Hey guys, was wondering if anyone here has driven both of the cars so they can give me a solid comparison.
So far, the used 2022 accord hybrids ive seen are pretty much like 3-4k cheaper than the new 2023 accord hybrids. But i would be purchasing one with low mileage anyways (almost new.)
For me, the 2022 exterior looks much cooler, besides the crab claw taillights, almost everything about it looks great to me. The 2023 on the other hand, lacks the styling that i liked about the 2022. Even seeing it in real life ( I was told it looks better in person ) it was really boring to look at. BUT, the interior is definitely better and more modern than the 2022 interior.
I know the 2022 hybrid has got a bit extra horsepower (about 8 more) so it might be a little quicker. I've only test driven the 2022 hybrid and it was pretty preppy, great throttle response and acceleration. really smooth ride. I have not test driven the 2023 hybrid, so I don't know how the ride quality would compare.
which one should I get? The 2022 has the better body style imo, and the ride quality is great. Unfortunately havent had the opportunity to test drive the 2023, when i test drove the 2022 the 2023s weren't on the lot yet. But ive been planning on purchasing a 2022. I've heard that the 2023 ride quality is somehow even better, although it looks like its somehow a whole almost 2 seconds slower 0-60 than the 2022 hybrid from videos i have seen.

Well, I wasn't expecting it to take 4 months to finish this round of edits, but life happens. I now have a shiny draft 5, and I'm getting closer to being ready to query. I think one more round of betas will hopefully do it.
Thanks much for reading! I appreciate your time and feedback.
Edited to add my housekeeping section to the query
First Attempt
Query:

Sam Nelson swears he will not let boys ruin his first year in the graduate program of his dreams. His last real relationship ended with academic probation he almost couldn’t claw his way back from. PhD first, then he can look for love. For now, the family he’s made at school and the one he’s repairing at home will have to be enough.

​

With a literal backpack fire, Joel Romero crashes through Sam’s barriers two weeks into first semester. He’s authentic and unconventional. Better still, they share the same love of color-coded note cards. Sure, the slogan on Joel’s t-shirt changes during a study session, and the romantic garden where they kissed is a gravel alley when Sam tries to find it again. These minor inconsistences give Sam a reason to keep things casual. Which he completely fails at doing.

​

Sometime between rocking epic Halloween costumes and cramming for finals, Sam realizes he’s falling fast, unexplained events be damned. Joel fits right into his life, showing Sam that past relationship trauma is the real threat to his PhD. Things would be perfect, except for Joel’s cousin meddling in their budding relationship. If Joel doesn’t come clean about his family soon, Sam will have to put his latest hypothesis to the test—that he’s grown enough for his education to survive a breakup.

​

As first semester turns to second, Joel risks what they have to share his family’s secret. Sam sees the real Joel—the one his family ignores—and things get serious. Now Sam must struggle with those age-old relationship questions like: should your boyfriend have revealed his reality altering powers before you became official? and, is love enough when he might be using magic to cheat at karaoke?

​

Complete at 93K words, Accidentally on Purpose is a romcom told from Sam’s point of view. It will appeal to readers who enjoyed the engaging cast of characters and speculative elements of Casey McQuiston’s One Last Stop and the flawed but likeable main characters of Boyfriend Material by Alexis Hall.

​

[bio, etc.]

​
First 300:

In many circumstances, two men staring at Sam would leave him overjoyed. Sitting in class, with one of those men his professor waiting for an answer to an unheard question, was not one of them. Sam blamed the preppy man sitting at his table, who still studied him from behind messy brown hair. Heat traveled up the back of Sam’s neck as he opened his mouth to ask Professor Wilgan to repeat himself.

​

Fantastic.

​

First year of grad school, month one, and he would already have a reputation for not paying attention.

​

Next to him, brown-hair waved a hand in the direction of the ceiling fan that spun in near silence above them.

​

Sam tensed, prepared for the worst—listening to the cause of his distraction answer the question for him.

​

Instead, the man said, “We can’t hear you very well back here, Professor. Can you repeat that?”

​

Professor Wilgan squinted at the fan in confusion and didn’t raise the volume of his voice. “Given Mr. Nelson’s undergraduate focus in genetics, I thought he would like to open the discussion on last week’s reading assignment. But if you’d rather start J—”

​

“I’ve got it, Professor,” Sam said, forcing his attention to the highlighted copy of the paper in front of him. J might have done one good deed, but he didn’t get to steal Sam’s spotlight. Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed multi-colored highlighting streaked J’s paper too. He pushed that thought aside and launched into a summary of their reading assignment, only relaxing once his classmates joined in to discuss the author’s interpretation of the data.

Hello! I did some exercises mentioned in the pinned post (some notes as well as the questionnaire). This definitely has cleared some things up already but I could still use some help finding my sociotype.
(I know this is mile-long so please do skim. I really appreciate anyone who takes time to investigate me 🌹)
I am pretty sure I am introverted and ethical but the exact functions I am less certain of.
NOTES/reactions to each information element's descriptions:
Si:
Kind of imagining a cute little brownie just minding her business in the forest, in her mushroom cottage. Sounds endearing. I wish my life was like that lol. Who doesn't love comfort?
Ne:
I think I do like to think of multiple possibilities when it is done in good humour and without pressure to turn it into something "useful". Like, I might have this quality when making jokes and coming up with fun analogies and metaphors, but if someone tells me to brainstorm ideas without any intrinsic motivation from my part, my head is empty.
Ti:
Makes my brain hurt a little. I kind of don't even want to understand how this works (I'm sorry).
Fe:

• I don't consider myself very romantic.
• this doesn't sound very ideal or nice.
• I believe I am very aware of emotional atmospheres but in a way I wish I wasn't. I can't really have a nice time in an enviroment where I have to constantly tend to other people's comfort and feelings (but I will still do it, whether I want to or not). It's very draining. Maybe this is why I don't have friends and why I never answer the phone lol.

