Man found dead in jensen beach

I've followed wes for awhile. regardless of his fakeness and over the top lying about certain aspects of prison, I have found his message overall to be pretty solid and let's face it, the man does have some knowledge about mindset.
but damn bro are there really that many people subbed to his program? it seems like wes is living better than professional athletes. approaching 3 million $ in the car fleet alone, the house is rented @65k/month and the highrise is probably like 20k/month. i hear people saying the cars are rented but he shows the checks, the titles, and they are in his possession 24/7
his youtube videos are a goldmine of pretty good gems.. its hard to imagine that many people are on his program just for macros and workouts. maybe there is idk but fuck... if this is not all a stunt then wes is seriously balling.

I am a 25 year old woman living in the UK. I spent my late teens and early 20s wanting to die. At 25 years old things finally started getting better in my life and for the first time in my life I wanted to live and was so happy. Last year I went travelling, began to feel more comfortable with myself and after I came back from travelling I got a job.This was my first ever full time job previously I have worked part time. Everything was going so well and then I caused my own downfall. I was stupid, naive and found myself in messed up situations which I handed poorly.
I had a well paying job in a large corporation. I was the youngest employee in the department and it was a very challenging job in a high-pressure department with lots of issues, I struggled with the cases and failed to deliver to the challenging client base. I fell deeply in love with an older male work colleague in his mid 50s, and I got heartbroken so badly and humiliated at work.
I loved how he made me feel. I liked how he cared about my wellbeing, gave me attention, he even messaged on his day off. If I had a problem at work he always came running quickly to help me. He was talking about looking forward to meeting ne again because we both remote work and sometimes the workplace organises events in the office for the team to meet. All my life guys ignored me and it felt soooo great to have a man finally see me. One day he completely distanced himself from me. It turned out he got back together with his 55 year old gf who he has been on/off with for over 20 years. He knew full well how I felt about him but he didn't care or even be honest about his relationship status until I caught him being dishonest. I hid the mans age from my family and friends as result everyone thought he was my age. When it went wrong I told my family the mans real age and it shocked the household. My grandmother is still horrified.
I also befriended an older woman work colleague and she was of those workers who got on so well everybody. I thought she was nice person as she was always laid back. I was always so good to her at work and gave her assistance with her work when she needed it which makes it hurt even more. I wanted someone to talk to as i was so hurt and struggling to deal with my attraction to him as i never fell in love with someone so much older than me before and I was so embrassed about my attraction to him. Her being a mother with kids my age I thought I had nothing to worry about. She was being so nice to me, comforting me as i was so upset. After she promised me not to tell anyone she went and told the man( the male colleague I am love with) our entire private conversation and the pair of them were gossiping about me. I only found out from another employee what she did. It was so embarrassing and humiliating. Unfortunately in our private conversation I really insulted the man as i was so hurt in which I called him an "arsehole".
The next office day the company organised she surrounded herself around all these male work colleagues in the company including the man. She was even going together with all of them outside for lunch including with the man. That day I realised I don't belong in my workplace.
Before I got fired my final days at work was spent being humiliated as result of her gossip and mans shitty behaviour because he also humiliated me at work too by spreading lies about me to our boss. I got fired for performance reasons as it says on my letter. No employer is going to want me because being fired is associated with failure. I am burden on my family being unemployed and I am loser.

So I (15f) will friend who we're gonna call Dolly (15f). Dolly got pregnant at 14 to a 20 year old man. She ended miscarrying and she does mourn the loss of her baby. She was talking about her baby, and I told her, what were you gonna plan on doing having an open adoption. She said no she was going to take care of the baby. And I told her, you are unable to take care of the baby. Dolly said she would take care of it, and then I would told her CPS would take it away because she wouldn't be able to take care of it. She got mad and said, no, they wouldn't take it away. And she said, I could take care of a baby if she really wanted to. She says that she loves her baby, even though that she has miscarried and the baby is dead, which doesn't make any sense, she doesn't believe in abortion, so it makes it worse because I know she wouldn't have terminated her pregnancy. How can you love a clump of cells in your body.

Got a paper in the mail today and found out that my abusive ex boyfriend took out an auto insurance policy in my name. He used his own source of payment, but used my drivers license number and forged my signature online.
I’m talking with my legal advocate on Monday, she has already helped me file a restraining order against this man. But I’m wondering if I have any options for filing charged against him for this? Something I can have in mind before I talk to my advocate.
I already called the insurance company and got the policy cancelled and had them email me documentation of his application and the policy information.

The funeral was yesterday, he wasn't my blood uncle- my dad's best friend and my godfather- he was more of an uncle by proxy. I felt an incredible rush of sadness at seeing the coffin brought in.
But not because my uncle (M45), a man I respected, a man taken in his early 40s- leaving behind a wife and 3 year old boy.
But my dad(M47), carrying the coffin of his best friend- somebody he had known since childhood. My dad, reading a eulogy of how amazing of a life his friend had lived.
My uncle, high school drop out, enrolled into the army, to navigation- a man who died for 5 minutes at 22- a man who then went on to do so much good for his young recruits.
A man who began to work for the government and found the culprits of the Windrush scandal, instilled an entire section of HRM for the marines to deal with harassment.
Who received an OBE, ordained by the queen.
My father, who's mother (F68) was diagnosed with dementia only a year ago, who cannot remember his name.
Me, his daughter (F18) who has been dealing with health issues- he worries that I will pass. His best friend, dying suddenly of covid.
He is a man, he is expected to deal with all of this. It pains me- he is so strong, so funny, so fantastic. He drove me to the hospital last night, when it seemed as if my heart was giving out.
God his eyes when I told him that it was making my life unbearable, the pain. I feel incredibly guilty, to have sat in A&E with him for 6 hours, crying in pain- the night directly proceeding his best friend's funeral.
I worry for him constantly. He had to console my nan's brother today (M66), who looked at my dad and apologised for not seeing his sister earlier, 'I don't know how to deal with it, I know I'm a bastard, but I can't deal with her not knowing me'.
Him delivering that speech, 'Some may have called him unconventional, but I would say remarkable, the most remarkable man I have ever known'.
But truly my father is the best man I've ever known, he stopped drinking, stopped smoking so he could be my father. He changed himself immeasurably to raise his children. He sat though years of my mothers manic depressive episodes- before she finally received help (she is back to her old self now, I am eternally grateful)- and he protected us through every moment.
He is the best man I've ever known, and it pains me on levels incomprehensible, to see him in pain.

Man, I love my Namekian.
I’ve clocked in 300 hours on this game so far, but most of it has been done in PvE. Today, I did my tenth online match and my first match that I chose to do without someone in the lobby challenging me.
I got into a room with 3 other people, which meant that it would be a 2v2. The host had a very high TP level, it was close to 5000, compared to my 1000. The game started and I ended up being paired against the host, who started bombarding me with basic attacks. I knew I was in trouble when he started doing that sweaty Ki blast cancel thing to hit me every time I vanished. It didn’t take too long for him to get me low enough for a stamina break.
I decided to Limit Burst there, which, thanks to my “Any taller and it would be unnatural!” Super Soul, gave me increased defense and Super Armor. I used that Super Armor to charge up my Ki as he futilely hit me with more basic attacks. Then, once my Stamina was back, I activated my favorite thing in the whole game: Giant Mode.
The host panicked and started flying around in an attempt to not get hit, but it was no use. I made quick work of him with my Mouth Cannons and helped my teammate defeat the other guy.
When we got back to the room, the two other guys sent “GG”-type chats and asked for another match, but hilariously, the host quickly said “No”, “Goodbye”, and quit the room.
I looked up his data after he close up the room and found that he had done nearly 600 online matches and had a 78% Win Rate, but crumbled after fighting my Namekian once. So, that was a fun time.

