#old order amish

[divinum-pacis]

The Amish Explained

The Amish appear a lot in pop culture, but they're also frequently misrepresented and mythologized. So what do the Amish actually believe and practice?

[admiralderuyter]

[badjokesbyjeff]

A fifteen year old Amish boy and his father were in a mall.

They were amazed by almost everything they saw, but especially by two shiny, silver walls that could move apart and then slide back together again.

The boy asked, “What is this, father?”

The father, never having seen an elevator, responded, “Son, I have never seen anything like this in my life, I don’t know what it is.”

While the boy and his father were watching with amazement, a fat old lady in a wheel chair moved up to the moving walls and pressed a button.

The walls opened, and the lady rolled between them into a small room. The walls closed and the boy and his father watched the small numbers above the walls light up sequentially.

They continued to watch until it reached the last number. and then the numbers began to light in the reverse order.

Finally the walls opened up again and a gorgeous 24-year-old blonde stepped out. The father, not taking his eyes off the young woman, said quietly to his son…

“Son, go get your mother.”

[yumebambi-writes]

"Puppy Love" Chapter Two: Full Metal Zombie OR Knowing Me, Knowing You

chapter two: 5.8k words

You had been with the group “Operation Bite Mark” for about a week now. Thankfully, you and Addy were able to loot an abandoned thrift store just outside of Philadelphia, so you were both decked out in proper apocalypse attire. So, there you were, on the side of the road in a brand new, old outfit, watching as 10K piked a zombie from yards away using only his slingshot and a gear. Mack was up front, messing with something under the truck’s hood, while Addy and Garnett discussed the existence of Amish zombies.

You weren’t paying attention. You were too busy watching 10K out of the corner of your eyes. You’d only known him a few days, and in those few days you had only heard him speak a handful of times. Still, you couldn’t help the tiny crush on him that may have been forming under the surface and against your will. You told yourself it was no big deal; you hadn’t been around anyone—let alone a cute boy—your age for years. Who else was there for you to point your silly schoolgirl crushes to? Murphy? Hell no.

Doc captured your strayed attention when he spoke up. “I’m telling you, there ain’t nothing there. No thoughts, no memories, no soul. Nothing.”

“Well, they’re not dead,” Cassandra countered. “They want something.”

“Yeah, brains.”

“I don’t think they’re picky. They’ll eat any part of you, really,” you joked.

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the two of you. “You can’t want something, if you’re not conscious. If you don’t have a soul.”

10K spoke then, startling you a little as you hadn’t heard his voice in hours. “When my pa was wounded, he told me to tie him up before he turned.” You looked at him and listened intently, as you did whenever he opened his mouth. “Made me promise to show him mercy when he died. Kill the brain, you know?” He looked away from the three of you. “I couldn’t do it,” he admitted. “I couldn’t hurt my pa, no matter what he’d become. I stared into his eyes for the longest time, just looking for some sign he was still in there.”

“Did you see anything?” Cassandra asked. He simply shook his head ‘no.’

“What’d you do?” Doc asked.

“Killed it,” 10K said firmly.

“Damn, kid. You had to put down your own dad?”

“Didn’t kill him—killed it.”

“But if it’s not alive, how did you kill it?” You felt that they were deliberately misunderstanding him. You weren’t. You knew what he meant.

“Piked it, right here,” he said, motioning with his knife to the center of his forehead. “My first kill.” You wanted to reach out for him, comfort him in some way, but that wouldn’t help to ease his pain. “I always wished he knew, you know? Somehow, knew that I kept my promise.”

“He knew,” you spoke up, softly. His green-blue eyes met yours, but you weren’t certain he really heard the truth behind your words.

When the truck was back in working order, Mack took your place, and the four of them sat in the bed in silence. You were spending some time in the truck instead. You weren’t sure how long it had been; you were trying to get some shut-eye, when a little, orange car came speeding down the road towards you. Doc hit the back window with a warning of, “Humans, six o’clock.”

“I see them,” Warren called. The truck sped up, but the car only upped its speed as well.

“That more of your cannibal friends?” Doc asked, unintentionally insensitively. You flinched slightly at the still fresh memory. Cassandra shook her head and told him it was something else.

“Up ahead!” Mack shouted. You turned your attention only to find a roadblock of zombies. Before you knew it, the truck was slowing down, and 10K was hopping out of the bed and running off.

“Where’s he going?” Doc voiced your concerns. “Hey! Kid!”

“What do you think?” Warren asked Garnett. “Plow right through?”

“No, I don’t want to wreck the truck again.”

“Can’t we just go around?” you asked, a wary feeling taking over.

Garnett ignored your suggestion and called for the group to pike them instead. Murphy spoke up, in all his sarcastic glory, saying, “Oh, what? Are we having a little mercy party?”

You and Addy got out of the truck, following Garnett’s order to quietly put them down to avoid drawing anymore that might be nearby. Warren skipped ahead of the rest of you and quickly beheaded the nearest zombie. Just as you were about to bash another’s head in, Cassandra yelled out for you all to wait. “Something’s wrong.”

“She’s right,” said Warren. “Look at their feet.” They were chained to cinderblocks, preventing them from moving or attacking. Who would do something like this? Your question was soon answered as the orange vehicle drove up behind you and multiple zombies raised guns and pointed them at each of you.

“Hold it right there!” one of the fake zombies said. “Alright, now drop your weapons or die, right where you stand.” The group realized you were cornered. “Put down the weapons,” he repeated, “or eat brains.” Suddenly, a shot rang out, and one of the nearby zombies dropped like a ton of bricks. The man chuckled nervously.

“God, I love that kid,” Doc said.

“Now, we just want the vehicle,” the zombie bandit said with less confidence. Garnett signaled for 10K to stand down from wherever he was hiding. “Alright? So give us the truck, and we’ll let you live to die another day.” The threat wasn’t nearly as scary as it would have been had you been alone, like you had been for so long. You had come across the occasional thief in your time alone, and you almost always gave in to what they wanted. Now, you were confident that your group could beat them in a fight.

“Give them the truck!” Murphy shouted, from the safety of the truck, ironically.

“Don’t give them a goddamn thing!” Warren yelled back, firmly holding her ground.

“Do the math, Garnett. We have other priorities!” You still weren’t exactly sure what those ‘priorities’ were; you just knew that you needed to get Murphy to California, and fast. “Give them the damn truck.”

