#have something for halloween I guess as it's borderline horror for some

[pitch-black-angel-of-death]

I took a moment to listen to the mechanical click of your breathing, slow and shallow as the heart monitor zigged and zagged irregularly.

We both knew the dangers and even if it was harder for you to form your sentences these days, its what we both want. The hum of the Brain Modding Interface became louder as it mapped out the regions of your brain one by one. Iodine dripped from my hands as I waited for the brain map to complete and I looked over the stainless steel tray filled with tools and the chip, still in its sterilised packing sleeve.

It had been two years since the last time I dove so literally into your mind and rewired it, plugging in the Physical Integration Grouper, which was a revolutionary device at the time, allowing brain modders to add more chips than ever before. Prior to that you only had one chip as it was determined your brain wasn't robust enough for more directly. I hadn't fitted that one though, you'd had it done in Tekkers, the district known for back alley doctors, and you suffered from the jitters for two months afterwards, a common side effect of chips wired to the wrong area of the brain. Before you had gone out and got it done, even I didn't know you were that dedicated.

I should have seen the signs though, I would bring you back enormous orders of greasy noodles and curries which you tip down your mouth one after the other, not even savouring the taste anymore and rather than listening to the groans of your stomach, you'd ask me if you had had enough. You would be crying out in pain from how stretched your belly was but still wanting to pack more in. I loved to see you grow so I would keep bringing back more and pushing you but even I couldn't watch you cry like that, great heaving sobs as your stomach threatened to bring all the food back up. But after you got the jitters, I made you promise to ask me to mod your brain in the future. I needed you to grow just as badly as you did, and I knew the jitters would make that hard, as the condition was known to burn up calories, bringing much thinner modders into the danger zone. Luckily with my five years of enabling beforehand, you were a healthy 455 lbs, but still you lost a worrying 37 lbs in those two months. The chip had been working though, switching off the compulsion to vomit and reducing the chances of doing so almost to a nil.

The Brain Modding Interface's hum slowed again and the unit made a pleasant musical tone as the map of your brain was complete. It showed in a dulled-out green areas of your brain that had atrophied, and none were too surprising. Since I had plugged in the Physical Integration Grouper you had gained 250 lbs in just two years, a feat that few can accomplish without sacrificing something. You were just a couple of pounds away from 670 lbs now but you had been at a plateau for two weeks at this point and it had been driving you insane. You had been whining all day for more food than you could eat and I'd been adding extra weight gain powder to no avail. It was time to mod again, it was obvious.

Still, it was stark seeing proof that areas of your mind were going offline. Speech was obvious to anyone who tried to talk to you, your favourite words were 'hungry', 'more' and 'obese' and you would use little else as you shambled around the apartment. Movement was another, you only walked between the front door to collect orders, the bedroom and the bathroom these days so that was to be expected. Pain response was one that was only obvious to me. It was impressive, the power of a small chip, but it had been doing its job. Along with moving the nausea chip to the Physical Integration Grouper, I'd plugged in a chip that reduced the production of fullness hormones and a chip known in modding circles as an optimiser, which reduces the amount of calories needed for bodily operations and I realised quite early on it had turned off your pain receptors. You would override the feelings as long as you could before the modding so it made sense the chip would do away with pain altogether.

But now it was time for this new age of gaining to be ushered in. I lifted up your synthetic hair, and used a tool from the tray that releases the access port door to the Physical Integration Grouper. I smiled, seeing the blue lights flickering next to your three current chips, all online. It's well known that adding more chips after the fact can cause older ones to malfunction, but so far, so good. Beneath the unit your brain pulsed and I reflexively went to caress it, just as I had your pudgy face through the jitters. I quickly took my hand back, I knew that as little interference with your biological brain as necessary was key so I took a deep breath, something you definitely couldn't manage, and turned to the tray and opened up the vacuum sealed chip sleeve. With the micro tweezers I brought the chip over to the Physical Integration Grouper and plugged it into an empty slot, only two more slots left in this Grouper and though I knew you will beg for a bigger unit in the coming years, I knew it would break you. Your brain was never all that robust, I mean, people with healthy minds don't act like this, do they? You would rather eat than breathe, rather die than go longer than 30 minutes without food. Was it my years of manipulation or were you born this way? It didn't matter, you weren't going to change now.

I flicked the minuscule switch on the edge of the chip and the Physical Integration Grouper drove the integration spines deeper into your brain. Your breathing spluttered and your heart rate bounced up to 160 bpm and I held your soft shoulders as your giant body shuddered. My orange iodine stained hands fell down to your chest, grasping at the flab and rolls under your moobs. Your heart was pounding and I looked up at the monitor and it was now going at 270. I squeezed your body tightly as black and silver forks of data ran through your brain, my hands desperate to know the intoxicating feeling of that lard forever. I willed your body to take the chip and looked back down at the Physical Integration Grouper. An orange light pinged on next to the chip. I let out a sigh of relief and watched your heart rate slow to a safer, if unsteady, pace. The oxygen mask had slipped a little so I gently recentred it and tighten the strap, the elastic digging into your bulging cheeks.

This job was meant to be done by groups of surgeons, but no licensed doctor would agree to what you wanted, no, needed. So it was up to me to do this by myself. I looked over to the Brain Modding Interface and began typing on its keyboard, blood, iodine and your sweat coating the keys as I entered the commands for the correct regions of the brain. This one had cross over with the optimiser chip which the Brain Modding Interface helpfully flagged with a large red warning as I input the region codes. I had told you this was possible before I even ordered the chip but you had whined through mouthfuls of pizza, managing to say eventually that you didn't care. In fact, I think it turned you on because you ate a lot faster that evening, despite the lard on your arms making it hard for you to feed yourself these days. You were the cleanest you had been in months today, I had scrubbed you clean of the splatters of sauce, splashes of grease and crumbs of carbs this morning, but still you stank already of the sweat between your folds.

I stood back from the Brain Modding Interface and held down your shoulders as again the Physical Integration Grouper drove its integration spines into your brain even deeper. Your cellulite-dimpled thighs rippled as your body shuddered with each black and silver fork of data splintering through your brain and your round sausage fingers tensed and relaxed. Again your heart rate climbed and I held my breath, as well as your side rolls, feeling how slick with sweat they were. The blue light next to the optimiser flickered orange for a couple of beats of your heart before glowing blue again and then a blue light came on next to your new chip. I grinned. There's no way you wouldn't gain now this mod was live.

I closed the access port and patted down your synthetic hair and began cleaning up while watching your vitals go to what was healthy for you and waiting for you to rouse from the anesthetic.

You had complained that there wasn't enough hours in the day to eat, so with the help of this little chip, I had just reduced your need to sleep from ten hours to digest all that greasy junk you gulped down all day, to only two hours. My heart rate quickened, I didn't need a monitor to know that, eager to begin watching you glut yourself for 22 hours a day, for as long as your body would allow. However, I already had plans to improve those odds.

Your eyes flicker open and you're back in your reinforced bed, drool down your chins from all your dreaming of food and flab, the only things you care about. The sun is dipping behind the Corporation's Wellness Tower, and basking the room in an orange glow, though the irony is lost on you.

"Hungry, really hungry," you croak.

"Of course darling," I say, already by your side with a weight gain powder infused cake, mounted with cream. "Now open your mouth and your recovery can really begin."

And just like the robots owned by the wealthy, you do as I command, wide mouth, waiting. But unlike those robots, your eyes roll back as fattening cream is spooned down your throat, inhuman grunts come from your frantically chewing lips and your lard ridden thighs twitch, horny for what is to come...

[sluttypatrickstar]

spooky reading round-up

🌟 you’re not supposed to die tonight by kalynn bayron – exceedingly fun and readable YA slasher. i was a little let down by the ending but it was still a good time and i recommend it!

“parthenogenesis” by stephen graham jones – i don’t think i understood this, but i would very much like to revisit it as it was an interesting one

borrasca by c.k. walker – this one’s a r/nosleep story. i guess i thought it was good at evoking a small town nostalgic feel but i did not like it, it did not scare me, and the extra final part was so bad it was borderline unreadable.

“everybody is in the place” by emma j. gibbon – DEFINITELY did not understand this one but i did quite like the vibes

“in the faded light” by narrenstrich – a comic from the shortbox comics fair, there’s only a few more hours left on that if you want to get this one. interesting little queer horror, i liked this one!

🌟 the left/right game by jack anderson – another r/nosleep story. this one had me HOOKED. i was creeped out, i was emotional, i was tense, i did not know where it was going, this one was so much better than borrasca.

🌟 we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson – interestingly, for something recommended so often as a halloween read, i think this one would be a better summer read. classic gothic tale, FUCK uncle charles, fuck the villagers, i hope merricat and constance live a nice life (this was probably the wrong takeaway but...)

old wounds by logan-ashley kisner – trans YA horror about a beast in the woods that only eats girls. loved having two trans protagonists and love the whole being stuck out in the woods where a cult is trying to feed you to a fucking beast thing but once again i did not completely love the ending with the beast here. one of the protagonists was also quite unlikeable and a bit of a dick which some reviewers noted was quite off-putting, but being a teenager – especially a trans teenager forced to pretend you’re not – sucks and so i give him a pass

🌟 the spirit bares its teeth by andrew joseph white – another trans YA horror, this time with added autism and a period victorian setting. i did not like this one as much as i wanted to and it did not change my life or anything (it also used ‘hung’ instead of hanged and kept repeating ‘write me’ which is. an american thing and which really kept pulling me out of the story) but it was very readable, a good story, i was rooting for the main characters, and it’s nice seeing the possibility of trans love and joy even in a period setting that wants the exact opposite of that.

🌟 “the v*mpire” by p.h. lee – like “parthenogenesis” and “everybody is in the place”, you can go read this one on the reactor website and Frankly I Think You Should Because You’re Reading This On Tumblr. a story about domestic abuse intertwined with mid-2010s social justice culture on tumblr, my jaw just kept dropping.

🌟 never whistle at night edited by shane hawk and theodore c. van alst jr. – an indigenous dark fiction anthology. i started to feel like i was slogging through this one at the midpoint, but i can’t really say why at all – is it the length of the collection? is it because the stories were all of similar length? is it just hard to read a short story collection in a month? but i would not say to let that put you off this. lots of really great stories, very thought-provoking and because there’s a lot of stories in this collection there are a lot of ideas in these pages to chew on (i read this for book club and so there was a lot for us to talk about). i also enjoy the way that different writers change and locate the sites of the same horror. standouts for me were kushtuka, wingless, snakes are born in the dark, behind colin’s eyes, scariest. story. ever, the prepper, sundays, capgras, the scientist’s horror story, and collections. i find capgras, sundays, and collections have particularly stuck with me the most since finishing the collection.

🌟 pet sematary by stephen king – well, this book was fairly problematic in many of the usual and predictable stephen king ways and i went in knowing and expecting that (also surprisingly silly at times – he kept referencing blitzkrieg bop 😭) but good god this man can tell a story. this one was so difficult to keep picking back up because it was so bleak. the horror in this one isn’t so much the scary monsters or even the dead coming back from the pet sematary but the pervasiveness of death and the inevitability of it. you can’t bring your loved ones back no matter how much you want to. this one is really a book about death and grief. not sure i recommend it since it’s got Problems, but it gets a star because of how much this one really sat with me this month

i have not finished either of the british library collections i got from the library but i am also reading holy ghosts, a collection of ecclesiastical horror which hasn’t really scared me at all yet, and dangerous dimensions, a collection of weird fiction about maths and science going wrong, which has actually creeped me out a bit so far

[hyunnie-bunches]

Costume

Genre: fluff, Supernatural AU

Pairing: vampire!Mingyu x reaper!reader

Word Count: 1243

“He lied about having a wife!” You yell at the character on your TV screen, as you reach for another slice of the pepperoni pizza. “How can you possibly-“ You are interrupted by the loud ring of your bell. Reluctantly, you drop the pizza slice back into the box and pause the TV.

Not expecting anyone, you don’t bother fixing your appearance as you head to the door. When you open it, you come face to face with the grinning visage of your boyfriend. The smile quickly fades and is returned by a frown as he looks you up and down, taking in your messy bun, sweatpants, and an oversized shirt. His faded Rolling Stones shirt, incidentally, which he had gotten during their first American tour in 1964.

“Mingyu?” You ask, the confusion in your voice evident as you stare at the all-black outfit he has on, including a cape that is trailing behind him. To complete his look, he is caked in makeup that would even creep you out had he not been giving you puppy dog eyes at the moment.

“Y/N~~” He whines. “You aren’t dressed up!”

“Uhhh-“ You rack your brain to figure out why today would be relevant, but your brain is still sluggish from shock. Mingyu saves you from your misery though as he explains, “Halloween? The Day of the Dead? The one night of the year when being weird is celebrated?”

You quirk your eyebrow. “I see. Don’t you think we’re, I don’t know, a little old for that?”

Mingyu gasps in what you can only assume, or hope, is fake horror, and says, “You did not just say that! Halloween, like most things of value in life, does not have an age limit.”

“Right. And you’re dressed as…a reaper?” You say, catching sight of the unnecessarily realistic-looking scythe leaning against the doorframe.

A brilliant smile graces his lips again. “Yes!” He grabs the scythe and walks into your apartment. “And, since I anticipated this unfortunate turn of events, I took the liberty to prepare a costume for you as well!” Out of seemingly nowhere, he pulls out a store-bought costume packet and presents it to you as though presenting a precious jewel.

“Sexy Vamp Girl?” You question, reading off the text on the packet.

Mingyu’s smile dims just the slightest and he shrugs. “Well, I admit the thought that you may not have a costume only crossed my mind about an hour ago and so I had to make do with what was available.” He pauses. “And you have to admit, it’s kinda funny if you’re a vampire and I’m a reaper. You know, because I’m actually a vampire and you’re actually a reaper.” You shake your head at his ridiculous sense of humor, but can’t help the smile that threatens to spread across your lips at his genuine excitement.

“Come on, Y/N! It’ll be fun, I promise.” He passes the packet to you and shuffles you in the direction of your bedroom. “Just go change.”

When you emerge 5 minutes later, the only words to leave your mouth are “Absolutely not.”

Mingyu looks up from where was nibbling on a slice of pizza, and gives you a once over. Before he has a chance to say anything, you continue, “I look utterly and completely ridiculous.” The dress in the bag was not only so short that it barely covered your ass, but it was also so cheaply made that it looked borderline cartoonish. The fake fangs and uncomfortably sticky blood that was trailing down your jaw didn’t help either.

“You look fine.” Mingyu placates. “What’s the problem?”

You give him an incredulous look. “What’s the problem? The problem is that you look like you spent hours of time and effort and money on your costume and I look like I came up with mine in 15 minutes.”

“Which…is exactly what happened.”

You scowl. “But I don’t what everyone to know that that’s what happened. We look like we wouldn’t even talk to each other, let alone go anywhere together.”

Mingyu smirks, “Are you jealous I look better than you?”

You cross your arms and narrow your eyes at him. “Need I remind you that it is not me, but you, who wants to go our tonight and you are not helping your case by teasing me.”

Mingyu’s smirk doesn’t fade but he says, “Fine, fine. We can work with this, okay?” He walks towards you and looks at the costume again, thinking. “Do you happen to have a black or red dress? As long as we keep the fake blood and fangs, you should still be recognizable as a vampire.”