Grief, this book is a telling tale of grief and the stages to processing it. I cried a lot reading the 2nd half of the book, yet not from reading of sadness happening to people who dont deserve it or even anger but of reading of the love had throughout these characters lives and deaths and it was a beautiful thing. Whatbought out the strongest emotions was through the last stage of grief, acceptance, acceptance that death is part of life and what makes it worth living.
The book follows the events that take place after Wallace Price dies. There is a preestablished world other that any religion (i know of) follows, some words are familer, concepts too but the actions of the characters he meets and the events within Charons Crossing give a spotlight to how the dead process their passing, to accept it and move onto the next place acceptingly.
I enjoy Klunes descriptions of character relationships (3rd book ive read of his) the most, and the diversity of each of them. You see a kind and caring man, Hugo, give up so much to do what he is there to do, he in turn finds exactly what he never thought he needed yet likely wanted in Wallace though, which is beautiful. His relationship with his Grandad, how he stayed there for him after his death, Hugo's best firnd, a (ghost) dog named Apollo, ever the loving and obedient companion and Mei, his reaper partner. How wallace grows throughout the book is based on these realtionships and how he and Hugo find a connection is an attribute of Klunes writings.
Ive not read a book like this, being centred around death, i did not feel it morose or incensitive yet as said earlier a great depiction of the stages of grief, not all death is ugly, just as not all life is beautiful. It is what we make of it and i feel this more having read this.
When I first head of this book, i imagined a different story other than the one i read, ut in no way dissapointed. It is filled with love, it really did demonstrate the 5 stages of grief and to see Wallace change from the unkind man he was to be free and find a new family and life after death gives hope to those we loose too soon.

Hi! Divorced a year ago due to my ex-husband's repeated infidelity. After dealing with that hurt for 8 years I am sensitive about people cheating. I find people who cheat, particularly with no conscience, really abhorrent. I want to surround myself with positive influences, people with good character who care about others and want to better themselves. If they are hurting others I do not want them in my life. This also applies to cheating. A lot of people will say it's not my business, but the character of the people I allow in my life matters to me. Last year I cut out of my life a close friend of 12 years due to his repeated cheating with 0 remorse.
Anyway, my current concern: I just found out a friend I became close with following my divorce slept with my ex-husband shortly after our separation. That doesn't bother me much as I have very much moved on from my divorce, but she had a boyfriend at the time. Since she broke up with that boyfriend I have also seen her sleep around while leading a man on that believed they were in a relationship. She has been very emotionally supportive but I am considering cutting her out of my life. Even though it doesn't bother me really that she slept with my ex, the fact she hid it from me while we grew close shows bad character also, and feels like betrayal. Just the dishonesty.
Any thoughts? Anyone go through similar?

...we are in a fiery hell,
Our way from hell to hell,
And halos don't bloom
Above the helmets of soldiers…
On the best of the planets
We pray to the moon,
There is no sun in the sky,
We are brothers in war… [1]
​
"When Adam delved and Eve span, who was then a gentleman?"
"...the whole people should be freed from the yoke of the present serfdom, and no man should serve another, except by good will and mutual consent; ...everyone is given the right to freely buy, sell and trade in any part of England; ...all participants in the uprising are granted a full Amnesty for any actions they may have committed in the course of the uprising... and they should not be subjected to any kind of persecution."
Wat Tyler's Rebellion
​
"Rustics you were and rustics you are still. You will remain in bondage, not as before, but incomparably harsher."
"Insignificant people, rejected both by sea and land, you, who think yourself equal to the masters, are not worthy to live... From now on, your servile dependence will be incomparably more severe. For as long as we live and by God's grace rule this land, we will spare no mind, strength, or health to make the horror of your servile condition an example for posterity."
The mercies of Richard II
​
"You call these men a mob... Are we aware of our obligations to a mob! It is the mob that labour in your fields, and serve in your houses — that man your navy, and recruit your army — that have enabled you to defy all the world, — and can also defy you, when neglect and calamity have driven them to despair. You may call the people a mob, but do not forget that a mob too often speaks the sentiments of the people."
Lord Gordon Byron, speech in Parliament in defense of the "rabble"
​
Colonel Vasin has come to the frontline
And brought his young wife along
Colonel Vasin has rallied his corps
And told them: "Let's go home"
We fought this war for seventy years
We were taught that life is a fight
But the intelligence has just reported
We fought ourselves all this time.
https://reddit.com/link/1222x31/video/pgpp6m7uoypa1/player
And I have seen generals
They drink and eat our death
Their children are going crazy
Cause there's nothing left that they don't have
And our land lies in rust
Our churches are burnt.
If we want to have a home to return to
Now is the time to return
Our train is on fire, there are no buttons to push
Our train is on fire, there is no place to run to
Long ago this land was ours before we got trapped in this war
And it will die if it is nobody's, it's time for it to be returned
And the torches are burning around us
It's the rallying of all perished troops
And people who shot our fathers
Are now making plans for our youths.
We were born by the sound of marches
We were threatened by jail
I say it's about time we stopped crawling.
We have returned to our land. [2]
​

"The day of the armored man-at-arms, the knight, the embodiment of chivalry, was over—hammered into history’s coffin by a few thousand ragtag peasant archers carrying longbows. The ultimate insult to the noble-born French dead—if the dead indeed could be further insulted—lay in the fact that the English archers were not only common men, common in the lowest, most flea-infested sense of the word, but that they were draftees. Doughboys. GIs. Grunts. AIPs. Spezzes. K-techs. Jump Rats.
All that was in the lesson Kassad was supposed to have learned during that OCS:HTN exercise."
Dan Simmons, "Hyperion Cantos"

​
"Watching metal monsters make their way through helpless fields and sow death from the astonished skies, we decided that without such armor, human courage is an unreliable weapon in the battle of machines. However, as the confrontation drags on, it becomes obvious that people can endure and suffer more than armored vehicles and airplanes. From the clash of steel eagles and giants, a figure of a man appears — still more robust and adapted than the instruments of destruction created by him. It's amazing to see him toughen up under fire."
"The New York Times", Anne O'hare McCormick: "The Battle on the Hills Before Stalingrad", September 7, 1942
​
https://reddit.com/link/1222x31/video/e4z92a57typa1/player
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Great video:
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https://reddit.com/link/1222x31/video/anvzrqhwrypa1/player
But the most interesting thing about this is hidden at the crypto level - that is, "between the lines". And this is done not verbally, but visually. The words that they REMEMBER, the hope and faith contained in them are confirmed by the most obvious fact: a prosperous peaceful city.
​
And this is the main point of this short video: we live well only because we REMEMBER.
​
"Review, friends - troops long past review,
All to fate a weight of pains and dollars.
Their spirits wear our silver collars.
​
Review, friends - troops long past review:
Each a dot of time without pretense or guile.
With them passes the lure of fortune.
​
Review, friends - troops long past review.
When our time ends on its rictus smile,
We'll pass the lure of fortune.
​
We cannot move forward without the past. We carry it with us, not as baggage but as a sacred blessing."
Frank Herbert, "Dune"
-----------------------------------------
​
[1] - Dire Straits - Brothers In Arms in reverse translation from Russian
[2] - Akvarium - This train on the fire