The bandit giggled and said, “Listen to your friend there. Nobody wants to die.” You gripped your dual hammers tighter, readying for a fight you were sure was to come. “But we’re taking that truck.”

“Say the word, Garnett,” Mack said.

After what felt like minutes of a standstill stand-off, Garnett said, “Let them have it.” You reeled your arm back, and Garnett clarified, “The truck! Let them have the truck.” You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you had been holding.

“Smart move,” the leader of the zombie bandits said. “Alright, guys, let’s go! And leave the junker! They’re not going to get very far.”

“How generous,” you muttered as they walked by, one of the bandits sending you a wink as he passed. You sneered.

Garnett called Murphy away from the truck he had been so adamant on giving up. You shot the scruffy man a small glare as he made his way over to the rest of the group. You didn’t like him.

The bandits whooped and hollered as they piled into the truck. Luckily, you had the good sense to carry your backpack with you every time you left the truck. You flipped off the truck-stealers as they whizzed past.

Heading to the junker car, you watched as Warren attempted to open the driver’s side door, only for it to be ripped off the car entirely. “Beautiful,” she remarked. Mack tossed it to the side of the road.

You had no idea how all nine of you were going to possibly fit.

Somehow, you did it. You were squished in the back with Murphy and Cassandra while Garnett and Warren were passenger and driver, respectively, Mack and Addy sat on the hood of the car, and Doc and 10K were hanging on to the back. The car moved incredibly slowly.

Eventually, a little ways down the same road your truck was nabbed, you found it, along with the bandits who stole it, in the middle of the road. They seemed to be holding a family at gunpoint. The car quickly came to a stop, and you all made your way out and over to the altercation.

“Looks like they’re trying to rob some poor family this time,” Warren commented.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Garnett said. “Come on.” Murphy stayed in the car again and told you not to do this, but you all ignored him and followed your fearless leader into the fray. As Garnett approached, he pulled his gun on the bandits and said, “Drop your weapons on the ground or the first shot takes your head off.”

“You heard the man,” the father said. “Drop your weapons.” You felt strange about the confidence in his voice; it was as if he wasn’t under threat of potential harm to him or his family. You didn’t raise your hammers and instead fingered one of the throwing knives sheathed into the strap across your chest. The man was unwavering, and the bandit leader motioned for the rest of them to drop their weapons.

Garnett stepped forward and apparently saw something he couldn’t explain on the other side of the truck. It was hidden from your view, but you could tell that it wasn’t good by the way he said, “What’s this?”

The father swiftly pointed his gun at Garnett while he was looking away. “A robbery,” he answered before turning and unloading bullets into the gang of thieves. His wife and both of their small children pulled out hidden guns and did the same, killing every last remaining bandit on the side of the road. “Drop your weapons! Now!” The father ordered, and you all obeyed. “I don’t want to have to kill you,” he said, sounding sincere. While your hands were up in surrender, the family rushed into the truck and sped off.

You groaned and, out of a sudden burst of frustration, threw one of your knives directly into the trunk of a nearby tree. “Never get out of the boat,” you heard Doc mumble as you went to retrieve your knife. You yanked it out of the bark and made your way back to the car, passing 10K as you went. His scarred eyebrow shot up as you walked by him.

You crawled back into the back, while Doc and 10K switched ends with Mack and Addy, and Garnett took over driving. You noticed that it seemed like those who joined the group most recently (you, Cassandra, and Murphy) were given the short stick. You had no room to complain—literally.

You tuned out whatever bullshit Murphy had to say as soon as he opened his mouth. However, your attention was back on high alert when you heard Doc say, “Stop the car! Oh, it’s the family.” You couldn’t see over Cassandra and Murphy, but you could hear the sounds of zombies, and you knew what that meant.

“We gotta get off this road,” Garnett said.

“This truck is giving me whiplash,” you mumbled.

As you all piled out of the junker, you watched as Addy and Warren piked the active zombies with their Z-Whacker and machete. You choked back a silent sob as you quickly mercied the two children, before they could turn. It was the least you could do.

A while later, the truck stopped in a town. Garnett was hoping to make contact with the man on the radio—Citizen Z, they called him. You, however, were off looking for anything useful you could scavenge. It had been taking Addy and the rest hours to set up the satellite in order to make a possible connection through Clowny the French Fry Guy, so you told Warren you’d be back and headed into the fast-food restaurant. You had found little of value.

Unsurprisingly, the place was pretty well picked over. You were in the kitchen, searching for another knife to add to your collection. Instead, you found a dozen or so hand-sanitizing wipes. In a world without easy access to showers, you had just hit the jackpot. You also found a bunch of unused napkins, still in the dispenser. You grabbed the whole thing, hoping to use it as toilet paper should the group ever run out. It was disheartening that these were the things that you were excited about finding.

You went over the entire restaurant again, finding nothing more than long-empty burger wrappers and paper cups. You made your way outside, back to the group, to see Garnett talking into the drive-thru machine.

“Oh, nice one Addy!” You high-fived her. She beamed back at you.

“Get anything good?” she asked. You unzipped your backpack and patted the napkin dispenser, and then you handed her a sanitary wipe. “Sweet! Mack was just telling me that I stink,” she laughed.

Warren shushed you both as Garnett ushered Addy over to the machine. She hopped down, and you took her place in the truck bed. You silently handed a moist towelette packet to Cassandra, and to Doc, and Warren, and Mack. You begrudgingly gave one to Murphy as well. You looked up at 10K from where he was standing, holding the satellite dish as high as he could. He looked down at you when you poked his leg. You held up the packet and mouthed “Want one?”

He smirked in that way he did to avoid flashing a full smile, and he mouthed back, “Pocket.” Avoiding the small rush of blood to your cheeks—no time to dwell on that—you reached up and gently placed one into his left pant pocket. He mouthed a “thank you” in return, and you gave him a weak thumbs up. You quickly turned back to face Addy as she spoke to Citizen Z through Clowny.

You heard her say, “It’s pretty eff’ed up, actually. How’s it going wherever you are?” You weren’t an expert when it came to flirting, seeing as you had never properly tried before, but Citizen Z’s tone of voice when he responded made you think that he maybe had more interest in Addy than just as a radio host, eye-in-the-sky.