With a frown on your face, you walk back to your closet. After some serious rummaging, you dig up an old red dress with black mesh over it. Lifting it up for Mingyu to examine, you ask, “How about this?”

The dress had been one of those online purchases that looked amazing on your laptop, and significantly less amazing in person. But it was better than what you were currently wearing, and the somewhat old and tattered looking mesh was almost making the dress more appropriate for Halloween night.

“Hmmm” Mingyu hums, considering, “This could work. Wanna try it on?”

You do, and after some additional styling, you have to admit you don’t look too bad. The fangs, Mingyu insists, have to stay, but you manage to convince him to replace the sticky fake blood with your own (Pro #837 of being a supernatural creature: super fast healing). Once you look appropriately bloodied and have covered your face in makeup similarly spooky to Mingyu, you finally declare yourself ready to leave.

“So where are we headed?” You ask Mingyu, as you grab your phone and keys.

The instant change in Mingyu’s expression has your guard rising. “Mingyu?”

“Well…so the thing is, maybe I didn’t really make a plan for the night?” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

You let out a sigh that could be exasperation or resignation. “Outrageous.” You mutter. “An hour and a half to acheive this-“ You gesture at yourself, “-and it’s all a waste.”

“It’s not a waste!” Mingyu starts, “Y/N. Tonight’s the spookiest, most active and least suspicion arousing night of the entire year. The world is our oyster! We can spook twenty somethings going to parties, pretend to work at a haunted house, steal candy from right under parents’ noses… basically, just use our abilities to cause some much needed choas without raising any suspicion.”

You eye him skeptically.

“Or we could meet everyone else at Seungkwan’s place and marathon scary movies.” He adds.

In an instant, everything clicks and you ask dryly, “Let me guess, there is a costume competition involved.”

“Maybe.” Mingyu says noncommittally, “or maybe I just like dressing up for Halloween.”

“You’re an idiot.” You say with a shake of your head, though the amusement is clear in your voice, and move to head out, Mingyu trailing behind you.  “And you better hope I don’t get worst dressed or you’re in for it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You know Jihoon is going to put in half the effort you did. AND-” He runs to catch up with you. “-his makeup skills are nowhere near as good as yours.”

“You know I can tell when you’re buttering me up, right?”

He gives your a devilish smile. “Is it working?”

“Of course it is.”

[acsversace-news]

Warning: This recap of the “A Random Killing” episode of The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story contains spoilers.

Horror loses its bite when we learn too much about the villain. It’s not just that the unknown is always scarier than the known, it’s that we can’t help but develop a grudging empathy for a killer the more we get to know them. After Monster laid bare Aileen Wuornos’s many tragic tribulations before her serial killings, it became easy to forget she was a terrifying death-bringer for certain innocent people. Or in fiction, was there ever a bigger blunder than Rob Zombie attempting to explain Michael Myers’ childhood to us in the Halloween remake? Shockingly, finding out that The Shape had been bullied as a child completely robbed him of his terrifying, shark-like unknowability. But what happens when the reverse occurs, and a complex, borderline sympathetic villain is suddenly stripped back and streamlined into a dark void? Horror returns.

Three episodes in and it’s clear that Gianni Versace himself is only a side character in what is ultimately the horror saga of Andrew Cunanan’s crimes. But where the premiere introduced Cunanan as a verbal, witty, clever, and deeply troubled person motivated by jealousy and longing, this week reframed him as a straight-up horror movie slasher. His motives were opaque and unpredictable, his methods bizarre and hard to explain. I was terrified. Is there a chance the American Crime Story subtitle contains a typo? This week The Assassination of Gianni Versace was suddenly much closer in tone and effect to Ryan Murphy’s American Horror Story. Which is to say, “A Random Killing” was one of the most disturbing episodes of TV I’ve seen in a while. Let’s talk about it!

We began with two women hawking perfume on the Home Shopping Network in the mid-’90s.

The perfume was ingeniously called “Pheromone,” and its mastermind was one Marilyn Miglin, the IRL baroness of a Chicago-area beauty empire. She was played here by the great Judith Light, who had been mercifully freed of her Transparent wig and personality. Judith Light was INCREDIBLE in this episode, which — though it was about the two murders Cunanan committed prior to Versace’s — centered the story around this woman and how she coped when her husband was murdered.

After her husband failed to pick her up from the Chicago airport, Marilyn arrived at her ominously empty house and recruited some neighbors to help check the place out. But from the long, tense tracking shots of the all-white, fancy home, we knew something was wrong. A stranger had been there. But what kind of maniac would leave ice cream out on the counter? The police definitely needed to be called! (Also there was a corpse in the garage.)

We then flashed back a week and met Marilyn’s husband, Lee, a well-respected and enormously successful commercial real estate developer. Right away we could tell the two adored each other, but in a married-my-best-friend kind of way. Lee was probably not interested in doing sex with Marilyn, but they definitely held hands in bed. We should all be so lucky!

Anyway, while Marilyn was away on her work trip, guess who swung by for a visit? Yep, Andrew Cunanan dropped in unannounced, and we gathered that Lee had hired Cunanan as an escort in the past. And though Lee clearly tried to be a gentleman toward his young companion, Cunanan took matters into his own hands. And in this case those matters were duct tape, a bag of concrete, and eventually a screwdriver.

Aside from brutally murdering older men, Cunanan loves to give a speech while doing so. In this case he monologued about how Lee was a powerful man attempting to build the tallest building in the world, but now Cunanan had power over him. So whereas we mayhave believed that Cunanan’s murders had been opportunistic, or methods for him to gain quick cash and stolen cars… It was now clear he was excited by the idea of destroying powerful men as a way of elevating his own status. Dark, dark stuff. And this extended sequence of torture and murder was one of the less pleasant things I’ve ever seen on TV. Poor Lee.

Rather than show you all that violence, let’s just settle for this image of Cunanan stabbing a honey-glazed ham! Think of it as sort of a metaphor for what had just happened in the previous scene.

Anyway, back to Marilyn. Her whole thing was, she was a sharp, professional woman who wanted the investigation undertaken in the most efficient manner possible. She verbally itemized every item Cunanan had stolen from their home, and vehemently denied any knowledge of why Cunanan had surrounded her husband’s corpse in gay porn rags. The killer must’ve brought them, duh.

I also liked this strange moment when the investigators were asking Marilyn questions but she just wanted to talk about her son’s burgeoning movie career. It’s almost poignant how in the midst of this tragedy she was still trying to maintain her composure as a strong businesswoman and image protectress.

But of course, eventually she crumbled and gave a moving (and convincing) speech about how much she loved her husband, and that it HAD been a genuine marriage, despite whatever his leanings were. They’d been best friends and partners and each other’s support systems. And it goes without saying that Judith Light’s work was devastating in this episode. Hope she still has space on her mantel for more trophies, because dang.

Meanwhile, Cunanan was driving around in Lee’s stolen Lexus, and browsing local Versace boutiques, which in my opinion is foreshadowing. But he soon realized that the built-in car phone was giving his location away whenever he passed a cell tower. It was time to find some new wheels!

And unfortunately for the poor undertaker who drove by Cunanan in a pickup, red was Cunanan’s favorite vehicle color!

Next thing we knew, he was following the man back to his mortuary, leading him into the basement at gunpoint, and then, well, you know. Truly heartbreaking. I have to be honest with you, I am not a fan of Andrew Cunanan.

We then ended with this moving scene, when Marilyn Miglin returned to the Home Shopping Network airwaves and memorialized her husband while clutching a bottle of her perfume. And while the juxtaposition of mixing pathos with consumerism could have been a salient satirical point, Judith Light’s pained emotions made it just simply devastating. In a series ostensibly about one famous murder, it’s clear Cunanan destroyed so many more lives than just Versace’s.

“A Random Killing” also served to make the point that many of the gay-related details of Cunanan’s crimes were swept under the rug in order to maintain reputations. Marilyn Miglin actively sought to prevent the press from knowing that her husband had known Cunanan prior to the murder, and while one can understand the protectiveness a victim’s family might have, it was this kind of public discomfort with gay men that hobbled Cunanan’s swift apprehension. Just another frustrating element to what has become an increasingly American horror story. (Get it? Like the show.) Great, if deeply unpleasant, stuff.

[amplesalty]

Halloween 2020 - Day 24 - Drag Me to Hell (2009)

Don’t fuck with Gypsies

Sam Raimi’s name came up the other day by virtue of all the named characters in Night of the Creeps and it’s been a little while since he’s featured around these parts. Obviously that was due to the Evil Dead trilogy but aside from that I’ve obviously seen his Spider-Man movies and Darkman as well. Today it’s one of his more recent directoral turns, even if it was all the way back in 2009. He’s only really done Oz the Great and Powerful since then but is due to helm the Doctor Strange sequel in a couple of years and apparently that has a much greater horror aspect to it. It is titled ‘The Multiverse of Madness’ so I think that’s where all these stories about the returning Spider-Men are coming from. I’m just looking forward to J.K Simmons being back in the next Spidey with that whole Alex Jones esque take on J.J Jameson.

There seems to be some debated over strictly how horror this is and how much it delves into that horror comedy genre and I guess a lot of that comes down to it being Raimi. Just look at how wacky those Evil Dead movies turned out and how they tried to take it back to a more serious tone in the remake, going by reputation on that though as I still need to see that one. I think it undoutebly has a lot of comedic elements to it, we’re not talking Bruce Campbell giving out one liners and chewing scenery or anything as the characters are played pretty straight but a lot of the events play out in often very exaggerated ways.

It gets pretty borderline cartoony and slapsticky at times, like at one point Chrstine literally drops an anvil on someones head like this is a Looney Tunes cartoon and their eyes fly right out of their head.

Or the explosive nose bleed that Christine suffers. I love how shocked and offended her boss gets as he yells at her to stop like it’s her own choice in the matter or something.

Plus there’s the early fight scene between Christine and the gypsy woman who somehow turns from this sickly, frail old woman into a raging beast. And the spirit that dances a merry jig during the séance scene or Christine stumbling through a funeral and knocking the corpse over which proceeds to then vomit up intestinal fluids directly into her mouth. I don’t know if even Ben Stiller goes for that level of awkward and gross in his movies.

This isn’t a particularly kind movie the gypsy community either, telling an age old tale of how crossing someone can lead to a curse being put upon you that will summon a demon after three days that will literally drag you to hell. See, clue is in the name. The example we get at the very start is a small boy who steals a necklace from someone but all that Christine did was turn this old lady down for a mortgage extension. I’m not sure that’s enough justification to curse someone to death, or does this lady just bust this out to everyone that inconveniences her? “Cut in line at the checkout? I curse you!”

After seeing A Quiet Place recently, this feels very much like one of those polar opposite movies that I mentioned in that where it’s just constant loud noises and startling images designed to shock you as this curse manifests itself more and more in Christine’s life,rattiling her pans, smashing her windows or having the old ladies handkerchief fly onto her windshield and nearly make her crash.  I’m not sure on how the mechanics of this curse work in that regard, is it always actively trying to kill her or is it just trying to make her life a misery for those last three days before it does the deed? Because spooking her by making noises in her kitchen or opening her front door is one thing but the old lady’s spirit appears at one point and sticks her hand down Christine’s throat so that’s a step beyond a simple poltergeist.

It’s a fun watch overall, this psychological torture with this curse playing on Christine’s mental state and her escalating level of bargaining to try and get out of this curse mixed with the more over the top imagery. Like the sceance where Christine has to scrounge together $10,000 to try and get the curse lifted and everything is taking place in this opulent, grand setting that is all dark and moody but suddenly the tension is cut by the arrival of a shrieking goat meant to be the sacrificial lamb so to speak.

I like the finale too. You have this cool imagery at the end where Christine is in a cemetery and you think she’s overcome the evil spirits at work, emerging from a watery grave with the dirt and filth on her body washed away by the rain set against the backdrop of the rising sun. It’s like a new day is rising in her entire life as the curse is washed away.

Or is it?! I kinda called this ending, though I figured it would be the boyfriend that would suffer the ultimate fate. I’m not sure if that would have maybe worked better, sure a lifetime of guilt is pretty bad but I imagine Hell is much worse.

[borkasaurusrex]

*snuff - TAPE 001 / "Cecillian Heights" / 28 OCTOBER

(so uh HIYA there, Ellie here! This amalgamation of spooks was originally an experiment I wrote around Halloween time last year. It was to see if if I could take a horror-esque found footage thing, and translate that whole feel and business well through a short story. Unfortunately, I pretty much quit halfway through and tucked it away, never to be seen again... ‘till NOW! Thanks to the reassuring words of a friend (*wink* *wink*) I’ve blown the dust off this failure and, almost 3 months later, it’s ready to GO! While the original story was supposed to just be an one-shot, I’m convinced there enough potential here to have a series going! (assuming it’s not as janky as I think it is, anyway) But yeah, please, give it a shot! Sure, it’ll take ya like over an hour to read this chunky boy but I would REALLY love it you’d try it out sometime anyhow!

Cheers ~ ~ ! )

[RECORDING  • ]      

The video starts, displaying a wide-shot of some sort of bedroom: light, beige colours on the walls, darker shades for the floor below. Brown furniture accented, rusted bunk bed a light shade of blue. 

You know, standard stuff.

In front of the room (and, more importantly, the camera) is a man. 

Well, no, not exactly.

A teenager, maybe. Young face adorned with  Asian features, shoulder-length black hair above open grey flannel.  His legs (and everything below the chest) are out of view.

The man, boy, whatever, clears his throat. Then, he speaks:

"My name is Laurence Dexter. And... this, is my video diary."

He doesn't say that last bit with confidence.

"My parents said this would, uhm, help with organizing my thoughts and emotions, as well as having a way to make the memories last. Helping my speech skills, too, would be a, uh, helpful side effect..."

Laurence clears his throat again, adjusting his collar. 

"Today's the day of a very important - "

He stops himself.

" - ah, actually... no. Tomorrow's the project, not today. I'm attending college right now, just... not in any classes. Yet, I mean. Just one more lecture today and... well, I dunno. Might go out later, maybe, or I might not, depending on how long the class goes on. You know how school is..."

Awkward silence, uncomfortable eyes and all. He takes a quick sip from a nearby water bottle and continues:

"Yep, CHC... jealous, huh?"

No response.

"Uh, yeah. Anyway, I, uhm, should get ready. Class is about to start and, you know... don't want to keep them waiting. Right?"

Again, nothing. Laurence sighs, picking up the camera. He holds it high, showing off his good side as well as his room's impeccable carpet. 

"Oh, uh, do you want a tour of the place? I mean, I don't want to go out like this... but, hey. I can show off the rest of my dorm, can't I?"

The camera sways mildly, showing off the depressingly unremarkable dormitory. The voice of its carrier whispers from behind:

"Over here we have a closet - well, one of them, I guess. This one has towels... I think."

Further in the room the shadows are dark, obscuring most of the finer details. Door outlines are still present.

"Over there at the end's the bathroom... don't think I have to explain to you what that's for. Annnd there is another closet, a spare,  probably, for my 'future' roommate... and across from there is I thiiink - "

"BOO!" 

A voice erupts from behind, the shock loosing Laurence's grip as the camera takes a tumble onto the carpet below with a soft thud.

Blackness. Darkness. But not silence, if the sudden burst of bubbly laughter from above is anything to go by. 

And, after, a familiar voice:

"Evie, don't do that!"

His ambusher lets out a high-pitched giggle.