“Dude…this car is following us.” I checked my rearview after making a sharp, last-minute turn to see if it was still behind…and there it was…rounding the corner.
“You’re being paranoid man, it’s probably not even the same car.” Frank turned in the passenger seat to look out the back window. “Can’t see shit in this rain…you really think it’s the same one?”
“Yea…it’s got a headlight out…and…I dunno, it’s got like a weird shape to it. It’s definitely the same one.”
We left the party just after midnight. Frank was supposed to drive us back to his parent’s in his mom’s SUV, but he’d gotten on a hot streak at the beer-pong table and ended up getting hammered. I really shouldn’t have been driving either, but I did my best to sober-up in the hour before we left. We’d told his parents we were going to a late movie and they typically went to bed early…as long as they found us in bed in the morning, our cover would remain intact.
Shortly after our departure, I noticed the car behind us.
At first, I thought it might be a motorcycle…just a single light bobbing behind us in the distance, but they’d have been insane to be out on a bike in this storm. When a flash of lightning lit the sky, I watched in the mirror and saw that it was a least a car of some sort…possibly an SUV or truck.
Only the driver’s side headlight was lit, and it was flickering…jagged shapes stuck out from it at odd angles…I wondered if maybe they were moving, or hauling furniture or scrap, and had just tied random items down wherever they would fit. Whatever the case, the outline was so unique, there was no mistaking it for another vehicle. It’d been behind us for at least three miles, and we had another couple to go on winding, mountain roads.
And it was inching closer.
“Well fuck man…speed up, let’s lose them!”
“I’m going as fast as I can! It was your idea to take the backroads to avoid cops.”
Closer.
Every time I checked the rearview, it’d gained a few hundred feet…it would be on us soon.
Another flash of lightning…it was near enough now that I could see it was an SUV…and it was mangled. The odd shapes sticking out were twisted metal…how it was still drivable was a mystery to me.
“Fuck! They’re gonna hit us!”
But, just before we were rear-ended…it swerved and pulled up alongside.
Flash…I saw a nightmare. The roof was caved in on the passenger side and there was a body in the seat…just a body…the head was crushed beyond recognition…blood leaked down onto its shirt.
Frank’s shirt.
“Frank! Frank! Fuck, it’s us! Look, it’s your mom’s car! What the fuck?!”
“Jesus Christ dude, look out!”
I’d stopped watching the road…I tried to brake…to cut the wheel…it was too late…we skidded through the guard rail and flipped into the ravine.

Karl-Heinz Groß was 39 years old and the manager of the traditional folk music group Kastelruther Spatzen, a very successful group in that genre from Kastelruth, South Tyrol. His brother, Albin Groß, is the group's keyboardist.
In March 1998, the group was on tour through Germany. On March 5, the band had a concert in Magdeburg in eastern Germany. The next day, the band travelled to Essen in western Germany for the next stop of their tour. Karl-Heinz stayed back in Magdeburg with one of the vans the group used to carry their equipment and merchandise.
At 10 AM, he stopped by in an auto repair shop in an industrial area in the north of the city, close to the city's port. He was hoping to get the car repaired as quickly as possible, so he could join the rest of the group in Essen before the beginning of the concert. However, it quickly became apparent that the issue would take more time to fix than anticipated.
Karl-Heinz, who had previously been working as a bus driver and thus knew some things about cars and was always very adamant that things had to be done his way, became agitated when he felt that the mechanics didn't correctly identify the issue the car had and started arguing with them. At around 4:30 PM, he calls his brother in Essen and tells him that he won't be making it to the concert and that he will join them for the next concert in Glauchau, the following day.
At 4:45 PM, he leaves the car shop without telling anyone where he was going. What he does and where he goes in the next 90 minutes is unknown. At 6:15 PM, about 2 kilometers away from the car shop, a truck driver going over the Steinkopfinsel, an island in the middle of the city's port, finds a man lying on the street in front of him. He's heavily injured and bleeding.
Since it's almost freezing temperatures and it's raining, the driver covers the man up with a blanket and calls an ambulance. The man is quickly identified as Karl-Heinz Groß from the ID in his purse. He is rushed to the hospital. Despite immediately getting help and an emergency surgery being performed, Karl-Heinz Groß passes away the same evening at 11 PM from his injuries. He is survived by his wife and four children.
Investigators quickly rule out a robbery gone wrong since the victim's valuables, including cash, a mobile phone and jewellery, were still on his person. They also rule out an accident, perhaps caused by a heavy truck, as the sole cause of death, though some of the injuries in the torso area are consistent with the body being rolled over or squashed by a heavy vehicle. However, Karl-Heinz also sustained injuries to the head consistent with blunt force trauma. He had no defensive wounds on his hands or arms.
Police also quickly suspect that Karl-Heinz was not killed where he was found, as his clothes and shoes would have had to be more muddy and wet than they were. Due to the street's remote location, there were no witnesses. As this was in the 1990s, not too long after German reunification, most factories on the island were ruins. The port was the only business in operation at the time. This makes it more unlikely that Karl-Heinz went there by himself, as he had no reason to be there.
Police look into the mechanics at the car shop with whom Karl-Heinz had fought and searches the shop, but ultimately find no evidence connecting them to the crime. Over the years, hundreds of people are questioned with about five suspects being looked into specifically, but ultimately all of them are ruled out. Forensic scientists are able to garner DNA evidence from the victim's jacket but find no match.
As a result, the potential murder of Karl-Heinz Groß remains unsolved to this day. What happened to him and why was he found on a random, desolate road in a mostly abandoned industrial area?
Sources and photos:

• https://www.ok-magazin.de/sites/default/files/styles/amp_image_ratio_4x3/public/media/gallery/2020/11/05/karlheinz-gross-neben-norbert-rier-von-kastelruther-spatzen.jpg
• https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-epJgI06x8A
• https://www.20min.ch/story/kastelruther-spatzen-jagen-den-moerder-ihres-managers-karlheinz-gross-875277589668
• https://www.mz.de/mitteldeutschland/sachsen-anhalt/ungeklaerter-mord-kastelruther-spatzen-manager-karl-heinz-gross-starb-vor-25-jahren-in-magdeburg-3376578
• https://www.volksstimme.de/sachsen-anhalt/mordfall-ungeloest-kastelruther-spatzen-manager-karl-heinz-gross-stirbt-vor-25-jahren-in-magdeburg-belohnung-3573943

I’m not sure I want to divulge into moral arguments about this, but to summarize. I matched with a man we’ll call L (M17 or 18, still not confirmed) a few days ago. We had plans to hang out and get to know each other, things began to speed up and we slept together. I am F19, and a freshman in college. We were talking all day (when the date had happened), and he came over again that same night and we just watched a movie, talked, and cuddled. Shortly after he left, I googled his name because I am pretty paranoid and like knowing things and found out that he is a senior in high school and that his birthday has not passed yet for 2023. He had mentioned being held back by his parents but also corrected himself when he told me his birthday (from 2005 to 2004). I feel incredibly guilty for still having feelings for him. I’m not sure how to feel about this entire situation.

A male cim, was found dead and face down in Munford Lake in the city of Whitesville, Floralda just off Chapel Ave. Pickens County Sheriff's Dept. is investigating the death. We'll keep you updated as more information comes out about this tragic event.