Ni:

• The themes of this function sound like what a lot of my interests are centered around.
• I'm definitely so patient and reflective that it's bad sometimes, leading to much inactivity.
• I wonder if Fi+Si can also sometimes appear like Ni?

Se:

• Maybe I experienced this function one time when I ate weed cookies lol. It was pretty cool though.
• Obviously I notice my environment and I am semi-aware of the things in it. I find it hard to claim that I observe reality factually though. Everyone must have a different way of observing reality, and surely all people's perception is filtered by something...?

Fi:

• I sure wish I had internal harmony. Isn't that the goal? Sometimes I feel like my brain is in a washing machine, spinning 'round. I'm just spending my time figuring out my emotions and desires before yet another wash cycle starts. There is no stability in human existence, I think. Maybe for some Tibetan monk in nirvana.
• I am always trying to "hack myself". That's like the best archive I can have in getting to understand the human mind better, so maybe.

Te:

• I wish! I want to be an efficient person!!!!
• What did I even read just now, how does that work?

CONCLUSIONS:

• My preferred functions: Fi, Si, Ni
• Not my first choice but ok: Ne, Fe
• Indifferent: Se
• Least preferred: Ti, Te

QUESTIONNAIRE:

Section 1

1. How do you work? Why do people go to work? Are there any parameters that determine whether you can do work or not? What are they?
-I do not work atm. I don't see the point in it as I have enough resources for the time being and spend them very wisely to sustain this lifestyle. - Careers I might want to pursue have 0 value in terms of money-making, and I'm not about to waste my one life in a job I despise. - I also hate the social part of most jobs. I dislike being around the same people for prolonged periods of time. Most likely I won't make the effort to get to know them so I always end up being an outsider weirdo.
2. How do you determine the quality of work? How do you determine the quality of a purchase? Do you pay any attention to it?

• If something isn't good enough for me, well, it's not necesserily bad but it isn't worth much to me either. I can be quite critical of mine and others' work. I might not say it but I do think it. Subjective standards.
• Usually I buy everything secondhand so I get good quality for a lower price, plus I don't have to support big corporations. If I was richer, I would want to buy from artisans. I admit I have thrifted clothes with stains on them just because I liked their look and that was the most important thing. You can always hide it.

3. There is a professional next to you. How do you know they are a professional? How do you evaluate their skill?

• I'm not confident I'm always qualified in assessing someone's professionality. :D I would be skeptical of anyone boasting about their "professionalism", but I don't have particular checklists or measurements for this and it's hard to answer without more particular circumstancial details.

4. If you struggle to do something, how do you fix that? Do you know if your performance is better or worse than others?

• Let's be honest: I'm not sure I will fix "it" unless I am pushed to by external forces.
• I tend to do things at the very last minute, but usually I am still able to craft something of okay quality. That's why I like (and hate) deadlines. I wouldn't get anything done without them.
• The pressure of delivering something for others to see and evaluate whips me in shape real good as well. If someone's going to see what I create, I want it to be better or at least as good as everyone else's work (and I know when it is). I'm going to put in the effort to achieve excellence. I will also suddenly know how to create the most efficient schedule and technique ever. This applied to my more respectable writing jobs of the past AND also my dishwasher's job. – Yes, I had the lowest job in the whole restaurant but I made it goddamn sure that they would be crying after me when I was gone because I was the best damn dishwasher they ever had. Period. 😌

5. How do you measure the success of a job? What standard do you use? Do you pay attention to it? When should you deviate from this standard?

• I think I am inclined to compare myself to others in many matters, like mentioned in last q. Not the healthiest way but that is the truth. I evaluate myself in comparison to the "competition".
• Most things I am interested in are quite subjective in nature, f.ex. art, so ideally personal satisfaction weighs more than objective standards.

Meta-analysis:

• I am quite unambitious and the only things that seem to help me with that are my competitiveness and pride (or bad self-esteem). Which are not exactly things I enjoy about myself.
• I do have more intrinsic motivations too, where I get things done without my ego driving me, but I am very hesitant to share those parts with the world - my art. Maybe also because comparisons and critique easily wreck me.

Section 2

1. What is a whole? Can you identify its parts? Are the parts equivalent to the whole?
Like a loaf of bread made of bread slices? Or like a slice of bread made of multiple crumbs. Or crumbs made of flour, water, oil and salt. Or wheat from the field, water from the Earth, oil from the sunflower seeds, salt from the rock. There is no bread without all these things, so parts make a whole, although I guess you can leave out the oil and salt. Ah, and let's not forget that the bread also has to be made by someone, the wheat has to be harvested, water collected and filtered, oil pressed, salt mined... The sun has to grow the crops, oxygen and nitrogen has to be available, all those little bacterias etc.

• I think I can be a little dumb sometimes with how I break "wholes" down into parts. I make a lot of things very difficult for myself through this. I have wanted to learn to sew for a long time now, but one time I had the idea that before I can sew I must first grow flaxseed to make my own linen. That, of course, is only possible if I own land to grow it on. Which I don't. I'm like a "sophisticated procrastinator". If I want to go to the park, I will soon talk myself out of it because I will break down the journey into annoying little inconveniences that don't seem worth it.

2. What does "logical" mean? What is your understanding? Do you think that it correlates with the common view? How do you know you are being logical?