"I didn't mean to make you jump, promise!"

The audio omnidirectionally crackles as it's lifted up, view blurry but slowly coming back into focus.

"Why don't I believe you?" Laurence asks, features distorted by motion.

The camera turns to a new face: pale, round, with large grey eyes thickly defined by eyeliner. Beneath, her mouth turns up in a coy grin.

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiis it because I'm your bestest friend in the existence of ever?"

Behind the screen, Laurence chuckles.

"Maybe. I guess I should know your shenanigans well enough by now, huh?"

Evie's smile grew as he said that. Our flannel-clad hero shifts the camera, zooming out.

"How did you get in here anyway? You're not moving in here until Sunday, aren't you? So... you shouldn't have a key, not yet, anyway..."

Giggle. A small one, like its owner.

"Hmph... I gueeeess I must've found one..."

She smiles at the camera, swinging her arms impishly. Laurence's not amused.

"Alright, where are they?"

"... Where's wh - ?"

The view swings around, towards an ajar closet. Darkness makes it difficult to see anything, but not enough to shadow completely... such as the silhouette of a crouching man's head, for example.

"SVEN!"

The figure slumps into the sunlight, holding out his hands as if he was caught. It reveals a young man, pale-ish, jet black hair slicked up in wavy spikes. He lets out a goofy grin.

"Hey, that's mein name!"

Sven's voice is noticeably accented. German? Austrian? Japanese, maybe. Somewhere in that basic ballpark.

The teenager climbs to his feet, Laurence zooming the camera out.

"And, if you did what I think you did, the door fee will be yours too."

"Ahh, it's just some cheap lock. Ol' Man Shitters won't care. "

"I'm pretty sure if one on the security guards come around and sees the door's lock broken, he'll do more than just - !"

"Ay ay aaay! Picked, not broken. There's a difference!"

The view doesn't break, neither does Laurence's silence. Sven shrugs, innocently.

"What? It's true..." Sven whispers, leaning against the closet door. 

The camera shakes as Laurence moves towards the bathroom, past his smirking friend, shuffling unpredictably. 

"'What ya doin'?" Sven asks, voice muffled from behind, "'Ey Dex, I'm talking to you!"

Likely ignoring him, he continues until he reaches the (probably) wooden door, hidden partially by darkness and nearby posters and family portraits. Laurence's hand appears from below, turning the doorknob. Obviously, he opens it.

On the other side is a porcelain bathroom, bare and boring, almost flawlessly clean... besides the dusty black combat boots resting on top of the oaken sink, anyway. Its owner leaning back in the toilet, however, is a bit cleaner; their black hoodie borderline impeccable, their intentionally torn jeans of similar colour the same. They uncross their arms, smirking with sass.

"You're out of bagels, scrub," she says, voice surprisingly rough.

The camera zooms in closer to her face, going shoulder length, just like their electric blue hair. 

"Why would we keep bagels in here? It's a restroom, isn't it" Laurence asks.

Her grin fades.

"Yeah, whatever..."

The camera stays in place for a series of uneasy moments, the pale female staring at something off-camera. Probably unimportant.

"I don't like it when you guys come over uninvited, you know that," Laurence says. "So, why do you keep doing it? Huh?"

She scoffs loudly, not making eye contact. The cameraman sighs.

"You can't keep doing this. We need to address that."

"And you need to get that stick out of your ass, Dexter. Maybe we should 'address' that instead, huh?"

Silence. The awkward type.

"Jezebel, is there something you need to talk about?"

She turns around, pushing up her glasses.

"No, I'm just... just tired, that's all," she says.

"Tired of what?" Laurence asks.

She grins the same as she did only a few moments ago.

"I don't know; I was hoping by now I would've found out already..."

After a brief bit of pattering from the hallway behind, the camera zooms out considerably, just in time for the rest of the group to make their way into the room. 

As the hyperactive Evie is making small talk inaudibly near Jezebel's throne, Sven struts ahead, staring directly at the lens.

"Did ya talk to Jizzie?" he asks, hand on hip.

"Yeah, kind of," Laurence responds, "She seems...  stressed. I was hoping I could speak to her a bit more, actually, before I forget. So, uh, if you don't mind - " 

"Actually, I do mind," Sven grins, "We've got a full day ahead of us, man. If you want to play therapist with the human equivalent of a crocodile, do it on yer own time, 'kay?"

He turns around, but not before Laurence calls out, "Wait, what do you mean "we've got a full day ahead of us?' I have classes I have to go to, you have classes to go to. We can't just - "

Sven stops, tutting. "Change of plans. We're, uh, going out to lunch. Cap'n's waitin' outside."

"Oh," he adds, "And turn that camera off, Dex. You look ridiculous."

"I, uh... oh, okay," Laurence mutters, the camera's view swinging down to the floor. 

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY] 

~-~

[RECORDING • ]      

The video starts, displaying what looks like the backseat of a messy van, everything but its occupants some various shade of brown. The camera, and car to some degree, rock back and forth, probably driving down some bumpy road. The camera pans around briefly, showing to the left is Jezebel, staring absently out the window, faint punk music leaking from her earphones. 

The view suddenly shifts right drastically, onto the smiling face of Evie. 

"Can I try?" she asks, excitedly. 

"I, uh, I don't know if that would be - " Our cameraman tries to say, stuttering, but stops as Evie begins to pout, making whining puppy-dog noises. 

"Awww, pwease?" she begs, face close to the lens.

"- uhm... okay, okay, fine. But please, don't break - " 

"Ah, don't worry about it! I won't, promise!" she says, taking the camera, view jerking fiercely. It slows to a calm, coming to a halt on a zoomed-out Laurence. 

"Hey, c'mon, smile! You're on caaaamera!" Evie says singsongy, zooming in further on her friend, his face smiling nervously, hand on back of head.

"Hehe," he chuckles, "You're doing great, Evie, but... if you don't mind, can I have the camera back no - ?"

"Hey, hold up!" a familiarly accented voice from off-camera yells, "You've got the camera? Pass it up, girl, c'mon!"

Everything wrenches around violently, audio scrunching loudly as only faint chestnut brown blurs can be seen. After a moment it steadies, showing an outstretched road from behind glass, a dusted dashboard below it, a small blonde bobblehead in blue jerking about on top of it with a big ol' thumbs up. 

"Heyheyhey, give that - " Laurence tries to say off-camera, but if falls on deaf ears.

"'Ey Cap'n, smile!" Sven mimics Evie, panning to the left, "You're on caaaamera!"

The view shifts towards the driver: a big man, made even bigger by his puffy khaki jacket. His skin is tan, anchor goatee and quiff a faded shade of black. He glances towards the camera briefly, annoyed. 

"Not if I throw it out the window first..." the man turns his eyes back at the road, growling.

"WoahwOAHNODON'TDOTHAT," Laurence yells from behind, camera jolting hard.

"EYEYEYEY, I'M NOT DONE YET, MAN!" Sven almost shrieks, lens shaking so ferociously that everything becomes a pale blur. 

"COME ON, DON'T BREAK IT!" 

"I'M NOT GOING TO BREAK IT, DUMBASS, I JUST WANNA - "

"JESUS CHRIST YOU TWO, I'M DRIVIIIING!"

The sound crackles like mad, vague silhouettes of people and things barely visible through the chaos.

 And suddenly... a sharp click!, and everything goes black.  

[/STANDBY] 

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, showing the inside of what is undoubtedly a Halloween store. Various packaged costumes (all adorned with awkwardly posing skimpy women) line the shelves nearest, a large "spooky" sign above reading "Look what's NEW!", barely visible through dim lighting. The camera pans around, the tightly packed aisle ahead empty, except for a particularly giddy teenage girl anyway.

"Oh!" Evie gasps, pulling a cheap bow tie down from a shelf, "Hmm... d'ya think I should use this black tie or - oh! - maybe that one could work too ...!"

"Doesn't it need to look like a bat? The tie, I mean," Laurence says off-camera.

"Yeah, but... well, I was thinking," Evie turns around, eyes down in thought, her bright hair the exact shade of the orange decorations behind. "Could we use one of these, like, to start, and make the whole thing from there?"

Laurence pauses. "... Probably not. It might just be easier to make it from scratch, if you really think about how long it would take to work from something like, well, that...," Laurence's hand pointed at a nearby accessory. "I'm sure Jezebel could whip something up before Halloween, if you ask nicely..."

"hEY, I don't do requests!" The view jolts up, Jezebel suddenly towering behind her far-shorter friend. "Commissions, though... I might be down with."

"Speakin' of "gettin' down", guess what I found in the back?" Sven pops out from behind, spangled (and still tagged) top hat on his head. "C'mon! Guess!"

Jezebel's eyes narrow. "What? Your dignity?"

"Hah!" Sven pats her arm. "Close!"

"Oh OH! Lemme guess!" Evie raises her hand tall, barely high enough to reach Jez's shoulder. "Is iiit... hmmm... maybe! Oh, wait nonono, that wouldn't be in this kinda store... oh! Maybe it's = !"

"It's a condom," The large Latino man from before appears from behind,  arms carrying dozens of bags, coats, and packages, high enough that it almost hides his jacketed chest. "Lots of them, actually."

"Dammit, Cap'n!" Sven gasps, putting a hand on his chest dramatically. "I thought we were friends, better than this! How could you betray your dearest comrade, after everything we've been through?"

The man, Captain, shrugs. "Guess I was bound to at some point. Nothing personal."

Sven laughs loudly, slapping his larger friend's arm. "Ah, of course it's not! It's... how do you say it? Collateral damage?"

"It's more like "altruistic homicide", but whatever works for you," Captain turns around and begins walking off, Sven hurriedly following behind. Evie even rushes off after them, leaving two behind.

Jezebel cranes her head to the side, visibly put off as she stares forward.

"Why do you have that thing out?"

"Huh? What thing?"

"You know 'what thing'," she says, crossing her arms, "The camera."

"Oh. Well... it's uh..."

"Turn it off, Dexter."

"Oh." The camera dips downward, to a white tiled floor. "Okay."

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY] 

  ~-~ 

[RECORDING  • ]    

The video starts, displaying the sunny exterior of a vertical (albeit slightly lopsided) building; one which, judging by its colour scheme and pictures on the windows, is a pizzeria. 

The view is shaky, uneven, as they begin to pace closer to the door, all but the biggest member, the smallest, and the cameraman of their posse absent from view, the other two clutching their coats close as a shield from the harsh autumn air.

"Do you think they still have that...uh..." Laurence's voice mutters,  "What was it called again? Kooky bread?"

A coarse laugh explodes out of Sven, an elderly man strutting nearby's eyes widen in shock.

"KRAAAAAAZY BREAD! You gotta say it like that. Like that one ad did. The one with that weird shite in it."

"Oh!" Evie's voice pips from behind, "You mean the one with, uhm, the wrestler, right? The silly one with the... taco, on his head? Yeah?"

"Ja, the wrestler! I remember the one! Seems strange to have a pizza ad with some sorta Rey Mysterio wannabe taco dude in the center of everythin', but eh," Sven chuckles, "At least the bread's sick..."

Jezebel groans. A leather-clad couple with matching scarves walking into focus, disappearing just as quickly. 

"Ugh, your taste is sick," she tucks her head away, whispering under her breath, "At least have standards, Jesus tap-dancing Christ..."

"Ay ay, just 'cause I have the best palette in all the werld doesn't mean ya have to be jealous, now does - ?" Sven stops, turning himself towards the camera, noticing that he's being filmed. He grins widely, the doors of the pizzeria (the name "The Hairy Italian" barely visible through the smudged glass and obnoxious font) directly behind. 

"Ya gettin' my good side? Ah, who am I kiddin'..." He shrugs his shoulders. "I've got nothin' but good sides..."

Jezebel turns her attention forward, hand on hip. "So, what's with the whole recording-everything-we're-doing thing that's going on? Are you, like, bored, or maybe just practicing your Ashton Kutcher impression? It's bad, if that's what's going on. Try being a lil' more punchable next time, if you really want to own the 'Asston Aesthetic'.."

Captain and Evie slip slightly into view, the former muttering, "He might just be trying to record our lives. Maybe." He looks annoyed, at the prospect of waiting so long and probably half a dozen other things.

"Why?" Sven asks, "It's garbage."

The group goes silent. Jezebel and Captain give each other a sideways glance, smirking. "True..."

With a wide shot, the pizzeria's front doors open, the portrait of a typical American family leaving. Sven, being the closest, holds the door open to them. With his messy eyeliner and general look of mischief, it's no surprise the closest he got as a "thank you"was a strained grin.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY] 

~-~

[RECORDING • ]    

The camera jolts to-and-fro fiercely as Laurence slides into the booth, becoming still as the last of the group takes their seats around the (fairly) dirty table.

"So," Sven breaks the silence, propping up his elbow, "A toast? To the hopes of a truly terrifying Halloween?"

"Kinda hard to toast without drinks, surprisingly," Jezebel says lightly.

"Aaah, you're right!" Sven exclaims, waving his hand high in the air, "'EY! CAN WE HAVE SOME SERVICE, PLEASE?!"

A large (seemingly Hawaiian) man wearing the Hairy Italian's red and green uniform slowly strolls into view, looking on the verge of face-palming.

"Zeppeli wants you to stop doing that," the waiter practically croaks, "He says if you do it again he'll castrate you with an used pizza cutter. He sounded quite serious this time."

"I'm sure he did..." Sven chuckles, looking around the table, "Ya mind if I order this time, lads?"

Evie shakes her head smiling, while Jezebel looks a less on-board with the idea. "Whatever..."

"Alrighty then, we'll do a 16 inch Forrest Fire Supreme, add jalapenos. And then extra jalapenos too 'cause we're hardcore like that," he says the last bit with a cheeky smirk, "Oh, and four Wild Weasleys, to wash those flames down... oh, and a vanilla milkshake. For the milkdrinker."

"Asshole..." Jezebel mutters under her breath, to which her Germanic friend let out a quiet chuckle. The waiter looked down at them stoically.

"You know I'm not allowed to serve minors alcohol, Bernstein," the waiter grumbles.

"Well, uh, what if I sweet talk ya? Or let you look at my meme collection?"

"I'm interested in neither of those things."

"Aw, c'mon Gordon!" Sven turns up his eyebrows. "You let us get 'em last time..."

"Reason's simple. Zeppeli wasn't here." Gordon puts his pad back.

Sven cranes over, close enough to the waiter that they look on the verge of kissing. "He doesn't have to knooow ..."

Gordon stops, staring down at the floor and back up to his table. He sighs. "You better tip me extra for this..."

"Aw, thanks dude! You're the best, ya know that?"

"Blow your rectum off, asswipe."

Chuckling to himself as Gordon steps out of view, Sven turns back to his friends... and smiles. "So. What about that toast, huh?"

"Still no drinks, dumbass."

"I know, I know!" Sven leans forward, cupping his hand as if gripping a mug. "Doesn't mean we can't give ourselves a drink in spirit, now does it?

Jezebel places her hand on her forehead, eyes narrow. "Fucking Christ, you're stupid."

"Hey, I don't hear a 'no"!" Sven exclaims, jerking his cupped hand forward and making a clank! sound with his mouth. Jezebel groans.