Secret Dragon - Chapter 5A: Perfection [Explicit]
[NSFW: Grown Folks Business Ahead. Explicit. Seriously. If you want to read a less explicit but still very steamy version of this chapter, I got you! Please proceed to chapter 5B for the abridged version]
—
Suggested Listening:
Floetry Say Yes
Eryn Allen Kane Have Mercy
—
The distant storm he had banished returned from that deep place in him, now a tempest. He put his mouth against my neck. We will go slow he whispered. I shivered in response.
Vibrations wound their way through my body. Sound waves reverberated off bones. The pounding of his heart beat in time with mine. It was a song made of storms. I needed to be swept up in it.
He kissed me softly with rolling flames. From my lips to my neck, then over the plates between my breasts. Over my belly. My hands slid to his shoulders as he worked his down my thighs. Every inch of my scales was being annealed, preparing to be forged into something lost to time.
Sasha’s tongue trailed back up my leg. His claws caressed my legs between my thighs. So I invited him into my house, for there was a feast prepared for him.
My scales prickled where his tongue trailed up my inner thighs. The deep growl of his throat sent vibrations inside me. I could see steam roll off my body into clouds. The heat of his fire was awakening my flesh, my core. His tongue searched me until he found my pleasure, as if he had a roadmap to it. He ate me, not like like a starving man, but one of refined tastes. “Right there,” I moaned. “Yes.” And slowly, he explored that place. My secret place. A whimper escaped my mouth. My claws dug into the mattress.
My imagination at its most creative, at its most hungry, could not have conjured this ecstasy. Gods, have mercy.
When Sasha got his fill of me, I had only a moment’s reprieve.
I felt the heat traveling up slowly. Where the fire touched, my scales glowed red hot, like embers. I shuddered as his strong hands trailed up my body. Savor this, he whispered.
He brought his mouth back to mine, kissing me, letting me taste of myself amidst his flames.
Then he entered me.
I moaned as his body pressed against me, his manhood filling me. I pulled him closer until the rhythms of his breath, his heart, his storm were mine. His everything moved in perfect harmony with mine. I surrendered myself fully to him, as he stroked me, waxing and waning, a boat on the waves.
Sasha knew the way I wanted to be touched. The way I wanted to be loved on. The way I wanted to be handled. He gave me the most intense pleasures I had felt in my life.
We had reached the peak of this volcano. Sasha’s wings stretched to their full span. This man had conquered me. But the way my voice rang out in that room at that last push? It broke free something dormant in my core.
Flames erupted from his mouth and nose, engulfing our bodies entirely. I clutched at Sasha’s back, digging my claws into it.
…
I was being baptized, dipped backward into a deep river of fire by his strong hands. But I did not emerge from the surface; instead, I plunged deeper, into a vision of darkness, revealing the cosmos itself.
The Sun, my everything in this universe, my namesake, loomed ahead. It beckoned me, and I rushed toward that bright star without hesitation. When I entered, a searing pain began in my back, their two points of origin so telling. So unmistakable. It was like I was being ripped apart. Yet I felt nothing but joy in that pain. I came out the other side a streak of gold rushing down from the depths of the sun’s core back to earth. Back to reality. What was this?
…
Light filled the room as my eyes burst open. I heard the billowing of air as our bodies rose from the bed. His claws held my waist, my back arched.
White hot wings of light drifted in and out of my peripheral vision from behind me. They were the brightest, most beautiful things I had ever seen. As if possessed, I held both sides of his face stared deeply into his soul until his eyes glowed like an inferno. White hot fire manifested itself across his wings. Radiant and full of light. Like mine. I released him.
We were suspended in the air, frozen in time, silent. No longer were we mere mortals in that moment. We were glorious, and terrible. Divine beings, forged in lava and cosmic energy.
Slowly, gently, all the flames began die. My wings softly dispersed until they were no more. His hands held me as we drifted downward. His eyes and wings both dimmed back into their normalcy.
The fireplace was, once again, the only source of light in the room.
Our bodies steamed in the darkness, chests heaving from the intensity of what had just transpired. We stared at each other, wild eyed. He withdrew from me, wings lowering somewhat. Our senses returned to us.
My hands shook as I touched his cheek, rubbing his scales. There was blood on my claw from where I had dug into his back past his scales.
We held each other’s gaze. Eventually, he closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around me tenderly, and his wings enveloped my steaming body.
For a long time, we just lay there together, still smoldering in the aftermath of that eruption. That awakening. The only sounds now were our shallow breaths, and the fire which crackled behind us.
We had gone elsewhere. Some distant place lost to time where our history lie in ruins. Where a rend in the crust had torn our people asunder in ages past. And that pull of his call to me? It felt so strongly, as if our souls were old things in that distant place, once known to each other but cleaved violently and unjustly.
We had awoken in mundanity that morning. Mostly normal people living a mostly normal life. Now who were we meant to be?
The end and the beginning of all things. The answer to questions not yet asked.
We were perfection.

Hello all. To preface, my friend (we will call her Lisa) have been friends ever since high school. We became friends because we were both being cheated on by the same guy. We decided to become friends and kick that guy to the curb and have been close ever since. In retrospect, I can see how this friendship has been more of a trauma bond. But nonetheless, I have never been closer to anyone in life. We finish each other’s sentences, have had the most fun together that I’ve ever had, and have been through a lot together. We always joked and said we were soul mates. Now that we’re both older and life is taking us in other directions, I am more triggered by her than anything.
After my first boyfriend (the one that was seeing both me and Lisa) I got another boyfriend a few years later. We can call him Kane. Kane told me that he was going on a trip to NY to visit family, but what really happened is that he left, and never came back. That was his easy way out of our relationship. I only found out because I saw a picture of him and the girl he left me for (we will call her Alice). It devastated me. It triggered me in such a profound way, that I became too depressed to work, and I ended up losing everything. My apartment, my car, and my job. For about 3 years after that, I struggled. When my depression over this man started to disappear, I just settled into my new identity that felt worthless and bummy.
Fast forward. I find out randomly one day that Lisa and Kane slept together on a drunken night years back and I never knew. It is still unclear when exactly this happened because they both have conflicting stories. I was angry for awhile. But ended up forgiving her because I did not want to lose my only friend. This was stupid of me, but I figured this happened so long ago I might as well let it go. Wrong. Typing this out I am realizing whatever justification I came up with for this isn’t good enough.
After numerous talks, and numerous apologies and validation from her, we have kinda settled into a good place. But I just saw on Instagram that she denied coming to my little get together with friends last night because she was actually going to a different one- with the girl my ex left me for.
I’m really triggered by this. It seems like they have all moved on, have found fun friendships in each other, but I have no friends and no life really outside of work and school. It makes me feel worthless. I don’t know why I struggle to make friends that I connect with, but the people who have triggered such dark times in my life have seemingly great lives. I guess this comes from my ignorant sense of justice, and hope that somehow I will be victorious after people shitted on me. But really everyone has moved on and I am just stuck in the past.
I am in a new loving relationship now, my life is stable, I’m no longer in that dark place I once was, and I genuinely have no feelings for my ex anymore. But still, seeing my only close friend finding a community with them guts me and reminds me of how bad I was hurting during that time. She is friends with my ex. Everyone is civil. And she even attends my exes events when he throws them. I can’t help but think that there is something wrong with me.
She is with a new bf that she is really happy with. Of course, he is close friends with the girl my ex left me for as well. They’re also all apart of an artsy community. So it’s looking like eventually her life would be much easier without having to dodge certain people to appease me, which I certainly would never expect someone to do. But eh. Still hurts feeling like my friend who I love dearly does not think our friendship is worth not being friends with these people.
Not sure what I’m looking for. Advice is welcome.