• Someone is logical when they use observable facts to support their decisions and actions. For example, an illogical person will pine away for their lost love, while a logical person will see that there is no sense in torturing one's self over something that can not be regained. It is logical thus to move onto something new.
• My logic gets clouded by emotion often and I have to sort of consciously detach myself from said emotions to see what is actually logical. I used to kind of hate the thought of logic, found it a buzzkill, but nowadays I can find it comforting too. Like a hand to guide me through a fog, assuring me that I will be okay. Or maybe that's something else?

3. What is hierarchy? Give examples of hierarchies. Do you need to follow it? Why or why not? Explain how hierarchy is used in a system you are familiar with.

• Well, let's imagine a big boss at a workplace and then the people who he pays to make his vision come true. That is one kind of a hierarchy. Usually one imagines a triangle, at the top of which sits the most influential figure and below him, in order, the rest of the folks. In a familial setting, the parental figures will (hopefully) be at the top of the hierarchy. Maybe different animals could also be a part of a hierarchy, a fierce lion at the top, hunting the ones below him, all the way to the minerals that plants soak up for dinner.
• I reckon I am a part of quite a few hierarchies even without realizing. I probably fall into them whether I would like to or not. It would be quite hard not to be a part of SOME hierarchy once you start to observe them around you. Of course once you close your eyes to them, it will be easy not to be a part of hierarchies.

4. What is classification? How does classification work? Why is it needed and where is it applied? Give examples.
Different things can be classified in a lot of ways. Music for example based on genres, whether it is instrumental or not, instuments used, female and male creators, era, language, blablabla.. You just bunch up things together that share the same qualities and it makes it easier to find the correct stuff. Like putting people whose last names start with DORNFND in the same folder instead of in the PRPDKFOS folder, where it will be harder to find thing x.
5. Are your ideas consistent? How do you know they are consistent? How do you spot inconsistency in others' ideas?
Probably yes. I always return to the same ideas in one way or another, because they reflect my deep inner yearnings, fascinations, perhaps fears too. I have one body, one mind. It's not THAT complicated. I don't know if inconsistent ideas really even exist. You may want a different solution on different days, but even such behavior is consistent when you observe it long enough. You just have to understand the underlying meanings.
Meta-analysis:
These were kind of stimulating questions, even though I kind of groaned at first when I saw them lol. Had to make myself think a bit how to put ideas into words and it felt refreshing. I don't do that enough, I wonder why. I used to have an app that asked me some interesting question everyday.

Section 3

1. Can you press people? What methods do you use? How does it happen?
(I just imagined some poor person inside a machine that makes newspapers.) - I think I'm a very gentle press-er. I find it hard to push people unless I myself am aggravated, and usually this way I only manage to make others shut down or to become defensive. So the best way is to sort of coax them softly towards what I want them to do or think is best. With patience first and foremost, means you have to sometimes listen to venting for a long time. Then you apply suggestion (no direct advice) when the time is right. So that they almost think they came up with the solution themselves. Doesn't work a lot of the time but I guess I enjoy listening to people and analyzing them a bit.
2. How do you get what you want? What do you do if you have to work to get what you want?

• Probably a little silly but some things I just manifest into my life. Or they get sorted out, somehow.
• Something more concrete would be perhaps acquiring a semi-permanent place to stay or learning a skill. I am a bit bad at sticking to a learning process as I am easily distracted from it. I find myself quickly enthralled by a new project. A wondering eye one, a little bit... I must say a lot of "my" concrete possessions like the apartment I live in was not achieved by me but by my partner. 😳 (I do earn my own money though! I'm not a football wife!)
• In other words, I don't really get what I want through effort. It's not very nice, even though my state is nice. I am a bit useless as a human so far. :(

3. How do you deal with opposition? What methods do you use to defend your interests?

• I like opposition in an unserious setting where the end goal is gaining perspective and bonding through a playful argument – as opposed to trying to push views onto others.
• I am stubborn with my own views but I wouldn't say I am very vocal about them, unless provoked. I would rather agree to disagree, or just to disagree and walk away. I don't think I have to justify my interests to people who don't understand. AND I guess I am also quite bad at actually making good arguments without my mouth foaming and my words coming out as a jumbled mess when I feel angered. 🤦‍♀️ I also tend to easily start uncontrollably crying if some situation becomes too tense. 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

4. When do you think it's ok to occupy someone's space? Do you recognize it?
YES, I recognize it. It matters a lot to me to have my own space, so I am very careful to not take too much of others'. Maybe sometimes too careful, to the point where I become more like a ghost than a person.
5. Do others think you are a strong-willed person? Do you think you have a strong will?
Simultaneously yes and no. I don't really budge with my own values and ideals and I have high standards for myself. For others I don't really have expectations. They are free to do their own thing as long as they don't bother me about mine. Or go on a killing spree. I WILL call the police! It's a little funny, I have strong will about the things I mentioned and I consider myself strong-willed because of them. But a lot of others would say I lack discipline and that I am unambitious. I'm not sure that's really true. I just have different priorities. Though I know I also said before I wish I was more ambitious and disciplined. 😆
Meta-analysis:
I guess this section highlighted my slightly passive attitude towards other people. I don't really depend on others and I don't have a desire to influence them. If they want my advice, I am happy to share my thoughts, but I don't really care what they choose to do, unless it's like really bad and requires intervention (but also depends on who it is, how familiar they are and what the situation is).