“What can I do for you folks?” he asked finally.

Doc jumped in and pretended to order food, but Murphy abruptly cut him off, saying, “Could we please get on with this before the Z’s find us?” Unfortunately, you agreed with him.

“Wait,” Citizen Z spoke again, “Is that Murphy? Outstanding! Glad to see you’re still alive, sir.” At least someone was.

“Yeah, but he won’t be for long if we don’t get off this highway,” Garnett cut in. “We’re in desperate need of alternate transpo.” He was asking for anything airborne to get you off the ground and out of zombie territory. Apparently, Citizen Z had something in mind. There was a helicopter at the Emergency Headquarters for Infection Control in McLean, Viriginia. Murphy did not like this plan, but there was no time to argue as Warren announced the arrival of more zombies. You hit the road and headed south towards Virginia.

Once you arrived at your destination, you found that it was not exactly what you were expecting. Dozens of zombies in military uniforms were strewn about, having been piked and left to rot. As the group approached the building, a man appeared, pointing a rifle at you, and he said, “Halt! Who goes there?” Garnett introduced himself and Warren as members of the National Guard and explained what you all were doing there.

“We were told he has a helicopter?”

“Yeah, he’s got a chopper. But General McCandles is a very busy man. He’s got the entire east coast under his command. He can’t worry about some raggedy ass group of civilians on a suicide mission.” You rolled your eyes. It was typical of those military types. Every single one that you had come in contact with, aside from Garnett and Warren, seemed to have a real stick up their butt when it came to helping individual civilians rather than the nation as a whole. You zoned out of the conversation after that as you didn’t really see it going anywhere.

You weren’t surprised when the man asked for a bribe, nor were you surprised when that bribe turned out to be the last of Doc’s Oxycontin stash. You were, however, taken aback when the man downed the four pills right there. “The General will see you now.” You kicked off from where you were leaning on the truck, and you watched as those in charge spoke through a security camera and speaker to who you assumed was General McCandles. It didn’t seem to be going too well, by the looks of things. Eventually, Doc was sent up—alone. You didn’t like that, but you were in no position to argue.

While you waited, you watched as 10K headshot a handful of zombies as if it were nothing. You were in awe of his precision and calm. Despite your above-average track record when it came to piking Z’s, you still got the shakes every time you pulled your hammer or a knife from a skull. He was completely zen. You were pulled away from admiring him when you heard an echoing scream.

“Do you hear that?” Cassandra asked, directing everyone else’s attention toward the sound. You made your way over to the group as the shout rang out once more, louder this time.

“Sounds like Doc,” Mack said. The shouts became more panicked.

“That’s Doc alright, but where the hell is he?” Warren asked.

“Somewhere up there.” You looked up at the building, trying to find a point of entry or pinpoint where exactly the sound was coming from. The echo was too strong, and you couldn’t distinguish his location.

“We’re going up after him,” Garnett ordered, and you tugged the strap of your backpack up higher, ready to charge in. The guard cut you all off.

“No, you don’t,” he said.

“Let us up, now.”

“Nobody goes upstairs without the General’s orders,” he insisted. He was really starting to piss you off. Garnett must have felt the same as he pulled his gun from its holster and pressed it into the man’s cheek.

“We go up now, or I scramble your egg-brain inside the shell.” What an odd turn of phrase, you thought. The threat must have worked, though, because the guard put up no resistance as Garnett ordered him around. “10K, cover our flank!” he shouted. “Don’t let man or zombie follow us up. You,” he said, pointing at you and calling your name, “provide some backup for 10K.” It was unexpected, but you gave Garnett a salute and made your way over to the place where 10K had set up.

As you walked over to where 10K was camped out, you heard him say, “Yes, sir!” You pulled yourself up onto the hood of the ambulance he was laying on top of. You didn’t climb up all the way to where he was because you knew he needed space to do his thing. You watched as the rest of the group made their way inside the building.

10K pulled out a cigarette. In the near week that you’d known him, you had never once seen him smoke. “I didn’t know you smoked,” you said, tilting your head as you looked at him.

He lit the cigarette, puffed once, and simply said, “I don’t.” He then placed the lit cig near his rifle’s scope, and you realized he was using the smoke as a guide against the wind.

“Oh,” was all you said before falling into an uncomfortable silence. You jumped as a shot rang out, missing a Z beyond the fence. 10K never missed. You looked to him with wide eyes, but he avoided your gaze as he took another long drag of the cigarette. As he held it between his lips, his eyes took on a far-off quality. You simply waited quietly, not wanting to disturb him. You thought it might have something to do with the story he had told about his pa.

While he had zoned out, a Z made it past the fence and was headed your way. It was alone, but you didn’t want to get up to pike it with your hammer, so instead, you aimed one of your knives and threw it directly through its eye. You’d been aiming for the forehead, but you took the wins as they came. As you got down from the hood, going to retrieve your knife from the Z’s skull, you jumped once more when 10K landed the headshot that he had just missed. You turned and smiled at him, but he still had that sad expression on his face, and he didn’t make eye contact with you.

You plucked your knife from the eye of the zombie, wiping off the gore on its shirt, and began walking back to the ambulance to continue to keep watch. “Why do you use knives?” 10K’s voice surprised you.

“What?” you asked, unsure if you heard him correctly. You climbed back onto the hood of the ambulance.

“Why do you use knives?” he repeated. “Or hammers. Instead of guns.”

You looked at the knife in your hand, turning it over until you could see your reflection in the steel. You took your sleeve and wiped off some dirt that you spotted on your cheek. “Why do you use guns?”

“I asked you first.” He smirked and helped pull you up to the top of the ambulance where he was now sitting cross-legged instead of lying down on his stomach.

“I guess I don’t like anything that doesn’t have reusable ammo.” You shrugged and began absentmindedly picking at the dried blood and dirt beneath your nails, using the tip of your knife. Sitting across from him, you were able to see that his fingernails were similarly dirty. You wondered if he would let you clean them—allow you to hold his hand while you worked. You shook your head of the thought. “I never learned how to use a gun, and knives just felt easier.”

“Where’d you learn to throw like that?”

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” He gave you a look, and you rolled your eyes. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.” You held out your pinkie.

“What’s that?” he asked. You were shocked. How did he not know what a pinkie promise was?