I'm making 5 personal Mangas and 3 out of the five of them need conlangs. Where do I make them if they require a certain site or do I make it all up on my own? Is it hard to do so? Do you gotta make an entire language? Lastly where can I make maps?
I know this is unrelated but if your for some reason interested in my stories I can tell you a Lil bit, you can ask further questions if you want to.
WARNING! some things will make absolutely no sense and have a strong sense of "because I said so" because it's personal and I got no reasons to make everything make sense. Some characters design and/or personalities are completely taken from other stories. (sorry Rengoku is to good not to have and dojutsu, haki, breathing styles with actual elements and KNY swords are to Frickin cool) for my first 2 stories you'll have your usual stock races but I do got my own.
First Story: princes and princesses from royal families along with other super powered people with enough balls to fight against the forces of evil such as the usual fantasy stock racers but also my own such as Jakuuna and the Mors Fun facts my planet is multiple universes big with 1 sun and incalculable amount of moons "why and how in tf" you ask? Because why not, one of the biggest parts in the 3 of my stories is adventure of unknown islands, continents, planets, and moons and unknown civilizations. I feel that realistically sized planets in our universe are to small for me, idk I guess I just want unimaginably large kingdoms and lands. Time Is much slower so humans age much much much slower than irl. It's very ethnically diverse, I got ethnicities from our world in here to, heck my MC is Japanese and African (I'm black so all my MC'S are black but I can't not have a O-Katana hence him being Japanese to)
Second story: Legalized mercenaries, "Companies" go around the galaxy sized planet for money and other odd jobs such as protection Fun facts: My MC is was a lighting dragon but now has the cursed fire dragon god sealed in him so for now he has crimson red and black flames, think of the Mortal Blade from Sekiro and that's how my MC'S fire looks. I know I know it looks a lot like Naruto but really thier entirely different personality wise everyone knows what Naruto is like but my character is different as he actually had a family... jokes aside while my MC still greatly suffers from the tragedy that befell his family and city he'd smoke anybody who wants vengeance as he against him. Naruto and my MC couldn't be more different, Naruto had a grandiose goal of becoming something to prove something while my MC wants a life where he and his new found family can have grand adventures and prove nothing to nobody.(it's funny tho, I didn't even realize how similar these two stories sounded until a couple weeks ago lol)
Third story: In a post apocalyptic world filled with zombies and the mutated, a man goes around spreading his justice in an often "cruel" manner along with his 1 year old dogo argentino and a deeply traumatized woman. INFO: he has a double barreled shotgun along with two desert eagles and he dogo is based off of mine.
Fourth story: Super gangs, Underground crews and revolutionaries have found that underground racing and fighting is a very lucrative business for fighting against "The Omega" INFO: The story takes place in 2086 and my MC drives a futuristic Ford Mustang and has an obviously futuristic FN Scar MK20 SSR and pistol,(still thinking what pistol to give him) he's part of a underground crew that often do heist on banks or other illegal activities he also has a 1 year old dogo argentino. (luv my dog so much) he's a very strong boxer but he's only a regular human, "Anomalies" are people who have extraordinary physical capabilities so their dangerous even to regular humans (most of the time)
Fifth story: My least developed story so there isn't much to it yet, humanoid alien brother and sister join up with a space mercenary group INFO: like I said not developed like my other stories but I do got a Lil something something for the sister tho, she got her throat slashed protecting her brother (my MC) from thugs and now can talk.
Let me know what yall think if you read any of that, I simplified my stories a lot so I don't overdo it.

It's very odd having two different worlds on my reddit feed. Today, pretty sure from this sub, someone posted about officially becoming an athiest. Perhaps on any given day in the Christianity sub you'd find someone who came to Christ. I'm just like I don't know what I am anymore. Nothing. Feel like I'm just watching.
One of the comments today on the newly transitioned into athiesm post had a list of things as to why God is a giant jerkwad, in so many words. The bulletpoint which stood out most was Noah's ark. Having never read the Bible up until last year or so, that story is afterall not what you see on T.V. Not the happy giraffe and elephant and a stoaked Noah. It's wrath and judgement. That's what I saw. Complete opposite of that Hallmark ornament. It did not really bother me to come to that newly found conclusion, wrath and judgement, what bothered me is how many....well people try to slap the love brush on it. God is love, just ignore the floating dead and bloated and decaying life of all forms on the waters surface. Kinda.
But I also feel bad because people were just trying to help me, being someone who's looking for reasons to keep my chin up, to stay here. Life is not horrible, just vacant and eat and repeat. Holding pattern for something, was hoping that God would do what he's done for so many others. Not sure what that would be, but something. But even that got and gets met with pushback "that's not what God does in your life". Then what does he do? Just pray and seek God. And read your Bible. Not reading that thing anymore I'll just see wrath and judgement everywhere I look. Not everywhere, just the overarching theme.
So it's an odd situation. Kinda depressing because I know there are Christians out there who genuinely want to help. I don't hate them, just not a big fan of God. So that alone would kinda make it hard to make Christian friends, go to church. I'd be standing during the worship music at church just waiting to sit down. Listen to a sermon that probably has good intentions but doesn't resonate. Just there to meet people but God is not really that real anymore.
It's just a huge huge stretch of my imagination to read the Bible and flip God's wrath and judgement into love. And why I have to rely upon someone else to make that flip for me, well that kinda seems to defeat the purpose of reading the Bible. It's God word, so in my mind anyone who can read and process should be able to pick it up and understand. There's that verse in the Bible that says to not rely upon your own understanding, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't talking about relying upon someone else's understanding of the Bible.
So I guess it was this fantasy thing of sorts. That God knows where I'm at and is here to help me. Wants to help me. I'd like it to be true I'd like to have that child's mind which God kinda requires. It's just a mess and anymore it strongly seems as if I'm truly alone in life. Not a bad thing persay, just that the dream is fully closing up and I'm back to that void. Reality, I guess. But there's still a part of me that....just don't know.
Life is strange that I do know. The sun came up today and I'm off for the next two. Bunch of good stuff. But also a desire to leave in a way. For this to end. To return to the great void of absolutely nothing. Sleep without waking up throughout the night no more weird dreams, no more this and that throughout the day. I've collected so many good memories and days. Strange situation. Strange part of my life.