Section 4

1. How do you satisfy your physical senses? What examples can you give? What physical experiences are you drawn to?

• I love food. I am a foodie. But I'm not a particularly fancy foodie. For me a slab of cold tofu with mustard can be as good as caviar.
• I love music and dancing. One of my favorite things to do.
• I love to sniff flowers.
• I love birdsong and quiet, and walking in nature.
• I like watching sunsets.
• I love the feeling of water around me when swimming.
• I like things that make gentle high-pitched sounds. Jingle bells and jewels hitting each other, windbells.
• The sound of rain...
• I have some door curtains made of beads and I enjoy the way they feel in my hands.
• I like massages.
• Oh, I quite enjoy having a personal style that's a reflection of the inner me. I think I have a good eye for colours and other things related to style. Though it took quite a lot of years for me to learn what looks nice. I was a train wreck before that, oh dear. I am still a bit off-beat I guess.

2. How do you find harmony with your environment? How do you build a harmonious environment? What happens if this harmony is disturbed?

• I tend to add little decorative things that make a place feel my own, nature motifs, little statues, plants, earthy muted colours everywhere, some shiny things, natural materials.. Oh, I love velvet.
• I like it to be quiet, and my place to be close to nature, away from busy centers and lots of people.
• If I am in a place where I don't feel very good, I think I tend to spend a lot of time in my head, or I might comfort eat a lot to fill that yearning for a nice environment.

3. What does comfort mean to you? How do you create it?

• Nice warm unhealthy fooood and snacks, good company, movie nights under blankets.
• Just the basic things in life that I am grateful to have.

4. How do you express yourself in your hobbies? How do you engage yourself with those things?

• So one hobby of mine is drawing. Usually I draw fashion designs for myself. However, I also enjoy illustrations and digital drawing in general. Obviously a lot of my thoughts and emotions might appear in the form of those pictures I make. I wish to make a graphic novel one day.
• I like photography and collage-making too. I enjoy taking photos of things that strike me as intriguing when I go about my days. If I have access to magazines, I like to cut out pictures and make a collage.
• Seems that I enjoy pictures a lot in different forms, creating them and connecting them, organizing them..
• Sometimes I have to make the conscious effort to engage in my hobbies because otherwise I easily stay in a little bubble watching YouTube videos about something and not really doing anything.

5. Tell us how you'd design any room, house or an office. Do you do it yourself, or trust someone else to do it? Why?

• I would prefer to slowly achieve it myself. I probably would have a general plan of some kind but also wing parts of it. Of course let someone skilled do the jobs I don't know how to do. But I would DEFINITELY choose all colours and materials and furniture myself. How can it be really my space if someone else designed it.

Meta-analysis:
Hmm? I guess I am a person who likes comfy things. Environment is quite important to me. I realize that's more of a summarization than a meta-analysis though.

Section 5

1. Is it acceptable to express emotions in public? Give examples of inappropriate expression of emotions.

• Hard to say. I can see how someone could just reach a breaking point while in a public place, unable to hold the emotions in. I wouldn't judge them. I don't know what goes on inside their mind. Maybe they just found out something terrible happened and they couldn't help crying. Maybe they have autism and are very sensitive to loud noises and crowded places.
• Inappropriate expressions of emotions could be related to bursts of anger towards others, though they can also be justified at times. Hurting others in some way... Other than that, I'm not sure there is an inappropriate public emotional expression. Maybe do your sexy time behind closed doors?

2. How do you express your emotions? Can you tell how your expressions affect others in a positive or negative way?

• I tend to deal with my negative emotions privately so they don't really inconvenience other people. Eventually it is only one's self that can control their emotions.
• I do sometimes bottle up negative thoughts a bit, just because I want to understand them well before I potentially bring them up. I don't want misunderstandings. Sometimes, however, I just can not get it straight unless someone offers me perspective. Unfortunately I don't always bring it up in a constructive way and explode instead. I might also start crying while explaining a difficult emotion. Can be a little annoying to listen to someone through their sobs.
• Everyone can see from a mile away if I am not feeling so good. It can be annoying because I just need space and time to figure myself out. Instead, people tend to be pressing me about it, wanting to know what is wrong immediately when I might not even know yet. I might get very annoyed then.
• Positive emotions will largely be expressed as general joviality and goodwill, perhaps some favours to others, nice shared experiences.

3. Are you able to change your demeanor in order to interact with your environment in a more or less suitable way? How do you determine what is suitable?

• I always think I can, but in reality that's probably not true. Like I said, I can not really hide my true emotions. If I am not interested in having a chat with someone, you can kind of easily tell. I just find it hard to match people's energies by willpower if I'm not feeling it. It makes me kind of nervous sometimes. I feel like I have to pretend to be something different in order to be liked. Generally I just try to mirror people so they can have a positive experience with me. But I come off as very anxious, shy and uncertain, or sometimes aloof and arrogant.

4. In what situations do you feel others' feelings? Can you give examples of when you wanted to improve the mood of others?

• Hmm... I don't like seeing people down, but I don't necesserily feel their feelings either. They are a separate person from me after all and their circumstances are their own. I am more likely to feel for others if I genuinely understand what they are going through and have gone through the same myself.
• I always hope I could help others feel better. It's not so easy, the ideal of course would be to have that negative emotion not return. It's often not possible though, unless something changes in circumstances. And people aren't generally eager to change things up.
• Well, maybe not always. Some moods I just view as exactly that: "moods". Perhaps there is something underlying, but if someone is kind of taking a victim's stance, I don't have so much compassion for them. "Take responsibility for yourself", said the pot to the kettle.

5. How do others' emotions affect you? How does your internal emotional state correlate or contrast with what you express?

• Kind of already answered.

Meta-analysis:
I again just feel like writing a summary. Generally I am accepting of others' emotions, unless they cross over to just wallowing in their little sad stall. That can be annoying. Of my own feelings I am sort of protective. I don't really want others to evaluate or poke them. I want to figure them out myself.