“It’s my pinkie. For a pinkie promise? You hook your pinkie around mine and we shake on an agreement.”

“Oh,” was all he said, looking somewhat sheepish.

“Do we have a deal?” you asked, grabbing his hand and pulling his pinkie out of his fist. It was bold of you to initiate contact like that, and your face heated up as he hooked his pinkie finger around yours and pressed his thumb to your thumb. He nodded. You took in a deep breath. “Swear you won’t laugh?”

“That wasn’t a part of our pinkie promise,” he said, flashing you the tiniest bit of teeth in a small smile.

You groaned and covered your face in your hands. Your voice came out muffled. “Renaissance Festivals.”

“What was that?” You could hear the smile in his tone, and you peeked through your hands to see him looking at you with a glint in his eyes.

“I learned to throw at Renaissance Festivals, okay?” He laughed, but it’s not like he promised not to. You glanced up at him, just to see his smile, but quickly turned to stare at the ground instead when you saw that he was looking back at you. “I used to go every year, growing up. They didn’t let me start competing in the knife-throwing until I was twelve, but I had lied about my age and actually started when I was nine. I got found out at the end of every year’s competition, but I kept coming back under different names. I didn’t get any good for a while, but I kept practicing. I won the last four years in a row, before all this shit,” you said, gesturing to the dozens of littered zombie corpses on the ground.

“Impressive,” he said. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, and you could tell that he meant it and that he had been listening intently. You smiled softly, and he cleared his throat, looking away and off into the distance as if embarrassed. “What about those hammers?” he asked, slightly diverting the subject.

You pulled the pair of hammers out from your pack and handed one to him. He took it and turned it over, reading the scratchings on the handle. It was your initials in a heart. The hammer you held onto was similarly marked, but instead the initials L.N. were the ones inside the heart. You watched 10K’s thumb trace the carving, and you swore you could have felt his touch on you rather than just on your initials. You shivered at the imaginary feeling, but you jumped at the real thing when he grabbed the other hammer from you, his fingers lightly brushing against your wrist.

He recited the two pairs of initials. “Who is this?” It was a simple question, but something about the answer felt personal and private. You decided to push past your fear of being known; if you wanted anything to happen between you and 10K—you weren’t sure if you did, but you liked the thought of possibility—then you decided that you should be honest and open. He had been open about his pa, after all.

“That’s me,” you said, pointing to the hammer with your initials. “And that’s Luke. Nelson.” He just looked up at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Luke was a guy that I was with before Philly. A long time ago.” You picked at a hangnail absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze.

“Was he, like, your boyfriend?” 10K asked in a soft voice. You snapped your head up and looked at him with wide eyes. He looked almost shy—disappointed?

“What? No!” you said, shaking your head. “Luke was like my brother!”

“What’s with the hearts, then?” It was your turn to feel shy.

“He did those. He was always joking like that.”

“Like what?” The question caught you off guard. You didn’t know how to respond. What could you say? That Luke liked to tease you—play house and pretend to be boyfriend-girlfriend just to see how it made you squirm? That he found your lack of experience endearing and that he joked about wanting to “corrupt you?” That he was a grown man, more than a decade your senior, but he was the only person you had been able to consistently rely on after Black Summer left you broken and alone and that you had been in his debt ever since? You loved Luke, but something about your relationship with him always felt like it was only meant to be shared between the two of you. He had asked you to keep it to yourself, hadn’t he?

You didn’t want to talk about Luke anymore. You grabbed your hammers from 10K, shaking your head but avoiding his gaze as you changed the subject.

“Your turn. Why do you use guns, and where’d you learn to shoot like that?” you repeated your previous questions from earlier in the conversation. Before he answered, he looked behind you. He then moved so fast that you had no time to process as he aimed and fired at a Z moving your way. You covered your ears too late, and the shot rang through your head, leaving you dizzy. “Warn a girl next time!”

“Sorry,” he said simply, but he took your hand away from your ear, so gently, so that he could check to make sure you weren’t bleeding. He used his other hand to push your hair behind your ear. You sucked in a breath and held it, not wanting to move in case it might scare him away. “You okay?” he asked, and you could only nod as you looked into his big, ocean eyes. He locked eyes with you and licked his lips. You were frozen, half-tempted to close your eyes and lean in. But you had never kissed anyone before, and you weren’t about to ruin anything by assuming his intentions were anything other than platonic.

Just as you were beginning to overthink the physical closeness between the two of you, 10K cleared his throat and pulled away from you. You watched him as he ran a hand through his dark, messy hair. “My pa taught me,” he said in a quiet voice. You tilted your head at him in a question, and he clarified, “How to shoot. We lived alone after Ma died. He wanted me to be self-sufficient, so he taught me how to hunt and fish.” It was the most words in a row you had heard him say since knowing him. You wanted him to keep saying things—to keep talking to you.

“I’m sorry about your ma,” you said. “And your pa. How long were you alone? After…” you trailed off, but he knew what you meant. After he turned. After you had to kill your own father.

“A while,” was his only answer. You nodded.

“Me too. Though, at least you had survival skills; I don’t know how I’ve lived this long.” You laughed half-heartedly.

“You’re good with a knife,” he complimented you. You were a bit taken aback by the sudden flattery, but you welcomed it. You smiled at him, and he looked away sheepishly.

“Not as good as you are with that gun,” you nodded towards his rifle in his lap. “Were you, like, one of those kids who would skip school to go hunting? There were a couple of those at my high school, and I always thought it was kind of unfair.”

“I was homeschooled,” he admitted, shrugging. “We lived in a National Park,” he mumbled the last bit.

“You what?” you asked, incredulous. “Is that even legal?” The corner of his mouth tilted up in an amused smile.

“Probably not, but Pa was the Park Director, so he kinda did what he wanted.”

“This explains so much about you.”

“Like what?” he asked with a furrow in his brow. You poked him in the side and stuck your tongue out at him teasingly.

“Nothing bad. You’re capable and level-headed, but you’re just so quiet! This is the first time I’m actually getting to learn anything about you. Very homeschooled kid vibes,” you said while nodding sagely. He rolled his eyes at you but smiled anyway.

Suddenly, you heard an explosion come from the building. Your head whipped towards the sound before turning back to the boy in front of you. He was now standing on the ambulance roof, rifle up as he peered through the scope to try and source the sound.