She looks to her side, directly at the camera with a sour look on her face. Almost immediately, the camera pans downward to the seat of a beaten red booth and part of Laurence's jeaned thigh.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY ]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, a grungy sidewalk ahead made only more so by the grey sky and clouds from above. The camera pans up, enough to see a very large facility: a school, coloured in a way so monotone it makes the lone, faded American flag waving desperately nearby in the wind look saturated by comparison. As the compound approaches, dozens upon dozens of students rush about to get their tasks done, a lot going into the building itself, where an engraved slab of marble reading 'Cecillian Heights College' can barely be read through the crowds and taupe air. 

The view shifts around slightly as it steps onto the campus, faint chatter and laughs can be heard but a loud cough erupts from behind, causing our cameraman to stop.

"Well, here we have the city's shinin' jewel," Sven announces as he walks into view, arms up for dramatic effect, "CECILLIAN HEIGHTS COLLEGE! Truly, a marvel to behold."

"Considering this place's rated the 23rd worst school in the States, it really shows how much the Abodes got to offer..." Jezebel mutters, off-camera.

"True, true," Sven nods as the group continues, strolling down the main sidewalk towards the school's front doors. No one seems to pay them any mind; if they know they're being filmed, they don't really seem to care. 

Sven clears his throat, pointing vaguely left. "'Kay, so... the main library is over theeere, maybe? I've never been there, so I dunno..."

"Surprise, that." Jezebel scoffs.

"The more artsy-fartsy lecture halls are over that way, somewhere..." Sven continues, "And the theater, cultural center, and hipster caves are right there, behind Cecillian Height's very own College Crazy..."

Zooming in, the camera stops on a single hooded figure standing on a wooden crate in front of the rightmost building, waving his arms around dramatically as if conducting some sort of invisible ensemble. Sven can't help but snicker.

"What do you think Amos is talking about today?" Captain asks, beanied head barely in view.

"Bullshit, probably," Jezebel says, "Like every preacher, if we're being honest."

"Ayyyy!" Sven laughs, giving her a fierce high-five.

The camera begins to bob as they continue moving again, passing by dark hedges and various chipping statues. Just as the university's large, unnecessarily regal entrance door comes into view, a hoarse voice can barely be heard, vivid and raving. It is Amos the preacher, and his sermon can be heard:

"The Ancient Eye speaks to me, my companions. Yes, it speaks to all of us, if only one chooses to listen! It speaks thus, of the Prophecy Child once more! She denies the Winged Prophet, claims his presence is that which is wicked. But oh, my brothers, how the opposition is the truth..."

"I like him," Evie says, off-camera, "He seems nice."

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY] 

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, view almost completely blocked except for a sliver of sight, showing off what looks like a rather drab lecture hall. The camera shifts slightly forward, the tops of several students' heads coming into view. Barely over those heads, though, on the floor of the hall is a scarcely visible man dressed in a trench coat. He gestures to the board behind him, a basic slide on display but unreadable. He turns around slowly, the frame bobbing too much to see his face clearly.

"And that's where we come to your assignment. Think of it like... your own personal documentary. While I'm sure it will not be quite on the same level as the works of Vertov or the others, there might be some shining gems among the drabble," he brushes his long brown hair out of his face, continuing, "As this is meant to be more recreational than professional, the rubric you should have on your desk is far more... pliant, than some other projects we will be doing later this year."

The slide changes, still mostly unreadable except for its header, reading 'Local Legend'. 

He continues, "As Halloween is right around the corner, I would prefer you to step aside from merely natural myths and go for the more... "supernatural". Although, honestly, I, the school, and your close family and friends would prefer your project to be more 'Albert Fish' than 'Long Pigs', if you understand my meaning - "

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts in darkness, overwhelmingly loud pop music playing so high that the audio crackles and heaves with every bass drop. Coming up from the darkness, the camera shows a dimly lit room, multicoloured lights barely illuminating the sea of dancing people. The view bobs ahead, slowly at first, but gaining speed as a familiar face is seen among the crowds: Sven, who's visage is mostly concealed by a red Solo cup. He throws it down furiously, waving his hand high above his head as he sees the camera inch closer. Sven laughs loudly, cutting over the silence as the track dies down and a new one begins.

"DEX! Oh Jesus-H-Christ, dude, now my boner's rippling!" He yells over the music, bare arm tightening on a (frankly uncomfortable) Middle Eastern teenager, dark eyes alight with confusion and curiosity.

"Dex, Dex, I want'cha to meet meh boy," Sven giggles, putting his head on the guy's shoulder. "Y'don't mind if I call ya "meh boy", do ya?"

"No... not at all," the boy replies softly, sticking his hand out, "I am Pallab. It is good to meet you, Dex. Or, uh, would you prefer 'Dexter'? Or 'Laurence', perhaps?"

A paler hand comes from out of frame, shaking his. "Same here. Oh, uhm, and Laurence's fine..."

"Annywaaays, enough sittin' 'round..." Sven stands up quick, on the verge of toppling over if not for his friend's hand. "We got busy-ness to take care of! AHVENGERS ASSEMBLE!"

Nothing. He scoffs, shrugging his free shoulder. "Guess we gotta do this the ol' way of fashion, then..."

Sven shoves past the crowds, diving deep out of sights. Pallab rushes off after him, whispering under his breath feverishly. Of course, Laurence follows.

Moving slowly through the crowds, politely pushing people aside or slipping between what few cracks could be found, he enters an opening: what looks like a snack table, a few people scattered here and there but far emptier than before. Sitting underneath a dimly lit red light is Jezebel, trying to chug her drink fast while Sven is plastered to her side, talking wildly as Pallab is trying desperately to keep his pal's balance. Sven's eyes widen with surprise as the camera comes close. He punches Jezebel's arm playfully, spilling her drink oh-so slightly.

"'Eeeeey, Dex, lookit who I found!" he shouts, shaking her shoulder. Saying she is irritated would be an understatement.

"Hey Dexter," Jezebel says, turning to her side, "And, uh... hey, you. Who are you, anyway?"

"Him?!" Sven yells a bit too loudly, shoving his friend forward, "T'is is Kabob! He's my special boy."

"My name is Pallab, actually. It is good to meet you," he says, holding his hand out.

She shakes it, smiling. "Yeah, don't worry about him. He calls me 'Jizzebel' sometimes accidentally, so don't think too hard about it."

"... You think that's an accident?" Sven laughs out loud, Jezebel pretending to ignore him.

Pallab smiles politely.  "What is your name, then?"

"Oh, sorry," she replies, "I'm Jezebel. Jezebel Duclaud."

He stops for a moment, looking lost. "Is... Is that your real name?"

She ignores him, taking a long drink.

The song changes, as does the conversation: "By the way, just, y'know, out of curiosity..." Jezebel says, voice barely audible over the Justin Timberlake track, "Laurence, why are you... well, here?"

"Like 'at the party here'? Or just in general?" Laurence asks.

Jezebel smirks. "Just the first one, for now."

The camera shifts, Laurence's hand barely in view. "Evie says she gave her phone to you at the Halloween store earlier and... well... she kinda wants it back. Not that I'm implying you took it or anything, just - "

"I get it, I get it." Ruffling in her pockets, Jezebel slowly takes out a phone by its earphones, the whole thing covered by a thin orange case with a chibi of a speedy Englishwoman on it, the print giving a lil' cheeky wink.

Jezebel hands it to Laurence sighing. "Of course she plays Tracer. I mean, it should've been obvious..."

"I MAIN GENJI, IF ANYONE CARES ~ !" Sven shrieks over the music.

Pallab takes his hand off Sven, looking confused. "Who's Genji? Are they from The League of Legends? I don't know much about video games but I have grasped enough from YouTube to - "

"We need to have a talk. Later," Sven says with fake anger, overdoing it just a bit.

"On the topic of, uh, talking, I wanted to ask you guys if you wanted to maybe do the DVP project together?" Laurence asks, "I mean, Mr. Davidson did say we could work in groups..."

"Project?" Sven asks, confused, "What project?"

"The urban legend thing, dumbass," Jezebel answers.

"Aoooh, right!" Sven snaps his fingers. "Uh... that'ta thing..."

"You all have the same class together?" Pallab questions, looking around. Everyone ignores him.

"Did you... uh... have anything in mind? That you wanted to do?" Jezebel asks, gripping her forehead.

The camera shifts slightly, as some people stroll across the screen, laughing loudly. "Uh yeah, I do. What about the Borhaven Beast?"

"... the what?"

"Yeah, you're right, that might be stupid. Maybe the Collapsed Bridge then. Y'know, the one near Coch? Or something local might be better, do you think?"

Jezebel closes her eyes tightly, taking a deep breath. "I dunno. You decide."

"What? You don't care?" Laurence asks, to which she shakes her head softly.

"I... uh... do whatever you want, Laurence. I'm... like, not really up to brainstorming right now..."

The music shifts to something a bit more akin to the classics, as Jezebel puts her head back and closes her eyes fully this time. Sven and his special boy seem to have disappeared at some point. When, though, that's the real mystery.

"Tell Captain to help you out, okay? He likes... stupid things..." she mutters, knocking a lone cup over with her boot.

The camera stays there for a moment, as Jezebel curls up as best she can in a metal chair. After realising he's not going to get anywhere, the view shifts downwards, becoming as black as it was before.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, the faded beige and greys of a bedroom familiar, as the camera zooms out to show off Laurence's dorm. Stacks of brown, beaten boxes lay stacked up near the corner, a heaving giant of a man throwing a box down next to the others. He looks confused, wiping sweat from his beanied brow.

"Why are you recording me?" Captain asks, only for Sven to jump up from behind him like a wild jack-in-the-box, grinning madly.

"For the project! Duh!" the shorter man says, grabbing as much of his friend's shoulder as possible, "If we're doing a documentary Blair-Witch-style real horror show here, we need to record everything! And I mean, everything."

"You film me while I'm in the shower,  fucker, you'll see what happens..." Jezebel, lounging on the nearby bottom bunk, draws her thumb across her neck, gritting her teeth. Sven howls with laughter.

The view pans right as the door lets off a loud thud!, making Captain jump.

"Oh fuck, oh shit..." he stumbles quickly towards the door, swinging it open. From the other side a box is carried in, its carrier too short to see behind, but their voice gives it away.

"Oh my gosh, that could've gone sooooo bad!" Evie gasps excitedly, as Captain sighs in relief. "I mean, if I got two boxes this time instead of only one, I would've, like, fell over, huh? Just like 'Oh, I wonder where I'm gonna put this poste - splat! Ooooh, I just got chills... ~"

"At least that's all you got," Laurence says, zooming in on her, "I would have bruised something, if not worse..."

"Aww, I'm sure you'd be great!" she giggles, trying to grasp her box a bit better but it slips out her fingers, hitting the floor hard, resulting in a loud smash!

"Oh," she whispers, covering her mouth, "Whoops."

As Sven helps her salvage what little of the box's things as they can, Captain walks forward into view, crossing his arms. "I think I got it," he says, brow sweating.

"What?" Sven asks, back turned, "Herpes?"

Captain closes his eyes, taking a breath before continuing. "The Borhaven Beast. You know, as the subject. Of our project. The DVP one, I mean."

"Didn't I suggest that yesterday?" Laurence asks, as Captain takes a heavy plop onto a nearby office chair.

"Do you guys know about the Beast? Laurence does - " Captain grunts. " - obviously. The rest of you?"

Jezebel pokes her blue hair into view, her voice accented with a sneer, "The rest of us what?"

Captain sighs. "I'll take that as a "no", then..." He scoots his chair up to the nearby office desk, going on its computer until a browser can be seen, black but unreadable.

Taking a deep breath, Captain reads: "'The Borhaven Beast is an mid-western America urban legend, one that is newer than some legends but still dates back to the 1800s in some records. The myth goes that an older woman, obsessed with mortality and death, wished to avoid the latter entirely. And so, on her death bed, the Devil appeared - "

"Wow. A bit eager, aren't ya Satan?" Sven snorts. Captain ignores him.

" - the Devil appeared, offering her a deal: for every drop of blood she consumed of her fellow species, a day would be restored to her lifespan. She agreed, slaying her bedmaiden and drinking her whole. With her essence and bodily fluids filling her eager form, she hid the corpse within her very self, devouring it whol - "

"Uhhm, you might want to cover your ears or something, Evie," Laurence mumbles, turning the camera towards her, "Don't want to give you nightmares, right?"

"I already have those, silly!" Evie smiles, pulling her legs up in a cross, "I'll be fine! I like stories!"

"Can I continue, please?" Captain asks, brows furrowed. Evie nods.

The camera pans back over to our storyteller, zooming in close. " - it whole. The woman's body seemed to grow younger, but not necessarily youthful. Strength returned, she fled. Over the course of five months hundreds of women, men, and children disappeared from the city, striking fear and despair over its occupants. The handfuls who were left formed a witch hunt, going after the only citizen absent from their party: the woman. They ambushed her home and, in great fright, she fled to the woodlands. She escaped to a ashen cave, one which she hid the bones and inedible components of the victims she consumed. To her dread, however, the hunting party located her hideout and, in a determined flurry, caved in her hideout utterly, trapping the foul woman within for all eternity."

"As time went on," he continues, "so did her hunger until, in an act of desperation, tore her own skin from her back asunder, and feasted upon the blood which dripped from it. The blood, due to her very own corruption, twisted and mutilated her flesh, mutating the once-beautiful vixen into a grotesque demon-being. With only herself to feed on, she awaits those who can free her from her tomb, one which, according to legend, is located in Cecillian Heights' very own Deep Woods. Is it mere fear-mongering to disapprove Satanic involvement, or perhaps something even more sinister...?"

Silence. Captain looks around, smirking at first but that goes away quickly. He shrugs, looking defeated.

"Or maybe it's just stupid bullshit told to keep kids from fucking around in the woods at night. Still, it's more interesting than any other local legend we have. Unless you guys want to do a video on the Blue Trees of Misery?"

"Blue Trees of Misery? What's that?" Evie asks.

"Aren't those just some trees some dumbass spray painted behind the morgue in Coch?" Jezebel asks, looking at Sven, "Didn't we do that?

"New Years, 2014." Sven sighs happily. "Good times."

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, camera jerking to-and-fro as they walk down a lone sidewalk in what appears to be in front of a bank. A single man strolls out, briefcase in hand.

Jezebel walks out in front, Sven and Evie right behind. The bespectacled girl waves her arm above her head, shouting, "Hey! You! Excuse me, but we're college students working on a Halloween project and really need some interview-style stuff to prove our subject is... uh, legit. What do you know about the Borhaven Beast?"

The business man runs his hand through his hair, looking annoyed. "Not much. Just some hocus-pocus bull parents tell their kids, right? Nothing less, certainly nothing more..."

A soft smack! can be heard, and so can Captain. "See? I told you."

"Now, if you'll excuse me..." the business man practically darts out of frame, leaving Jezebel alone. She sighs.

"Ah shit," she says, "And I bought a cool microphone and everything..."

"Should probably, I dunno, use it on the next dude, huh?" Sven says, "The last thing this shitshow of a documentary needs is for our very own narrator sounding like fuckin' garbage, right, Dex?"

"... Huh?" Laurence almost whispers, shifting the camera down to the sidewalk.

Click!

The video starts, camera wideshot on a rugged looking man in flannel, face tough and worn.

"So, what have you heard of the Borhaven Beast? Any... rumours, sightings, mysteries, maybe?"

"I don't know what you're talkin' 'bout," the man growls as he walks out of view. It pans to Jezebel, hands on hip and microphone, shaking her head.