Section 6

1. How can you tell how much emotional space there is between yourself and others? How can you affect this space?

• I just feel it. Usually my feeling is accurate. Not sure how to explain it. You can not really force it to become lesser. It just happens when the time is right, when two people need something from each other at the same time. Similarly it can also quickly crumble when the situation changes.

2. How do you determine how much you like or dislike someone else? How does this affect your relationships?

• If I like someone... It's just a knowing. How to explain this. Your heart feels a little lighter when they are around and maybe you even have butterflies, even if it is platonic. You feel mutual understanding. You feel safe to be yourself. Sometimes a bit nervous because you don't want to screw it up. I don't feel this very often so I guess it's easy to take note of..
• I don't necesserily dislike a lot of people. I'm just indifferent to them. I might feel anxious around them, like I want to get away. I'm not very open to get to know people. Very picky...

3. How do you move from a distant relationship to a close one? What are the distinguishing characteristics of a close relationship?

• For me it has been easier to move from a close relationship to a distant one. :( The opposite rarely happened. I usually have just one important relationship in my life at a time, I don't have time or energy for the rest.
• I know very early on whether someone is worth it or not and I seem to bond with them very quickly, or don't.
• Close relationship... I guess I had different kinds. When the honeymoon phase fades, there is mutual trust and peace, patient love, understanding, security and stability..

4. How do you know that you are a moral person? Where do you draw your morality from? Do you believe others should share your beliefs on what's moral? Why?

• Well, my morals are my own so not everyone agrees. But I'm not sure why they would disgaree unless they are lying to themselves about something, heh. Then again, I may not have all the facts to claim that my morals are spot-on.
• I just trust my judgements. It's not that hard. Does an action hurt someone or something? If yes, don't do it.

5. Someone you care about is acting distant to you. How do you know when this attitude is a reflection of your relationship?

• I won't assume things. I will ask about it. More often than not, we feel closer after we discuss it, and it was never about us being worse than before. And otherwise, we just have to talk about it if that's an option.

Meta-analysis:
(your answer here)

Section 7

1. How can you tell someone has the potential to be a successful person? What qualities make a successful person and why?

• Success doesn't necesserily equal popularity or riches. Someone can be successful even if the only person they positively influence is themselves. I think that any human being who is "happy" is successful. In that way everyone has the potential for success, and success looks a little different for everyone.

2. Where would you start when looking for a new hobby? How do you find new opportunities and how do you choose which would be best?

• I think usually new hobbies just "come to me" without me really looking for them. I might see a poster on a wall about some classes I am willing to take/a group I want to join, or I just naturally end up doing something because I always had an interest in the subject. I guess I just know "instinctively" which hobbies are worth the effort for me, though I have struggled to choose one to focus on primarily.

3. How do you interpret the following statement: "Ideas don't need to be feasible in order to be worthwhile." Do you agree or disagree, and why?

• I agree. Sometimes it's just fun to generate new ideas without them having to be super practical or applicable. And sometimes those ideas that are seemingly useless can make awesome stuff. It's not that serious. Life is not that serious.
• But then again, it's best not to spend too much time on ideas that don't have any result. I'm not sure if I believe that fully though or if it's "someone else" speaking through me. I guess I fear that I may waste others' time by presenting too many worthless ideas, so nowadays I try to be more focused. It makes me feel a bit dulled down and dry sometimes, to be honest.

4. Describe your thought process when relating the following ideas: swimming, chicken, sciences. Do you think that others would draw the same or different connections?

• Well, the chickens might be the ones swimming, maybe it's a scientific research on whether chickens actually can swim. They can not fly (though it is because they were bred to not be able to, frickin human bitches), can they swim? What are you going to do, throw a poor chicken into a pool? Tsk tsk, that's not very nice. Maybe they would just behave like ducks and float on the water, but they do not have those paddle feet to push themselves in the water. Their little skinny claws would be struggling. Perhaps somewhere there is a chicken adopted by a duck family, like Ugly Duckling but it's a little chickin.
• I think most people would probably reach a similar conclusion in different words. :D

5. How would you summarize the qualities that are essential to who you are? What kind of potential in you has yet to be actualized and why?

• A kind of introspectiveness. Observing myself and analyzing my own behavior.
• Openness to other people and new ideas. Even if I disagree with them, I am generally very accepting. I want to understand all sides and all people. I do have a couple things I am intolerant of, but have to remember that there is a cause and effect to everything.
• I think that I have potential to make some great art once I commit to my medium. I know I can have an excellent focus when I ger it on. So far I am postponing this commitment because I'm afraid I will fail. But damn, what do I have to lose.

Meta-analysis:
I think that perhaps I can see my fluid sort of perception of the world coming through with this section. It has become a little inhibited though, because others most often need solutions and logic from me. I think I have started to repel this side of me so that I'm not "too much", wishy washy baby. I can see the way others react to me sometimes when I talk or do something, like they think I'm a wackjob.

Section 8

1. How do people change? Can you describe how various events change people? Can others see those changes?
-People are changing all the time, every day. They might not notice it but little things in the environment affect them and slowly push them into a certain direction, like the butterfly effect. They might feel it as it happens, I think I do sometimes, but most likely you will only realize after some time has passed. It can't always be seen by others, only felt within, because it's very subtle. - People's world view might also change "in a flash" when and if something dramatic happens. They have to adjust to a reality. It can almost be expected by others that something should change, and might be weird if nothing does (seemingly). - Some outwardly changes like suddenly going from a preppy style to full on goth is definitely noticed by others more. Changes in inner mind states can also be perceived by others, if someone appears suddenly more joyful or rueful than before. - Probably the people we have around us also cause us to change in some ways. But usually only superficially.
2. How do you feel and experience time? Can time be wasted? How?

