#so i keep a lot of emergency snack items on hand at my usual stations around my room because most important is insert calories into body)

[absentlyabbie]

yeah they're meant to be separate feelings so if you've got a regular doctor you might want to discuss it with them to see if you can pursue what's causing it and possible solutions

"nauseated" and "hungry" are two feelings that should NOT be allowed to coincide

[whumperscorner]

Ahh your "Strapped to a bomb" fic was so good, thank you for using my request! Would it be alright if I request another? I really enjoy your writing, it really hits the whumpy spot hehe! If it's okay can I request "Rope Burns" with Prompto and dad Cor and/or PromptoxNoctis.

aaah thank you anon! I'm so glad you enjoyed :D Now, I don't actually have "Rope Burns" on my bingo card, maybe it's possible you've looked at a different card before requesting? That's no biggie though, and I do love the prompt, so I've decided to try to combine it a bit with whumptober :3

Hope this one's still enjoyable <3

Whumptober 2021 day 1.- Bound

Fandom: Final Fantasy XV

Characters: Prompto Argentum, Noctis Lucis Caelum

Whumpee: Prompto Argentum

Word count: 2444

Warnings: restraints and manhandling, slight descriptions of injury

Prompto doesn't really mind working late shifts. Sure, it can be a bit spooky sometimes, especially closing up alone like today. The gas station he works at isn't exactly in the city's most reputable neighbourhood, so the late shifts always bring with them their fair share of 'eccentric' customers. On the other hand, they're also never as busy as the day shifts, and Prompto has never experienced anything actually threatening or dangerous in his time working here. So really, the biggest problem with the closing shifts is the effect they have on his sleep schedule.

This evening's shift goes about as usual. There are a few regular customers early in the evening who Prompto chats with for a bit, then he restocks some shelves and does some cleaning up in the back. At one point there's an odd-looking man in the store who doesn't end up buying anything, just walks around the between the shelves and mutters to himself. Prompto leaves it be, he knows better than to ask or intervene unless he has to. The night rolls by with few notable occurrences, and with just over an hour left before closing time now Prompto doesn't have a lot to do. He texts back and forth with Noctis in the downtime, and the two makes plans to meet up after Prom's shift is done and hang out. It's Friday after all, and Noct has gotten a welcome break from his duties as Prince, so they deserve to have some fun now. Prompto smiles at his screen, having just sent a thumb's up to Noct's suggestion to go watch a late night showing of a movie, when the sound of the door opening and closing catches his attention. He quickly puts the phone away and begins talking entirely from habit as he looks up to meet the customer.

"Welcome, what can I-" then he stops. What meets him when he looks towards the entrance, only a few feet away, is the barrel of a gun trained directly at him. Prompto's words get stuck in his throat, and he makes a small, choked gasp instead as his eyes widen. The first thing he notices is the gun and it takes him a second to take in the men standing there too. There are two of them, the one holding the gun and one other, both wearing masks and both carrying big duffel bags. Prompto's eyes flicker between the men for one terrifying moment where nothing happens, then it's as if his body is on autopilot. He rushes to the side of the counter where he knows the emergency button is located, no thoughts in his head except that he needs to alert someone. A gunshot rings out, and Prompto feels something whizz by in front of him. One of the shelves on the wall behind the counter crumbles, sending various snacks flying everywhere. Prompto stops dead in his tracks. The adrenaline previously coursing through him is gone now.

"Do as I say if you want to live." says the man holding the gun. His voice is somewhat muffled by the mask, but it still sends shivers run down Prompto's spine. He manages a slight nod and stands as still as he can as the two men approach. "Step out here." is the next order, accompanied by a quick gesture with the gun. "Hands up. No sudden movements."

Prompto obeys. What other choice does he have? His hands are trembling when he brings them up, and he has to force himself to move out from behind the counter and closer to the men. It's like his body doesn't want to move and blood rushes in his ears, making the whole situation feel surreal. When he finally stops the man with the gun nods quickly towards his accomplice, who rushes forward and closes the remaining distance between Prompto and the assailants. He throws the duffel bag onto the ground, where it lands with a heavy *thud*. Prompto gets no time to wonder what's in it though, as the man quickly grabs one of his wrists in an iron hold and wrestles him down to the floor. Prompto groans at the rough handling, and desperately tries to squirm into a more comfortable position. However, that only results in the man grabbing his hair harshly and tugging his head back.

"Stay fucking quiet." He hisses through Prompto's pained cry. Prompto whimpers out a weak apology, and when the man lets go of his hair he doesn't struggle anymore. Not even when the masked assailant reaches for the duffel bag and begins rummaging in it, pinning Prom down with a knee uncomfortably placed between his shoulder blades. It would be easier to wriggle free now, but one look up at the other man and then gun still trained on him makes Prompto quickly abandon that thought. The man holding him seems to have found what he's looking for in the bag and before Prompto can even begin to wonder about it he feels his hands being tugged in place behind his back and coarse rope tied around them. Prompto yelps at the feeling but doesn't dare struggle too much. There's laughter from behind him, though he can't tell which of the men it's from, possibly both. In any case he can feel the bindings on his hands being tightened maybe just a little too much, and he winces. This time it's definitely the one holding him the laughter comes from.

"Oh, did that hurt doll? Sorry, I'll make it better." He says, in a sort of mocking polite tone. Another strip of the rope is added just above the one already around his wrists and this one, to Prompto's horror, is tightened even harder. It forces Prompto's shoulders into a slightly weird position and comes dangerously close to cutting off circulation in his hands. Then the man turns him over, so he lies on his back on the floor instead of on his stomach. Prompto can't hold back the pained noises when the new position pulls on his bound hands.

"Don't overdo it now." says the other man, but he too chuckles at Prompto's hopeless expression. He turns back to what he was doing before, which Prompto now sees is seemingly emptying the cash register of anything and everything in it. Prompto's heart sinks, and he's just beginning to think this evening has reached it's all time low when the man pauses. "But gag him too, just to be sure." He adds, and Prompto can almost hear the wicked smile behind the mask.

He sends the man sitting over him a pleading look, though he knows it will be futile. And soon enough a filthy rag from the duffel bag has been balled up and forced into his mouth. The smell from it alone makes Prompto want to gag. He tries a couple times to spit it out, only for that to earn him a harsh slap and an order not to do that. Then the man stands up, leaving Prompto bound on the floor as he himself joins the other man in looting whatever items of even marginal value may be in the store. Prompto stays still in his uncomfortable position as they move about around him, not daring to move. All through this some small part of Prompto has been hoping that someone would appear to intervene, or would notice the disturbance and call for help, but now the reality of the situation is settling in. And the uncomfortable reality is that if no one has come running at this point then it's likely no one will. Gunshots in this area aren't a rarity, and Prompto is beginning to suspect that even if he had reached the emergency button the police wouldn't have come. The hopelessness of it all settles heavily in his stomach.

Prompto doesn't know how long he lays still there, but eventually the pull on his shoulders and the rope digging into the skin around his wrists gets too bad. With considerable effort he begins turning himself over on the side, to a position that is hopefully less straining. The movement catches the attention of one of the men though, the one carrying the gun, and he strides over. Prompto can see a dangerous twinkle in his eyes through the holes in the mask. Correctly guessing that that cannot mean anything good, Prompto keeps squirming and kicks his feet on the floor in an attempt to scurry away. He wants as much distance between himself and the man as possible. The man cackles at this and crouches down on the floor, where he quickly grabs hold of one of Prompto's flailing legs and drags him back. His tightly bound hands scraping against the tile floor makes pain flare up beneath Prompto, and he whines desperately into the gag.

When Prompto is deemed to be close enough the man lets go of his legs, and before he gets the chance to try anything again the man leans over him and tightens a strong hand around his chin. Prompto's eyes are wide and fearful now when the man's fingers are digging into his face with bruising force. "Didn't I tell you not to move around?" He all but spits in Prompto's face. Prompto makes no motion in reply. He only shuts his eyes tightly in pain when the man suddenly yanks his head up uncomfortably, only to slam it back down into the floor. Pain explodes from the back of Prompto's head, and he cries out into the gag. The man yanks him back up again, this time by his shirt, and Prompto follows limply. Just then, as Prompto sits half upright in the man's grip waiting for the inevitable pain, the unmistakeable sound of the door opening and closing stops everyone in their tracks.

There, by the door, is Noctis. The realization hits Prompto that his shift must've ended. Noct has come here for him, and relief fills his chest to the brim. At the sight that meets him Noct has also stopped dead in his tracks. With wide eyes he looks from Prompto on the floor to the man holding him and then back again. Then Prompto yells into the gag and wrenches himself out of the man's grip, and it's like the standstill in the room is broken. In the ensuing chaos Prompto just barely has time to see sparks beginning to fly around Noct's hand as he's about to pull something out of the armiger. The man then quickly grabs hold of Prompto again and jams the butt of the gun hard into the side of his head. He's then harshly shoved to the side as the man springs into action, and lands painfully on the hard floor. Black spots dance around the edges of his vision from the pistol-whip and though he tries he doesn't have the strength to sit up again.

He can't see clearly what's going on, only blurred bodies and sparks. Then a gunshot rings out, and another one, and then an enraged yell from one of the men. Worry seeps into Prompto's confused mind, and the longer the scuffle goes on the more it grows. He wants Noctis to be okay, he wants them both to get out of here. By the time the noise comes to an end Prompto is blinking rapidly to try to stop the tears threatening to spill. They're not helping his vision one bit, so when a silhouette hurries towards him fear spikes in him for a short moment. But this one doesn't have a mask, and two larger silhouettes are left behind it.

"N-Noct." He whimpers when the gag is carefully removed and tossed to the side. Above him there's some soft cursing, and then Noctis gently grabs his aching shoulders and helps Prompto sit up straight.

"I- yeah- shit, I'm here Prom." Noct says, fumbling a little with his words as he takes in the state Prom is in, and his brows crease in worry. "What was that?" he asks, nodding hastily towards the men on the ground some ways behind him. They seem to be unconscious now, and Prompto swallows hard before he answers.

"Robbery?" he offers weakly, accompanied by an attempted smile that doesn't quite translate on his tired face. Noctis looks at his with wide, worried eyes. Then it seems he realizes, or remembers maybe, that Prompto's hands are still bound. Again, sparks fly in the air as Noctis summons one of his daggers to cut Prompto free. The ropes are so tight it's difficult to do without accidentally nicking Prom's skin in the process but eventually it works, and Prompto can finally move his arms properly. Almost immediately his shoulders sag in relief, but Prompto's breath hitches when he brings his hands in front of himself again and sees the state they're in. Noctis obviously has a similar reaction and lets slip a small gasp.

The skin around Prompto's wrists and a bit further up the arm is rubbed red and raw by the coarse rope, bruises are already forming where the first rope was tied, and multiple other places blood has been drawn. Most of which cannot possibly be from Noctis' careful cutting. Prompto doesn't say anything, he doesn't know what to say. He only stares at his own trembling hands for a while, seeming almost scared to move them. It's only when Noct extends his own hands and carefully grabs hold of them that Prompto looks up. Noct manages to send Prom a reassuring smile, though a somewhat shaky one still. He begins rubbing his thumbs in soft circles on Prompto's hands, careful to avoid the most severe bruises and cuts, and Prompto lets out a long, wobbly sigh.

"Thank you." Prompto says finally.

"Of course," is Noct's answer, low and genuine. "do you think you can stand?"

Prompto isn't quite sure, but they try regardless. Turns out he can both stand and walk on shaky legs, provided it's with support from Noct. Support he readily gives. They make their way out of the gas station store, and Noctis can't resist giving one of the men an extra kick as they pass them. Then Noct calls Gladio to come pick them up and notifies him of the incident, even if local police likely wouldn't do much Noctis isn't going to let this go so easily. As they sit and wait, leaning their backs against the wall, Prompto nearly dozes off. His head resting on Noct's shoulder. And all the while, Noct never lets go of Prompto's hands and keeps rubbing small calming circles across his skin.