“Can you see anything?” you asked, pulling yourself up to stand beside him. He looked over at you.

“No, but I think we should head back to the truck.” You nodded in agreement and helped him to pack up his stuff, making sure to remember your things as well.

Once you returned to the truck, the two of you only had to wait a couple of minutes before you saw the rest of the group heading your way. You stood up in the bed and waved to them, but something was wrong. They could barely look at you or 10K as they approached. That’s when you noticed.

“What happened to Doc?” 10K asked. Warren sighed and looked up at the both of you.

“He didn’t make it,” she admitted.

What? How was that possible? You weren’t even given the chance to question it when Addy announced that zombies were encroaching.

“Oh, god, is that?” Mack asked. You looked to where his eyes were pointed, and sure enough, there he was.

“It’s Doc,” Addy said. He was covered in blood and guts, and he was stumbling about. You couldn’t watch this. Warren volunteered to be the one to mercy him, and you shut your eyes tight.

“Stephen ‘Doc’ Beck,” she said, “I give you mercy.” She shot at him, but she missed.

“What the hell, Warren?” the zombified Doc asked. “You trying to kill me?” Your head shot up. He was alive?

“You’re alive?” Warren asked.

“Damn straight, I’m alive!” You let out a sigh of relief as well as nervous giggles and a smile at seeing your friend alive and well.

“We thought you were dead!” Garnett explained.

“Well so did I. Some numbskull threw a grenade in the airshaft I was stuck in!” You turned a questioning look on Cassandra, but she just smiled and shook her head. You all welcomed him with open arms, and Doc jokingly asked for more from Warren when he said, “Give me a kiss, baby!” You all laughed, and you pressed your fingers to your tear ducts, wiping away the burning dampness that was accumulating.

As you all began to take your places in the truck, tired after a long day, the radio came on with a pretty, slow song on. You closed your eyes and swayed gently to the music, allowing the stress of the day to fly away as the breeze brushed through your hair.

Citizen Z was speaking over the music. He said, “Here’s a song for all the lonely people out there, which is just about everybody that’s left. So, if you’ve got somebody to go through the apocalypse with, you better watch their backs. ‘Cause there ain’t many of us left. And oh yeah, I’d like to dedicate this song to Addison Carver, wherever you are.” You broke out into a grin when you heard that and opened your eyes to tease her, but instead you were stopped when you saw that 10K had his eyes glued on you. Your eyes widened, and he immediately looked away, a light, pink tinge to his cheeks. You smiled and closed your eyes again, hoping that the setting sun might douse the heat that was also rising to your face.

“You know kid,” Doc spoke up, “I’ve been thinking about what you told me about your dad and how you wished he knew you did the right thing—giving him mercy like you promised.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I just want you to know your dad knows what you did for him, and he knows you did the right thing. You kept your promise.”

“Thanks.” 10K didn’t exactly sound like he believed it, but you were glad that Doc was there to comfort him.

Chapter Three: Home Sweet Zombie OR Tornado Alley

[theeccentricraven]

World Building in 5

Thank you again @kaylinalexanderbooks for the tags. I'm making this for this tag but couldn't remember if that was the original post I did my first Blood Cleaners post (because Tumblr posts don't have dates....) but because of this open tag here I can say this is for that 😎❤️

Rules: post 3-5 pictures that capture a setting in your world and tell us about it! Remember to cite your sources and include image IDs to make your post accessible!

I've done this before for The Blood Cleaners link 1 link 2

Now I'm doing this for Sanctuary Calling!

Sanctuary Calling is a YA Dystopia set in a future where human civilization lives on Mars, the moon, and space stations, but only a few live on earth. It all began when human civilization was collapsing as a worldwide economic depression caused the governments of many nations to fail. The remaining few who held power formed a world government called the World Council or WC for short. One of the first measures they passed was declaring earth a reservation or "sanctuary", ordering the whole human race to evacuate earth and live in space. The only humans allowed to live on earth were societies that didn't use modern technology - the Maasai, the Inuit, the Sami, various tribal societies, and the Old Order of the Amish.

Nari is an ingenious teenage girl who has lived in a biodome on Mars her whole life. Decades after the evacuation order and many generations living in space, some humans are forming a secret rebellion to earn the right to return to earth. Nari joins the rebels who infiltrate a way back to earth. The plan goes wrong when Nari crash lands near the ruins of Cleveland. She uses her ingenuity to craft a device that flies her south, where she finds an Amish community. Nari's life has turned upside down now that she's gone from her high-tech life on Mars to a quiet electricity-less Amish farm.

Source 1 | Source 2 | Source 3 | Source 4 | Source 5

Tagging: @ddgraywrites @gioiaalbanoart @happypup-kitcat24 @orphanheirs and OPEN ✨

[docholligay]

Part two of worst book because this entry broke my tumblr

First place for giving me the RIDE OF MY LIFE

So. This is kinda on me. The worst book I read this year was Arrow's Fall. It's the third book in a trilogy and the other two weren't good. I have liked some of the other work by this author but this is some of her earliest stuff and it Shows. We start off "strong" with a girl from a religious group which is definitely not fantasy Amish-Mormonism, who runs away from home because she is not like other girls and she wants to be a magic knight. Luckily, she is Chosen by a magic horse to be the specialist magic knight in the whole kingdom. She attends knight school, where she is bullied by normies who want to be magic knights but weren't Chosen by magic horses. They attempt to murder her (as children are wont to do) but she miraculously survives and awakens a whole new super special magic power! There's some court Intrigue (the princess' nanny is a traitor, so apparently the castle vetting system sucks) and then we are introduced to the concept of "lifebonds" (psychic, soulmate-adjacent nonsense) when one half of a Bonded pair (and I think the only lesbians in this trilogy) is murdered and the mc uses her special magic powers to save the other. Don't worry, the lifebond concept will return. Many. Times. Somewhere in there, we also met an older magic knight (but not too old ;) ) who was the mc's magic teacher for a while. There is some very obvious romance setup. Thus ends the first book. I want to know who hired the nanny and who helped her escape so I start the second book. I do not find out. The second book takes us away from court and almost all plot lines related to it are dropped until the third book (except the one with the very obviously evil noble who wants the crown and isn't being particularly subtle about it -- seriously the castle intelligence system must be absolute trash). I will not go into detail about the second book because the only thing that happens which has lasting consequences is that the mc starts sleeping with the best friend of her teacher from the first book. This guy actually has some personality and sometimes conflicting opinions to the mc, so he is obviously not endgame. I STILL want to know what's up with the court drama (I am a fool) so I read the third book. The third book sucks.