• "Time is relative" :p
• I'm not entirely sure how to answer this. Time is a number on the clock and sometimes I have to follow it to be somewhere on time.
• I think time can only wasted if you are lying to yourself about something and thus living your life inauthentically.
• If you are happy in your circumstances and you don't feel you are missing out on anything, then you most likely are not wasting time.

3. Is there anything that cannot be described with words? What is it? If so, how can we understand what it is if language does not work?

• Well, I think everything can be attempted to describe in words but it might not make sense to all parties involved. A lot of times an abstract matter can only be grasped if you in some way felt its presence in your life before.
• To understand something abstract, I think you just have to experience it and have a "heureka" moment of your own. Before that happens, you are just relying on others' explanations. Like most people never visited moon so they rely on what the astronauts say.

4. How do you anticipate events unfolding? How can you observe such unfoldments in your environment?

• Hmm.. They sort of just happen and I am somewhat of a bystander. Or I just do things actively and thus, lo and behold, the events unfold. Sometimes I only realize something's been bound to occur once it starts to happen or already did, as opposed to my partner who f.ex. sometimes predicts two years in advance how my mindset might change. And it does lol.

5. In what situations is timing important? How do you know the time is right to act? How do you feel about waiting for the right moment?

• I don't know. Someone might argue the timing is never right, and that the reasons for that are just excuses. But it isn't always like that. Sometimes you have to "feel the moment" and then you'll know when to act.
• I do feel like waiting for the right moment is important. You just don't want to start something if all the "stars aren't aligned" to support your decision. Sometimes they never will be though. You have to accept that and just move forward at a time that seems most favorable.

Meta-analysis:
Some of these questions were a bit irritating to answer. I felt like I was giving very vague answers to some of them.

I know what it means on the surface but I work in a middle school and the 6/7 grade girls keep calling my nails and shoes and claw clip “preppy.” It sounds like a good thing but they can also be viscously mean… is it a new gen z term for something cool? Am I showing how old and out of touch I am by asking this?😅