Click!

The video starts with an older woman in a shoulder-view shot, wearing a suit like the first but far more worn.

"Yeah, I've heard a good deal 'bout 'em," the woman says, "Monster beast that wears its skin like a cape, that it does. Even heard 'em say that the devil sometimes wanders int'a neighbahoods come nightfall with the harvest moon sponked right in the dark, pluckin' bad boys and gals from their beds... eats 'em whole, leavin' the bones and stuff scattered 'round the yards... y'know, scary stuff..."

Click!

The video starts, what looks like a homeless man lay sleeping on the sidewalk, head leaned on a bag of garbage. A wooden stick appears from off-camera, stretching slowly across until it lightly pokes the man's thigh.

Nothing happens.

They poke a little harder. The man's eyes jolt awake. He lurches up, making an inhuman sound like a billowing scream.

"SHIT!" Sven screams, the camera going fucking nuts.

Click!

The video starts, camera wideshot on a much younger looking fellow, a ginger teenager. Behind him looks like the fuzzy visage of the Hairy Italian, suggesting a break.

"The one time I've ever seen it, the Beast was, well, pants-shittingly terrifying," he says, "I would know, it had that effect on me. Hard."

"Tell us about it," Jezebel says, off-camera.

"Well, I was... nine, I think?" he says, shifting uncomfortably, "It was late, really late, and I heard this... weird scratching, from downstairs at the back door. The neighborhood had tons of strays walkin' around, though, so I didn't really think much of it... 'till the howling started. Once it started, man... well, it was awful. Like, imagine the worst, most awful thing you can think of, and multiply that by cancer."

Jezebel coughs. "Sounds pretty bad."

"It does, right? Well, yeah, I was pretty scared back then, but I wanted to know what was makin' the sounds. I needed to know. So, I went to the bedroom window, grabbed the curtains, and, prayin' for my life, pulled them open."

"... What did you see?" Jezebel asks.

He frowns, looking straight into the camera. "Nothing."

Click!

The video starts, camera wideshot on another older woman, sitting on a bench right next to a takeout bag of KFC. 

"It's grotesque. Some sort of abomination of man, one that, while not a demon, is absolutely-without-a-doubt demonic. It's... it's something else. It's not a "beast"... it's evil."

Click!

The video starts, the camera shaking violently as the homeless man from before is trying his absolute hardest to run away, the group trying desperately to catch up behind him.

"I'M NOT GOIN' TO DIE YET, D'YA HEAR ME!?" the man screams, hauling ass hard, "NOT NOW, NOT EVER!"

"WE'RE NOT GOING TO HURT YOU, JESUS!" Jezebel yells, off-camera.

Click!

The video starts, camera close up on a middle-aged man's face, eyes distant but somehow alert.

"The people of this city don't believe it's real. They think it's myth, it's superstition. Some idiots even worship that thing, can you believe that?" he sneers, "I know the truth. You'll know the truth, soon enough...

It zooms in closer, the man's worried expression filling up the screen. He gulps.

"... You'll all know, heh, I reckon..."

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, camera a wide-shot of the dorm from before, in what looks like from the bottom bunk bed's perspective. Captain is in frame, sitting in the desk chair from before, deep in thought.

He shifts his weight, the chair making a low squeaking sound. "So, the Borhaven Beast have a cult. You guys knew this about this?"

"Like, a cult following?" Laurence asks, off-camera.

"No, I mean a legit actual cult," he says, turning around to face the computer, "They're called the 'Bridge Beyond'. Small group, formed around nine years ago or sometime around that. Founded by their current leader, Treton Hewitt. They seemed wacked out of their fucking minds but they know a lot about what we're looking for. Should we give them a call?"

"You think some delusional cultists have a phone number?" Jezebel asks, also off-camera.

"I know they do. It's right here, on their home page," Captain says, pointing to the screen, "Local number too, so it's not anything shady like a disposable one."

"What are you waiting for then?" Sven questions, popping into frame, "Let's ask them some shit!"

Captain takes out a bogstandard smartphone from his jacket pocket, dialing in a series of numbers and putting it to his ear, a faint ring...! ring...!  can barely be heard. He opens his mouth to say something until his eyes dart open, leaning towards the receiver.

"Oh! Uh, hello there. How are you?" he waits a few seconds for a response, but obviously doesn't get any. "Well, me and my friends are doing a Halloween project about local legends here and decided to focus ours on the Borhaven Beast. I... uh, yes, I'm being serious... uhm... yeah, I get it... well... uh, look: we just want to maybe talk to one of you guys. You know, find out the truth of the legend by the, uh, experts... I... uh, yeah, I understand. No, don't worry, I've got it... alright, cool. Thanks."

He hangs up, slipping the phone back in his pocket. He looks up, smirking.

"Uh... guess who's got a Starbucks date with a cultist?" 

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, camera shaking mildly in what looks like Captain's van. His head can just barely be seen in the driver's seat, Sven right next to him, talking about something inaudibly but passionately. The car jerks to the side hard, Evie making a soft squeaking sound off-screen.

Sven turns around, seeing the camera. He grins, slicking his hair back. "Und so, after a chat with the head of a murderous cult, we travel to meet him personally, unaware if we'll ever come out again, alive, or dead..."

"... You know you're not the narrator, right?" Jezebel asks, view shifting to her on the left, "I am. Remember?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, panning back to him, "Just tryin' to set the mood, that's all."

She sneers, as the van comes to a harsh stop, causing Sven to bob forward and almost slam his head against the windshield. Almost. "Well, here we go!" he shouts loudly, thrusting open his door and leaping out. Captain does the same.

The view shifts harshly as Laurence gets out the car, dark at first but the bright sun above takes the camera a second to readjust. It jerks upward, as they began to move towards a large brick building, accented with green and and black, bold white letters spelling STARBUCKS COFFEE below a row of metal lights. The group, ahead of Laurence, make it to the door first, Evie staying behind the rest to hold the door open for her friend. Laurence steps through, camera shifting to her pale, smiling face.

"Thanks, Evie," Laurence says, as her grin grows.

"You're welcome!" she exclaims, grabbing Laurence's arm and dragging it into view, "C'mon, Laurie! They're gonna start already if we don't hurry up. Let's gooo!"

She jerks him forward, trying to keep the camera as still as possible while being dragged by a 5 foot tall girl in a crowded coffee shop. They shove past groups of people, making their way through the rich brown coffee shop until they reach an opening, the rest of their group starting to take seats at a table near the back, one with an unknown brown-haired stranger. As they walk closer, Jezebel leans over from behind Captain, gesturing forward.

"Are you recording?" she asks. Laurence must have nodded, as she takes her custom microphone out of her sweatshirt pocket, plus a crumpled up paper that unfolds to show what looks like notes. She closes her eyes, drawing in a breath... and begins.

"We're here with maybe our most prized interview yet. The expert, no, master, on everything to do with the Borhaven Beast hands-down. Ladies, gentleman, and everything between and beyond, I present you: Treton Hewitt. Anything you wanna start with, Tret? You don't mind with me calling you Tret, do you?"

"No, not at all," he, the man smiles, leaning back in the wooden chair. He looks almost ageless; definitely younger, but not anywhere near the age of the students. He adjusts his overcoat over his chest, almost like he's trying to tighten it. "Although I ask, if I may, to call me by Mr. Hewitt around our peers, or the Overseer, actually, would be better."

She silently chuckles, not able to help herself. If Treton notices, he doesn't react. "Let's start off with something I'm sure a lot of people are wondering right about now," Jezebel continues, "Why worship, well, a myth? Some local legend meant to frighten children late at night? It seems a bit... what word did you use, Evie? Silly?"

"Yeah, silly," Evie repeats softly, off-camera. Treton smiles vaguely towards her direction, returning back to Jezebel almost instantly. "Could not the same thing be said of other religions? Christianity, Islam? Their gods were never truly seen, only their effects... and their prophets. And like Jesus or Muhammad... I am here. The One Above gave me the sight to see my mission, to lead their disciples unto their embrace... and so far? I have delivered, undoubtedly. Unlike "God"... that it not fiction. It is fact."

He goes silent for a moment, staring off into the ridges and grooves of the wooden table. Jezebel clears her throat, looking down at her notes. "It says here that your cult - "

"Disciples," he interrupts, "We are disciples of the Higher Plane, not a cult."

"... alright then, your "disciples" don't call it the Borhaven Beast, do you?" she continues, "You call it the... "One Above", is that true?"

"It is," Treton answers, running his hands through his slicked-backed hair, "The title this city call them... the One Above is no "beast", they are a being of the Higher Plane, a realm undetectable by the mortal eyes or senses... they are far beyond what we as humans can comprehend. In order to pass into the true afterlife, one must exercise discipline, and strip themselves of human wants and desires. They weaken us, removing the spiritual bond we all possess the capacity for but rarely achieve. That is what we do. It is what we practice. It is.. us. And you too, if your eyes open truly."

Jezebel laughs awkwardly under her breath, looking visibly uncomfortable. "Heh heh, okay.  Well, not that much more in here except a few... smaller stuff. What's a day in the life like for a disciple of the... God Above?"

"The One Above," he corrects harshly, sitting up, "And, as I said before, we practice purging ourselves of human errors. For example, everything is organised perfectly, and without fault. Our clothing rules are lenient, but must follow a set of guidelines or risk imperfection. The facilities must be cleaned a certain way, using specific brands or often without them altogether. Interactions with fellow disciples can be friendly and fun but not to the extent of becoming overly-emotional, as base emotions are, as figured, overwhelmingly human. Even our meals have to be served a certain way, using ingredients certified and chosen for us, removing any chance of blunder. We take this all very seriously by the way, if that is not at first obvious. We kicked out a disciple a few months ago, actually, for preparing three extra strips of bacon than what is standard for morning meals."

"... You're joking."

"No. As I said before, this is serious," he explains, "Excess is, of course, human, and humanity is not tolerated by the Higher Plane. Even if the excess is of something as tasty as, say, bacon, this was not acceptable by any means."

"You lot eat bacon?" Sven asks, barely in view, "Aren't cults like all vegans or something?"

"Of course we allow bacon," he says, smiling, "We are not monsters."

Jezebel mutters something inaudible. Treton's smile wavers a little.

"How about we show you?" he asks. A bit of silence for a moment, with his eyes darting between those seated.

The frame shifts slightly to Jezebel, who asks, "... show us what?"

"That we are not monsters," Treton replies, camera moving back to him, "You see, as a... well, fairly new religious formation in the 21st Century, we are constantly under siege by the nonbelievers and their taunts, fueled by nothing but untrue rumours and assumptions based entirely around stereotypes. This... project, of yours. It could prove to these toxic individuals exactly what is going on within our people, clean of the poison and filth of the misunderstanding... please. Please, be our guest, just for a day! That is all we, the disciples, ask of you. Please... please!"

Silence. Only for a moment, though, as Jezebel breaks it.

"... Okay," she murmurs, camera zooming in on Treton's wide grinning face. "Alright, fine. We'll... uh, go. What time would be good for you?"

He doesn't reply. Instead, closing his eyes, letting out a heavy breath of relief, "... Finally..."

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, camera shaking as they approach a large beaten brown van, various logos and similar prints stuck to the sides and back, the only visible one near the front, its font and look resembling an early Fallout logo. Still, due to the darkness of night and the huge lack of lights outside, it's difficult to tell. As they get closer to the van it beeps softly, as Captain walks into view, pulling out a pair of keys and making his way to the back. Jezebel moves into frame, towards the seen passenger door and swinging it open, revealing what it undoubtedly Captain's van.

"You want to squeeze between Laurence and Evie, dude?" she asks, looking at someone off-camera.

"I'll just jump in the back, thanks," Pallab from the party steps in view, arms crossed.

"You do know there's, like, no seats back there, right?" Sven asks, off-camera.

"Oh," he mutters, "I guess I'll sit between the two you said before, then."

"Coolio," Sven grins. "Evie, do your thing."

"Alrighty!" Evie quickly walks into view, jumping into the van and scooting as far right as she can. She waves her arms in quickly, yelling something that gets cut off by the sound of the back slamming shut. The camera shakes wildly as Laurence gets into the car, everything muffling intensely for a few seconds until it, slowly, turns to the left, just in time to see Pallab pulling himself in, the lights and bare silhouette of Cecillian Heights College in the background. He's practically squishes up against the camera, as a soft click! can be heard from below.

"Sorry... I hope you're not claustrophobic," he whispers, as the sound of more doors shutting explodes from the left.

"Me too," Laurence chuckles awkwardly, as Pallab pulls away, just in time to see Captain and Sven in the front seats, throwing on their seat belts and slamming their doors to a close. Everything slowly goes dark as the car revs up to a start, the faint dashboard lights barely offering anything.

"Is everything ready? Does everybody got their bags?" Captain asks.

"You put them in the back, stupid," Sven says, to his right.

"Ah... right."

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts in darkness, passing lights from outside giving little illumination. Jezebel takes her phone out, barely visible from behind Pallab but enough to shine out a bit.

The camera turns to the front as Sven pokes his head out from ahead. "You guys want anything? There's a Mickey D's at the next exit and I need an excuse."

"Mickey... Mickey what?" Pallab asks, the view shifting towards him but quickly back towards the front.

"McDonalds, Kabob. Uncle Sam's best friend," Sven snickers. "SO! Any requests?"

Click!

The video cuts ahead, camera panning from the left, Pallab asleep. Faint generic metal music can be heard from the front, but it gradually begins to fade out. Jezebel can't be fully seen but it looks like she's tapping her fingers on her thigh, to a completely different rhythm.

"Well, sounds like your turns over, Cap'n," Sven says, view shifting rapidly to their side of the car, "Who gets to rock out now? Kebob?"

"I think he's asleep," Laurence whispers softly, zooming in on his snoring face as if to make sure. Sven laughs.

Click!

The video cuts forward, camera vibrating as loud dance music explodes from out of the speakers, Sven juking and jiving in his seat, while Captain dances with his shoulders as much as he can without taking his hands off the wheel. The track goes silent, Pallab rolling over in his sleep. It continues almost half-a-second later, returning just as strong.

"Who are these people? I just woke up in my, underwear ~" Sven sings, along with the track, "No liquor left on the shelf, I should prob'ly intro-duce myself ~"

"You shoulda seen what I wooore, I had a cane and a, party hat," he sings, waving his hands around wildly, "I was the king of this hooologram, where there was no such thing as getting out of haaaaaand ~ !"

The camera turns to the right as Evie sings along too, "Memories tend to just pop-UP, drunk pre-meds and some rubber gloves, five thousand people with design-er drugs, don't think I'll ever get enough ~ !" They harmonise surprisingly well. "Don't think I'll ever get enough!"

View shifts back just in time for Sven to do a fake air guitar, and then for the beat to drop, "CHAMPAGNE, COCAINE, GASSSOLINE! AND MOST THINGS IIIINBETWEEN! I ROAM THE CITY IN A SHOOOOPING CART! A PACK OF CAMELS AND A SMOOOKE ALARM ~ !"

Jezebel joins in, her voice drowned out by the others yell-singing but still noticeable, "THE NIGHT IS HEEAAATING UP! RAISE HELL AND TUUURN IT UP! SAYING, "IFYOUGOONYOUMIGHTPASSOUTINADRAINPIPE ~ "

"OH YEEEAH ~!" Sven screams.