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

⚠️TW mentions of suicide⚠️ hey I'll say this again but I hope im not bothering you with this,,, this is an emergency request for comfort hcs with bokuto and kuroo when their s/o's friend nearly committed suicide and their s/o was having a pretty bad panic attack. I hope this isn't too much to ask! Ily bb

hey mel, I promise you this was no trouble at all :)

it’s a bit shorter then I would like it to be and doesn't have the same flow as my usual headcanons buuut I wanted to get this out to you asap

and as someone who has experienced this exact situation multiple times, I kinda based it off my own experience so I hope it’s still something you can relate to and can find comfort in

ilyt and I hope you enjoy them

(TRIGGERS BELOW)

(TW) •Bokuto + Kuroo Comforting a S/O After Someone Close to Them Attempts •

warnings: mentions of sucide attempts + panic attacks

genre: comfort

characters: bokuto + kuroo

(TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE ATTEMPTS + PANIC ATTACKS)

•Bokuto•

bokuto’s mood had done a 180° as soon as he burst into your room to see you crying on the floor

quick, uneven breaths fumbled in and out of your mouth as sobs racked your body

the grip on the hem of your shirt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality in that moment

bokuto dropped the snacks he held in his hand and rushed to your side, worry coursing through every part of his body

he slowly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, not wanting his sudden movements to startle you,

“Shhh Y/N, It’s me, Bokuto! What’s the matter?”

you imminently took comfort in his embrace, turning towards him and wrapping your arms around his neck as you continued to cry

he felt his own share of tears in his eyes as he held you close, rubbing your back and softly hushing you

“Hey hey hey, I heard that focusing on one thing can help when you’re all anxious like this so why don't you put your ear near my heart and listen to my heartbeat. It can be like a little concert to calm you down! What do you think?”

you nodded your head furiously, beginning to feel a little lightheaded from everything you were putting your body and mind through

bokuto carefully cradled your head as he placed it in the middle of his chest

the rhythm of his heartbeat filled your ears and soon enough you felt your breath slow as your sobs turned into whimpers

once you grew completely silent, you were gently carried and placed under your warm covers, with bokuto following suit

as the two of you cuddled, you explained to him everything that had happen leading up to your panic attack

his heart ached over the fact that you had to go through such a terrifying thing

he held you closer stroking your hair as he tried to find the right words to say,

“I’m really sorry that you had to go through something scary like that. I know you’re probably gonna be thinking about it for a while and I can’t really say anything to make you feel a whole lot better but I can definitely be here for you and give you all the cuddles you need! and I know you’re still worried about them but hopefully they can get some help after this and go on to live a happier life!”

you hummed against his chest, not having the energy to respond

you knew bokuto wasn’t really the best with his words in situations like this but he really did care about your wellbeing and tried his best to say something that would bring you some peace of mind

honestly, you had hope there was truth in his words, wanting nothing more then to see someone so close to you happy once more

although thoughts of what occurred prior still flooded your mind, you focused on the heat of bokuto’s body against yours and drifted off to sleep

•Kuroo•

with shaky hand and vision blurred by tears, you dialed the only number you knew you could call in this moment

air quickly left and entered your body as you begged for the lines to connect

once they did, you heard the spin of shopping cart wheels and distant chatter before your boyfriend’s voice met your ears,

“Hey Y/N! What’s up? Did you need something?”

you couldn't bring yourself to answer him, the only thing escaping you lips was a choked up cry

kuroo immediately felt panic rise in him at the sound of your distress as  he quickly put the item he was examining back in it’s place and rushed the cart back to the front of the store,

“Hey baby, I'm gonna be there soon alright? Can you tell me what happened?”

in that moment you couldn't even think about forming words and even though you didn’t verbally tell him this, kuroo understood

he began walking you through a breathing exercise he knew in attempts to get you to calm down until he could arrive

soon enough, you began to get ahold of yourself until your shaky breaths and tears came to a stop

kuroo was walking to your house from the train station when you finally got the opportunity to explain what had happened

regret and sadness filled his whole body

he was angry at himself that he hadn't been there for you when you needed him

and he couldn't even begin to imagine how this all had affected you,

“Y/N I know a part of you wants to blame yourself but none of this was your fault, you did everything and more. The most important thing now is that they’re safe and still here with us. I know you’re still worried and shaken up, and that’s okay too. but I’ll be there soon, I promise. You don't have to handle this by yourself.”

although he couldn't see it, you nodded your head in agreement

it was hard not to ask yourself if there was more you could’ve done for them, something to prevent them from even trying such a thing in the first place

but kuroo was right, this had been in their mind long before you ever came into the picture and hopefully now they could get the help they need

and even though you were still shaken up from the situation, the feeling of kuroo walking through your front door and enveloping you in a hug was enough to bring you comfort

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[north-texas-madhatter]

Uncertain: That’s no deer my wife whispered…

As I listened intently peering off into the dark forest I told my wife, “It’s out there, it hasn’t left” She and the kids got up as we heard a twig snap. “Get the kids and get in the cabin”, I quietly whispered as I grabbed the shotgun from the trunk. I knew it was watching us, in the dark, maybe just as scared as I was – or maybe not.

Our family loves to travel and the more unusual the place the better. We love cabins and nature and beautiful back roads, lakes and forest. It was a cool crisp morning and we were loading up the car for another adventure. Don’t forget to put on some deodorant my wife reminds me, my daughter had complained that Papa David was kinda stinky. Which is true, I am a stinky smelly man and unfortunately for her she sits behind me in the backseat when we travel. “I will smell like roses”, I replied as I loaded the cooler of snacks with an assortment of drinks careful to put it equally in reach of all family members.

I was rummaging around in the garage trying to find all the items I had put on my trip list. The smell of moldy tarps, dust and an old bike tube hanging off a rack as I shuffled things back and forth. “I really need to organize this better” I thought to myself. Finally laying on the garage floor before me were, flashlights, medical kits, an assortment of fire starters, lanterns, two way radios, and an old box of shotgun shells that I had brought out from the house. I did a quick review of the list I had made the night before and checked off all the items but one. The shotgun. I didn’t like leaving anything like that just laying around.

The kids packed their backpacks with who knows what, some Go Fish and Old Maid card games were stuffed in the side pockets and the iPad’s fully charged for those moments where my wife and I would like to have a conversation without interruption. You parents know what I mean.

“What about Stella?” the kids asked. I had made sure to find lodgings that allowed pets so I said she is going with us. Stella had been sitting on her carpet anxiously watching us pack the car and, as if to know what I had said, began wagging her tail gleefully running back and forth to the door.

All packed up, everyone in the car, doors checked, thermo nuclear alarm system set, we began to back out of the driveway. “Oh wait!” I forgot something. Everyone letting out a sigh. Just like my parents when we would leave for our trans America trips, my dad would pull in and out of the driveway six times before we could finally depart. Turning off the alarm and unlocking all the doors I retrieved a large shotgun from the safe and walked back to the car checking it before placing it carefully in the trunk.

Off we go! And the kids yelled yay! immediately asking for their iPads. Our destination this time is a little town on the Caddo Lake called Uncertain. But we were in no hurry to get there as plenty of back wood roads were ahead of us.

Leaving the Dallas city limits always brings a sigh of relief, like escaping some kind of urban restraints. There is a Buccee’s ahead but I turn the car onto highway 80 heading through Terrell and then after a quick driving tour of a few historical neighborhoods we are headed out into the countryside.

“Look a tank!” the kids yelled. Small towns often have war relics as a showpiece for their local VFW’s (Veteran’s of Foreign Wars) which are like a club house for military service men and women to get together and have a drink, socialize or even hold events such as weddings or parties. We pulled into the parking lot and the kids ran toward the tank and a large caliber cannon. “Watch for snakes!” was the usual call out we made but it was cold enough that there were probably none around.

I hobbled over to the edge of a tank putting my hand on the corner to hold myself up. A car wreck and later a fall off an H post on our ranch years ago had left my back in a mess and driving takes its toll if I don’t stop and move around. As I stood there the kids climbed all over the tank turret and I could smell engine grease that must have been in this machine since WW2. Our mini-dachshund bounced over the grass fighting the leash my wife held tightly. An elderly couple emerged from one of the doors in the VFW and waved. I could see USS something written on the old man’s hat with a silhouette of a battleship. He reminded me of my grandfather who fought in the war. His white wavy hair, reading a newspaper. As a child I would sneak up and thump it and he would pretend to get up for a chase. After a brief break we yelled for the kids to get down and dust off as we all piled back in the car and headed on down the road.

My favorite thing to do is put in a destination on Google Maps and then pick all the different routes that will prevent me from merging onto a highway because highways are the enemy when it comes to adventure. You miss so much when you fly down a road at 70 plus mph. The orange, yellow and red leaves become a blur, the smell of the sweet pine needle lost in the soot of the diesel trucks. Give me the backroads, the curve of her body, the gentle sway of her hair. The dips, the hills, the smooth mirror like surface of the lake meeting the sky. Lazy fishing boats, their lines cast toward the setting sun.

It’s getting dark now as we roll into Jefferson, the sun’s rays beam through the magnolia trees and New Orleans styled patios. Porch lights dot the neighborhoods and a train can be heard rumbling on the tracks just outside of town, as we catch glimpses of the red blinking of the sentries through the dirty glass windows of vacant row houses.

For those of you unfamiliar with Jefferson. It is a unique Texas, town sitting in the shadow of Caddo Lake it was once a Texas port for steamboats arriving by way of the Mississippi and Red Rivers. The town is steeped in New Orleans styled architecture. Many goods and services were brought by paddleboat to the town from the coastal city and as with many towns of those times they had stories of hauntings. In fact Jefferson is home to one of the most haunted hotels in America, the towns namesake, The Jefferson Hotel. You can imagine the gas lamps flickering as a ghostly figure stands in the doorway. There is an old train car permanently stationed across the street and we release the kids to stretch their legs as we take a peak at the old hotel and adjacent coach car.

No offense to the paranormal enthusiasts but I have never been much of a believer in the other worldly but I do try to keep an open mind. Nevertheless, the whole town had a kind of creepy vibe at this time of day and there was this almost damp deathly smell as a light mist encroached on the lattice worked streets from the nearby swamps.

It was at this moment that I heard something. It was distant, like a low howl almost just outside of human hearing. I can’t quite explain it but though barely discernable it was not of the norm I would expect from the usual town and surrounding forest noises, but it demanded to be noticed if only subconsciously. “Did you hear that?” I asked my wife “Hear what?” she replied and I as quickly dismissed it to have been just some slight synaptic misunderstanding.

We drove around town for another half hour looking at all the beautiful old homes, brick streets and the docking area where paddleboats once delivered handlebar mustached men and parasol carrying ladies to horse drawn carriages idly standing by while French perfume fragrances purchased in the Big Easy filled the air.

Leaving Jefferson, Polk Street took us through the Big Cypress Bayou. Our surroundings were changing, Spanish moss was hanging from the trees now and I knew our cabin was not much farther away. We decided to take a slight detour and drive through Caddo Lake State Park. We giggled at the sign, Learn How to Survive Like a Sasquatch. And we noted all the wildlife, deer, birds and though we probably would not see any, alligator that live in this eco-system we had arrived to. The road then became darker, swamp waters came right up to the edge on both sides, the lake was up and we had entered a watery world that was quite foreign to us. In fact, we heard that the town was called Uncertain because when the lake floods no one is certain the town is still there.

It is small and looks like something out of a Stephen King novel. There is a short main street with a sundry of cabins anywhere from a mere shack to homes on stilts. There it is! Caddo Lake Cabins, just on the corner of Bois D Arc and Cypress Drive. There were two cabins side by side and ours was the larger with a screened in porch with the back of it to the forest and swamps. A stone throw away was Taylor Island which you would never know it was an island since the road extended to a dead end there. Fishing camps lined the edge and the smell of fish and beer filled the air.

“There’s a golf cart!”, the kids yelled. “Can we drive it!” Not tonight, it’s too dark and we need to get everything inside.

What we didn’t know is how ready we would be to leave…

The cabin was beautiful! It was very clean and had everything we needed. The screened porch overlooking the forest was a favorite for our dog Stella who incessantly sniffed the air. The cabin had a fresh cut wood and coffee smell to it as my wife opened the bag of black coffee grounds left by the owners for us to enjoy during our morning cup of joe. Outside we could hear owls hooting to one another and frogs serenading the cool crisp night as we brought in all our items for the stay. Blankies, stuffed animals, backpacks spilling open onto the bed as our kids claimed their living quarters. We couldn’t believe we had found such a wonderful place for such a reasonable price.