We return to harping on lifebonds (gotta love fated romance with boring men, I only just noticed the Usagi/Mamoru parallel). But oh no! Misunderstandings! The mc was sleeping with her fated partner's best friend and the Poor Man has trauma with people liking his friend more than him! (Can't imagine why.) To be completely fair to him, using someone's feelings for you in order to get closer to someone else IS a dick move. It is part of his Tragic Backstory that this has happened to him before. Since the mc has already successfully slept with the best friend multiple times, I'm not sure why this keeps getting brought up though. Clearly she doesn't need his help with that. There is also an arranged marriage being offered to the princess that could not more clearly be some kind of trap, but we have to debate it for several chapters anyway. People keep trusting the Obviously Evil Noble, who continues to be Obviously Evil. (He is somehow still a trusted advisor despite the fact that his advice somehow mysteriously keeps resulting in the almost-death/disgrace of the Royal family. No one questions this.) The mc and the actually interesting man are sent to investigate the Clearly A Trap marriage proposal to the princess. The stars align so that they arrive as the potential suitor is in the process of murdering a bunch of people as part of a coup. (He is the prince, but apparently got impatient because he is Evil.) The mc is captured and tortured. It turns out the nanny was the mastermind all along (and a powerful mage) who has Seduced the prince to Evil. We spend Way Too Long discussing the fact that she and the prince are getting sexual pleasure from torturing the mc. The mc uses her magic horse (who escaped) to communicate that she has been captured but not to rescue her because it will be too hard. Her soulmate uses magic to rescue her anyway. But Tragedy! She has drunk poison to escape her fate!

Not to worry though. She's the main character, and thus functionally immortal. She wakes up and tells the princess (despite the fact that the Queen is Also There) that the Obviously Evil Noble is Evil. She did not figure this out herself. The Evil Prince had to tell her. I need some of the charisma this guy clearly has to get so many people to blindly trust him. Instead of telling the Queen or accusing him in court and having a trial. The mc and Princess set up a "trap" in which the mc basically just tells him that she knows he's Evil while the princess hides to witness his reaction. As he has reached the end of his plot relevance, all his scheming ability deserts him and he tries to kill the mc when she confronts him. (Which is wild, because she has no physical proof so it's her word, secondhand from the Evil Prince, against his, and he's apparently a super trusted Royal Advisor. Like, I feel there were ways he could have spun this so it just went away, but his intellect only existed as the plot required so.)

The princess kills the Obviously Evil Noble on the spot for trying to kill the mc. There are no other witnesses to him trying to do this, so I am not sure why this was any better than just killing him outright and not bothering with the plan. We are reaching the end of the novel, so the mc gets together with the boring man, it is confirmed that the two of them are soulmates, and the book ends with them getting married. And the ghost of the interesting man leaves them a message saying he approves of their union (I am not entirely clear on how.) I wish I had something more witty to say about that, but instead I just find it inarticulably annoying. 2 out of 5 stars -- probably still a better use of my time than TikTok.

Nax (can't tag you so pay attention to the draw) I loved this. I read it more than once. I want it acted out as a street performance.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Got ideas on what could happen if Lila and Zoè were in the same area for any extended period of time, enough for Zoè to express the fact she's American:

Lila pointing out that Rudy Giuliani and others aren't Italians, but Italian-AMERICAN (unless I'm mistaken there's more people of Italian descent in the US than those of French descent, so while most everyone would do it she's statistically more likely to have the chance), they don't even speak the language or do other Italian things (and if they do them, they likely do them wrong). May or may not point out that by her logic she should do like the Amish and use English to refer to the average American, depending on her knowing that trivia.

Related to above, rant on how the goddamn' AMERICAN MAFIA is more likely to remember how actual Italians (or rather Sicilians. There's a difference, and picking up on it is part of being Italian) act.

Rant about American pizza, and how Americans somehow can't get in their heads that the whole point is that pizza eaters of old couldn't afford both bread and plates so made flatbreads that could serve as plates and then be eaten (same goes for pinsa, focaccia, and piada, other Italian flatbreads). Would likely do the same for other American versions of Italian dishes, pizza is just the most likely. Italians tend to be easily angered by American takes on their cooking unless we're making money out of it.

Rant about how weak American coffee is (an Italian Pope literally BAPTIZED COFFEE just to shut up those who wanted to ban the "Infidel" beverage, that's how serious we are about coffee). Marinette may join on this, to everyone's shock.

Gloat on how better Italian healthcare is.

Rant on the Cernis Massacre and how the culprits got away with it because they were active US military and the victims Italian, nevermind they had received orders that would have prevented the event if they had bothered to read and follow them.

oh my god

[howlingwolf23]

My boomer take is if I have a paper coupon, I should be able to walk in to the establishment and use it.

No online order, no app, no sign on login, no create an account.

I have physical coupon, in the physical, non digital world. You can hold it, touch it, caress it, eat it.

I am in your physical business, physically present. Maybe not mentally but that has never mattered.

And, amazingly enough, with physical money. Almost nobody has folding money anymore. It's all credit cards and cash apps.

I should not have to get into the digital world, send information into outerspace and back where you try and harvest me for my data further, for you to accept it. You are already taking my money, isn't that enough for you greedy bastards?

Let's just do this old school, Amish style and get this transaction taken care of without being traced by the FBI or VISA.

[follow-up-news]

A woman who was severely injured when a gunman killed five girls and wounded her and four other girls during an attack on their one-room Amish schoolhouse in Pennsylvania has died 18 years later, a funeral director said Thursday. Rosanna S. King, 23, died at her home on Tuesday and a funeral is planned at her home in the farming community of Paradise on Friday, according to an obituary from Furman Home for Funerals in Leola. Funeral director Philip Furman confirmed Thursday she was among those shot at the West Nickel Mines Amish School in October 2006. Charles Carl Roberts IV, a 32-year-old milk truck driver, barricaded himself inside the schoolhouse and let boys and several adults go as he tied up 10 girls and shot them before taking his own life as police closed in. Rosanna King, who belonged to an Old Order Amish Church community, was 6 years old at the time and had been considered the most severely injured survivor. She had been shot in the head and the attack left her unable to talk and needing a tube to be fed. She was dependent on others for personal care and mobility.