"Don't threaten me with a good time!" Laurence finishes, and everybody laughs loudly. Sven pats the shoulder of his friend who's trying desperately not to fly off the road from his extensive grooving.

Click!

The video cuts forward, all is silent as a light acoustic track is playing in the background. The camera stares idly out the window at the passing signs and faded ads, a large green sign speeds past warning that forests were ahead, and to be careful. The view jerks to the right drastically, coming really close to Evie's face, zooming out as she held a capped cup with 'McCafe' elegantly printed on the side.

"Ya want some?" she asks, gesturing towards her beverage. Laurence must have shook his head, as she smiles sweetly to the side, mumbling, "Oh. Okay."

"EVIE!" Captain shouts from off-camera, startling her slightly, "It's your turn, princess."

"Oh, OKAY!" she jumps up from her seat as best she can with her seatbelt still on, stretching herself to the front as she ruffled through their collection of CDs.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, the camera shaking slightly as the van comes to a slow stop. And, after a few seconds, the car's engine shuts off with a strained silence, the lights coming unexpectedly back on. Almost everyone's doors are slammed open as they all rush out of the van, Pallab blinking his eyes awake as he turns around slowly, looking confused.

"What... where did everyone go?" he asks, yawning.

"We're here," Laurence mutters, camera shaking intensely everywhere as he makes his way out. His shoes hit the ground with a low crackle, the view panning upward, showing a long, spiraling gravel driveway down to a lone log cabin in the near distance. With the dark particularly dark night and the full moon above, it looks rather ominous.

"Hey Dex!" Sven shouts from the back, Laurence shifting the camera towards his direction, as the Germanic boy is heaving luggage out from the back, Captain at his side. "Ya gonna help us, man?"

Laurence pauses. "No."

Sven tries really hard not to smile, as Captain pulls the trunk shut. "At least he's being honest," the latter whispers under his breath, walking away.

Laurence turns back towards the front of the van, Jezebel and Evie waiting. Captain comes out from behind, leading the way towards the cabin, and the rest of the group follows. Their footsteps crunch against the gravel and rocks underneath, scene shifting to the side to show off the massive trees encompassing the area, so high the cloudy sky above can barely be seen. They continue walking, Sven and Evie's voices in the background, the camera panning around slowly to capture the flora and zooming in on any dark crevices or shadows. The view pans back to the group as they reach the door the log cabin, it completely bare aside from a lone rocking chair on its patio, opened boxes piling high to its left.

"I wonder what mailmen think when they ship shit out this far," Jezebel whispers from off-camera, "You ever think they just, I don't know, make up some excuse why they couldn't complete that order? I know I would..."

"'Uh, yeah, sorry boss that I couldn't get that Amazon order from the Heights delivered today. It's just that, y'know, I came to a creepy-as-all-the-fucking-fucks cabin in the middle of the goddamn woods and though: hey, is a minimum wage job I secretly hate really worth my life?'" Sven acts out, impersonating a nasally teenager, "No? I didn't think so either!"

"Quiet," Captain whispers, as he steps onto the patio and, without putting down any luggage, knocks on the front door heavily. Nothing. Just silence, as he looks back to the group, brows furrowed.

"Huh. Maybe this was the wrong addr- " the front door explodes out before him, cutting him off as Treton Hewitt appeared from inside, the warm light behind him illuminating them all.

"Ah, I was wondering what was taking you all so long!" he exclaims happily, "What was it, anyway? Traffic?"

"You could say that," Sven replies, sipping from his McDonald's cup.

"Yes, but regardless! You must all be so cold out there! Please, come in, come in!" Treton waves his hands inside, as he dips back into the cabin. Captain shrugs, walking in too. Evie follows him quickly, as does Sven, and Pallab. Jezebel stands outside with Laurence for a brief second but sighs, mumbling something to herself as she strolls inside to join the others. Turning briefly back to the van, in what looks so far out now in the dark woods, he rotates back, and goes in.

  A sharp click!, and everything goes black.  

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, the warm oranges and browns of the house a stark contrast of the dreary black from outside, the walls very intricately but sparely decorated. The camera pans to the left as the group explores the kitchen, decorated homely, as if done by a grandparent. Treton walks into view, smiling as he checks on a pot resting above the stove top.

"I am sorry that supper is not quite ready yet," he says, sounding nervous, "James was meant to have complete it an hour ago, but I suppose he must have had other matters to attend to."

"Is James... a 'disciple' of yours?" Jezebel asks, leaning her shoulder on the counter top.

"Ah yes! Yes he is," Tret says, taking out a spoon, "One of my best, in fact, perhaps the one best suited to becoming the Overseer after I, well, pass." He dips the utensil into whatever is cooking, taking a steady sip. "He is upstairs with the others, performing evening prayers. A bit late, I know, but we did have a busy day."

"Really?" Jezebel asks, "What kind of things did you do tod - ?"

"Almost done now," he cuts her off, "It should not be too much longer and then... we will have a delicious supper whipped up for you in a jiffy."

"Ahha, that's uh, real great and all, but we kinda already ate," Sven says, chuckling awkwardly.

"Ah! But you have never had something like this, I reckon!" Treton exclaims, taking out a ladle and stack of bowls, "The Bridge Beyond secret recipe ~ "

"Sounds, uh, tasty..." Captain grumbles.

"It is!" Treton dumps a healthy amount of what looks like stew into five bowls, taking each one individually and placing them in a circle around the nearest round table. "There! Now, while I would usually restrain from starting a meal without a host, I feel that I must join my fellow brothers in prayer. Please, do not worry, I will send James down to... ah... answer any quick questions, and to show you to your sleeping quarters for the night."

He rushes towards the stairs, almost sprinting up as he shouts, "Oh, and please! Do not worry about cleaning up after yourself! As long as you are here, we will take care of you! Bless you all!"

The group stands in silence for a few seconds, looking at each other oddly. Evie breaks it, tilting her head to the side. "Well, I dunno about you guys, but I'm still kinda hungry..."

"Yeah, same," Sven says, pulling out one of the table's chairs, "'Sides, someone's gotta try this shit to make sure it's not poisonous."

The rest of them begin to relax a bit more as Sven and Evie take seats, Captain sitting down himself and Jezebel waiting a moment before joining them, checking her phone. Laurence turns the camera towards the stairs, cloaked in shadow, with ripped newspaper articles clipped to to parts of the walls. Unknown voices and chatter can barely be heard from upstairs, Treton's voice, while quiet, can be heard above them all. Whatever they are talking about, though, is not possible to hear.

"Sounds like there's a lot of them upstairs," Laurence thinks out-loud, turning back towards his group.

"I dunno, I bet Cap'n could still take 'em all out with one punch," he grins, socking the larger man's shoulder, "What'cha reckon?"

"Mhm," Captain mumbles, mouth full. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, putting down his spoon.

Laurence steps closer, pulling a chair out. "How does it taste? It's not... like... actually poisonous, is it?"

"If it is, I'm fucking done," Captain says, drinking the broth straight from the bowl.

"It's really good, Laurie!" Evie exclaims, chewing, "It's sweet, but, uh, kinda gamey too..."

"Veal," Captain puts his bowl back down. "I'm pretty sure that's what it is. I'd bet my hat on it."

"Ugh, no thanks," Jezebel sneers, scooting the bowl away.

"Hey, guess that's just more for me, then," Captain says, pulling her bowl towards him.

"Veal?" Evie asks, curious, "What's that?"

The sound of a slam! from the upstairs door echoes through the room, as well as the a soft patter-patter from the stairs behind. The camera shifts around just as a man walks down, one who looks similar in stance and build to Treton but who's face is completely different, skin a sickly yellow-grey colour but beyond that fairly healthy looking. He waves at the group, particular Laurence. He doesn't smile.

"Well, howdy hey there!" the man shouts, walking into the kitchen. His voice is high and heavily accented, straining a bit near the end, "What do you all think of the stew? I made it myself!"

"Did you use veal?" Captain asks, looking up at him as he passes, "In the soup, I mean."

"Yep! I made it myself!" he says again, turning his overalled back to him, "Treton is usually quite stingy when it comes to ingredients, but we both agreed that today is a special day, and therefore deserves special stock! Right?"

"You're James, yeah?" Jezebel asks, turning towards him, "Can you answer some small questions for me about your... uh, group? I'll be quick."

"Yes, I am!" he - James - says, turns back around, pulling the head chair of the table out and sits down with a low huff, "And sure. Ask away."

"When did you join the Bridge Beyond? Was it, recent? Or have you been here since he beginning?"

"Oh no no no," James mumbles, the camera zooming in on him shoulder-length, "I have been here for a very long time, since the beginning. It has been a great time, a, a good time, a fulfilling time. For me, and my brothers all."

"Do you ever regret coming here?" Jezebel asks, off-camera, "What about your family? Do they know you're here?"

"What do you mean?" James replies, "My family are, is, here, the disciples are my family know. And yes, they do know I am here, believe me!"

He laughs loudly, leaning back far in his seat. He wipes his eye, still chuckling. They're dry.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, pitch-black at first but activating [Night Vision] changes that, what looks like a an old fashioned bedroom is lit up in faint greens and white like a specter, assorted furniture lined against the walls, from their looks they were probably made before America was independent. The camera is low and, after panning oh-so slightly down, it looks as if its cameraman is laying down on a bed.

A blur appears as someone plops down on the bed beside them, their face blurred at first but slowly reveals Pallab, wearing a tank-top with some sort of initials on it. He shimmies a bit as if to get comfortable, lightly fluffing the pillow and slipping it below his head. 

He looks slightly above the camera, as if not aware it's even there. "Well, guess you and I are sleeping together."

"Seems that way," Laurence whispers.

"So, if you don't mind me being, uh, a bit blunt..." his bunk-mate says, lowering his voice as he got the message, "... what is the deal with that one girl? The one with the orange hair?"

"... Evie?" Laurence asks.

"Yeah... I think. Is her hair actually that colour, or...?"

Laurence laughs softly. "No, she dyes it. Well, I mean, kinda, actually. Her hair is orange naturally. Evie just dyes it a lot. She likes... bright colours."

"Ah, I see," Pallab wiggles a bit more, trying to get comfortable. "Is she... your sister?"

"What?" Laurence asks.

"Your sister," he repeats, "You two seem a little too close to be just... friends."

"She's more; my best friend. We've been that way since we were little," Laurence explains. 

"... theeen, why is the College letting you both staying in the same room?" Pallab's brows furrow. "Isn't that against the school rules? Boys and girls sleeping together?"

"Well... not technically," the camera is bumped slightly, raising the view up. "And besides, Evie's aunt convinced the College Principle to let it through without any complications... he owed her a favour, I think, and didn't really see anything too wrong with it. She gets nightmares easily, like, really easily, and I'm the only one usually who can calm her down."

"Nightmares?" Pallab asks, "What kind of nightmares?"

"Scary ones," Laurence says bluntly, shifting the camera back to its original position, "I don't like to talk about it, and neither does she."

"Oh, okay..." Pallab looks down at the mattress awkwardly, for only a moment. "So... how are the people like at campus? I know it is your first year and all but I figure you must know a bit about the people. You've lived a lot of your life here, right?"

"Right..." Laurence mutters, "And, uh... they're usually pretty good. Since the Abodes aren't as... well, safe as the rest of the cities nearby we usually don't - "

"Wait, I will, uh, let you finish... but I am confused," Pallab interrupts, "I hear some people around the school use that term before. 'Abodes'. What do you mean?"

"Well, it's a bit like a codename, yeah?" Laurence says, "The Roads, the Chodes, the Abodes. Calcheri Valley, Coch, and Cecillian Heights. Someone's uncle or something came up with it years ago and a lot of locals from here and those other places use it sometimes."

"Oh," Pallab yawns, nodding. "I... uh... well, continue. What you were saying before I interrupted you."

"So, the people here are pretty good for the most part. Usually trashier than the Valley but more, uhm, modest than Coch. Well... for the most part," Laurence takes a moment. "There's this one girl, and uh... I don't even know if I should be talking about this, or..."

"Go ahead," Pallab insists, "I am part of your group now. I should know these things."

Laurence takes a heavy breath, and continues, "...so there's this girl, called Abigail. Abigail Taylor. She exchanged from the Valley a couple years back, won some big awards in an Art contest and thought she was really something special, right? And so Jezebel was also an artist, still is actually, and also a part of the school newspaper at the time. Now, Jezebel thought her paintings were trash, just garbage, and said that in a review column she did in the paper. Abigail Taylor's response was... oh boy. It wasn't like a rant, or screaming, or anything noticeable, like what Jezebel thought. No, instead she did really small, tiny acts. Like sabotaging her chair in the cafeteria, slipping notes in her locker that just said these really nasty things, even, hell, smashing all the computers in a lab and framing it on Jezebel, somehow - "

"Really?" Pallab asks, bewildered.

"Really," Laurence stresses. "Well, Jezebel is... kinda bitter, and easy to tick off, if you haven't noticed already.. So, when she found out who was behind all that, she got Captain and Sven together with her, found out where Abigail lived, and tracked her down. They had a camera with them, and, peaking through her windows, saw Abigail and her boyfriend just... pounding it. They, my unfortunate friends, uploaded this to YouTube and just let people go wild."

"... and did it work?" Pallab asks, "Did she get revenge?"

"People still tease her about it today, Pallab," Laurence says, "You can't get nasty with a football allstar and a statue of Jesus and expect people to forget about it easily. You just can't."

"Wow..." Pallab lays back, pulling the covers up to his chest. The camera surprisingly stays up. "...when did this happen? Middle school?"

"High school, actually," Laurence corrects, the camera's audio crackling, "Around the same time Jezebel and Sven were dating, actually, now that I think about it..."

Pallab looks at him, confused. "I thought Sven was gay...?"

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, and, judging by the light filling the rooms through the open windows and everybody up and about, it's morning. The camera pans around the room slightly; Sven is struggling into a pair of jeans probably way too tight, Evie trying desperately to help him but can't, Captain and Pallab sitting on the former's bed talking out of range, and Jezebel, who walks center frame, zipping up her sweatshirt quickly. 

"You ready?" she asks, putting on her glasses.

"Yeah, I'm ready to go, if you are," Laurence replies, zooming in on her slightly. Just barely out of view Sven trips over his pants leg and topples to the ground hard, Evie jumps back in shock with her hands over her mouth. Jezebel smirks.

She walks ahead of the rest of the group, swinging the almost antique door open and looking back. "Hey, nerds! I'm heading out without you!"

"AH SHIT JUST A SEC," Sven shouts, pulling his pants to his waist with a huff, "YA BETTER NOT EAT ALL THE BACON YOU JIZZRAG!"

Evie gasps in joy. "There's bacon?!"

"Smells like it," Sven grins like a wolf, dashing off after Jezebel, who's already made her exit. Evie rushes after him, yelling, "C'mon Laurie! We'll miss breakfast!" before disappearing with the other two. 

Laurence turns the camera to Captain who's finally decided to stand up. He looks forward, putting his beanie on tightly. "Well? What're we waiting for?"

Pausing for a second as Captain walks closer, Laurence mumbles, "... Where's Pallab?"

"Who?" Captain strides across frame, leaving the same way as the others.

Laurence sighs quietly, to himself.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, blurry and distorted at first but fades to oranges and browns. The camera turns upward, shakily walking down a corridor into the kitchen from the night before. The table is set and decorated now, wooden dishes and utensils laid out on checkered tablecloth. Instead of Treton is a large, wide man is in front of the stove top, strained flannel and what looks like a baseball cap his attire. As Captain takes the first step into the room, the man turns around quickly, as if startled. His face is muddled but warm, with a large- smile under a bushy beard. He waves his hand close, using the other to open an oven.