On a scale of one to ten, one being touching a hot car on a sunny day and ten being falling into the sun, I’d put having something burst into flames in my hand at probably a four. I think four is reasonable. I mean, we’re not talking about blistering heat that roasts your meat black. We’re talking about a little, blue, cat doll just catching fire and enveloping your hand up to the wrist in white-hot angel fire.
I think anyone’s first instinct when something they’re holding bursts into flames is to drop or throw the item. Since I am anyone, I naturally throw the doll with a squeal that turns heads. It hits the side of the closest tent and tumbles down it, paw over whisker. It leaves a trail of little fires behind it. These don’t just sizzle and go out, they get bigger.
Did I mention the smoke? There’s black smoke billowing out of the doll like it’s one of those funny fireworks that does nothing but make smoke. It doesn’t move like smoke though. Smoke just goes up where I guess it gets sucked out into space or something. This smoke swirls around in a ropey fashion like a snake.
“Meredith?” I say to the smoke snake, “Is that you?”
The smoke snake does not respond. Instead, one of the teenagers shouts, “FIRE!” and throws a cup of soda at the side of the tent that’s burning incredibly quickly. They all scatter. Soda is apparently not an effective fire extinguisher. The flames just sizzle and then swallow more of the tent.
I decide not to stick around. “If you’re Meredith, follow me,” I tell the smoke snake, and then turn to run for the busy section of the carnival.
I don’t make it more than two steps before one of the bigger teenagers grabs me by the shoulder. He’s a lanky boy with black hair and one of those “I wanna look grown-up” half mustaches that you almost wonder if you can just rip it right off his face. He’s wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt. I bet Roger and this kid would have been best buds or bitter rivals if Roger hadn’t gotten turned into mashed potatoes.
“Hey! This girl started a fire!” he yells to nobody in particular.
A girl with really short cut bleached blonde hair and one of those nose stud things runs over and gets right in my face. “Let her go, Johnny!” she snaps at the boy holding me. I’m surprised because I thought from her expression that she was going to headbutt me in the face and knock me out or something. “She’s pretty badass in my book.” She looks me in the eyes with something I’m not familiar with. Is that... respect?
Johnny lets go of me.
“That thing’s gonna burn the whole carnival down!” the girl yells. She sounds pleased. She’s even got a big grin on her face as she watches the fire on the tent rise upward.
“Well I’m not sticking around to watch, babe!” says Johnny, and he takes off between two trailers across the way.
There’s already shouts rising over the sound of the crackling fire. I hear someone yell the word “fire!” and the sentence, “grab an extinguisher!” Just over the tent, where the main thoroughfare probably is, some woman screams, and a kid starts crying. Oh God, I’ve gone and killed everybody, haven’t I? The entire carnival is going to burn to the ground and everybody’s probably panicking and stampeding for the exits. Then the screaming lady lets out a big burst of laughter and I realize nobody on the other side of the tent is even aware of what’s going on over here yet.
“Come on!” the blonde girl pulls on my sleeve. I stumble over my own feet and fall to the ground. She doesn’t stick around to help me up. Instead she takes off after her friend Johnny, doing some sort of twirly dance in the process as she runs away into the dark.
I start to get up from the dirt when I notice dark liquid running out from under me. It’s blood. It’s all over my shirt. I’m a sopping wet, red mess. Also, the cow pitcher is shattered. I must have fallen right on it and it broke and I got Nate’s blood all over myself! How am I ever going to explain this to that angry man I borrowed it from?
“What’s going on?” asks Paschar, “I’m getting only bits and pieces. There’s a fire? Smoke? Snakes? Blood? Are you injured?”
Actually, now that he’s asked, there is a big piece of the cow pitcher sticking through my bloody shirt down in my tummy area. I pull on the end of it. There’s a nasty, burning sensation so I stop pulling. I’ve gone and stabbed myself with a cow pitcher! Is any of this blood mine?
“I’ve spilled Nate’s blood all over myself!”
“Don’t rub it in your eyes!”
I wasn’t gonna rub it in my eyes. It’s not like I’m tired or anything. My cousin Susie used to rub her eyes a lot but that was because she had really bad allergies. Her eyes were always bloodshot. Susie’s worst allergy was boat propellers though. She was deathly allergic to those. After her accident, my Uncle George developed really bad allergies too. I could tell because his eyes were always bloodshot.
Someone nearby yells, “Over here!” and a pair of men run up with big, red fire extinguishers. They start spraying the white foamy stuff at the side of the tent. At first, it doesn’t look like the foam is going to stop the flames, but after a minute of spraying and one of the extinguishers running out of juice, the fire hisses and goes out.
The man holding the used-up fire extinguisher looks at the big, black, scorched portion of tent, then down at the crispy, little cat doll on the ground. Then he turns and looks at the claw machine. The machine blinks its lights like it’s saying hello to him. The man finally looks over at me, laying in a small pool of warm blood. It’s the man with orange hair who passed by earlier that I hid from.
“Look what we got here,” he says with a funny accent. I think it’s Irish, but it might be Scottish. I’m not an expert on accents. Everything I know about accents I learned from this movie I watched with my dad about a Scottish guy who was immortal and he killed other immortal people by chopping their heads off with a giant sword. Well, that and Mary Poppins.
The other man sets down his fire extinguisher and turns around. He’s a beefy guy wearing a huge coat with lots of pockets and a floppy-looking cowboy hat. “Who’s that, Gin?” he asks in a non-accent voice.
“Get up, girly!” The man named Gin reaches down and grabs me by my collar. He pulls me halfway up to standing on my own two feet. In the process, the piece of cow pitcher that has punctured me in the tummy area shifts and causes more of that intense burning feeling I got when I tried to pull it out.
“OWWWW!” I yell, hoping he gets the hint and lets go of me.
He doesn’t.
Then I notice that the snaky trail of black smoke is circling his head like a creepy halo. I don’t think he or the other man can see it because if either of them could, they’d surely be freaking out and trying to wave it away.
“This,” Gin says with one of those half-smile smirks that shows the canine tooth on the left side of his mouth, “is who Clay was looking for.”
The black smoke snake hunches back like it's about to strike at the back of Gin’s head. Then it lunges forward and splashes like a wave against him, going in all directions. A moment later, it recollects itself into a cloudy-form and swirls angrily around him like a swarm of bees dealing with Winnie-the-Pooh.
Gin pulls me the rest of the way to my feet. This is good because I aim to kick him in his testicles and I couldn’t do that lying down. As soon as I’ve got my footing, I pull back, swinging my foot out behind me--
--at which point he brings his big, adult fist into the equation by punching me hard in the guts. The pain is so intense I feel like I’m going to puke. Even worse, there’s a really sharp stinging sensation and then a wet kind of warmth. No, I didn’t pee myself. Gin himself winces in pain as he pulls his fist back to reveal the piece of broken cow pitcher stabbed right up between his knuckles. He lets go of me so he can pull it out and I take the opportunity to drop to my knees and double over, clutching where he hit me.
“Word of advice to you, lass,” says Gin as he flicks the pitcher piece away, “don’t broadcast your intention to kick a man in the quongs if you don’t want to get punched in the ovaries.”
I’m too busy rubbing my face in the wet grass to respond but I’m thinking about how annoying this thing with saying what I’m thinking is and I wish I could stop doing it because it really makes fighting bad guys difficult. I wonder if I just said that thought, but judging from Gin putting his boot on the back of my head, I’m guessing not. Bleh, the grass is warm and tastes like ozone. I realize I’m getting Nate’s blood on me. Paschar said to not get it in my eyes!
“What is she, like ten years old?” I hear the other man say, “What about this brat’s got Clay so spooked? You could knock her over with a wet fart.” Thanks for that visual, Sir.
