,”

“I know because I refuse to spend my life dwelling on the what-if’s!” I lashed out. “I refuse to walk around bitter at the world for things that are out of my control. I don’t want to grow old only to look back and see that I spent my life being a spiteful and untrusting human being! I can’t hate a person strictly because they have a penis! That’s who you are and I don’t want to be like you. I want to be happy!”

Her head jerked back like I had slapped her. I watched all the color visibly drain from her face.

“I have a good life, Selena Lynne,” she said quietly, using my middle name that she typically reserved for times when she was truly angry. Or hurt. Her eyes began to glisten with tears. “I gave you a good life. I don’t want you to ever forget where you came from.”

Seeing her tears made me instantly regret losing my temper. I was in a foul mood because of the recent shock about Justin and the confusion I had surrounding our relationship. She didn’t deserve me taking it out on her.

She just made it so hard.

She was on constantly on my case, riding me about one thing after another. We have had more arguments than I could count in the past, but this was the first time I had truly spoken back. I knew that this day would eventually come, and I thought I would feel better for it. Instead, I felt terrible.

“Look, mom –,” I started.

A knock at the door cut me off, and I could hear Frank calling from the other side to be let in.

“I’ll get it,” Allyson offered.

However, when Allyson opened the door, Frank wasn’t alone. Justin was standing there with him.

I suppressed a groan.

Great…just what I need right now.

****

To say that there was tension in the air would be an understatement. It was more like the after shock of a nuclear explosion.

A leggy blond, who I assumed to be Selena’s roommate, stood in the kitchen with her brow furrowed in consternation. I guessed the other woman to be Selena’s mother because of their striking resemblance, although her eyes were red rimmed with tears while Selena’s face was flushed in anger.

I looked to Frank Long, but he just shrugged and shook his head. The poor man looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. Having little choice in the matter, I did what I did best. I put on my game face and took control of the situation.

Leading the way, I entered the apartment with Frank in tow.

“Good evening, ladies,” I greeted. Stepping up to Selena, I planted a kiss on the top of her head and motioned over to Frank. “Look who I met in the elevator?”

“Justin, I thought Hale was coming back for me later and I was going to meet you at your place,” Selena said. Her voice sounded strained.

“After he dropped off you and Allyson, I gave him the rest of the night off. I happened to be out, so I decided to come by to pick you up instead,” I said easily. “How was your day at the spa?”

I heard the subtle sound of one clearing their throat from somewhere behind me. When I turned to look, I saw the blond watching me carefully.

“You must be Allyson,” I assumed. I flashed her my most disarming smile, but she wasn’t taking the bait. She only narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“And you must be the infamous Justin Stone. Selena’s told me a lot about you.”

Hopefully not too much.

“Sorry, I’m being rude. I forgot that you guys haven’t met,” Selena apologized. “Justin, this is Allyson Ramsey.”

“Don’t believe half of what she says about me,” I joked to her roommate. She smiled at me in return, but her grin didn’t quite meet her eyes. “I’m happy to have finally met you. Selena speaks very highly of you. The two of you seem close.”

“Of course we are. Like they say – opposites attract,” Allyson said.

I tilted my head to the side in confusion.

“She’s Aries, I’m Cancer,” Selena explained. “Ally’s really into to stuff like that.”

“Sorry, ladies. I don’t know too much about zodiac signs,” I laughed.

“It just means that we balance each other out,” Allyson said. “And that the ram is usually very protective of the crab.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I responded, completely unruffled by her discernable warning. I smiled politely. If Miss Ramsey thought that she could intimidate me, she would be sadly disappointed.

“Justin, you’ve already met Frank, my stepfather,” Selena continued her introductions, seeming oblivious to the undercurrent that flowed between the roommate and me. “This is my mother. Mom, this is Justin Stone.”

Selena motioned to her mother, who had been noticeably quiet since I had come in. Turning to face her, I extended my hand.