"Ahh! Good morning, lads! I'm just..." the man stutters for a second, wiping his brow, "Just... grub's almost done ! Take a seat and I'll give ya a plate, c'mon there..."

None of them move. He stops what he's doing and tries to give a reassuring smile, waving his hand again. "Hey hey, don't be shy! Get'r 'ere... Christopher's meh name, I... well, handle wood workin' and that sort of thing. I'm no stranger."

Evie steps out from off-camera, jerking her head towards the table, giving a soft smile, "C'mon guys; let's sit down! We don't wanna be rude..."

"Yes..." Christopher repeats, slowly taking a long tray out from the stove, "... Don't want... want to be rude, now do you? 'Sides, breakfast is ready!"

"Oooo!" Evie claps her hands together happily, sitting down almost immediately. "Whad'ya make, mister?"

"'Mister'..." Christopher mutters under his breath, chuckling deeply, "Heh, that's cute. Oh, I made y'all some... some bacon. Y'all like bacon, don't you?"

"... you made sure you didn't cook too much bacon, did you?" Jezebel asks from off-camera, it zooming in on Christopher's face, "I hear your cult's awfully stingy about that sort of thing..."

"Disciples. We are disciples of the Higher Plane, we are not a cult," Christopher snaps, "And... yes, we, uh, make sure to keep our meals without spares... and our hobbies, activities, and lifestyle in total... excess is, of course, human."

"So, what are you saying?" Jezebel presses, "You're not human? Then what are you, 'Christopher'? Huh?"

He pauses for a second, angered at first but calming slowly down, responding with a smile, "You should eat now. We can talk, later, while I'm gathering logs for tonight. That'll be better, right? That will be fine. Now sit down, if you can. I didn't toil over a hot oven for an hour just for you all to be standin' there, did I? Well, c'mon then, get!"

The view zooms out as the rest of the group heads for the table, pulling out chairs and trying to get comfortable. As Laurence moves towards the rest, Christopher's face becomes confused, almost agitated.

"Put the camera away," he growls, putting a grimy knife in the sink, "This is time for eating, not filming."

"Oh. Alright, sorry..." Laurence mutters softly, the camera points downwards and begins to fuzz and distort again. 

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, bright and misty, as it shows Jezebel and Christopher walking through a sparse patch of trees, the tall pines surrounding the group and the raw sounds akin of a forest. Christopher turns around briefly, checking the axe on his side. He began to pick up his pace, Jezebel and Laurence walking quickly after him to avoid being left behind. After breaking into a grassy clearing, cloudy grey sky just barely in view, Christopher stops, looking up.

"Heh. Looks like it might rain tonight, aye?" he announces, hand covering his eyes from the sun.

"Probably not," Jezebel responds, her back to the camera, "It never rains this late in the year. Not anymore, anyway."

"Why not? Why did the rain stop, you think?" Christopher asks, starting to walk again.

She takes a big step forward and strolls right behind him, Laurence following her as fast as he can. "Hmph, the hell I know," she replies, "With how the environment's being fucked in this day and age, it doesn't surprise me the weather here's changing too. It's to be expected, really..."

"You don't actually believe that global warming is real, do you?" he asks, turning his head, "It's stupid. Liberal nonsense."

"... Do you expect me to agree?  With you?" she asks, leaves crunching underneath her boots.   "Someone who worships a Dark Souls boss like it's a god or something...?"

" - I don't "expect" you to do anything," he responds, "Just listen... and respect."

"... Why?" she asks, ducking under a tall branch.

"I'm your elder, aren't I?" he continues walking without another word, Jezebel looks back to the camera and giving a frustrated shrug. They walk for what seems like a while, snapping twigs and flora underfoot the only audible sounds. 

Christopher breaks the silence, looking back suddenly and stopping in his tracks. "... What's a Dark Souls?"

"It's, uh..." Jezebel stops too, looking down as she's trying to explain. Christopher looks at her with an odd look on his face.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY] 

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, the surrounding trees and familiar sounds the same as the forest before. But the camera is now filming closer to the ground, shifting slightly back and forth between Christopher and Jezebel, who are seated on the dirt of the forest floor, the former fiddling with a small twig in his gloved hands.

Christopher puts the stick down, continuing from when the film was on standby. "- gonna wake up soon. Tonight, I reckon, if we're lucky..."

Jezebel gives him an sideways glance. "... Who's going to wake up?"

"Why, the One Above, o'course," he says matter-of-factly, "We've been studying the movement, studying the stars, and the cosmos. They tell us it's almost time. Almost. We've, uh, been waiting for this for a very long time, so excuse my excitement."

"It's just..." he continues, eyes alight like an eager child, "... they have been in slumber for so long, all this time, and I actually get to set my eyes upon them, in my lifetime! Can you believe that?! Not many religions get that honour, no, no they do not...it's... well, rather special..."

He smiles idly to himself, Jezebel looking straight at the camera with an uncomfortable face.

Christopher snorts loudly, propping his knee and forcing himself up, only his jeaned legs now in frame.

"Now, uh... are you two ready to head back? It's getting dark..." he asks, camera panning up to his bearded visage. Christopher's eyes wander and connect with the camera, then seconds later his mouth twists into a faint scowl.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, back in the bedroom the group slept in on the night before. Most of them are on the beds, either on some device or staring at the walls; no ones talking. 

Evie sits up from the very back, bored at first but eyes widen when she sees the camera. She opens her mouth to say something but with a loud slam! the door flies open, panel shifting just in time to see James, overalls on tight and smiling broad. 

He cranes his head in slowly, almost deliberately ignoring the camera. "Howdy guys! Good evening, by the way! I've got something to tell ya."

"Treton says it's time," he continues, licking his lips, "He's waiting for ya all, near the front of the Deep Woods. It's gonna happen though, so ya better get a move on soon, unless ya wanna miss it - "

"Miss what?" Evie asks, off-camera.

"Why, the Awakenin', of course!" James replies, walking back into the hallway, "The One Above comes tonight, it's the 126th anniversary of its slumber, don't ya know. Didn't Christopher tell you?"

"Yeah, he did," Jezebel says, camera panning to her, "How do you know that?"

"Uh... I guessed," James mutters, disappearing behind the door, "Well, go on! Don't want go keep the Higher Plane waiting, do ya? Oh, and don't worry 'bout a car or anything, Treton help you through! I'll catch up to ya all, Christopher too!"

The sound of his footsteps slowly fade away, a low slam! from the front door echoing through the group's silence.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, shaky, panning up to see legions of trees and bushes, obscured by thick darkness. A line of light glows out of the dark, its holder standing directly in front of the camera, flashlight in hand. The figure turns around from the shadows, light from below illuminating his, Treton's, face.

He smiles, moving his gaze towards the camera. "There. I was wondering whether the spares would work or not... well, glad that they do. Well, let us head out now, not much time left. Oh, you recording?"

He walks away before Laurence could answer, Jezebel cutting into frame and following directly behind. Her foot hits a loose branch, causing her to almost trip but she catches her balance just in time. Treton scoffs loudly, not stopping.

"Careful of twigs and things, it is dark tonight," he sighs, looking up at the moon through the trees, "Especially tonight."

"So... what's so special tonight?" Sven asks, off-camera, "It's your... what, anniversary? Congratulations, dude."

Treton laughs, stepping carefully over a large stone. "Not mine, child. The One Above, them, tonight is the very same night that they slumbered, only 126th years ago. They told me... they said that, come dusk, they will awaken, and... well..."

"Well?" Jezebel asks, almost smacking her face on a branch, "Well what?"

"We are... a bit late," he says, almost sadly, "Never the less, this will have to do. This will have to do..."

Treton mutters to himself something inaudible, Jezebel craning her head back, mouthing 'Weirdo...'. Ducking under a large patch of leaves, Treton disappears into an opening. Jezebel follows, and so does our cameraman.

On the other side is a very big clearing, trees circling the area, almost guarding the lone cave in the center. Multitudes of boulders and rocks cover its entrance. Moss, vines, and, as the flashlight reveals it better, assorted insects entangle the stones. Treton places the flashlight down on the floor, rolling up his coat's sleeves.

"You kids ready?" he asks, picking a rock off the pile.

"... Ready for what?" Jezebel asks, head blocking the view.

"To open the entrance, of course!" Treton throws the rock to the ground, picking up another. "These boulders won't move themselves, will they? Well, come on, now! Give me a hand; two, if you can spare it..."

At first they just watch him in silence, Jezebel giving the camera a 'you have to be kidding' look. But... she shrugs, pushes her glasses up, and stands beside Treton, getting a good grip on a bigger rock and pulling it out with a low huff. Sven stares at them, surprised.

"Wha... I can't believe this..." he whispers, looking back at a barely-visible Captain, "Jizzie doing manual labour? Heh, never thought I'd see the day..."

"Get over here and shut up, stupid," she grunts, throwing another rock down. Without another word Sven bounds towards the two, helping them. Captain steps lightly into frame in disbelief, as Evie and Pallab jumping out from behind him to help the others. Defeated, the big man shakes his head, walking over to the rest, who've already done a good job at clearing out a small hole.

The camera zooms in close, panning on each of them individually until stopping on Jezebel, who looking directly at the lens, annoyed. "Why aren't you helping?"

"My hand's full; I'm recording," Laurence responds.

"... What about the other one?" she asks.

The camera stops swaying and becomes rigid, "It's... uh... busy."

She scoffs, wiping sweat from her from her blue bangs, "Humph, lazyass..."

A few moments of silence go by, as the hole they created becomes more of a child-sized opening at this point. Evie makes a grunt off-camera, then saying, "So! Uhm, Mr. Treton? What's going to happen after they wake up?"

"Oh, good things," he replies, also off-camera, ""Great things, fantastic things, marvelous things. Their followers, us, will leave our human vessels and ascend to the Higher Plane, to begin our true lives under their watchful eye." He lets out a happy sigh of relief, camera panning to him, kneeling beside the hole they made.

"Well, this should be fine enough," he whispers, getting down on all-fours, crawling through the opening and disappearing into it almost immediately. His voice echoes from within, "Come on in! It is far less dusty than I thought..."

Sven shrugged, plopping onto his belly and making the crawl too, shouting in, "So if your lot gets to the High Plains or whatever, what happens to the rest of us? Huh?"

Even from in the cave, Treton's chortle is loud. "Simple. Armageddon."

Jezebel kneels down, rolling her eyes. Whispering what sounds like, 'Of course it is...' she slips in, leaving sight. The camera pans to Evie, who's looking down at the hole, mildly confused.

"... like the movie?" she asks softly, mouth an 'o' shape. Laurence laughs awkwardly.

"Let's get in there, Evie. We can talk about this later," he says, and she smiles back, getting down on her bare knees and plopping onto her belly, slipping herself in.

"Hmpmm... I liked that movie..." she mutters under her breath, entering the cave.

Shifting to Pallab, he shrugs, jerking his head down. "You first."

The camera pans down harshly, towards the rocky mounds his group made.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, camera panning up to a rocky clearing, everything coloured a dull stony brown, until Jezebel's hair comes into frame, then it begins to follow her. She steps farther into the cave, Treton appearing from behind an opening at the very end, flashlight shining from inside.

"Come in. I would like to show you all some friends of mine," he says, going back in.

Jezebel turns towards the camera and rolls her eyes, following him inside. Sven steps in after her, Laurence the same, passing over a rocky wall and into pure darkness. Someone stumbles, catching themselves on the walls.

"Tret!" Jezebel yells out, voice echoing, "What the fuck, where's the light?"

No response. She curses under her breath, stumbling with something as Sven and Pallab mutter to each other. With a soft click sound a dim light emits from the back of the room, Jezebel becoming illuminated albeit shadowed by her phone's light. She opens her mouth to talk to the camera but stops, frown growing as she tilts her head sideways.

"... Laurence?" she mumbles, hands shaking.

"What?" he asks, zooming in on her troubled face, "What's wrong? Where's Treton? Where's - ?"

"Jesus fucking Christ Dex bEHIND YOU!" Sven yells from off-camera. The panel turns widely behind and stops on a tied-up, decaying human corpse.

Laurence jumps back, shouting something unintelligible as Evie screams. The camera swings to her, as she backs up from another body behind her, skeletal jaw torn off and resting next to a third body on a dried pool of blood. Panning around, more corpses are caught on the film, almost a full dozen in varying degree of decay lining the walls around the circular room, the freshest's blood still wet on its ruptured cranium. Evie shrieks in terror again, wanting to run away but too scared to move her feet. The rest must be the same.

"Oh my God..." Sven whispers, clutching his head, "Oh my Goooood..."

"What are these?" Pallab asks, shaking his shoulder, "What is going on? Sven!"

"This is like some serious spooky kabuki shit, man," Sven croaks, slipping down a wall until he hits the floor, "It's like the fuckin' Blair Witch Project in here, FUCK ME...!"

"An odd request," a voice grunts from the end of the room, camera darting that direction to show Treton standing there almost proudly, in front of a ritualistic intestine circle on the floor. "But, I mean, if you insist..."

"What the fuck is this?" Captain asks, camera zooming in on Treton's face, "What do you think you're doing?!"

"The One Above asked for fourteen meals and I, being the kind soul I am, over delivered. Oh well." his smile twists, becoming sinister. "I do not think they will mind extras."

"DUDE WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ARE YOU SAYING RIGHT NOW?!" Sven screams, voice cracking. Treton's grin only becomes wider.

"It is time. I have been a good servant of the Higher Plane, I have been a good host to you all. Now... I am afraid... your "school project" must come to an end."

The camera zooms out as Treton turns his back to the group, taking a vial from his side and sprinkling red dust onto the circle, whispering foreign tongue under his breath. As he continues the ritual the rune begins to become a dark scarlet, the organs surrounding it coming together and squashing together into some sort of fleshy pile. The camera bumps slightly as it turns around, Jezebel's frightened face taking up the frame.

"Let's go," she whispers, releasing his shoulder and running out. Captain gets the hint and follows her quickly, Pallab trying to pull Sven off his ass as Laurence does a quick jog towards Evie, her face bright red, tears streaming out her eyes. His hand comes out from below and grabs hers, him saying, "Come on, Evie. We're going."

She nods, sniffing. He helps her to her feet as the two leave the way the others did, camera bobbing too much to see anything but brownish hues. The chants from the room behind grow stronger, a soft rumbling starting but growing into something fierce, view shaking intensely as what sounds like an earthquake erupts from all sides. It gets worse and worse as the camera stops, and slips from Laurence's hand, hitting the stony floor with a loud clank!  As if on cue, the rumbling stops, the chants go silent. The camera, filming nothing but a corner obscured by stones, lays still. It jerks upward as it is picked up, everything too muffled to see anything.

And then, from the silence, explodes an impossibly loud, inhuman scream.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, camera shaking intensely, audio crackling tons. What little can be seen looks like the Deep Woods from before, pitch black but silhouettes of trees barely visible.

They stop for a second, the camera still but swaying, turning back as a horrible howl can be heard from behind. It pans back around to the group, faces terrified, all eyes full of fear.

Evie gasps as she holds back tears, Pallab trying to take out his phone but struggling.