[amishmennoman]

Here's a question: what sort of underwear (if any?) is worn by Amish guys?

To my understanding most very conservative Amish church communities like the Swartzentrubers, do not wear underwear. In the winter, when they do wear thermal long johns, the elastic is removed from the waist and replaced by a tie string.

Most Old Order and less conservative and modern Amish wear briefs like white Hanes or FTL. At least that’s what I see drying on their clothes lines around here. I prefer boxer briefs.

[admiralderuyter]

[ambriel-angstwitch]

Here’s all my characters I played on my last play

This isn’t what anyone else wanted but this is a personal project.

I made the bold choice of drawing all their outfits from memory so they’re not perfect copies of their outfits but they embody what I think about the characters.

Info about the play and characters under the cut.

Leaving Iowa has both past and present sections that it switches back and forth between. It follows Don as he tries to find a place to put his Father’s ashes and his family back in the past on a crazy road trip. It was a wonderful play to be a part of. It’s hilarious and heartfelt.

The fun thing about theater is people always have different take on characters and a play so how I describe my version of the characters could be very different from how you’d see it in a different production.

The First on Top is Amish girl. She and her sister try to sell their quilt and wind chimes, to Don and the Mom while their on the road trip. I played her with a constant smile that hurt my cheeks and over enthusiastic explanation of the wares. The Amish characters in our play were intended to be younger girls manning the booth, though in the original script it’s a man and a woman.

The other character on top of the words is Older Allie Browning which is what we named Don’s sister. In the original script Don has 1 sister but we split it into twins Allie and Hallie. Allie has a three year old son named Joey, who’s birthday is why she thought is why Don came home. So she is incredibly annoyed when instead he misses it and leaves her and Hallie with the relatives in order to go on a trip through the Midwest. (I have a lot of lore I developed about her life that explained her different attitude from her sister and was just fun to come up with.)

Fun fact the same actor played both my sisters.

The one in the red shirt is Fruit Cart Human. She mans the cart and helps check out Mom. We had a whole whispered dialogue we’d do while Dad and Fruit Cart Guy said lines.

And the last one is Becky my personal favorite. Her name in the script is Hotel Clerk as that’s her job and she was originally played by a man. My Hotel Clerk was full of Southern Charm. She spends her scene being vaguely bothered by the drunk lady and helping Don.

(Becky is also one of my Lesbian Ocs because I have sooo much lore I made up for her. The other is Jamie the Mechanic who was my friends character (the same one who played my sisters). The lore for those two just kept developing as practice went on. If you’ve ever been in theater you know how that works. I will be posting more about her as an oc in all likelihood.)

All of my characters were super enjoyable to play and were a great part of the comedy

It’s a worthwhile play if you ever get a chance to watch it or be in it.

[always-andromeda]

𝙛𝙖𝙫𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙩𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙝

Thank you for the tag @guiltyasdave!! This month was uhhhh...a very mixed bag lmao. Some very longwinded little reviews are under the cut!!

Children of the Corn (1984); I always end up enjoying the 80s film adaptations of Steven King stories. So I knew going into this one that it would probably be schlocky but that I would love it. And I was NOT wrong.

Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice (1992); Peak schlock. I fucking loved the extremely visible shoulder pads on the main female character. The way that she and the main male character hook up after like two whole conversations on screen. The way that they invented two old women characters just to parallel them with the wicked witches from The Wizard of Oz for no reason. The emo twink that takes on Isaac's mantle of tyrannical preacher. Beautiful, no notes.

Children of the Corn III: Urban Harvest (1995); Simply remembering this one has me fucking losing it. I love how the parents adopt these two weird ass Amish kids and they treat the older teenager like he's a fucking toddler and tell him not to talk to the two black teenagers that live nextdoor while letting the youngest plant a whole ass cornfield in an abandoned factory. I love how they went, "We didn't want you guys getting hurt playing around the abandoned factory next door so we put up a fence!! ☺️" and it's like a seven foot wood fence you could punch a hole through built two inches away from the abandoned factory. Parenting!!

Get Out (2017); A massive classic of modern horror for a reason. It's very approachable for an average viewer but has a lot of layers of symbolism for those who enjoy peeling them back. I really fucked with the social commentary on white America and the way that black Americans are expected to become more white in order to conform. If you haven't seen it yet, watch it!!

Buffalo '66 (1998); Okay...so this movie is the worst. If there was ever a stuck up, entitled film bro director, Vincent Gallo is that man. He brings such an insufferable energy to this movie until the absolute end. But goddamn if I didn't enjoy it. The cinematography allowed for some unique storytelling and it was fun to watch. Very much a junk food, guilty pleasure movie.

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri (2017); I appreciated many things about this movie. The first being Frances MacDormand's performance. Almost everyone in this is so fucking solid but goddamnit, I loved her complexity the most. Which leads into the next thing I enjoyed about this: the authenticity. From the intense emotions to the little pockets of humor and the butchered but somewhat well meaning political correctness that I've known some redneck folks to use...it felt so real to me. I could probably talk about this movie for forever. Another one on this list I highly recommend seeing!!

[thelovelygods]

Known as the gateway to the Alpujarra mountains in Andalusía’s Granada province, Órgiva is also one of Spain’s most culturally diverse places, a bustling market town of around 6,000 people and according to the local council, home to 68 different nationalities.

And Baraka, a restaurant and tearoom with tables and chairs outside on a quiet street in the town center, is a pleasant reminder of Órgiva’s relaxed multiculturalism. It’s run by 41-year-old Pedro Barrio, a former wine taster and restaurant owner from Bilbao who changed his name to Qasim when he converted to Islam more than a decade ago.

Like around 35 other families in Órgiva’s Spanish Islamic community, Qasim adheres to Sufism, described by 14th-century Arab historian Ibn Khaldun as “dedication to worship, total dedication to Allah most High, disregard for the finery and ornament of the world, abstinence from the pleasure, wealth, and prestige sought by most men, and retiring from others to worship alone.”