“Yes…um,” she stuttered, seeming to be caught off guard. “I’m Elizabeth. Elizabeth Long.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Long.”

“Please, call me Elizabeth,” she offered.

“Your daughter never mentioned that you would be in town this weekend,” I remarked courteously, throwing a sidelong glance at Selena.

“They showed up unexpectedly,” Selena clarified. “Had I known, I –.”

“If you two have plans, don’t let us get in the way,” Elizabeth Long cut in. “Go on ahead, honey. I’ll just go shopping with Allyson. Besides, Frank is wiped out. I think there’s a football game on that he wants to watch anyway. We’ll catch up later on, or perhaps tomorrow.”

“Michigan State, my alma mater,” Frank chimed in. “They’re playing Iowa tonight.”

“Wait, you want me to go out?” Selena incredulously asked her mother. She seemed completely floored.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Elizabeth said innocently. A little too innocently in my opinion, and I was curious as to what went down before I arrived.

“Because you just said…” Selena trailed off. She looked at me, seeming completely at a loss. It was if she was torn between visiting with her family and spending time with me. However, I sensed that there was more to it than just that.

Much more.

“Selena, if you want to go shopping, that’s fine with me,” I offered, trying to lighten her burden of making a choice. “I can stay here and watch the game with Mr. Long until you get back.”

She looked absolutely appalled by the idea, and I had to stifle a smirk.

“No, that’s okay,” she vehemently shook her head. “We can still go on as planned.”

“Whatever works. But in the meantime, I have a suggestion. The night is young,” I stated, turning to address everyone else in the room. “Assuming that it won’t impede on the shopping trip, why don’t the five of us share a pre-dinner cocktail? I’m sure these ladies keep a decent stock, and I’ve been told that I can mix an excellent Manhattan.”

Everyone just stared at each other awkwardly for a minute upon hearing my proposition. Frank was the first to speak up.

“I think that’s a great idea, don’t you Lizzie?” he said to his wife. “We’ve come all this way, and I’d like to get to know this gentleman that Selena has taken a liking to.”

“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Allyson agreed. She was still carefully scrutinizing me, and I knew that she was seizing the opportunity to get to know me as well.

Deciding not to wait on the approval from mother and daughter, I went to the kitchen and began pulling out glasses from a cabinet.

“Allyson, could you point me in the direction of your liquor stash?” I asked, using the occasion to engage Selena’s roommate. Allyson wasn’t the only one with an agenda. My hope was that after a drink or two, she would begin to warm up to me.

“I’ll show him,” Selena offered, jumping up to assist me instead.

Once we were out of earshot from everyone, Selena swooped in like a vulture.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

“Well, as soon as you get me the things that I need, I’ll be mixing drinks.”

She smirked at me and handed me a bottle of red vermouth that she had retrieved from a nearby hutch.

“You know what I mean, Justin.”

“Relax, angel. Everyone’s wound a little tight. I’m just helping to ease the tension in this place.” I took the liquor from her and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Because when we are done here, I thought that we might hit a club tonight.”

To my satisfaction, her eyes grew big. She had caught my meaning.

“A club?”

“Yes, assuming that you’re up for it,” I taunted.

“Well, yes…yes, it’s fine,” she stammered, sounding fairly stunned.

“Good. I was hoping that you’d say that.” I finished pouring the whiskey and topped off each of the five drinks with maraschino cherries. Handing two glasses to Selena, I gave her a smile of reassurance and said, “Now, let’s go entertain your guests. Shall we?”

back to look��Pt�

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allyinthekeyofx · 8 years ago