After unloading our gear and goodies we took a quick drive around town. It was eerily quiet, “They roll up the carpet early around these parts”, I said aloud. We could see yellow bulbs glowing behind closed curtains in the small cabins and homes up and down Cypress Drive, the main street of town. We caught glimpses of the moonlight reflecting off the bayou just beyond the cottages at the waters edge. “I hear they filmed parts of Universal Soldier and some swamp monster movie near here”, I said as the occupants of the car peered out the window. A few bumps in the road and we stopped short of a boat ramp leading into the lake. We sat there for a moment, next to us was a covered marina with little Jon Boats bobbing up and down, we could hear a dog barking off in the distance. “Well that’s it for this town”, I said. “Let’s head back and get some rest so we can get an early start tomorrow.” We had plans for the next day to drive into Louisiana and see where Bonnie and Clyde met their end at the hands of Frank Hamer and local law enforcement and to possibly explore a very unusual area that I had found while researching our trip on Google Maps.

My wife and I laid in bed, it was close to 11pm and after talking about the trip and our plans for the next day we began to drift off to sleep. Suddenly the night was split open as an extremely loud air horn blasted. “What the Hell is that!” I jumped up out of bed and ran to the window. It sounded as if a train might drive right through the cabin! Looking out the window I could only see night. There were no headlights, no trains or trucks – nothing. Just the echo of the loud piercing horn fading into the forest. My wife walking back to bed after checking on the kids asked, “What do you think that was all about?” “I don’t know but I didn’t see any train tracks that close to us.” “It was almost like it was to scare something away or sounded as a warning.” The odd thing was no one was coming out of their dwellings to check out the mysterious sound. It was accepted as a normal occurrence it seemed. It set me on edge but I finally fell into an uneasy sleep.

The next morning we opened the bag of coffee grounds and my wife walked out onto the porch handing me a fresh mug with steam rising from it. I never really liked coffee until I married my wife and now it is so nice when we can just sit and talk between sips of the black stuff. The kids were still asleep and Stella sniffed around the edges of the porch. “Something must have come close last night, she seems really curious”, my wife pointed out. Stella was really picking up on a scent near the screen door. “Maybe she needs a restroom break” as my wife went off to retrieve the harness and leash.

Stella pulled hard at the leash. She is never like this, usually just sniffing and stopping and then sniffing some more before finally answering to the call of nature but this time she strained at the end of the leash. My wife looked back at me as Stella pulled her across the lawn toward the woods behind the cabin. She is onto something. Maybe a deer? She growled but then after a moment retreated back to the cabin managing a tinkle on the way. We didn’t think much of it and knew that being surrounded by nature and forest there was bound to be some curious creatures lurking about.

After breakfast we all jumped in the car and headed out. Fishermen were already making their way into the bayou, wisps of smoke from their engines lazily floating across the water. There was a slight mist to the morning air and everything was damp from the night fog that the sun now began to burn through. The smell of eggs and bacon filled our noses as the town began its slow start to the day. After a bumpy drive through town, we turned onto a smooth black top road heading toward Louisiana. Shortly down the road we arrived to a small town named Karnack, it looked very run down but “This is where Lady Bird Johnson grew up” I exclaimed, no one in the car knew who that was so I explained that she was the First Lady and wife of President Lyndon B. Johnson. She is responsible for the beautification of our Texas Highways and for the seeding of the wildflowers and bluebonnets we see along the roadsides in the Spring. Her husband, LBJ, is responsible for The Grasslands we enjoy having our campfires at, not far from our hometown of Denton.

The air had an acrid smell to it and we could see large gates that led into the vast forested area I had seen on Google Maps. It looked like there had been a large town there once with roads crisscrossing one another in an organized grid with streets called 4th Street, Avenue C, 59th and Starr Ranch Road. Structures could still be seen peeking out behind the forest.

“Hey guys!” that is where we will explore later if we have time on our way back. We were very excited and off we went!

It didn’t seem long before we pulled under the overhang of the Horseshoe Casino. My wife and son walked in just to take a look while my daughter stayed behind with me. From the car I could see the beautiful chandelier that hung over the lobby. Many times, I had walked underneath it with my dad as we arrived for games of Black Jack while sitting on the banks of The Red River in Bossier City. There is some obscure law that I still don’t quite understand, where as long as the casino is on or over the Red River it is allowed to operate. The hotel, restaurants and parking areas can be on land but the games of chance themselves had to be over the rivers muddy red water. This is accomplished by river boat or barge permanently docked and anchored with vast poles that allow the casino to move up or down depending on the rivers height and water flow.

Shreveport was on the West side of the river and Bossier City on the East side. I had to laugh when I saw a Pipes Emporium on “Stoner” Avenue. Though I do not partake in the herbage myself I have been in my share of head shops, they sell the best incense, and the irony was not lost on me by the name of the street. By the way they don’t like it when you ask for a bong, they want you to call it by its legal name, a water pipe. Though they are technically the same thing and no difference to those visiting Pipes Emporium on Stoner for all their smoke shop needs.

Barksdale Air Force Base was to our left now and we could see war planes sitting idly on the tarmac. We headed back into the forested roads of Louisiana. An hour later and a vacant road would find us in front of one of America’s most notorious landmarks. The location where the famous outlaw couple, Bonnie & Clyde, were dispatched. One could almost smell the gun powder as Frank Hamer and his posse laid in wait raining down a wall of bullets onto the unsuspecting duo. An informant had tipped off Frank and his group of law men that they would be travelling on that road and a trap was set. The friend turned snitch pretended to be broken down on the side of the road and as Bonnie and Clyde slowed their car to assist, they were gunned down leaving their car peppered with holes and their limp bodies slumped in the car.

There are several cars claiming to be the famous death wagon. One is at Whiskey Pete’s Hotel and Casino in Primm, Nevada and another, not far from Dallas, owned by a little known body shop in Gunter, Texas. My son and I have seen it and it looks as real as any car shot full of holes would look sans the blood and other gore.

After finishing our visit to the markers that commemorated the death of the outlaws while praising the men who made it happen, we turned back out onto the road. A rusty colored pickup whizzed by startling me as I had grown accustomed to the lack of vehicular traffic in this area of backwoods LA. With the tires throwing some gravel behind us we were back on the blacktop making a circle around to the highway that would take us toward our temporary home back in the town of Uncertain but not before at least one last adventure to end the day with…

We passed through the gates, they weren’t like the gates at the State Parks we were accustomed to visiting. These looked a bit more foreboding. A small building was on our right that I imagine served as a visitor’s center. There was not a soul around. The town of Karnack was just behind us as we drove on down the road. I could hear the tires passing through bits of loose asphalt. The whole place seemed to be a maze of roads separated by tall pine trees. Here and there we could catch a glimpse of concrete structures long fallen out of use. It gave me an uneasy feeling like we were not supposed to be there. But what was eerie was that it was so quiet. I heard few if any birds. No other persons or wildlife was in the park. The streets were named as if it were a bustling downtown metropolis but nothing much was to be seen except for the stately conifers that surrounded us. It reminded me of that scene out of The Shining where the boy is being chased through a labyrinth. Except there was no snow and no deranged lunatic chasing us, at least none that we saw.

Driving on we were amazed at how large this place was, it was more than a Nature Preserve and we would run into road after road that would have barriers or warning signs that the road was off limits. We finally found the Starr Ranch Road that led us to the edge of Rag Island and a lonely boat launch. Here there was another structure, more welcoming. It looked like something that might be used for family gatherings and was screened in to protect guests from the swarms of mosquitoes that I am sure inhabited these areas in the summertime. We jumped out and the kids threw rocks into the water nearby. The Cypress Trees were beautiful, one of my favorite trees. My wife found an internet connection and we looked up the area that we were in. It was the Caddo Lake National Wildlife Refuge. Once home to the Longhorn Army Ammunition Plant. That explains all those little buildings. It was part of an 8,493 acre facility that once produced dynamite, 393,000,000 pounds of it during World War II. It was also a super fund site for all the chemicals that were still present in the soil. “Uh, kids put down those rocks and don’t stir up the dust” I quickly told them. Lead and mercury was still being found in some of the areas and a large compound fence ran along the perimeter of the entire plant. It was sprawling to say the least and with good reason, two in fact. One to help prevent an enemy bombing run from destroying the entire operation and to prevent an errant accident from killing everyone in sight. A rail system helped connect the different parts of the plant delivering the product as it was developed to other areas for assembly. Things like this fascinate me. It is a dark part of history, the entire location was set aside for one purpose and one purpose only, to kill as many people as possible and at that time to kill Nazi Germans. But National Wildlife Refuge makes it sound much more appealing for today’s visitors, just don’t drink the water – or play in the sand or expect to see much wildlife.

It took a while to get back to the main road. The GPS was on the blink because we were pretty remote but after a few wrong turns we made a right and we were headed back out the gates, which made much more sense now.

Everyone’s stomach was beginning to grumble, and it wasn’t long before we arrived back in Uncertain. My wife asked what we should do for dinner and I told her that I had heard of a good fish place that wasn’t too far from the cabin. I could really use a Fried Shrimp Po Boy right now and the kids really wanted some Calamari, if it were available. It was evening and it would be dark soon. A few people were stirring about while we drove back through town but things looked like they were beginning to button up. “Can I go with you Papa David?” my daughter asked. I said sure. My wife and son decided that they would stay behind and get a fire going in the fire ring just outside the cabin. So I left them the axe as my daughter and I jumped in the car.

We arrived at The RiverBend Restaurant which was up on stilts and I slowly climbed the stairs as my daughter ran up the ramp ahead of me. The drive had done a number on my back and I was paying for it now. Holding the door for me I gave my girl a hug and told her to, “stay close”. We ordered take out and it wasn’t long before two bags of great smelling seafood were sitting on the counter for the taking. It was hard not to help ourselves to the appetizers but out of politeness, on my daughters’ part, we managed to get back to the cabin only eating a few fries.

Pulling up into the gravel drive we opened the car doors to the sweet smell of pine wood smoke. The sun was going down quickly behind the swampy forest and rays of light were playfully dancing between the trees. My wife took the food inside for plating as I sat down next to the warm fire. “Did you start this?” I asked my son. “Yes and I cut most of the wood too!” My wife soon came out with all the food and handed each of us a plate. I stuck a hush puppie in one of the small tubs of butter and swirled it around, the pickled tomatoes were next in line for a tasting. Finally finishing the Po Boy and everyone filled on some of the best calamari we have had, either because it was really that good or we were just that hungry.

Filled and happy we sat listening to the fire crackle with pops here and there as the small pockets of resin would catch to the fire. Stella was in my arms and quite content as she had sneaked a few pieces of scraps from the meal.

Then it happened.

Stella’s hair bristled and stood straight up on the back of her neck. She had this low treacherous growl that I had never heard her make before. I quickly held her tight as not to allow her to launch herself into the inky night. She was staring down the road toward Taylor Island. Something was moving slowly off to the left of the road. I could just barely see a dark figure. I thought it might be a fisherman or someone who had a few drinks but the left of the road was swamp, so it didn’t make much sense why someone would be walking through the muck. I could barely make out the silhouette but could see it was larger than your normal average man. It was gone in an instant, disappearing into the darkness.

“Shhhhh…” “Listen” my wife quietly spoke.

Not less that 50 feet from us was the edge of the woods. The closest trees illuminated by the orange flames of our fire. I could hear it. “What is it?”, my wife asked in a voice so quiet I could barely hear her question. We both knew this was not a typical woodland creature or bunny rabbit. It sounded huge! And this was not a forest that one could easily navigate. It was filled with briars, an old barbed wire fence, swamps and decaying logs laying all around ready to trip the ill prepared.

“It’s, its… yes. It’s definitely on two feet” my wife said. We both tried to imagine the size and dimensions of this unwelcome visitor that was coming way to close for our comfort. “Are you sure?” Could it be a deer, I quietly mouthed as both our children, our dog and each of us squinting our eyes as if that could give us super human vision. My son was mid swing with the axe frozen in his stance. “Put the axe down behind the tree” I told him. I didn’t want a mishap. He laid it down out of the way and moved over toward his sister and momma. It had stopped for a moment but now to my horror it was closer, we could hear it walking through a small creek not that far off into the woods. It stopped just short of walking into our field of vision. We sat there for what felt like an eternity not quite certain what to do.

That’s no deer my wife whisperered…

As I listened intently peering off into the dark forest I told my wife, “It’s out there, it hasn’t left” She and the kids got up as we heard a twig snap. “Get the kids and get in the cabin”, I quietly whispered as I grabbed the shotgun from the trunk.