Gin lifts his boot off my head. I take the opportunity to get my face out of the bloody grass and wipe it off my mouth. I can’t tell how much is on my face.
“She killed his kid or sometin’,” he remarks casually, “burned him alive.” He pauses. I look up. He’s looking at the scorched tent. “Seems like she’s got a penchant for fire. Maybe we ought to give her a feel of what it’s like to get burned before we bring her to Clay. What do you say?”
I cough up some dirt I didn’t realize was in the back of my throat. “I didn’t kill Joey.”
Gin wanders a few steps away and the other man comes over and puts a hand under my armpit. He helps me up in a far gentler manner than Gin did. I don’t think about kicking him in the testicles and I don’t plan to. The two men share a brief look and I worry for a second that I just said all that.
“She’s got blood all over her,” the big other guy says, letting go of me and wiping his hands off on his dark jacket.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if she’s got shit and puke on ‘er,” Gin lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag on it. He looks at me like a kid with a magnifying glass looks at an ant. He blows out a small cloud of stinky smoke. I wonder if he can make smoke rings. “Give me her arm.”
Nothing good ever started with someone saying, “give me her arm.” I instinctively start to pull away, but the big guy puts his hand under my armpit again and moves me away from Gin, twirling me around so he’s between the two of us like a big wall.
“I’ve had enough of this. I’m not letting you put a cigarette out on a little girl. What the Hell is wrong with you, man?”
I put my free arm around his waist and give him as much of a hug as I can. Thank you, Mister, whoever you are.
Gin casually gestures toward the blackened tent flap and scorched patch of ground where the remains of my precious Freddy Lapel doll sizzles with otherworldly heat. “Look what she did, Dutch. She tried to burn down the whole carnival. Could have hurt somebody! Could have killed somebody--” He looks directly at me. “--again.”
Dutch’s thumb digs into my armpit but not so hard that it hurts. He smells like he had bacon recently. And he works on machinery or something, because there’s a distinct scent of motor oil on his clothes. I wonder if he knows Mr. Grizz.
“But thankfully nobody did get hurt. And I don’t know the full story between her and Clay, if there even is one. All I know is a grown-ass, Irish prick is telling me to let him put a lit cigarette on a ten-year old girl covered in blood and I ain’t about to be the guy that lets that happen.”
“I’m twelve actually,” I tell Dutch. He doesn’t hear or just ignores me.
The orange-haired creep named Gin takes another drag on his cigarette. I watch the end of it burn away between his fingers. Then he casually lifts one leg and puts it out on the underside of his boot. He flicks the butt away and then crosses his arms and stares at me hiding behind Dutch. If there was a clock, we could hear it ticking away, but there’s no clock. Instead, there’s just the hoots and hollers of people having a grand old time at the carnival.
After what seems like five minutes of just hard, quiet staring at each other like one of those Mexican standoffs in a Clint Eastwood Western movie --my dad used to love to watch Clint Eastwood movies. His favorite was called High Plains Drifter. I just watched for the horses-- oh right, like I was saying... after five minutes of that staring, Gin shrugs like he didn’t just step on the head of a little girl and then try to put a cigarette out on her.
“I’m fetching Clay.” He lingers for a moment, glaring at both of us, and then storms off in a hurried manner, really working his arms into it.
Dutch’s grip on my pit loosens. I stop hugging him and move away a step. He looks down at me. I can’t figure out what thoughts are going through his head. His expression seems like a jumble of worry and upset and even a little fear. He’s gotten all sweaty. He wipes it away with his sleeve and takes a rough breath.
“Thank you, Mr. Dutch,” I tell him.
He nods silently.
I check my pokey stab wound from the cow pitcher. It’s not leaking profusely but there’s blood and mud caked on my shirt and it’s sticking to me. I hope I don’t get a mud infection. I wish I better understood where germs come from. There’s blood all over my hands but I don’t know if it’s mine or Nate’s.
“I’m taking you to the front entrance and we’re calling the police,” Dutch tells me.
I almost forgot about the cloud of smoke. It is lazily drifting over Dutch’s head now, like a little, black raincloud. It moves unnaturally, not drifting away or dispersing in any way. Just a little, black raincloud over the man’s floppy hat.
We walk away from the burned tent and the claw machine in the opposite direction from the one that Gin went. A noise behind us makes me look back. A blonde woman with an apron covered with pockets from which prize tickets hang out all over comes out of a nearby booth alley and sees the mess I caused. She immediately zeroes in on Dutch and I walking away together.
“Oi! Dutch!” she calls out, “what the Hell happened here?”
“I’m dealing with it, Susie,” he tells her. He puts his hand on my arm as if to show that he’s got the perpetrator and is handling the situation.
I look up at him. “My cousin’s name is Susie.” I don’t know why I feel the need to mention that. My brain is kind of doing a reset at the moment as I try to figure out what I need to do and if that cloud is indeed Meredith’s soul like I think it is.
Mr. Dutch glances down at me and starts leading me away again. “Is that so?”
“My uncle ran her over with a motorboat.”
He frowns and looks away. “Oh.”
I realize I could have worded that better. “By accident.”
Paschar chimes in. “That’s probably not the best topic to be bringing up right now, Lily.”
Mr. Dutch seems to agree with Paschar. “Let’s just get you to the ticket booths, alright? Quiet like.”
Ahead of us, the back alleyway of tent flaps and old, unused arcade machines opens up to the main thoroughfare. I knew it was right there! I can see normal people, mostly adults because it’s so freaking late and kids have got school tomorrow but the carnival is in town so some parents brought their kids because some things are more important than school. Like fishing for little ducks with magnets on the end of a fishing line so you can get a ten cent knick-knack for the price of a couple quarters. Or shooting water in a hippo’s mouth and watching a balloon fill up from out its butt and whoever pops the hippo’s butt balloon wins a prize which is usually just a bunch of tickets like the ones that lady had falling out of her apron pockets.
The little, black cloud follows us, keeping just above Dutch’s head. I wonder if it intends to drop on him like an anvil in a Wile E Coyote cartoon.
Right before we reach the thoroughfare full of laughing, smiling people, I hear something. Fast approaching footsteps. They’re not speed walking; this is more like a jumbling hustle of several feet moving swiftly but trying to be quiet. Oh crap, it’s Gin and Clay. They’re going to burn me with cigarettes or rub deodorant on my wounds and stab me and light me on fire and--
There’s a hard WHOOMP sound right next to me followed immediately by a loud grunt like “UGH” but I can’t do it justice with words. It’s like the sound someone would make if they bang their elbow on the edge of a metal desk right where their funny bone is. Like right between the elbow joint bones, you know? Why does that hurt so bad? I think the person who named it the “funny bone” never hit the corner of a metal desk there. It’s the least funny bone in your body. Or second at least to the coccyx. That’s the little tail end of your spine. Yeah, we got tails. Humans got tails. They’re hidden though, tucked away in the butt area.
Dutch lets go of my arm. I turn to look at him. There’s a foot with a sneaker on it sticking out from between his legs. Just as quickly as I see it, it disappears. Mr. Dutch is the one making the pain sound. He reaches down and clutches his crotch, and his knees give out and he falls forward. Someone kicked this poor man in the testicles!
The foot belongs to the girl with the short, bleached blonde hair. She stands over the large, crumpled form of Dutch and looks at me with a triumphant grin.
“Bleep the authority!” she shouts and pumps her fist in the air. She’s wearing like a dozen rings on the one hand. How can she fit so many rings on such stubby fingers? “Let’s go!” she yells in my face even though I’m right there next to her.
Her friend Johnny is with her. He’s looking around anxiously. “Yeah, let’s get out of here already!”
I’m flabbergasted. “But Mr. Dutch was a good guy!” I try to tell the two of them.