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Fading Light 1/24

Fading Light AllyinthekeyofX Summary: Scully's cancer returns and hope comes at a high price. Notes: I wrote the first 6 chapters to this way back in 2001 and just never finished it....until last year. Yay me! lol PART ONE Prologue My Father once told me that secrets are like old wounds. That no matter how skilfully we hide the scars, they are still there, lingering beneath the surface. Invisible to the eye, but all too obvious if we take the time to really feel them. There are no good secrets. Even the ones we hide in our hearts to protect the people we love will eventually find a way to push themselves up through the layers of deception. I've discovered that we can never hope to protect through lies and after all, isn't a secret just another name for a lie? Semantics Mulder would laugh if he could hear me now. Arguing with myself as I lay, eyes wide open, staring up at the patterns made by the street lamps refracted through the rain that streams down my window. I'm not sure what time it is. I don't seem to sleep much, which is strange, because all I want to do at this moment is close my eyes and sink down into its welcoming arms. To escape from the accusatory voices in my head for a short while would be wonderful, but I just can't seem to relax enough. If I'm honest with myself though, I'm well aware of the reason for my insomnia. It is guilt; pure and simple. I have a secret, and no matter how often I tell myself that I am keeping it from him to protect him, I still feel its presence every minute of every day. I keep it hidden because in doing so I am attempting to shield him from a truth he is ready to neither hear nor accept. Every day I keep the truth from him is another day spent tiptoeing around him, so afraid that he will look into my eyes and see my lies. It was easy in the beginning. Mulder was still shattered over the death of his Mother and I was there for him as he fell apart piece by harrowing piece, supporting him as he has supported me throughout our partnership. I watched over him like the proverbial mother hen as his quest threatened to take him over the edge, ready to drag him back should the need have arisen. For once he didn't need me to catch him and as each day passed he learned more facts behind his sister's disappearance and finally, finally I was rewarded when he came back to me. Not entirely at peace sure - we have seen and experienced too much for that ever to happen - but I saw the stress literally roll off him as, in his own words, he was set free. How can I take that sense of peace away from him now? I have remained silent, promising myself, as I promise myself now, that tomorrow I will tell him. It's ironic in a way, because even I don't believe it anymore. XXXXXXXXX Chapter 0ne Mulder is not in the sweetest of moods. He tries his best to hide it, but it was obvious from the moment he arrived flustered and dishevelled at my door this morning. I'm not sure exactly why we started this whole car pool thing. It certainly wasn't out of any sense of wanting to save the planet, it just kind of happened. I had offered Mulder a ride home one night when he was without his car - I can't remember why he was without it - and he decided it was only right and proper to return the favour. It seems to have set a pattern now that neither of us is willing to break, and it's strange really, but I kind of enjoy it. I like the fact that his face is the first one that greets me every morning. Usually I like it that is. But on days like today, when he is edgy and tense, I wish to hell I could just make him stop the damn car so I can escape out in to the clogged Washington streets and hail a cab. We have hardly spoken during the ride in, just the barest early morning pleasantries. No small talk, no innuendo, no teasing glances. In fact, so far all Mulder has given me is the charming view of his set profile as he keeps his eyes fixed firmly on the road ahead. We are running late for the office, which is never a good thing, especially not today. Today is the second Wednesday in the month. Second Wednesdays mean inter-departmental meetings. Which in turn usually mean bureaucratic scrutiny of our recently submitted expense reports. I hate the meetings almost as much as Mulder does. The difference being, that I don't tend to show it quite as blatantly. But at least we no longer have to suffer the dubious pleasure of AD Kersch as we attempt to justify flying halfway across the country on nothing more substantial than some redneck's sighting of lights in his cow field. Skinner is no less forgiving when we balls things up, but he’s more used to it and therefore more accepting of it. Mulder mutters something under his breath as the car in front slows down to a virtual crawl. I don't bother trying to figure out what it was. The very fact that we are attempting to negotiate rush hour traffic pretty much tells me that whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant and certainly has no need for a