“Lock the door” I quietly shouted as I raised the butt of the gun up to my shoulder. I positioned myself just beyond the fire leaning up against the back of a tree. “Who’s out there?”, I shouted. “Who are you and what do you want?” I spoke as the frost of my breath spilled out onto the night.

Silence… we stood there for maybe 10 or 15 minutes. I listened straining to hear anything, breathing, footsteps, a voice, even a heart beating but the only one I could hear was mine.

Oh my God. It sounded like a thousand trumpeters accompanied by a chorus of a thousand more angry elephants. But it wasn’t coming from in front of me. It was coming from beyond where our dog Stella had first been ready to attack. A twig snapped and then the large beast ran through the woods at a speed so fast it was inhuman, I am not saying that it seemed inhuman – I am telling you it was not human. And it was not like anything else I had ever heard. Running full sprint it ran toward the sound, splashing through the swamp. PEOPLE CANNOT POSSIBLY RUN THIS WAY! I thought to myself. I followed it with my gun, my finger feathering the trigger. I hurt, I hurt all over. The blood was ripping through my veins at lightning speed. I knew whatever this thing was if it were to get to me it was big enough to rip me to pieces and the only thing between me and it was a shotgun slug and my poor aim.

But then it was gone. I could hear it splashing off through the swamps until it was no more.

I threw open the door, my eyes wide, letting out a few expletives that I had to explain to our children not to repeat.

“Did you see it, did you SEE it!!!” my wife exclaimed. “No but I heard it” we all did. And then came the realization.

“Honey – there is only one way out for those things”, I said. “The direction they headed - it’s a dead end.”

A bead of sweat began to slide down the ice-cold beer glass I had sitting in front of me. My friend by the same name placed it there enticing me to continue with my story. David was an old friend I had recently reconnected with. We met when I first started riding motorcycles years back. He has a quick smile with a thin but muscular frame and the kind of rugged weathered look of a man who had done real work and become wise during hard times. I would often drop by his house and watch him tinker with different motorcycle parts on his work bench in the evenings.

David now leaned back in his chair, one hand casually on the arm of a steel wire patio chair while taking a sip of beer with the other. He and I both had given up sport bikes but found we shared an enjoyment in kayaking. He was an avid fisherman and a relatively new but informed convert to the world of cryptozoology due to more than one experience that he had in the North Texas area. One of the events not far from where we sat now.

“So then what happened?” David said with a spark of interest in his eye…

Well we wanted to leave, I will tell you that! My wife said load the car but I said “Hell no! I’m not going back out there with those things running about.” I believe I had a convincing argument that we were better inside with a gun than running back and forth to the car in the dark. But I still wasn’t sure what it was. I was still in the mindset that it might be a common animal to the area, possibly a black bear? I had heard that there had been a bear sighting north of the area but much farther north than would allow for the excuse of a chance encounter. I grabbed my phone, connected to the WiFi and started searching Google for bear sightings in the area. As I scrolled through the listings the word Sasquatch caught my eye. I found nothing that convinced me that there were bears near us but finding an article of two young ladies sighting a beast run in front of their car headlights caused me to let out an audible gasp. “What, what did you find?” my wife asked. I looked at the location of the sighting and then pulled up Google Maps. “Oh Holy Hell!” I blurted out. My wife was becoming a little annoyed now. “What did you find!” – There have been apparently Big Foot sightings less than a quarter mile from our cabin, several of them. Also, whatever it was seemed to have an intelligence that a bear doesn’t exhibit to my knowledge. We both would normally laugh at anyone mentioning Big Foot encounters, waiving it off as a few beers too many or a highly imaginative mind. But it was looking more and more like we had just joined the Yeti Club ourselves. But why were they behind our cabin we wondered. There had to be a reason they were venturing so close.

I pulled up Google Maps. I am not a hunter myself, but I understand success is greater when one knows where the animal is coming from and where it is going and finding the trail it travels. I would think even Big Foot would move with a purpose and be a creature of habit. Just up the road, between our cabin and the location where the young women had their sighting, was a trail that ended at the asphalt. Tracing it back it went deep into an old growth forest. I can understand why Sasquatch would want to avoid walking down the side of a road but why would they be cutting behind our cabin?

Just then, we could see some lights from a car moving slowly down the road. It pulled off to the side, and as if it sighted something, sped off and left town! “Well that’s not good.” I said aloud. “They are making their way through the woods back to the trail” I guessed. Looking at Taylor Island it suddenly became clear to me. “Honey, I got it!” “They were going out for dinner” Look here… There were a row of cabins dotting the shore along the bayou, all of them fishing cabins. And what do fisherman do at the end of the day? Clean the fish and throw the scraps in the garbage. Our furry friends were cutting behind our cabins hoping to quietly make their way to their meals, undetected through the woods and swamp. The smell of our fish dinner earlier may have given one of them pause to investigate. The other calling out when their dinner date fell behind. “I wonder if there is a dating app for Yeti’s”, we laughed.

But it was still a reach. I am a skeptic and a person of science. I must see it to believe it and so far, I really had not seen anything. I had a hypothesis but no hard evidence, as is the case with many of these encounters.

David was now leaning in closer. A slightly buzzed college girl bumped our table as she and her friends passed by. The beers sloshed and she put her hand on David apologizing “I am soooo sorry”. We smiled, we were two older guys hanging out at a college bar, mainly because the beer was cheap but David had become a favorite of the establishment. The bartenders knew his drink, girls and guys would walk over and say hello and introduce their friends saying, “This is David” as if he was the Godfather of Fry Street. I was amongst royalty, I laughed. But he does have this charm about him that makes you feel, important and it seemed we had much in common besides just our name.

That night would be our last night in Uncertain, my wife and I laid with one eye open. The kids were tucked away and sleeping soundly but I kept the gun close and double checked all the window and door locks, as if a Yeti is going to bother with a doorknob or window latch. The names are interchangeable, Sasquatch, Yeti, Big Foot, Big Fluffy Fur Ball. One in the same to me. I would call it a friend if it shared its beer. But it appeared that they really didn’t want anything more to do with us than we did with them. They moved quietly through the forest, even in the moonlight they were still too camouflaged to be seen. Anything moving through those woods would have to have thick fur or hair and as it was, we could only see a few feet into the abyss. Miles and miles of forest and swamp only interrupted by an occasional thin dark ribbon of road. I wanted to see them, I wanted to know if they were real but did I really? It would possibly drive me mad.

Looking at David he asked, “So do you believe?” “Well”, I said “I am still a little skeptical but I am more of a believer now than I was before” He looked at me excitedly as if he wanted to tell me something that had been on his chest. “I don’t tell too many people this anymore but…” David leaned back in his chair, took a drink of his beer and his expression changed to one of seriousness as he said, “I had an experience myself not far from here, where Clear Creek meets the Trinity River on the edge of town”

David and I met years ago when I first started riding sport bikes. I had started on a small Ninja 250 and on my first evening in the parking lot of Mack Park Apartments had thrown the bike in the air by popping the clutch too soon. I held on for dear life and rode that bike like it was a bucking bronco. It was three days before I worked up enough courage to get back on it. Then one evening I managed to drive it to Fry Street. I pulled up in front of a local bar and grill called Cool Beans. David was there and asked me how I liked the bike, possibly sensing that I was still a greenhorn and having chicken strips on my tires, a sport bike term meaning that I had not leaned enough into turns to scuff the sides. Some seasoned riders would not even ride with you if you had chicken strips because you were likely to panic and cause an accident. But David is one of the coolest, most laid-back guys I know and always willing to help someone out.

After a burger and finishing off his drink David said, “Come on – Let’s go, I am going to teach you a few things” We jumped on our bikes and I followed him to a parking lot on the north edge of town called Stonehill Center. I followed him around the parking lot and imitated his moves. Cutting too sharp would cause me almost to fall and I soon learned by giving it a little more gas and leaning into the turn I had much more control of the bike. David slowed his bike and I pulled up beside him, his bike sounded like a beast and he now yelled over it saying, “I think you are ready for something a little more fun!” I followed him out of the parking lot and turned to the right. We then launched into what he called the twisties. The sharp turns that go up and over and then down and around the 288 overpass at I35. He would be two twisties ahead of me and have to slow his ride for me to catch up but I was getting the hang of it. I learned the art of counter steering and leaning low while giving the bike more gas so that it would do all the work while navigating the turns with more speed.

David now leaned toward me, the beer nearly knocking over as he grabbed it with an almost unnatural speed. “Listen, people don’t take me that seriously when I tell them about my encounter, but you seem to understand better than most” David said, now with a slightly wilder look in his eyes. He went on to tell me his story. He had been scoping out a fishing spot not far from the Clear Creek Natural Heritage Center just outside of Denton. It had rained the night before, a light cloud of fog still hung over the valley as he trudged through the mud with his fishing gear in tow. Then he noticed something strange, footprints. These were larger than your average human footprint and did not have the defining indention of the arch. They were more blocked and wider, almost padded looking. Like my experience, seeing a Sasquatch was really not on his mind as he walked along with the tracks. What was curious was why would anyone be barefoot this far out in a creek that might have an errant piece of glass or sharp stone. The tracks looked fresh and then suddenly veered off to the left up an embankment and into the woods. Standing there wondering how anyone would want to venture into a remote area and barefoot off a path was beyond him. Then he realized he was not alone. A noise in the distance caught his attention. He heard a thud, then another, then a loud crack as if a large branch had been snapped in half. Whatever was in the woods with him was now striking the side of a tree with the branch obviously trying to scare him off. I asked him, “How close were you to the Trinity?” “Not far at all” he replied. “What did you do?” I excitedly said. I could see he was still somewhat shaken just discussing the event. “Well, honestly, I was terrified being alone in the woods with something that could snap large branches, I left as fast as I could!” he said nervously.

As with many encounters, it happens quickly and is an assault on the senses as you become very aware that you may be in danger. Your sight, hearing, reasoning all seems heightened but so is your fear, as adrenaline courses through your body. Psychologists call this a fight or flight response as your brain tries to figure out whether you are in immediate danger and should fight off your attacker or whether you can escape your assailant and run to safety. Police Officers know this as “adrenaline dump” that they try to fight off so that it does not impair their judgement leading to success or tragedy when dealing with dangerous situations. In this case, David made the right decision by leaving the area but, much like my own event, he had an overwhelming curiosity. We would return to look for more footprints after a rain but finding nothing but baby wild pig hoof prints, we decided the mother hog was more a threat than any Yeti. Funny how he picked me, a slow, broken backed friend over others. Maybe it is true – you don’t have to run fast just faster than the slowest guy.

I would later read about a possible sighting called the pecan creek monster that was spotted by some kids in Denton near a wooded area. It upset the town so much that they launched a search team that found nothing. There have been other events along the greenbelt near Denton where kayakers hauling their kayaks around a raft of river logs would stumble across large tracks, much like what David had described. But no story was more convincing than the one I would hear from a water treatment worker while researching Clear Creek for kayaking. And his story helps put together some of the pieces as why these things are so often encountered near bodies of water and their clever methods for obtaining a free meal.

I poured over the maps following the long slivers of silver that were the creeks and water ways of Denton County. The two kayaks hanging in our garage longed to be sitting in water. I also love taking our kids creek walking. But before touching the water I want to know where it comes from. In some cases, we have found beautiful streams of clear water to be outflows from local sewage plants. It is treated but who wants to swim, wade or kayak in that! Clear Creek is no exception.

The headwaters of Clear Creek start in Montague County not far from St, Jo Texas once called Head of Elm. There is a lot of history here. Not far away Outlaw Nancy Hill was hung on Denton Creek. Belle Starr, Sam Bass, Jesse James and The Younger Gang all roamed these hills and a town of frontier men and women were scalped alive and killed by Indians where remnants of the ghost town still stand to this day. The Chisholm and Butterfield Stagecoach Trails also crisscross in the fields now occupied by barbed wire and grazing cattle.

Now I looked for all the water crossings, bridges, natural outcroppings. I squinted to see strainers where trees had fallen across the creek becoming a hazard to the lone kayaker. Much like the author of a favorite book of mine, Goodbye to a River, I wanted to know the history of the land my river would take me through. The souls that had walked here before me that had caressed her hills and valleys and lived off her fertile soil.