Alyssa rushed in with a computer game in her hand, the non-labeled black disc throwing me off. Running my hand through my long dark brown hair, my copper eyes narrowed in her general direction. The fact that she was holding a video game bothered me, her perfect hourglass five foot four frame was every boy’s dream in her pink sweatsuit. Her blonde hair bounced in a long ponytail, her blue eyes glittering with excitement. Smoothing out my black t-shirt, it hid my five foot seven hourglass figure. Jealousy flashed in my eyes,
“Guess what I found, Belle. I found the actual video game from that creepypasta you showed me. Let’s play.” She sang jovially, sounding like the airhead she truthfully was. My face fell, did she not get the warning from the damn story. Leaping off of my black four post bed, my scarlet blanket thudded to the floor. Marching up to her, a snarl curled on my lips.
“I get that you are my step sister and I am supposed to be nice, but get out!” I screamed venomously in her face, shoving her out of my room. “Go infect your own computer, you fucking idiot.” Slamming my black door in her face, she sulked into her room. Just as I was about to sit back down to my latest book, a shrill scream broke the still air. Sprinting out of the room, my face paled. Cold sweat dripped off of my brow, raw terror rounding out my eyes. Breathing grew harder, one of my many panic attacks taunting me. Clutching my chest, only her sweat suit remained of her. Tearing her room apart, her computer screen flickered to life. The title Camp Happytime flashed, the option for player two to join. Collapsing to my knees, tears welled up in my eyes. The Reddit thread proved to be a true story, a steady stream of curse words flooding from my lips. A lump formed in my throat, my only option was to enter the game to save my idiot step sister.
“Do you want to play?” A raspy voice asked cheerfully, the cheerfulness making me want to throw up. “We need a new camp counselor.” Pressing okay, my eyes closed as an invisible force dragged me into a black tunnel. Electrical jolts of pain shocked me, my body splitting apart about a dozen times. Spitting me out on a dirt road, dirt flew around me as I rolled down a hill full of logs. Crashing into at least a dozen logs, a gruff voice caught my attention. Gray eyes twinkled down at me, his long black hair hanging wildly around his shoulders. His six foot three frame towered over me, his red counselor shirt hugging his broad chest. His black shorts floated around his muscular legs, my own red shirt hugging my ample breasts. His hand hovered in my face, my breath hitching. How the hell was he here! He looked familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it.
“You must be a new person trapped in the game.” He introduced himself warmly, flashing me a crooked grin. “Maybe you can help us all out. We try to get out, but it just starts over again. Maybe if we all survive it will work. Oops, I am Slate Dickson.” A tender blush rose to my cheeks, he was my crush who disappeared last year. Unable to say anything, my fingers wrapped around his. Wincing in pain, an ivory tip stuck out of my leg. Placing me on his back, a tortured groan escaped my lips. Carrying me up the hill, my dumb ass sister waved over at me. Sprinting over towards me, the one male counselor was fawning over her. Rolling my eyes, Slate poked me in the nose.
“Stop being a grump.” He teased lightly, a growl rumbling in my throat. “I always thought you were the prettier one. Besides, those short shorts make your ass look amazing.” Shock widened my eyes, wondering if he really was hitting on me. A wicked grin danced across my lips, his words exciting me.
“Thanks.” I stammered nervously, my sister hopping up and down. Was she ever the cheerleader, I thought to myself. Four other counselors shot death glares in my direction, the two auburn hair twin girls looking from seconds from stabbing me in my sleep. Their petite frames only sat a mere five foot one height, the only other guy was a blonde jock with peas for a brain. His green eyes glittered with excitement, his obnoxiously muscular body barely contained in his red t-shirt and black shorts. Alyssa ruffled his shaggy blond hair, the twins’ copper eyes never leaving me. What the hell was their problem!
“I am Darren Lockwood, the local team’s quarterback!” He introduced himself proudly, pointing to the twins. “The quiet one is Autumn, and the crab apple next to her is Aubrey. Both of them are Smithies. Now that we have six of us, we can escape. So let’s do our best. Oh shit, your leg is broken. That’s a bummer.” My eyebrow twitched irritably, my temper flaring. The corner of my lips began to twitch, this guy was going to get it. A sharp whistle interrupted my silent rage, a preppy white haired short guy waved for us to come in already. His red eyes glistened with excitement, his white socks going over his knobby knees. First thing wrong, his eyes were red.
“Come along my counselors, I am Mr. Destiny.” He chirped cheerfully, smoothing out his black sweatshirt, and black shorts. “ The last two alive win and get to free everyone else, so stick to the horror movie rules. The name of the game is to survive, so good luck.” Snapping his fingers, he was gone. A poisoned silence hung between us, the dirt crunching underneath our white tennis shoes. Of course this was a trap of a demon, my luck already off to a fantastic start. The energy grew darker, the feeling contrasting the hot summer sun beating down on us. Reading the sign, Camp Happytime hung in shambles over our heads. Passing through the gates, a black iron door blocked our way out. Metal scraped against metal, a black iron fence mapping out our area. Great, we were stuck here! Decaying log cabins lined the rough pathways, the lights flickering brightly. Carrying me to the first aid cabin, silent tears of pain streamed down my cheeks as he shoved my bone back into its place. Sliding a soft cast on my leg, he passed me a couple of Tylenol to fight the intense pain. Sitting down next to me, his eyes gazed warmly into mine.
“Can I do something that I always wanted to do?” He asked politely, kissing my lips sensually. Time melted away, his lips refusing to let me go. Cupping my face, the door burst open. Panic was written all over their faces, Alyssa nowhere to be seen. Once again she killed the mood, both of our faces falling. The bell clanged again, the rotting walls capturing my attention. Alyssa bounced with Darren on her hips with a bunch of drugs and alcohol in her hands, Slate and I smacking our faces. Way to break the first rule you freaking idiot! Apparently, she never really watched a horror movie. Tapping my chin a plan came to mind, everyone looking at me curiously. Clearing my throat, a plan had formulated in my mind.
“Let’s just let the game win until the final two remain. So that means five of us are going to die. Alyssa you are the official dumb ass who thinks they should always drink and do drugs while the twins will probably split up. Or he didn’t say that we all could just stay alive. Does that work?” Slate shook his head, biting his lips. Cupping my hands in his, a tender blush rose to my cheeks. Everyone else was not cut out to last the whole night, the idea of us sending someone off to their death paralyzed me. A pair of fingers snapped, the sun turned into a blue full moon. A chainsaw ripped in the distance, a scream exploding from my sister’s lips. Her body trembled, her quaking hands popping off the cap off a tall beer bottle. Cold sweat drenched my skin, the lights flickering. Examining the room, a rusty ax hung on the wall. Ripping it off the wall, my sister and Darren polished off two bottles of booze. Tucking the drugs into their pockets, a heavy boot kicked the door down. A seven foot man stomped in, his blue overalls torn to shreds. A burlap sack obscured his face, dried blood coating his black t-shirt. The chainsaw roared, the smell of the gas gagging me. The twins turned to run, the two of them tripping over the threshold, another typical horror movie move playing out in front of me. Horror paralyzed me, the chainsaw ripping through their neck. A couple of drops of blood splashed onto my face, vomit threatening to fly up my throat. Slate pushed me to move, tears flooding from my eyes. A raspy grunt exploded from his lips, his black gloved hands rolling their heads to my feet. Their mouths sat skewed, the last scream permanently planted on their faces, Darren and Alyssa brushing past me. Curse her for only thinking of herself, she was really going to get it when we got back. The blackest eyes bore into my soul, the demon’s laughter erupting around us. Now was not the time for revenge, I yelled bitterly at myself.