response from me. So instead, I just lean my head against the seat rest and close my eyes against the headache that is beginning to pulse at the centre of my forehead. I think that the headaches were the first clear sign that something wasn't right, although for a couple of weeks I was able to pretty much deny their existence. Self-denial is a powerful force, a bit like encasing a broken ankle in a plaster cast. The pain is gone, pushed in to the background, and it's almost impossible to imagine that the broken bone ever happened at all. Until of course you walk on it at the wrong angle and the pain is back to remind you to take more care. That's how it was with me. Only my versions of the plaster cast were non-prescription pain pills. Until they weren't enough, even when foolishly, I was taking well over the required dosage. And then came the day when I couldn't deny it any longer. I remember it vividly. A Saturday spent shopping with my Mother I was in so much pain I could hardly stand. She noticed of course and I remember making vague assurances that I was fine, made my excuses and headed for home. I made it through the door, watched as the room began to spin in that endearing way I had come to recognize from scant years back in the early manifestations of the disease, and woke up three hours later on the floor, still clutching my house keys in my hand. I wish now with all my heart that I had answered the basic need that pounded incessantly in my head. Call Mulder. Instead I had called Dr Zuckerman. Every day since then, I have been trying to find the right words, the right moment, to broach the subject with Mulder, and right along with it, I have found a thousand excuses as to why now isn't the right time. Of course I realize that the right time is never going to happen, and that the longer I keep putting it off, the harder it's going to get. Especially since I have already decided that this time, treatment to prolong the inevitable is not an option for me and whilst I don’t profess to really know or understand exactly what my ‘cure’ entailed the last time around, I am smart enough to realise that its mechanism would never be found written on a treatment protocol. So I have opted to do nothing. To wait out the inevitable. I will continue to work for as long as I can. Until I’m once again incapable. But for how long I can keep up the pretence is anyone’s guess. Not to mention the fact that Mulder is neither stupid nor blind. Eventually he will figure this thing out for himself, and deep down, I can't help wondering if he already suspects something. A paranoid little voice is whispering that I am the reason for his dark mood this morning. Which when I think about it is ridiculous. Oh yeah. Guilt really sucks. Suddenly, I am catapulted from my musings and transported violently back in to the here and now as Mulder curses loudly, swerving the car savagely to the left even before the word is fully formed on his lips. "FUCK!" I'm not entirely sure what he has seen to provoke such a reaction. Mulder rarely, if ever curses aloud. And then I hear it. A sound I have become so attuned to over the years I could recognize it in my sleep. The sound of gunfire. Close by. My senses hone in on the sound, and beside me Mulder is already moving, unbuckling his Seat belt and reaching for the door handle in one fluid movement. Even as I automatically follow his lead I am still searching for answers as to why exactly we have come to a halt in the middle of rush hour traffic. But, like pieces of a jigsaw the answers fall together as I finally see what he sees. My years on the job have taught me to assimilate information pretty quickly. Headache or not, this is no exception. In the space of a heartbeat my consciousness has thrown several words at me. Bank. Alarms. Guns. Robbery Great. Just another fun day in the lives of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, where even a ride to work has the capacity to become a fucked up nightmare. The shoes I chose to wear today are definitely not made for pounding the pavement. More blisters for me tonight. Mulder of course doesn't have quite the same fashion impairment and even before I have fully cleared the car door he has taken off like a track star, waving his gun around and cutting a swath through the early morning streets like Moses parting the Red Sea. He can move pretty fast for a guy approaching forty, and, whilst I am not exactly a slug myself, an extra six inches of leg length makes all the difference and I find myself trailing further and further behind. As I run, I can hear Mulder shouting something, but the wind is against me and his words are lost in the slipstream making them almost unintelligible. Instead, I concentrate on keeping him in sight. The perp is somewhere ahead and by the pace Mulder is keeping, seems to have no intention of giving up the fight easily. I'm not sure what happens next. A deafening sound that threatens to split my now pounding head in two; Mulders horrified shout. "SCULLY!" A blow that stops me in my