In my quest to know more I spoke with Fish and Game Wardens and eventually a man who oversaw the a nearby Waste Water Treatment Plant. I had been told that there were a couple of instances where sewage had flowed into Clear Creek but that millions of dollars had been spent updating the facilities. I asked him if he was concerned at all about the water quality. He told me that he lived on Clear Creek and he fishes the creek all the time, in fact he has trotlines that he tends, and his family frequently eats the fish they catch. It was convincing but finding where the inflow was at Ranger Branch, a creek that dumped into Clear Creek, I decided that anything farther up was safe as safe can be and this is where I would find the most enjoyment in water activities free from pee water.

We were just about to hang up when I asked him, “Doesn’t Clear Creek run into the Trinity?” He replied, “Yes it does, it runs through the Nature Center and connects just on the other side, we used to fish there”. With this I could not help but to gleefully ask him, “So, have you ever experienced anything unusual there?” This question was met with a long pause from an otherwise vocal man. “What exactly do you mean by unusual?” he finally replied.

The tone of the conversation changed as he told me that he hadn’t made a lot of talk about it in a long time. “We fished that area a lot when we were younger and before the greenbelt trail was cut through for joggers and cyclists.” He went on to explain how he and two other friends had gone as far as they could by pickup bouncing over fields and through washes to where they would disembark grabbing fishing poles and a cooler to hopefully keep the catch of the night. Still rubbing their eyes from the dust, they set off toward their destination. It was there a whirlpool would form during spring floods that would carve out a large hole where many fish would congregate. This is the place my friend David had been in search of when he had his encounter.

“It was late, maybe two in the morning, maybe three…” His voice becoming more ominous. “We had a pretty good haul and were just about to call it a night when suddenly we heard a crashing noise coming through the woods on the other side of the river.” he said as I held the receiver closer to my ear and adjusted the volume to high. “It was loud and it sounded big but it wasn’t a deer or a pig, it sounded taller, like it was running full sprint -- on two feet” I was almost incredulous at how similar his description was to my families own encounter and the one that my friend David had described. “It was running straight towards us but then suddenly, as if it knew we were there, veered off to the right and went upriver.”

“What did you do?”, I excitedly asked.

“We sat there, we didn’t even talk to each other we were so quiet listening for it” “It was scary but at least it was on the other side of the river” his voice said through some slight static on the phone. “Then we heard a splash and to our terror it swam across the river and that is when we knew we were really up shit creek!” (pun intended; cause well you know)

“We were terrified, whatever it was, it made it’s way down toward us through the woods and then just stopped.” He paused for a moment as if the memory of the event was almost too much for him. Me, on the other hand, I was on pins and needles. “What then?” I asked. “It was watching us, we couldn’t see it but we knew it was just standing there in the woods and it was larger than any of us – we got the Hell out of there, we even left the cooler behind full of fish.” “Whatever that SOB thing was got a belly full that night on our dime, that’s for sure!”

“People think I am crazy when I tell this story, so I just stopped telling it” His voice, a traitor, as it gave up his shaken nerves. “They are smart, and they are out there… you just won’t see them.”

About once every week or two after the kids go to sleep and my wife settles on the couch to watch a favorite show I go for a drive. It’s 30 minutes to the bend in the road that brings me closest to where our furry friend might be. I sit quietly listening, the familiar click click click as I load my .45 Single Action Colt, setting it beside me just in case a possible encounter becomes more than a fishing trip. Greeted by fireflies and the usual chilled mist the river bottoms bring, I drive slowly to the dead end where I always wonder whose land it might be. Then on back to home… I want to believe because it is so intriguing but other than a few hogs moving close to the road to give me a quick doubletake I am left with more questions than answers. But then, as it happens with everything you search for, I saw something I can’t take back. A glimpse but it was just enough.

I was still interested in finding a location for an easy put-in for kayaking the upper Clear Creek. Pouring over online maps I realized just how few places there are to access and enjoy our waterways. Most of the creeks and rivers pass through private land. Many may be navigable legally but getting to them without trespassing is another thing. One must then find and visit the few bridges that may pass over the waterway and a lot are difficult to get a kayak to, either because they are high cliffs or covered in poison ivy, trees, thickets and briar or the access is blocked by barbed wire or no trespassing signs that are debatable since it is a roadway easement.

I found several bridges I wanted to check out and I asked my son if he wanted to go. He had been on his technology and a drive with his dad would be a good break from the screen time that had consumed all his Saturday morning. So, we jumped in the car and I punched in the coordinates on the digital map.

I had not driven these backroads before and was glad to find a new place to explore. Texas is amazing for the change of scenery that can be found with just a few turns and twists in the road. Coming over a hill we looked out over the vast rolling plains of North Texas. A slight haze was settled over the prairies and I could see for miles and miles. Traveling the one lane roads were my favorite way to get away from the hustle and bustle of town. Except for an old dusty pickup squeaking by us, we seemed to be the only ones in the area. We arrived at the first bridge and we peered over the edges looking down on the pristine waters of Clear Creek. Being native to Texas, I have become accustomed to muddy creek waters and lakes, a mystery to what laid beneath. But this creek in many areas had a white sandy bottom that helped filter the water as it ran through its valleys. Little wavy sand dune looking structures could be seen just beneath the shimmering waters and fish darted here and there somehow aware of our presence, looking for a place to hide. I was excited to see a USGS water flow measuring device, which meant I could look it up online to find the best time to kayak based on the current flow rate. But I was disheartened to see a raft of debris on either side of a steep slope which would make it difficult to traverse with a kayak. It could be done but I was looking to find that one sweet spot to easily slide my kayak in across the sands and a safe place off road to park.

After throwing a few rocks and a few yells to check for an echo, my son and I loaded back into the car driving off the blacktop onto the gravel road. Around a corner we saw an old abandoned frontier looking home that must have been there for over one hundred years. Very little was back in this area but the gravel road looked to be used by a few ranchers tending to their cattle. We were looking for the end of the road where we thought there might be access to a bend in the creek. On the map we could see the road narrow and looking overgrown but ending at the waters edge. With the gravel clicking beneath our tires and the sound of cicadas all around we could smell the creek and the vegetation in the valley. Fresh cut grass filled the air and the sound of a lawn mower could be heard just ahead. We rolled to a stop at a gate with a big red sign that said No Trespassing. To the right of us was a log home and an older man who now cut the gas to his mower as he walked our way. He had a curious look in his eye and his skin had a leathered appearance from all the sun that he had seen while bailing hay in the fields above. “What ya’ll looking for?”, he said as he spat on the ground. “Well we are just taking a country drive and trying to find an easy way to Clear Creek”, I said with a kind of questioning nod towards the gate ahead. He spat again and said that was once a way to Clear Creek but the bridge washed out many years ago and the land was now owned and private. I told him I understood but before I could say anything else, he started coming closer to the car. I could see the butt of a gun sticking out of his pocket and as I smiled I slowly and quietly placed my hand on the 10mm Springfield that was tucked away just inside my door, but my son was between us and it was not an ideal situation for a shootout if things went raw.

He put his hand on the top of the car and squatted down a little looking at me with a squint in his eye. “We don’t get many people this far back” “In fact I haven’t seen a stranger in quite a while” he said as I now imagined this was going to end somewhere between The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Deliverance. “Well God finds angels amongst the forgotten” I replied, which caught him off guard a bit. He stood up and smiled as he turned back toward his mower. Waving us off as he walked, he said something peculiar “Ya’ll be careful on that creek” and then he pulled the cord and the mower turned over on the first try. I was impressed with his stature for a man his age, obviously hard work had left him in better shape than most who retire in those golden years.

We turned the car around and went on back down the road that we came. The frontier home made sense, as it stood on land that had probably been in the old man’s family for years, possibly at or before the formation of Texas. We were now back on the black top when I noticed a small trail that I had not seen on our first passing. Just before the bridge I could see where the grass had been laid down. It was getting close to dark and the suns cap was just now resting at the edge of the fields. The cicadas had quieted, and I thought I would take one more look before we headed back home. “Stay in the car, I won’t be but just a minute” I told my son as I stepped out.

Walking up to the concrete railing I put my hand on the dusty side. The fish had not seen me this time and I could just barely make out their outlines in the water. But something felt different. There was a slight smell beyond the usual humid vegetation and earthy aromas. It didn’t quite stink but it was rather unpleasant. Suddenly the wind picked up just as it does before a front comes through. The dust from the bridge was swept into my left eye and I yelled back at my son to roll up the car windows as I poured some water from my water bottle to nurse it. Before he could get his window up we could hear a noise in the woods. It sounded like something cracking. I was thinking possibly a tree limb was about to come down from the sudden high winds. But as I wiped the water from my eyes, I could see the smaller trees that grow along the banks parting. “Papa David, what was that?” my son yelled. “Nothing son, don’t get out of the car --- stay in the car!” I looked further down the bank and could see something moving quickly through the bushes and trees, throwing them aside. It was dark now, but I thought I could see patches of brown hair but then it stopped and quickly turned. I saw an eye, just the eye through a mass of vegetation and shadows. It looked at me and for that moment, I understood. This was a creature with intelligence. It stood there and then as quickly turned away melting into the forest and then the all too familiar splashing of a creature with two feet running. The memory of our encounter at Uncertain came back to me but this time I was more curious than scared. But my son was with me and I could not take any risks. Driving slowly by the fresh trail I felt more like I had interrupted someone’s fishing rather than having an actual encounter with a terrifying beast, in fact, maybe the beast that was so terrifying was actual me.

I heard the phone vibrate on the nightstand, I grabbed it and thumbed in the pass code after the facial recognition failed, probably because it wasn’t used to my face without a beard.

It was my friend David; I had texted him and asked him how his trip to Colorado had been. He was now in town drinking with some local cowboys and I could just imagine his easy laugh as he listened to their stories and shared a few of his own. The subject would come around to fishing, which is one of the great American pass times, especially in the mountain towns. Jokingly, I wrote him “Any squatches?” and now I stared at the screen as the text popped up “Got surrounded…”

David had gone to Colorado in search of the Golden Trout but had lucked out on the six lakes he had visited. However, one of the lakes was quite remote. He had driven off-road as far as his 4x4 could take him and parked it. Then throwing his gear on his back and securing his Sig he headed out on foot toward a destination with no trail. Hiking several miles through the forest he could see through the trees, the waters of Golden Lake. After setting his gear down where he would spend the night, he decided to wet a hook as he cast his line. To David fishing is not just an excuse for a beer and a bobber but an art form. He is a true fisherman, a hunter, willing to go further to find his prey. There is something primordial about catching and eating a fish. It is what sustained the earliest humans and allowed us to travel over large distances by creeks and rivers that are the veins of this great land. A good fishing spot is coveted by the fisherman and is often a carefully guarded secret to maintain one’s connection of self with nature, absent of interruption.

Now, as David explained, in digital format, he had just gotten back to camp and started a fire when he heard a knock in the woods, the same as before during his encounter on Clear Creek. He listened, everything in the forest that far out is crisp and clear. There is no other noise pollution such as highway sounds and the constant buzz of city life. It is just you, the wind and whatever that stirs in the darkness.

He sat there crouching; his ear cocked to one side as he stoked the fire prepping for an evening’s meal. And then another one! Closer this time but too the East of camp, where the other one had been across the lake to the North. This was not just a coincidental limb falling, it was intentional. He sat motionless, alone and miles from any civilization. I asked him what he did then? He wrote back, “I was terrified!” “There was no trail to this lake, I should have known better”, he admitted. I asked him if there was any way it could have been a bear, but he said that there was a third knock to the West of camp and it appeared that they were either communicating or trying to scare him. He decided that there was nothing he could do and was resolved to make dinner, build the fire higher and keep his Sig close but out of sight. His lacking in aggressive posturing is what he believes may have saved him. “So will you go back?” I asked him. “Not alone” I took this as a possible invitation to a Sasquatch hunt to be considered for later.

Now, I sit in my car with the windows down, a thud from a small branch landing on the roof of my SUV startles me as I listen to the night sound of distant howls trumpeting. If you ask me if I believe in Sasquatch I will flash you a slight smile and tell you that I am Uncertain. But what I am certain of, is that at the end of this road that I am parked, sits one of the scariest abandoned houses I have ever seen. And that might be the making of a story for another time… [The End]

Uncertain Video: https://youtu.be/Toi4b6zzbkA

All Rights Reserved dfw.adventures@gmail.com

[antonioburke]

Shame

Shame has been on my mind a lot, lately. Where does it come from? Is it inherited or developed? Inferiority and shame seem to go hand in hand as they are both brought on by our projection of ourselves compared to others. For me there is a big difference between the two, however. Inferiority encompasses a belief we are inherently lesser than others while shame is what we feel when we're dealt a bad hand. The ashamed are able to conclude that their circumstances are not the result of their own actions and thus resent those with the Full House or Royal Flush. Inferiority may have plagued me at select times in the past but I’ve felt shame practically all of my life.  