The camera zooms into Captain's face, which, out of them all, seems the most calm.

Tears wet the corner of his eyes, jaw clamped tight. He brushes his jacket sleeve across his face, closing his eyes and whispering under his breath.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, shaking, trying to focus on a close-up shot of Sven. His back is to the camera and, as he turns around the shot zooms out, the lot back in the bedroom they stayed in the night prior. Throwing a backpack to the ground, Sven pulls out the drawers of a nightstand frantically, yelling, "It's not here! Oh my God, where is it? Where did it go?!"

"Did you not have the keys?" Pallab asks off-camera.

"No, I left 'em here while we were gone!" Sven replies, smashing his fist against the wall, "FUCKING SHITBAG, I CAN'T FIND IT, GODDAMMIT!"

"But if we don't have the keys, then...?" Evie whispers off-camera, voice shaking with fright.

"We could - oH JESUS TAP-DANCING CHRIST!" Jezebel almost screams, camera whipping back to her near the door, leaning over the nightstand.

"What?" Captain asks besides her, "Is that fucker here?"

"His keys are RIGHT HERE, dumbass!" Jezebel turns around, a pair of sterling keys dangling them from her finger. Sven bounds out from the side, grabbing the car keys and jamming it into his pocket.

"Alright, now that we got those, we can go - !"

"Wait," Jezebel holds up her hand, cutting him off. "I... I want to go upstairs."

"WHAT?!" He screams, looking at her like she's insane, "Are you stupid, Jizzie? What if HE'S - "

"He's not here yet," she cuts him off again, "We would have heard the door open, right? Besides, we HAVE to go up there. I mean, do you expect the cops to believe five college students about a fucking murder CULT without any evidence? Like, don't you think that... you did call the police right? Guys, didn't you?"

"On it," Captain mutters off-camera, followed quickly by a dialing tone.

"But as I was saying," she continues, "He could have damning as FUCK evidence up there, in his bedroom or whatever it is. We HAVE to check. What if he turns this all around and blames it on us, huh? What then? Who're they gonna believe? Huh?"

"He wouldn't... right?" Sven asks anxiously, "Like, even if we did go up there, what if he catches us?"

"He won't," Jezebel swings the door open, taking a step into the hallway. "Not if we hurry, anyway."

She walks out and disappears.

"Wir werden alle sterben..." Sven whispers under his breath, as walks out after her.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, sight impossibly dark until a door directly in front opens, light flooding through as a figure steps into the room which, judging by their height and immediate silhouette, is Jezebel.

"Jesus..." she whispers, the camera following almost directly behind, angling over her shoulder to get a better sight of the mustard-yellow room. It was barely bigger than their bedroom downstairs, yet somehow twice as messy, assorted boxes and containers thrown everywhere as if in a hurry. Despite being a bedroom there was no bed; only a closed closet, and a desk with chair. Jezebel cautiously walked across the room and in front of the closet, pulling it open with a low creak from its joints. Inside the dark space is even more boxes, though mostly closed and stacked in piles.

Jezebel picks one of the lighter boxes up carefully, giving it a quick shake and squinting when it made no noise. "Hmm... what do you think are in these? Huh?"

The camera turns to Captain, who's leaning over the desk chair, not moving.

He whispers, "Guys... you need to see this."

"Wait, what do we - oh SHIT!" Sven yells in surprise, as Captain spins the chair around.

On the chair is two fleshy folds of skin, hair and bone, one almost yellow, the other far hairier.

"What - what the fuck are those?!" Sven asks, camera zooming on the grizzly discovery.

"They look... I mean..." The camera zooms out as Jezebel steps into frame, leaning over to take a closer look. "I think they're masks."

"Oh! So they're not... like, actually real then, right?!" Evie asks off-camera, voice frantic but relieved.

"No, they look pretty real..." Jezebel mutters, grabbing the sallow mask by the hair and pulling it upwards, "Actually... wait... hey guys, am I just fucking nuts, or does this look like that weird dude from last night? The one who we interviewed, remember?"

"James?" Laurence asks, off-camera, "But... that can't be James, right? Why would they... do that to one of their own guys? He didn't seem like he deserved this."

"What, did they scalp the guy of something?" Sven asks, coming into frame behind Jezebel, "Or skin 'em, or whatever."

"No, I don't think so," Jezebel answers, holding the second mask up, "And look: this one looks like that one redneck we were with today, out in the forests, y'know? If they skinned him today wouldn't the skin feel... I dunno, fresher? I mean, I'm no Buffalo Bill but shouldn't the skin look different if it was only removed tod - ?"

"DON'T TOUCH MY FACES!" A voice screamed from behind, the camera whipping around so fast it almost fell down. Standing in the hallway was Treton, dried blood caked on his clothes and hands, face alight with rage. "I mean, please, put them down. I spent a lot of time on those."

"What did you fucking do?!" Sven yells, from off-camera. Treton chuckles, taking a step into the room, the light making the blood on him look especially red.

"What did I do?" he repeats, camera following as he strolls over to the desk, Jezebel and Sven keeping their distance, "Well, I have opened the door to the Higher Plane. After all this time, preparation, and hard work... I have thrown open the gates to heaven."

He smiles widely, pressing his back into the window behind him. The camera pans over the left, showing off the confused and worried faces of his audience, staring in silence.

Sven steps ahead in front of Pallab and Evie, fists tight. "What did you do to Christopher and James? Huh? Did ya kill 'em off 'cause you wanted all the glory to yourself, ya psychopath?"

"That term is highly outdated, my young friend," Treton replies, off-camera, "And of course not. They did what they had to do. They... well, fulfilled their purpose."

It zooms in on Captain, face stoic. "They're not even real people... are they?"

The camera swings back to Treton, his wide eyed snickering is answer enough. "They were, at one point. Not anymore though, they merely give me materials... for my masks... and my meals..."

"HOLY FUCK, YOU'RE SICK!" Sven screams off-camera, to which Treton stops laughing. Not smiling, though.

And then, through the whimpers and chuckles, a faint animal-like screech can be heard from outside the walls, faded but oh-so close.

"To be among the countless fools wandering as a flock without a shepherd is the real sickness, my friend," Treton says, holding his arms out, "But... you will see. Oh bless me senseless, you will see...!"

Pallab pops suddenly into frame like a blur, the svelte teenager  grabbing hold the cultist and pinning him against the window, the force enough to shove the dirty pane ajar with a loud squeak. Sven and several other voices begin yelling at him to let go, but he's having none of it.

"Kabob, buddy, quit it!" Sven yells above the rest, hair barely in frame, "Ya just can't shove him out the window, dude! We need him for the cops and shit!"

Pallab shakes his head, Treton's grin growing wider. The former, back to his group, says, "The police do not care. They never care. We should take this into our own two hands."

"What the FUCK are you talkin' 'bout, dude?!" Sven yells off-camera, the wind from outside picking up. Pallab faces the camera, hair blowing wildly, obscuring Treton's face. 

Pallab's expression steels. "Sven, this is exactly like what we talked about earlier, yes? Do you not remember when we said that the "higher ups" cannot decide our fates for us. You remember that, yes?"

"I was talking 'bout Ol' Man Shitters not letting us smoke in the rooms, dude, not something like this!" Sven shouts off-camera, voice cracking near the end. "I was being... uh... oh fuck, what's the word?!"

"Hypothetical?" Jezebel asks off-camera.

"Yeah, I was just doing that! Now, Kabob, if ya can just, y'know, release the crazy cult dude and walk back over to, uhm, us, then we can tie the fucker up and maybe even see if we could - "

The window behind Pallab and Treton explodes, glass and debris flying everywhere as the camera lurches fiercely back, and everyone begins screaming. Laurence - and the camera - fall to the floor hard, landing on their side with a audible thud! It turns just in time to see a large inhuman looking hand - nay, a claw - dig its nails into Pallab's back, tearing open the silk and skin, splattering it and the surrounding walls in a rain of spurting blood. The frame blurs out, frantic audio crackles cloaking everything but faint animalistic growls. With the impossibly fuzzy visuals and silhouettes of teenagers skittering away in fear, their distorted screams became just that much more apparent, with Triston's laughter the loudest of them all.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

 The video starts, camera shaking viciously, as a faint ray of light coming from behind and shines out into the darkness, Captain's van barely visible up ahead from where they parked it the night before. The goateed man rushes into frame, surprisingly fast considering his size, taking out the pair of keys from earlier and jamming it into the car door, fidgeting for a second until with a low bleep!, the lights from inside glow to life and his door swings open. He leaps in as the camera zooms out, Jezebel popping in front of the lens, waving her hand furiously. "Jesus, Laurence, get in the car!"

Without a response, Laurence practically sprints around the side of the van to its side, the camera bobbing so much that the visuals and sound muffle like crumpling a plastic bag. It repositions back into place as Laurence's hand comes out from below and pulls the door open, and he throws himself inside. The view shifts awkwardly for a second as he struggles to get his seatbelt on, everyone lurching forward slightly as the car begins moving. Moving to the left Evie comes into view, face red and sobbing loudly, balled fists covering her mouth. Jezebel's behind her, obscured by the former, but obviously shaking.

"I-Is... is P-Pallab...?" Evie asks, eyes wide. The silence she gets is answer enough. She starts crying harder.

"It's okay, Evie..." Laurence says, reaching a hand out and placing it on her quivering shoulder. "The police are gonna help us out. He still might be out there, actually, if you think - "

The car lurches furiously, Evie and Sven screaming as everything loose gets thrown onto the floor. Laurence turns the camera towards the front of the van, where Sven is leaning over, trying to look behind Laurence with fright in his eyes. "Dude... oh fuck, oh Jesus Christ, NO!"

Everyone begins to panic, voices frightened and wild. Laurence spins the camera behind him and towards the rear window. Everything is almost pitch black, but the small amount of light coming from the rear lights just enough to see a spindly, lumbering silhouette on the road behind them, movement erratic, almost alien. 

"Fucking Christ..." the camera turns over to Jezebel, who's sitting up enough to be seen over Evie's shivering head. "It's following us..."

Evie closes her eyes and covered her ears with balled fists, whimpering, "Laurie, I don't wanna die! I just wanna go hooooome!!"

Laurence shakes her shoulder, trying to get her to stop. "Evie, stop that, we're not going to die! And we'll get home, I promise, okay?!"

She shakes her head timidly, face wet with tears. Jezebel's expression, however, steels.

"Guys, I know this might sound stupid, but I have a plan," she says.

She takes a breath, and continues, "That... thing is chasing us right now, yeah? Well, I was thinking... what if we somehow found a way  to - ?"

The entire van lurches forward ferociously, the car pitching sharply from side-to-side and Captain unable to stop it from spiraling out of control. Everyone begins screaming, camera crackling like crazy, until it lurches chaotically out of Laurence's hands, spiraling in hues of brown and grey, audio crackling omnidirectionally. Before it could hit the ground, a massive crash! shatters through the air, the sound of glass smashing and crushing steel overwhelming until the camera hits the black floor with a muffled thud!

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

~-~

[RECORDING • ]

The video starts, camera laying out its side, view distorted and damaged. It looks like it's laying on the street, broken glass and bits of metallic debris sprawled across the ground ahead. What sounds like a car alarm is blaring loudly over-and-over again, so much so that a faint whimpering nearby is almost drowned under it. 

The camera shifts slightly as it's picked up from the ground, shaking. It turns around slowly to a shoulder shot of Laurence, fresh blood on his flannel and hair, expression alight with fear. In his lap, barely visible, is Evie, who's pale face is mostly unharmed but unconscious. She isn't moving.

He looks behind him, almost desperately, everything like a black plane with only the faint flicker of crimson car lights from behind, only somewhat illuminating the sprawled bodies lying still nearby. 

He looks back, eyes staring deep into the camera. A siren can be heard from the distance, police probably, but it's faint. Far off. Not anywhere close now.

The boy in bloody flannel clears his throat. Then, he speaks:

  "My... my name is Laurence Dexter..."

A straggly silhouette rises from behind him, impossibly large compared to his frame. But, even from the outline, it is clearly shiny with blood, large split flaps of skin coming down from its back like a fleshy cowl. It bellows out a nightmarish scream.

"... And this, is my video diary."

He didn't say that last bit with confidence.

A sharp click!, and everything goes black.

[/STANDBY]

[blonde-n-dirty]

Life update

I can’t remember the last time I posted anything on this account or even checked it. It’s been quite some time. With the year coming to an end, I felt a need to let out feelings of how disastrous this year has been. Not just for myself, but for my marriage and my family. My entire world flipped upside down February 1st (so I had a good 1st month of the year lol). At around 5pm we found out we were pregnant; my life dream finally a reality. Quickly went into the doctor that night and confirmed I was 4 weeks and 6 days. I only took that test because it was lying around and my period was pretty late, but I thought no way I could be pregnant since my husband and I had been going to multiple appointments to figure out why I wasn’t able to get pregnant. But low and behold, a little pink plus sign and a nice little sonogram later, I could call myself a mom. I called myself a mommy for 16 days. Then the worst night of my life happened and I still have horror flashbacks and nightmares of that night. I wish someone could see inside my brain and understand what I felt, but at the same time, I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. There was no heartbeat anymore. The pain was no longer just physical. Rushed into surgery, and an unknown amount of time later, I woke up right in the middle. I remember screaming and crying and the doctors hands covered in blood as he moved my gown aside to see my face to tell me he’s doing everything he can. I remember crying to the nurse that I only wanted chicken nuggets for dinner, and I ended up here. They put me back under and at around 10pm, I woke up alone in a hospital room. I yelled for a doctor and he came in and told me I’d feel pretty shitty for a few days because I’d lost a lot of blood. I was finally cleared to see my husband and meet him in the waiting room. I walked out and he just looked absolutely terrified and said nobody updated him for hours. Neither one of us were ever the same after walking out of that hospital; something just died in us. I went back to work a week later but I had no business returning. April 17th I finally lost it and checked myself into a psych unit where I stayed a few days over the mandatory 3 days. That didn’t achieve shit except make me want to stay silent with all my thoughts so I don’t end up back there. Well it did get me on disability. I’ve been on disability since then and I’m not cleared to return to work until Halloween 2019. It fucked me up and I’ve been struggling sooo bad trying to get back to normal. I’m in a trauma class for 6-10 weeks now. Apparently I have “PTSD” and I guess their opinion is it isn’t all from this incident- my childhood, past relationships, my grandma, my recent molestation law suit, it all tipped me over the edge. They’ve also changed my diagnosis. For years I thought I was bipolar and took all the medicine for it and went to the therapy and all that jazz, just to find out I actually have borderline personality disorder. Which finally makes sense. If you’ve read this far and are actually interested, look it up. That’s me, textbook definition. So I have to take a year long class for that as well. Twice a week on top of regular therapy and groups they’re sending me to. I mean it’s wonderful I’m getting the help I need, but if I talk to anyone about myself, I sound absolutely insane! But I just want to get better. My mental health has caused far too many issues in my personal and professional life. With my anger and explosiveness, inability to be vulnerable and converse correctly with my husband, it’s taken a toll on us. He can only help so much, and he stays strong for me so he rarely shows me he’s hurting. I see it, but he won’t let me in to help. I mean it’s been a long ass 8 months. I’ve made mistakes that’ll forever haunt me, said things I wish I could take back, and I will have regrets the rest of my life. I’m praying with every ounce of my being that I can end this year on a high note. Pray for me? I could use it.