tracks and slams me to the ground. It's funny actually, because even as I am aware of falling, I don't feel anything other than a faint buzzing in my head as the pavement rushes up to meet me. No pain, no fear and certainly no understanding as to what has just happened. But through the white noise that surrounds me, I hear another gunshot. And then another. The sound seems to act as a catalyst for my own awareness and the dreamlike quality I had wallowed in for maybe a couple of seconds is replaced by a burning hot pain that seems to radiate through my whole body. Shit. This really hurts. I am reminded of the time when I fell out of the tree house that my brother Bill had spent the summer building with his cronies. I had been mercilessly chased away every time I dared show my face. A seven year old younger sister - a girl - had not been welcome in that den of pre-pubescent masculinity. So, tomboy that I was, I had snuck over there one night and undertaken the precarious climb through the twisted boughs to reach what was forbidden to me; I'd made it up ok -getting down though had been a different undertaking all together and trees tend not to be very forgiving to seven year olds who don't have the sense to realize when they are way out of their depth. I nursed a broken wrist for the rest of the summer, and it had taken years for me to forget the white hot pain I felt as that fragile bone snapped cleanly.. But, with typical childhood resilience I had forgotten. Until now that is. Flesh wounds hurt. Gunshot wounds hurt. Damaged bones hurt like a bitch. I'm unsure as to how much time has elapsed since I first heard Mulder shout out my name although I suspect it is no more than a few seconds at most. Mulder Shit, where is he? Three shots Dana. Count em. Three. Oh Fuck. My eyes snap open, which in itself is futile really because I can't seem to focus on anything other than the pavement which is tilting at an impossible angle before me. I can just make out a collection of coloured blobs in the near distance and although they are fuzzy around the edges I am able to recognize them as being human. From their size and shape I am also able to determine that they are crouched down, hugging the ground as thought their lives depend on it. But my only thought right now is for Mulders well being. Nothing else matters to me and not for the first time I am aware that what I feel for him goes way beyond the accepted boundaries of our friendship, because, had it been anyone other than Mulder, I would just close my eyes and allow myself some respite from the terrible pain that now overwhelms me. But sometimes, even the purest love cannot conquer the frailties of the human body. As I shift my weight fractionally to the right in order to release the arm that is trapped beneath me, I am engulfed in a wave of agony so intense that despite myself I close my eyes and scream. Maybe I screamed out his name. I don't know. But it doesn't matter anyway. Nothing matters except the sudden feeling of Mulders hands on my face, smoothing away the hair that is plastered against my cheeks. And I hear his voice from far away. He is frightened. I have frightened him. Just like he's frightened me in the past. So much fear for two people to bear in a lifetime. "Sssshhhhhhh Scully, It's ok....don't try to move...it's gonna be ok. Ssssshhhhhhh." Slowly the pain diminishes a fraction and I am able to open my eyes again. Maybe a little of the initial shock has subsided, or perhaps a gnawing desperation that needs me to know he's ok, allows me to finally focus enough to look deep in to his eyes. Mulder has beautiful eyes, the most expressive eyes I have ever seen in my life. I could easily lose myself in their depths, which is why I don't allow myself to stare in to them too often. Right now he is fighting tears and not making a very fine job of it. I know how he feels. I've been there too. I've watched him hurting far more times than I care to remember and each and every time I have found myself crying real tears for him when he has been unable to shed his own. Just like he is crying for me now. Despite the pain, I am able to shakily reach up a hand that feels like a dead weight and catch that first tear as it escapes its confines. Watching as it traces a crystalline trail down my finger. I want to speak, to let him know I'm fine, but just that small movement has left me as weak as a day old kitten snatched from its Mother and I just want to close my eyes and sleep. Instead, I fix my gaze on his; attempting to communicate to him through sight what I am unable to do with speech. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you Mulder. And now it's too late. He is going to find out. My secret is no longer going to be mine alone and I need to hang on to consciousness for as long as I can, because, I know that if I close my eyes now, the next time I open them, everything will have changed. Continued chapter 2 #fan fic #cancer #it's a bit heavy on the angst #msr #rst

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