I suppose this negative thinking combined with my selective muteness from the age of 5 until my early twenties are common symptoms of a traumatic childhood. It's understandable that a child constantly in the presence of danger would learn to avoid it by avoiding people.  

My most traumatic memory is of my brother, sister, and I hiding in the closet of our room while my mother was being beaten by her boyfriend Calvin. This was practically a normal event in our household; men and women came before and did the same thing.  

Kerline was a big, black Haitian-American lesbian my mom became romantically involved with. She lived with us for a few years with her son Randy. Kerline could be fairly jovial and quite interesting. She would listen to Bob Marley vinyl records every Sunday morning and take us to San Francisco to buy mangoes from street vendors. She made us celebrate Kwanzaa and wore Nefertiti earrings.  Despite what one may think she was apparently pretty Catholic. Attending Mass and Sunday school at St. Joseph's was a regular event and reading the picture bible every night was mandatory. Underneath the eclectic and free-spirited demeanor there was a sadism she could only satisfy by striking my mother or her son. Kerline also had the peculiar hobby of lining up the male children every school night before “Mommy Monique” arrived home and whipping us with a belt as we bent down bare-bottomed. Every night on clockwork for no reason or occasion. To a certain extent, her discipline had benefits.  Neither my siblings or I (or Randy) ever talked back at home or in class. The “study hall” Kerline presided over at our kitchen table on the weekends and in the summers did translate to success in the classroom. There were drawbacks; I was kicked out of Orchestra because I could not stop making flinching motions as if someone were about to hit me whenever the instructor called my name. Still, Kerline's most important contribution came on those violent nights when she would condition us for the years to come.

We were all born and raised on Berkeley's "black” South side but were living in a public housing condominium on the quaint North side. I can only imagine what the medium-income level of our neighborhood was but trust that the inhabitants of our complex were the only black, brown, or poor residents in the immediate area. Maybe it's the city's liberal brainwashing or the fact that the local school bussed in children of color from all corners of the city, but I never noticed that the only other black kids in our area were the Cokes brothers from our housing project or questioned how my mom could afford to live on this side of town working part-time in a department store.  

This afternoon with Calvin the usual soundtrack of my mother's whimpering and sobbing has been replaced with screams and begging interjected with his threats to "snap her neck". I'm not sure if you've ever had the opportunity to hear a woman being battered in person but there is almost a certain rhythm that eavesdroppers become very accustomed to. First there's the arguing. At this point there may be some back and forth that keeps up the facade that the woman still has control of her body or fate. There's increasingly loud discussion about whatever today's conflict may be as the male becomes noticeably more irritated and begins to drown out the conversation. The irritation begins to manifest in physical ways; he may break a vase or punch a wall. Now that the facade is over the pleading begins, her voice will go from appeasing to panicky to desperate until it finally settles on a simple cry as she realizes there's nothing she can do. Now there's only one item to take care of before the actual act begins and it's an important one. The music. Or more precisely, the radio. Screams, wails, and feet stomping are understandably alarming and noise mitigation measures must be taken for the sake of the neighbors. Usually this is less of a cover-up than a simple act of courtesy. Anybody that's lived in a thin-walled apartment complex that’s not in the greatest part of town knows what it means when the neighbor with the girlfriend that lives down the hall has talk radio blasting full volume at 3:00 in the morning even though he never listens to talk radio. This is a nuisance but less disturbing than what they know is underneath.

I don't remember what Calvin turned on this day, KQED, The Quiet Storm, Wild 107; the score is set and it’s time to begin. The sound of a hand slapping a face and a body dropping to the floor. Screams muffled by a hand covering a face turn into muffled moans as the blows keep pouring down. Of course, there's still the occasional talking. Calvin asks why she made him do this. She whispers gargled apologies that are coded pleas to spare her life. The lulls are the worst moments. The parts where all of the sounds cease and we’re in the closet wondering if Calvin made good on his promise to snap our mother's neck. What should we do? Would we have heard it, if he did? Would it make a sound? Knowing we should not stick around to find out, my siblings and I exit the house.  

We were standing on the sidewalk for a short while when our mother emerged screaming for help with Calvin chasing her down the porch. He catches up, grabs on to her, then proceeds to slap her in the face while pulling her hair and muttering curses. Her sundress begins to tear and her breasts become completely exposed as he beats her in the street during a sunny Sunday afternoon in North Berkeley. Our fellow public housing beneficiaries, the "indigenous" neighbors whose tax dollars fund our dwellings, the patrons across the street at Fat Apple Bakery; everyone is witness as two white neighbors rush in and attempt to pull Calvin off.  My mother is in the middle of Rose Street half bare when a lady in a minivan pulls up and summons us to get in.

The four of us are crammed into the backseat of the Good Samaritan's car as she drives us to the police station downtown. She is a white lady with short-black hair that is very Courtney Cox mid-1990s, looks to be in her 40s. It would be hard to describe her after all of these years, all I can say is that she is very Berkeley. That may not mean anything to you unless you grew up in the Bay Area but it is an excellent adjective. I could see her operating one of the tie-dye stations along Telegraph Avenue on the weekends or volunteering at the Edible Garden at Martin Luther King Middle School. The good-natured, bleeding-heart-liberal with a sense of civic responsibility that is so typical of Berkeley. The people I would come to loathe and love simultaneously as the years go by, though that is a story for another day.

I hadn't quite noticed her through all the earlier commotion, but the lady asks her daughter in the passenger seat to hand my mother a white t-shirt and my siblings and I some snacks. She does this and introduces herself with pleasant greetings. She is around my age with dirty blonde hair and seems very precocious (again, very Berkeley) and talkative. Really talkative. One of the first things I notice is how she has no hesitation at all speaking so freely to my mother, an adult. Sure, she was polite. Sure, we probably had an unnatural fear of adults and strangers at this point and understandably so all things considered. Children should be seen and not heard. It seems old-fashioned but this is basically how our family unit operated anytime we were around adults we did not know well. Do not talk out of turn. Do not ask any questions. Do not ask for or accept anything, especially food. We could all be stuck in the forest for three days without food or water only to come upon  a cabin occupied by friendly strangers in the midst of preparations for a gigantic feast. Even touching a utensil or breadstick may earn you a merciless pinch on the cheek later. I couldn't help but wonder if she would have felt that comfortable had my mom not been half naked and bruised in her backseat.

I can recall exchanging maybe a few words with her. We live only a few blocks away from my school but I do not recognize her. The daughter seems genuine as she darts questions to the backseat about school and hobbies and absurdly seems to have memorized our names by now. As the ride goes on, I start to notice the relatively dirty and tacky clothing my brother, sister, and I rushed out of the house wearing. My mother sits in the middle of the backseat with the oversized white t-shirt and her hair pointing in all directions, undoubtedly with small patches missing at this point.

I don’t think anybody at school has ever been as nice to me as this dirty-blond haired girl is being right now. Maybe she is just overly friendly?

This is one of the first moments I can recall feeling shame. I knew then we were being pitied. This girl, she may be my age. She may even go to my school. She is not my peer. I would never be able to look her in the eyes again without recalling this moment and this day. I was dealt a bad hand.

[inadarkdarkroom]

Never Lived Alone Again

Ok, here goes. Writing this out makes me want to barf.

I was a news reporter right out of college, reporting on dismal topics in dismal towns. After three or four years of this, with the help of a friend, I landed an interview at an ad agency in Cincinnati. I got a job writing speeches and press releases and doing the usual early-pr-career grunt work. After stints in Alaska and West Virginia, Cincy seemed like a metropolis, and I picked a totally refinished first-floor apartment off of Craigslist. It was $400 a month and not in a great part of town, though the landlord assured me it was changing. Besides: in West Virginia, I was living in an old furniture factory for $300 a month and kicking crackheads off the front stoop. This place sounded like paradise.

My huge black dog Dozer and I drive down the street for the first time- a library! A record store! Restaurants! I pull up to my building, a few blocks down from the retail stuff, and it’s… not at all as described. The vestibule for the apartment is caked with grime. But I already have my key and I open the door to find an almost eerily perfect apartment. Everything is brand-new. The main room is in front. White carpet, white walls, a refinished bathroom, a boring but tidy kitchen. Huge windows, high ceilings. In the back is a small bedroom with a door leading out to a tiny, three-step back stoop and a little fenced backyard.

Over the next couple of weeks my friend helps me meet people, including her friend Alan. He’s great; we kind of friend hang out and kind of boyfriend-girlfriend hang out. Who knows. I have to drive around the state a lot for work and he watches Dozer while I’m gone- I always go to his place to pick her up on my way home.

The first time I do this, I come into the back of the apartment with my bags and race to the bathroom to pee.

The seat is up, and I fall right into the toilet. I figure Alan left it up, and unpack, go running with Dozer, etc.

A couple of weeks later, I have to travel again. I leave my keys with Alan so he can pick up Dozer after he gets off work. Same routine: I pick her up two days later and go straight home, in through the back bedroom door.

I go to the bathroom and sit down again; again, I fall right into the toilet. I think: I need to ask Alan not to do this when he picks up Dozer; it’s so weird. I walk out of the other bathroom door and into the main room.

Everything there is covered with a thick layer of dust, as if I’d been gone for years.

It covers my dining room table- the stray coffee cup I’d left there. It’s sunk into my mom’s old velvet couch, on my picture frames, onto every nook and cranny of the huge yellow hutch against the wall. It’s on the windowsills, on every handle of every drawer. Only the inside handle of the front door is perfectly clean. The door is locked.

I realize the white carpet is filled with even more dust- it’s white-on-white so I hadn’t noticed. I get out the vacuum and I fill two bags. I call the (Seattle-based) landlord and say that if he’s renovating other parts of the building they need to chill on the construction dust. He says he’s “short on funds at the moment” and my renovation was and will be the only one.

After that I’m home for a couple of weeks and everything’s… fine. I figure the air ducts burped out some old gross stuff. For my next trip, the usual. I come home with Dozer and the seat’s up. I had teased Alan about it and he’d said: I’ve never used the bathroom in your apartment.

I go out into the main room and the box of pictures from college I’d dragged around for a couple years was on a dining room chair. Every spring break picture of a girl in a bathing suit, some slutty sorority-themed outfit, a towel, anything sexy… they are all arranged neatly in a grid on the dining room table. I can feel my blood rushing in my ears. I walk through every room, look under the bed, open the front hall closet with a pair of kitchen shears in my hand… nothing.

I call Alan, politely, remembering that I don’t know him all that well, not really, and ask him about the pictures. He’d seen nothing like this, he says, and doing such a thing would be “hella creepy.” I’m so afraid that I can hardly hear him. I call the landlord to see who else has keys but he’s not picking up. I call over and over.

I don’t want to leave Dozer there, I’ve just been super weird to Alan, and I don’t want to sound insane. I’m just… standing in the apartment. I end up taking a picture of the picture grid with my digital camera to prove to myself that it happened, cleaning it up, making a sad dinner, and spending the whole night talking to everyone I can think of on my flip phone (2005 y’all) until I fall asleep. The doors are locked, Dozer’s on the end of the bed, and every light is on.

I’m in the office or at home with Dozer all week. Every time I walk in my apartment I’m terrified, but it’s just her waiting, wagging her tail. I get cool about Alan again- after all, my friends know him, he’s really fun- he just doesn’t seem like the type. Still, the next time I travel, I drop Dozer off at his house and I don’t leave him a key. He insists on coming with me when I go back to the apartment. Sitting neatly in the middle of the back stoop is a small black rectangle. I bend down and pick it up. It’s the remote control for my fancy digital camera I used as a reporter. Under it is a sheet of paper. It’s a printout of PICTURE I TOOK of the grid of swimsuit pictures left on my dining room table.

Alan goes in the house for me. Everything is locked tight, and my camera- the most valuable item I own- is gone. The living room is covered with deep, pillowy dust; the front doorknob is pristine. I don’t clean anything- I leave and go to Alan’s place, where I drink as much as possible. I call the landlord again- he says he has a key in Seattle, and I have a key in Cincinnati, and that’s all he knows of.