Qasim says his faith gives him “hope and security,” but admits it has also caused him problems, particularly with his family and friends, who have come to associate Islam with jihadists and Salafists, and a radical interpretation of the Koran. Spain’s Sufi community has also been monitored by the National Intelligence Center.

Mansur, formerly José Carlos Sánchez, explains that Sufis live in the world without necessarily being of this world. “Every day I ask Allah to help me convert my ego into my prayer mat,” says the 41-year-old university graduate. “There is an undoubted rejection of Muslims in our society.”

His wife, Bahía (María José Villa), aged 35, agrees: “We converts are seen as strange. Islam isn’t what people think it is. Islam is peace. Islam is asking God for love, so that you can share that love with others. Unless your intention in life is to become pure love, then your Islam makes no sense.”

Muhammad Iskander, a former merchant seaman in his mid-fifties, says it is precisely the pacifist element of Sufism that Islamist radicals find so hard to accept: “They do not tolerate us, and are trying to abrogate the Koran’s message of mercy for that of the sword.”

Most Spanish Sufis belong to the Naqshbandi order, which traces its spiritual lineage back to Abu Bakr as-Siddiq, the first Caliph and a companion of the prophet Muhammad. The order’s emir in Spain is Umar (formerly Felipe Margarit), who was appointed in the mid-1970s by Shaykh Nazim al-Haqqani, the leader of the Naqshbandi order who died in May of last year at the age of 92.

Umar describes the Naqshbandi order as “a cross between a spiritual center and a hospital. “Nazim welcomed all those who had been wounded by our society. He described himself as a zero, saying his life was only meaningful if God, the One, was at his side. His son, who has succeeded him, believes the same.”

There are around 1,200 Naqshbandi Sufis in Spain, and the largest community is to be found in Órgiva. The reason for this is a happy accident: it’s where Umar was living before he converted to Islam. And once he had been proclaimed emir by Shaykh Nazim, those Spanish Sufi Muslims who could, moved to the town. The second-largest Sufi community in Spain is in Villanueva de la Vera, in the western province of Cáceres.

Amid weak winter sunshine, a group of Sufi farmers gathers olives in the mountains that surround Órgiva. They and their families live a simple life, but are not isolated from the world, like other religious groups such as the Amish are. They are connected to the internet, watch television, and read newspapers, and their children attend local schools.

On Thursdays at nightfall, the community meets in the dargah, a temple hidden away in the olive and orange groves around three kilometers outside Órgiva to celebrate the dhikr, or the recitation of the names of Allah, along with the hadra, a meditational process that consists of intoning a series of chants in praise of God, accompanied by rhythmic swaying and percussion.

“This reminds us of the moment when God filled Adam with breath,” says Amin (Andrés Fernández). “On Fridays, the holy day of Islam, we also celebrate Jummah prayers, and then the community sits to eat together. All our prayers are recited in Arabic, although that is all we know of the language. Our Islamic education has come from many sources, from conversations with other, wiser, brothers, and from the Shaykh’s sermons. The Naqshbandi are probably the least intellectual of the Sufis: we are more interested in the heart.”

Around 500 kilometers away, in Cáceres, is the tiny community of Aldea Tudal, a district of Villanueva de la Vera, which is home to Spain’s second-largest Naqshbandi Sufi community, led by Abdul Wahid (Cristóbal Martín). In the outskirts of the village, we’re met by Omar Ibrahim, originally from Madrid, but who lived in Germany for 35 years, where he ran a chain of restaurants: “Then I sold up and came to live here.”

It’s Thursday, and Omar is waiting for his fellow Sufis to arrive at his house, which doubles as the community’s dargah, to celebrate dhikr. “I converted to Islam almost 30 years ago. That was when I first felt like a true Christian. There is no contradiction, because Jesus Christ is respected as a prophet in Islam. We believe in the saints: we venerate their tombs and their relics. This distinguishes us from other Muslims,” says Omar.

He goes on to explain why Spanish converts to Sufism have adopted new, Arabic names. “You choose your Arabic name. This new name expresses the essence of who you really are and the disciple aspires to reach its meaning. Omar, for example, means force or sustenance.”

As with the community living in Órgiva, the Sufis of Villanueva de la Vera are all Spanish. “In fact, there is only one Moroccan here,” says Yamaluddin (Juan Andrés Molina). The bearded 44-year-old from Madrid is wearing the traditional Naqshbandi ring as worn by Muhammad, along with a waistcoat and baggy pants, and a green turban that will eventually serve as his winding sheet when his naked body is buried.

Sufi women also wear ample, baggy clothing, along with a headscarf, as 41-year-old Hawa (Ana Rosa Soto) explains: “Women should dress modestly. But we also cover ourselves to protect two energy centers on our body: the head and the throat. Thanks to Islam, I have recovered my femininity,” she says. “And nobody has ever given me any problems for dressing like this.”

Mariam Sakina Scott, who was born a Muslim in Órgiva 22 years ago, to American and Spanish parents who had converted to Islam, says that wearing the headscarf has created problems for her, particularly at school. “Everybody knew I was a Muslim, but I don’t make a big deal about it. In our society, there is this idea that Islam is a fanatical religion. But people have absolutely no idea about Sufism. There are people who ask me if I belong to a sect. I tell them that Sufism is about respect and love between all God’s creatures.”

Shaykh Umar Magarit explains that Sufism “obliges us to ask who we are in reality. And that question can only be answered by looking for Allah in our hearts. And to do that, Sufis comply with all the precepts of Islam, and then try to transcend them.”

The Salafists in Egypt and Libya, as well as the Taliban in Pakistan, have all persecuted Sufi communities, branding them heretics. But Sufism is an integral and ancient part of Islam, and some studies suggest it even predates Muhammad, and emerged in Khorasan in what is today Iran as a result of Christian, Hindu, Buddhist, and Greek philosophical thinking, along with shamanistic influences from Central Asia.

Sufis say that while their religion is embedded within Islam, its purpose is the same as all the great monotheistic faiths: union with God. The only way to achieve this is through unconditional love for everything and everybody. Ibn Arabi, the Sufi mystical poet who lived in Spain in the 12th century, wrote: “My heart can adapt to all forms. It is pasture for gazelles. And a monastery for Christian monks, and a temple for idols, and the Kaaba of the pilgrims, and the tables of the Torah, and the book of the Koran. Because I follow the religion of love.”