They’re completely enthralled by their own sense of pride in a job well done, saving the little, bloody girl from the big man at the traveling carnival. Mr. Dutch is groaning in severe, testicle-kicked pain. I reach down to try to help him, and the blonde girl grabs my wrist.
“What are you doing?” she asks me through a smile that says she doesn’t even really care what my answer is, “we’re rescuing you! Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, let’s hoof it!”
I feel like that’s one too many horse-themed expressions in a single statement, but I don’t say anything. And not just that, there’s like twelve too many people getting involved in my problems lately. I’m not a complete idiot, I know well what happens to people around me. My whole family is dead. My best friend is... probably a little, black cloud that’s doing some sort of weird interpretive dance over the crumpled form of poor Dutch with the swollen balls. People get hurt around me. Hell, poor Dutch can attest to that at the moment. People die around me. People get torn apart by skinless dogs that form out of fungus that used to be old ladies and I can’t believe that’s even an actual thing I saw. I saw that. That happened.
I take the girl’s hand and remove it from my arm. “Look, I don’t know you or Johnny and you both seem really nice, but you need to get out of here before you get hurt. I’ll be okay. Mr. Dutch was taking me to get help. The bad people are coming, and they like to smoke. They’ve got an angel of death tied up somewhere. And there’s someone much, much worse who could show up any time.”
I think I lost them both somewhere around the part about that creep Gin being a smoker. The boy Johnny does another anxious look around the area, then he grabs the girl’s arm. “Nance, let’s just go. I didn’t come here to get murdered by some whacked-out carney cult.”
The girl Nance drops her arm and shakes her head at me. She starts to open her mouth to say something, then crumples it up into a little mouth and turns and trots away after Johnny. I watch them go. I don’t know who they were, but I hope they get far, far away. The curse of getting involved in my life has a long reach and is unforgiving.
After they leave, I kneel down and pat Mr. Dutch on the back. “All you alright, Mr. Dutch?” I ask him. He mutters something I can’t understand because he’s got his face shoved into the ground.
“You’re not cursed, Lily,” Paschar comments.
“Then why do bad things always happen to people around me?”
“Because your gift is chaotic,” I hear me say. Except I didn’t say it. Not me me anyway.
Paschar whispers, “Oh no.”
I feel the presence of another person standing right behind me. Unlike Nance and Johnny, this person didn’t make a sound. It was as if they rose up out of the ground or descended from the sky as silent as a feather touching a pillow. My whole body tenses up. That sounds impossible but it totally is possible and it’s incredibly uncomfortable. Don’t question it.
I turn around slowly. First at the neck, then the shoulder, finally at the waist. Why am I dragging this out? Because I don’t want to look behind me at the person because I know exactly who it is and I really don’t feel like peeing my pants right now. Or ever. But especially now.
For a second I think I’m just looking in a mirror because I see my own face. Except my actual face probably has more blood on it currently. But less blood everywhere else.
Samael smiles at me. “You got here ahead of me.” He looks at my clothes and then tilts his head and examines my face. “And from the looks of it, you’ve had one Hell of a time. Who did this to you? Was it him?” He points at Mr. Dutch who has finally rolled over onto his back and is staring up at the starry night sky with teary eyes and a really red face.
“This isn’t my blood,” I tell him.
He grins. “But this is,” he gestures at himself. Don’t pee, Lily. Don’t pee.
Paschar raises his voice. “Sam, please, you’ve got to come back! You’re unwell.”
“Really?? Did you really think that’s going to work?” That’s me talking. Actual me. Not Samael. “You can’t appeal to crazy! I mean, come on. You’ve got to have something to back your words up with. When in the history of ever has someone been on the verge of destroying a small carnival and someone else said, ‘don’t do it!’ and they were like, ‘oh, okay.’? Never!”
“She’s right.” Samael says, nodding and raising an eyebrow. Hey, I can’t do that. I try to raise one eyebrow, but I just end up raising both. So I stop and try again. But then I stop completely before it looks like I’m wiggling my eyebrows at him. He stares at me blankly for a moment after, then blinks a couple times and shakes his head.
Mr. Dutch rolls over and gets up onto his hands and knees. He lets out a big breath, then sits up and tilts his head back to look at Samael and me together. There’s a moment where he seems to accept what he’s seeing, but then he clenches his eyes shut, reopens them, cranes his neck forward and looks back and forth between us.
“Don’t hurt him,” says Paschar.
Samael smirks. It’s starting to feel surreal to see myself making faces when I can feel that I’m not. Also, everything’s slightly off because I’m looking at my actual face and not a mirror reflection of it. “I’m not here for Mr. Dutch,” says Samael, “I’m here for the rune-maker, remember? I’m here for Felix Clay.”
“Lillian Alexandra Madwhip!” someone shouts from the direction Mr. Dutch and I just walked away from.
As if he was just waiting in the shadows --which he probably was because it’s such a Felix thing to do-- Felix freaking Clay steps from seemingly out of nowhere and stands about ten yards down the alleyway from us behind Samael. Beside him is his orange-haired friend Gin, smoking another cigarette from the looks of the little glow I can see in his hand. I should have smelled him coming.
They’re a little ways off, but I can see them both pretty clearly, and Felix isn’t smiling. It occurs to me that he always smiled before, even when he was doing things that shouldn’t have made him happy. It’s like his smile is a mask he hides behind. But not now. Now he looks angry. And annoyed. And --why is he holding that hammer? He’s not even holding it right; he’s got the claw side down. He can’t hammer a nail that way unless his arms work backward.
“You came for me and here I am!” Felix yells at us, “But I told you not to come back. So now--” He and his Irish buddy Mr. Gin start marching toward us with very purposeful strides, and I can’t understand what he’s saying after the “so now” part. Mr. Gin pulls something I can’t see out of his coat and holds it close at his side. No doubt it’s a weapon, I just don’t know if it’s a stabby weapon or a shooty weapon or what.
Samael doesn’t look at them. He’s focused on me. He’s smiling. His hands are clenched at his sides, and I remember well that there’s a rune on one that lets him punch through people like they’re made of Play-doh.
As for me, I’m torn. Do I warn Felix that Samael can karate chop him into bits like some sort of bad horror movie? Or do I watch this play out? Maybe I should take this opportunity to just run. I mean, I can’t win against any of these people. Who am I? I’m a Knife That Cuts the Veil that’s dulled by the runes all over the carnival grounds.
While I stand there lost in that thought, Samael reaches forward and pokes me in the forehead. He starts moving his finger around. I just stand there and stare at him, waiting for him to jab a hole right through my head. Don’t pee, Lily. Don’t pee. What the heck is he doing?
“There,” he whispers to me, finishing whatever it is, “that should keep you safe. Just don’t smear it or your head might explode.”
As soon as he lifts his finger away, I can feel it. That tension I had that I mentioned early was all through my body, it just vanishes. I almost go completely slack in fact, but manage to hold myself up. Then comes a wave of warmth starting at the spot on my forehead that he last touched and encompassing my entire head, traveling down my neck, across my chest, down both arms at the same time, through my midsection and then hips, legs, ending at the tips of my toes. The pain in my abdomen that I had actually forgotten about also vanishes. I reach into the hole in my shirt to feel the wound. It’s still there and I feel my fingertip actually go inside the stabby hole for a second before I realize I’m still hurt; I just can’t feel it anymore.
“Who’s your little friend?”
Felix and Gin have finally reached us. Gin looks smugly at me, still holding his hand by his side. Samael turns to face them finally and Gin’s smug look is replaced with one of confusion. Felix stops mid-stride and even takes a step back. He also has a confused expression on his face. I don’t need to see Samael’s face to know he’s got the biggest grin on it right now.