I call the non-emergency police, but the police are swamped in 2005 Cincinnati. They tell me a neighbor probably has a copy of my key, that all the Northside landlords are grifters, to get my own deadbolt and keep valuables locked in the trunk of my car. They will take a report if I’m willing to drive to the station.

I buy deadbolts for the front and back doors. I spend as little time in the apartment as possible. I try to break the lease but the landlord won’t let me out and I can’t afford to do anything else. I spend a lot of time with Alan.

On the next trip, I come back to find my toilet seat up and a bunch of my food gone.

On the trip after that, it’s just a day and half so I ask Alan to drop in and check on Dozer, do her walks, keep her company. Nothing happens.

Trip after that: Alan takes Dozer. Everything’s normal. I check the mail, still nothing but junk circulars, same as the past two months. Nothing I order arrives, so I start having things delivered to my office. But this time when I open the front hall closet to put my coat away: there’s the entire past two months of mail. Online orders, packages from my mom and faraway friends, all my bills. They are crushed, opened, ransacked, soaking wet and streaked with dirt. I just… run. Out into the street, on this sunny day, and everything’s normal but I can’t hear, I’m too scared, and slowly I realize the street is busy and my huge dog is out here and I get myself together enough to hold her collar and sit on the curb.

I turn around to face the building. A face at the very top window, in the attic, sinks below view.

Other stuff disappears over time- a collection of coins my dad has given me from the places he’s visited, more food, any drop of alcohol I buy. But nothing ever happens to me. No one breaks in when I’m home, there are no menacing figures at the window, no creepy feelings at night- and the face in the attic starts to feel like a dream. I even go up there- it’s just a bunch of people’s extra stuff in storage. This was some asshole with a key, I decide, and I’m making a good chunk of this up. The longer things are normal, the more it fades. I barely sleep; it makes everything feel even dreamier.

And then, one night, I’m getting dressed cute to go out. I use the blackness of the long windows to check my reflection. I put on my shoes and one turns white. It’s dust again. It’s not all over like before- it’s concentrated around my huge hutch. I get out the vacuum and get to work, teetering in heels, but it’s piled around the side of the hutch, which is hard to move. I turn off the vacuum, brace my legs against the couch, and push the hutch out toward the center of the room.

In the wall is a hole the size of a man.

The dust, of course, had been from the sawing. My company put me up in a hotel after that, until I could move. My landlord let me break the lease. Later, during the process of getting a felony conviction, I learned that two men did all that stuff specifically to scare me, that they sat peeping through the gap at the back of the hutch for months. One lived in the apartment next door. The wall opened into a little pocket between the apartment stairwell and the basement. They hid it with plywood.

My neighbor described it all for me in court, smiling at me. They watched me check myself out in the full-length mirror, cook meals, watch sad movies, flirt with guys on the phone, do sit-ups, talk to Dozer, have the occasional cry, go to the bathroom- everything. They kept a hoard of snacks from my kitchen in the wall to enjoy while they passed the time. My long kitchen knife was found in the wall, plus a boning knife I didn’t recognize- but they didn’t want to come in while Dozer was home, and I was never without her. Every morning on the way to work for six months, I’d driven past a “wanted” billboard featuring one of their faces.

I have never lived alone again.

[gethealthy18-blog]

100+ Boredom-Busting Activities for Kids

New Post has been published on http://healingawerness.com/news/100-boredom-busting-activities-for-kids/

100+ Boredom-Busting Activities for Kids

Table of Contents[Hide][Show]

If you have kids (or ever were one) you know that boredom can be a huge struggle. But it can also be a chance to get creative and find new things to do! When boredom hits in our house or when I have to occupy the kids while I work, I rely on some of the activities on this list.

I’ve tried to choose activities that will not only keep kids entertained, but also active and feeling purposeful. There’s plenty of ideas here that kids can do independently (an important value in our house).

To that end, most of the activities in this list require minimal parental involvement. I’ve noted the ones that call for a little more of a hands-on approach. We tend to save more involved or messy projects and games for family time when my husband and I can help out and be involved.

And if you have any tips for sanity-saving, low mess activities for kids of all ages, please share with other moms by commenting on this post!

Outdoor Activities for Kids

I always try to prioritize outdoor activities first, both for myself and the kids. There are plenty of proven health benefits to getting outside, such as:

Not to mention it keeps the mess from said activities out of the house!

Usually it isn’t hard to convince the kids to head outdoors (especially since we upgraded the backyard equipment), but when needed we simply require that they start their day outside.

Things Kids Can Do Outside

Many of these are fun for the whole family but can also be done independently by older kids. We also sometimes use our adventure points system to reward positive use of outdoor time:

Family/sibling Nerf wars

Water balloons – we use sponges, not balloons, to avoid choking hazards and plastic waste

Build a fairy garden

Build a gnome house (a small scale log cabin for example)

Stargaze (look for constellations)

Practice survival skills – Like fishing, starting a fire, building a shelter, etc. (needs more parental involvement)

Take nature walks/hikes

Challenge older kids to set up an outdoor scavenger hunt or obstacle course (Kids get especially motivated if Mom/Dad have to take the challenge they created after work is done!)

Create a sidewalk chalk masterpiece

Blow bubbles (make your own with this recipe)

Climb trees

Make a slip and slide

Build a raft (and see if it will float)

Fly a kite

Set up a nature station with some binoculars and guide books – our kids love this one

Have a campfire and cook a meal over it (requires adult supervision)

Hopscotch

Help in the garden

Create a mini-golf course

Nature photography (let the kids use a digital camera or old phone to take pictures)

Nature journaling (and sketching) – this self-guided activity book helps kids see their backyard through new eyes

Jump on trampoline

Hold a cartwheel contest (who can do the most)

Rollerblading or biking

Let toddlers make mud pies (and who are we kidding, older kids love this too)

Build a treehouse (may need adult supervision)

Build a rope swing (may need adult supervision)

Make rock formations

Make dams in the creek

Set up a travel hammock in the backyard for rest and reading

Jumprope

Play badminton or spikeball

Play Capture the Flag

Paint an outdoor mural (we let our kids do this on the side of a storage shed)

Show kids how to hammer nails into an old log or scrap wood (use safety glasses) – building a skill while entertaining them for hours!

Challenge kids to complete the Dangerous Book for Boys or the Daring Book for Girls – set up a reward when a chapter or the book is completed (review activities first as some parental discretion may be needed)

In my experience, once the kids get outside, they don’t want to come back in! Sometimes they just need a little encouragement to get out there and start exploring.

Indoor Activities for Kids (Rainy Day, etc.)

When the weather is bad outside, the house can sometimes feel like a prison! Here are some ideas for busting boredom at home (and giving Mom and Dad some personal space) when kids are stuck inside:

When I have work to do but we are stuck indoors due to weather, etc. The key to self-directed activity days is to set clear expectations. Explain when you are available or not available, which activities are available or off-limits, how household responsibilities are divided, when tech time may or may not happen, and how the house should look at the end of the day/by a certain time.

Go Outside Anyway!

In many cultures, they go outside in any weather! With the proper gear, most outdoor activities are still possible and maybe even more fun.

We have these one-piece waterproof rain suits for our younger kids and these Swisswell waterproof jackets and trousers for the older kids.

Set Up Activity Stations

There’s a reason kindergarten classrooms have learning stations! It gives kids a variety of activities and the power to choose what they want to do first, next, and last. This can work for all school-aged kids (or older) though.

Set up different activities (they don’t need to be complicated) throughout the house or in corners of the living room so they can see all of the activities available to them. This is especially helpful for kids whose attention span may be on the shorter side. Some ideas include:

Homemade playdough (or store-bought)

Water play

Slime

Pipe cleaner challenge (have kids build something from pipe cleaners)

Dominoes

Watercolors

Moon sand

Discovery bowl (a bowl of rice with fun toys hiding inside)

Egg decorating (use toothpicks as paint brushes)

Toddler activity stations

Fingerpaint

We also keep a copy of kitchen science experiments around for indoor days. I love that it’s self-directed, full of science facts, and doesn’t call for special ingredients. I also notice my older kids are more than happy to supervise when there’s food involved!

Play or Make Board Games

Just getting board games out of the closet may be good enough to engage the kids. Setting out board games gives kids choices, which is always great.

If your kids aren’t thrilled about playing board games, maybe they will get more excited if they create the games themselves!

Grab some cardboard recycling for the game board and gather all of the random figurines and toys that have lost their home for game pieces.

Have your kids come up with rules and practice.

Set aside some family time for them to teach you how to play at the end of the day.

Let Kids Plan a Party

If you’re stuck at home, the days start to feel all the same. Mix it up by having an impromptu party!

Take a look at this website to see what “national day” it is (e.g., national spinach day) and create a party around that theme:

Have a birthday party for a stuffed animal or let the kids make up their own special day.

Find things around the house for decorations or order some online ahead of time.

Make some snacks and tea and invite all of the stuffed animals in the house.

Or, invite family members from far away via Skype or Facetime.

Very important disclaimer: I have the kids do all the work and then arrive at the party as a guest after I’ve finished my work.

Pull Out the (Emergency) Toys

Something I’ve been doing since my kids were little is keeping an “emergency” stash of games and toys hidden away. They often forget about them and it creates lots of excitement when Mom pulls out the “bored box.”

Here are some of the favorite toys and activities from over the years. I try to stick to low clutter, non-plastic items as much as possible, and buy from thrift shops and garage sales most of the time.

Puzzle games like Perplexus

Bulk Legos

Buddha Board – A fun and relaxing way to paint with just water.

Rubix Cube – A good old-fashioned Rubix cube can keep kids busy for hours. Try creating a contest for who can solve it first.

Build Your Own Programmable Robot Kit – If you have STEM-oriented kiddos, this kit is a great investment.

Design Your Own Fairy Wand – This activity is great for encouraging creativity and imaginative play.

Microscope Kit – My kids love using this microscope to look at everything around the house and outside.

Bath Tub Crayons – These natural bathtub crayons are perfect for preschoolers and kindergarteners (roughly 3-6 year olds).

Boogie Board – This reusable writing tablet encourages creativity and is mess-free!

Sun Art – This activity is one of my kids’ favorites and they can do it completely on their own.

Kendama Game – Unique game that encourages movement (my favorite)

Reusable Sticker Pad – My kids’ favorite was the faces sticker pad!

Magnadoodle  – A no-mess art activity

If you’re stuck inside, these activities should help keep kids occupied and happy.

Indoor Movement

When the weather is bad outside but your kids still have energy to expend, indoor movement activities are a lifesaver! Here are our favorite ways to get exercise inside without anyone getting hurt:

Dance parties

Obstacle courses (kid-designed)

Scavenger hunt

Tug of war (use a towel and have kids sit or kneel on the floor)

The “Floor is Lava” game !

Use masking tape to create indoor hopscotch or follow the leader

Spider web – tape some yarn to the walls of a hallway and challenge kids to climb through without touching the string

A door frame mounted gym like this one is our kids’ favorite Christmas gift of all time. They use it daily.

We have a trampoline in our house for cold or rainy days. It’s great for getting little ones’ energy out when they can’t go outside.

Indoor hammocks and yoga silks for sensory play and comfort (bonus: it helps develop their vestibular system)

Kids will often find their own ways to expend energy when stuck inside, but these activities can focus that energy so no one gets hurt or breaks anything!

Quiet Activities for Kids

At some point in the day, everyone gets tired and siblings often start fighting when they’re tired. To combat these feuds, I offer quiet activities that can be done alone, so everyone can rest and rejuvenate.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with just setting out simple arts and crafts materials and letting kids come up with their own projects!

Music!

We love music in my house so musical activities are always on the list of things to do. Here are some of our favorite ways to incorporate music into the day (and keep boredom away!).

Create a band – Grab a pocket strings guitar or another simple instrument like drums and make some music.

Turn on show tunes and have the kids act out what they’re singing.

Make musical instruments from the recycling bin and play them together.

Learn piano (more on that in the digital section) and practice with a keyboard.

Make wind chimes from a kit.

Make your own music box with this kit.

Music is a fun way to pass the time and is also a great skill to learn.

Entrepreneurship

Instead of just finding ways to keep kids entertained, you can encourage them to start a business! For kids that are seven to 13 years old, this book is a great place to start in inspiring them to start a business doing something they enjoy.

Set up a business incubator at home to encourage kids to think of their own charitable or for-profit venture like:

Doing odd jobs for neighbors or around the house

Pet sitting

Babysitting

Writing books

Selling products (bracelets, lemonade, baked goods, etc.)

Tutoring

T-shirt designing (use a printing service like Printful)

Starting an Etsy shop

For younger kids, you may need to be more involved in this activity (and maybe for older ones as well), but once they get going they will have a creative project they’ll be excited to work on alone.

Digital Kids’ Activities

I always prefer that the kids find something to do that is not using devices. At the same time, my own business is built on technology, so it’s also a world we want our kids to know how to navigate!

These fun activities use technology to teach new skills, which I think is a great use of screens!

Learn a Language

I chose Greek and Latin as my languages in school. They are really helpful in some ways (I can often figure out a word’s meaning by the root), but they aren’t that practical in everyday life.

So, I wanted my kids to learn more practical languages. We’ve chosen French and Spanish and I’m learning right along with them. We are using a free online tool called DuoLingo which makes learning languages a game. It can even be used on a phone or tablet, making it really easy to be consistent.

Learn to Speed Read

I learned to speed read in middle school. It has consistently been one of my most valuable skills in life, so I wanted to teach my kids to speed read too. This program called Spreeder un-teaches bad reading habits and retrains you to read quickly and efficiently.

I recommend the inexpensive premium version because it allows you to speed read almost anything, but there is a free version too.

Learn to Play the Piano

A friend told me about Hoffman Academy which is a resource for learning basic piano online for free. I wasn’t sure this would be as good as an in-person teacher, but so far I’m impressed. It’s really easy to follow along with and learn piano.

Of course, my house is often loud, but a keyboard with headphones helps during times when I need quiet.

Learn to Code

Coding is almost a necessity in our increasingly technological world. Many young people are learning it in their spare time or taking classes since computer science skills are quite valuable today.

Codecademy is a great place to get online instruction on how to code. It’s interesting and engaging for most kids. If your kids can read, they can start learning to code.

Learn to Cook

I think that kitchen skills are incredibly useful but many adults don’t have them. We decided to try a course for teaching kids to cook and we are hooked! It’s all online and teaches kids knife skills, how to follow a recipe, and more.

This activity does require an adult’s supervision but is a great investment of your time. Soon the kids will be making you dinner!

Other Online Activities for Kids

Here are some additional digital activities that can keep kids entertained when necessary:

And if you’d prefer to avoid screens, check out these interesting podcasts that my kids love:

I tend to prefer screen-free activities for my kids, but we have been known to use and enjoy these digitally based resources. We just make sure to balance screens with lots of outside and creative play.

Remember: Boredom Is an Opportunity!

Rather than taking responsibility for solving my kids’ boredom, I try to encourage them to sit with the feeling and see what comes out of it. I find that instilling independence is the first step and once they are used to finding things to do on their own, they won’t be able to stop!

Still, it helps to keep this list in my Notes app for some fresh inspiration. Often the kids end up using their own creativity to come up with original ideas I never could have thought up!

What are your go-to activities your family enjoys? Do you have ideas that are low on mess and high on skills? I’d love to hear!

Source: https://wellnessmama.com/400608/kids-activities/

[thecoroutfitters]

Written by R. Ann Parris on The Prepper Journal.

Editors Note: Another guest contribution from R.Ann Parris to The Prepper Journal. As always, if you have information for Preppers that you would like to share and be entered into the Prepper Writing Contest with a chance to win one of three Amazon Gift Cards  with the top prize being a $300 card to purchase your own prepping supplies, then enter today!

Information is hugely important to success in any endeavor. We have to know what’s going on to best respond. There are all kinds of clues we can take from our surroundings and the skies to fill in some of the gaps the loss of the internet leaves, but a biggie is going to be just finding things. Many of us know our immediate towns well, although we might not be intimately familiar with all the back alleys of every community and crossroad in our county. If the grid is down for any amount of time, locating resources in less-known or new places is going to get a whole lot harder.

There are any number of reasons we might go looking for something – or anything. We might develop a community that ends up needing a resupply, be part of a nomadic community that forms, or be hoofing it home from afar.

Information about where we are and what’s around us can dictate which roads we parallel or which direction we head. Never having been in an area before, we can still find places to seek refuge and supplies, as well as areas to give wide berths.

For example, I might think it’s a great idea to hit a park with old Indian caverns since there’s water, fishing, foraging, shelter, and maybe still canoes. However, I might not if I know they have their own zoo or are right beside a big cat sanctuary, given the number of caretakers who might release their charges to give them a chance.

I for sure do not want to tromp through the vicinity of a drive-through safari park that uses hot lines, chain link, and moats if there have been storms dropping trees. I walked in on that episode of The 100. I do not want to annoy a gorilla.

(The 100, by the way, is gorier than I’d have expected a CW show for/about young adults to be, and did not in some hit-and-miss scrolling appear to actually have any useful survival tips, if it was on your watchlist.)

Depending on the type of disaster – its speed, duration, and effects – schools and various correctional facilities might be excellent locations to aim for. If they were evacuated and have not yet been re-occupied, they can be great sources for food, bottled drinks, hygiene and medical supplies, clothing, weapons in many cases (guards, but also confiscated items), and tools.

The flip side is that some inmates are really bad guys, and some schools are shelters. Depending on the time of year and even the day of the week and their delivery schedule, there may or may not be anything left in them as far as foods go, either in cafeterias or in the staff room or snack carts and vending. Still, if I’m in month/year six and have assimilated a group of refugees or a growing compound, it might be worth checking for cleaning supplies, trash bags with their many uses, trash cans for water catchment or container planting, and windows to extend the season.

So how do we find these, and check for risks or other useful locations that might be near them, without our handy smart phone and computer? We pass the answers on pretty much every shopping trip, and can keep an eye out for them when we’re “shopping” after a disaster as well.

Phone Books

A local-area phone book can be a goldmine of information. Sometimes they contain only bare-bones, general maps, but there are sometimes more detailed sections. Some of the ads will actually have maps on them, too. They’re small and bare-bones, too, but usually there’s a reference from a major roadway nearby.

Those ads are particularly useful, but we can also check the white and yellow page listings for things like animal control (live traps, sometimes to regularly buckets and catch poles, radio equipment), hardware stores, hotels, schools, distribution centers (the places where semi trucks pick up and deliver all the things that make it to our store shelves), assisted living and nursing homes, seed and feed distributors, restaurants (we’ll detail that a little more in a minute), lockups, and various factories.

The books themselves have a ton of uses (now as well as later), but the information they offer is an enormous resource, too.

Brochures for Area Attractions

At the front of hotels and welcome centers, there’s usually a rack of glossy pamphlets. Those can give us a big boost for things to hit – or, as mentioned previously, to avoid. With them, we can find parks with fishing, camping and RV locations, some of the restaurants in the area, and oddballs like a wine trail or microbrewery, “Tigers for Tomorrow”, and an unclaimed luggage store.

Museums might get marked “skip it” as a resource center, but they have concessions and sometimes cafeterias and are unlikely to be on the top of the list for others to scavenge. Casinos, too.

Ball parks are among the many that now get a lot delivered fresh and may very well be an evacuation shelter, but they also have shelf-stable cheese and chili for the dispensers (freakish, I know) and other canned goods, powder mixes and bottled drinks, team shower facilities, tons of coolers and cleaning supplies, team-logo clothing and blankets, and umpteen paper products.

One of the charming aspects of those brochures is that most of them still include a map or turn-by-turn directions from a major roadway or the compass points. That can be super useful in a world where our phones and cars no longer give us directions on command.

There’s also usually a stack of phone books somewhere behind hotel reception desks. That desk area can also be a source for a pretty nicely detailed map of the area – even at the Motel 6 and Knight’s Inn level of lodging.

Freebie Publications

In front of all kinds of storefronts but especially supermarkets, there are stands with freebie papers and magazines. Some of them aren’t overly useful, but there are a few that can be huge helps whether we’re working in our local area or just passing through.

There are usually some vehicle-sales and real estate oriented books in there with them. A rental or a bank-owned/foreclosed home that was uninhabited at the start of a disaster stands a better chance of not encroaching on anyone’s territory, making for a safer temporary abode for foraging, resting, getting out of weather, curing game or fish, or recovering from an injury. Most private sales aren’t going to give you more than a phone number these days, but the dealerships can also be places to scout for a replacement part for our vehicle that can be salvaged or traded for, or net a vehicle that can actually be driven without a key (in dire emergencies with few survivors anywhere).

We commonly need a good map to take advantage, but if we can find one or make a list of cross streets to remember, we can find some useful locations in those freebie paper listings and advertisement pages. That can include locations of restaurants that may have less-obvious food sources the average looter overlooks, oil for biofuel, mechanics, and stores where the foods and drinks at most counters will have been overlooked, like a Marshal’s, Hobby Lobby, or Petco.

What, Where and When

By type of disaster and the type of scrounging being done – a person or a handful on foot or in a single vehicle, or a convoy going out for a surviving community – the risks and needs change. So will the locations with the most possibilities for us. If we’re avoiding attraction and well into a disaster, we’re more likely to skip over some of the “obvious” locations and those in dense areas. We might work outskirts instead, and focus on locations that were probably hit for one thing, but maybe not another or everything.

An example of that would be heading for a fuel processing plant or distributor instead of a gas station, or hitting that gas station with a sledge hammer to go through the CMU brick (as opposed to using weed eater cord to defeat the metal plate or trying to pick a high-value lock – not my best skillset) to check for food, drinks, tools, and bags in supply rooms instead of trying to siphon fuel from empty tanks with my handy garden hose and bike pump.

I might opt to skip a zoo in most situations. On the other hand, if I have buddies to watch my sides and back with a .3-something caliber repeater and I’m pretty sure I’ll survive the mental trauma that’s waiting when animals get locked up and abandoned, that zoo might be a handy source for animal feed, concession or vending locations, and hunting opportunities. Almost all of them will have buckets, tools, and cleaning supplies. If it’s empty, there’s fencing and barbed wire. There may still be veterinarian supplies.

I might even luck out and some of the petting zoo or tamable critters have survived the loose lioness or hippos, and I can convince them to come live with me since I’m there anyway (with my armed guards in case the gorillas survived, too).

Some of the locations to consider scouting for supplies are:

– Veterinarian offices, to include racetracks and sanctuaries

– Distribution centers – both manufacturer goods and end-point retailers (Mars and Buffalo Rock, as opposed to Target), or something like a Wakefield that services distribution and warehousing for other companies

– Construction and renovations sites and companies

– Towing and vehicle maintenance services

– Vehicle fleet services, especially with heavy diesel ratios or rental trucks/cars but including the power company, pest control companies, internet providers, and others that maintain a fleet

– Hotels, casinos, museums, civic centers

– Rental storage units (vehicles and sale supplies; contents vary wildly)

– Clinics, hospitals, nursing homes, assisted living facilities

– Zoos, sanctuaries, petting zoos, animal control, humane societies

– Animal, automobile, and antiques auction houses

– Building and earth-moving equipment rental companies

– Restaurants, cafeterias, caterers, and vending supply companies

– Nurseries, you-pick orchards and berry farms, nursery suppliers

– Universities, junior colleges and high schools; elementary grade schools

– Rental homes, foreclosure/bank-owned real estate

Remember, what we’re looking for isn’t always the obvious. Hospitals might be devoid of drugs and have run through generator fuel, but that generator may still be there and I might be after buckets, cleaning supplies, and linens. I might have my fingers crossed for a ride, but a vehicle fleet is also “just” a source of fuel, tires, oil, coolant, and batteries as well as other supplies whether it’s Enterprise, Verizon, or Bubba-Bob’s Construction.

What’s useful changes by our specific situation. How worth it a trip is varies, too, on our situation and the most-likely yields waiting for us. Worth an overnighter or if it’s in a direction that’s as good as any other? Maybe. But I’m not kidding about having buddies and the right firearms if it’s near a zoo.

On the other hand, if bad guys get me and I paid attention to the information around me and thus know there’s a zoo within a reasonable distance, I’m totally leading/sending them there and rooting for the gorillas, gators, and bears. Intel has all kinds of uses. We just have to collect and apply it.

Follow The Prepper Journal on Facebook!

The post Grid-Down Intel: Finding Resources appeared first on The Prepper Journal.

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