“I told you to play the game, not to hide.” Mr. Destiny chastised cruelly, his hand brushing the back of my neck. “I will make you make your mistakes. Don’t forget this is my realm, not yours. After all, it was your stupidity that got you here in the first place. I can’t wait to claim your soul. You are the prettiest woman that I have ever seen. Go on Sarrod, get your prey.” Splinters dug themselves into my palm the tighter I gripped the handle of the ax. Raising the chainsaw over his head, a bullet struck the gas tank of the chainsaw. Blood poured from the tank, Slate holding a pistol. The gas dripped down his arm, a box of matches sitting next to me. Snatching the box, my face paled. A steady stream of curse words exploded from my lips, my fear turning into raw rage.
“Fuck!” I cursed boldly, only two matches remaining. “Why does it always have to be like this!” Striking the first one on the strip, nothing happened. Striking it again, the lights flickered once more. The heavy footfalls stomped closer, the match snapping in my fingers. Ripping out the second one, it lit up on the first strike. A devious grin brightened my face, flicking the match onto the gasoline soaked part of him. Orange flames roared to life, devouring every inch of his body. Dragging me past him, Slate pulled me into the banquet hall. Locking the door behind me, orange flames devoured the cabins one by one. A slender hand touched my shoulders, my fist slamming into Alyssa’s jaw. A couple of teeth clattered to my feet, Slate stifling a hearty laugh. Guilt ate at me, then I remembered she was on borrowed time.
“Damn it, Belle!” She snapped hotly, rubbing her jaw. “Why do you have to hit like man?” The smell of weed flowed off of her, Darren running his hand up her thighs. Grabbing her by the collar of her shirt, everyone watched with bated breath. Pinning her against the wall, it took everything to not wrap my fingers around her damn throat. Cold sweat dripped off of her brow, her long fingers clawing at my hands.
“Do you get that this is not a game!” I barked bitterly into her face, kneeing her stomach. “Just go have sex already so I can save us all, you stupid bitch. For five years, I have watched you just skip through life while everyone just hands you everything because you are the pretty sister. All the boys in school like you, and I have to try really hard for someone to notice me. I like you, and I can’t stand to see you die.” Dropping her to the ground, the smell of burnt flesh wafted from the kitchen. Embracing me tightly, tears flooded from both of our eyes. Struggling to her feet, a kind look brightened her eyes. Wiping away my tears, Darren and she nodded in a silent agreement. Hugging me one last time, a gentle chuckle tumbled from her painted lips.
“Go on and win the game for us. Let’s be real, I am not the genius here. You two are. Hell, you already have some weapons.” She promised sadly, the heavy footfalls thumping closer by the second. “Go set some traps or something. I love you, Belle. I always wanted to be like you. Be my hero like you always are. I mean come on, you hopped into this game without a second thought. And if I am following the rules, we both know that I am not the virgin here.” A fit of laughter erupted from our lips, her shoving us out. Limping towards the supply shed, her shrill scream shattered the still night. My heart shattered, knowing full well that she was as dead as dust. All of the animals stopped singing their nightly lullabies, Slate placing me on his back. Locking the door behind us, he set me down. Grabbing a roll of sharp wire, he kicked the back panel off as I gathered any sharp object that I could hold. Raw terror dawned on my face, melted flesh combined with crispy skin was stomping closer to us. Limping into the woods pathetically, Slate grabbed the wire. Sitting me down behind the tree, he pressed his gun into my palm.
“Unload this pistol if you have to.” He urged lovingly, sprinting between the trees as he wrapped them with the wires. Struggling to my feet, panic gripped my mind. Trembling behind a decaying tree, my fingers dug into the tree. A crossbow sat on the killer’s shoulder, an arrow quivering in the ready position. Limping around the trees, Slate looked back at me. A shrill whistle broke the air, the arrow flying straight for his head. Tossing the gun aside, my main goal was keeping Slate alive. Looking paler than a ghost, the realization that I wasn’t going to make it in time at this rate broke me. Ignoring the pain, my feet pounded towards him. Smashing into his body, a small gasp of pain escaped my lips as the arrow slammed into my broken leg. The bone shattered, my leg rendered useless. The killer walked towards us, each step getting closer.
One, Stomp! Two, Stomp! Three! Stomp! Four, Stomp! My heart beat faster with each step, my arms pulling me into the woods. Reaching into my waistband, my fingers wrapped around a brand new hunting blade. The green leather handle creaked as I placed it in my teeth, today was not going to be the day I died. No, ma’am. Crawling faster, my breath was growing shorter. Why did this have to get harder, a trail of blood chasing after me.
“Come on dickhead!” I taunted shakily, Slate loosening up the wires. “Just a little further!” The wires were on the ground with me as he slackened them, the circle in the center is what I was aiming for. Not far behind me, his crossbow was aimed at me. Almost there, my sweat mixing with the dirt.
“Fuck!” I screamed with agony ripe in my voice, his crossbow releasing the rest of the arrows into my legs. “You fucking bastard! Too bad you lost. Now!” Raising rusty machetes into the air, Slate pulled on the wires. Curling into a ball, blood and cooked guts rained down on me. My own blood mixed with the killers, my finger squishing the large intestines. The wet noise nauseated me, tissue oozing from in between my fingers. A steady stream of curse words flooded from my trembling lips, the machete quivering inches from my head. Damn, that was close. Blood dripped onto my forehead, the wire near me soaking wet with the black liquid. Cutting the wire, my arms were the only thing keeping the wire from slicing up my throat. Small cuts lined my arms, a thunderous roar shaking the ground. Slate ran over to me, clutching me close to his chest. Dread bubbled in my stomach, the game wasn’t over yet. Mr. Destiny floated up into air, his body transforming into a black scaly demon. Why was there always a final boss when you had no health points left! I am going to die, I cursed to myself.
“Take me to the lake.” I whispered in his ear desperately, confusion dawning in his eyes. “I can purify it with this holy water. I found some in the shed, and thought it would help us out.” Nodding his head, his feet pounded towards the rotting dock. Mr. Destiny reared his giant black horns, smashing us into the water. It wasn’t until now that I began to believe in God, my hair floating around my face. Air grew harder to believe, my trembling fingers dumping the tiny bottle of holy water into the cloudy lake. Slate was sinking to the bottom, probably having something to do with the fact that he couldn’t swim. His hair floated around his face, an endless stream of bubbles drifting towards me. Grabbing his hands last minute, my internal prayers for God began. Please lord help us, and banish this demon from our lives. My lungs burned hotter than Hell, my final bubbles floating to the top as I embraced Slate with the last of my strength. Mr. Destiny splashed into the water, seizing next to me. Smiling warmly to myself, we did it! Good night sweet world. Darkness embraced me with her rough arms, my heart beating for the last time.
Jerking awake, machines beeped around me. Bright lights bounced off of the white walls, a familiar voice making me smile. Slate and everyone else hovered over me with concern flashing in their eyes. Alyssa kissed the top of my head feverishly, the twins doodling on my black cast with white marker. The doctor came in with a clipboard in his hand, a peculiar look on his face. What did his eyes have to say?
“I don’t know how to say this, but you came in with enough water in your lungs to drown a whole family, and a leg full of arrows. You are lucky your friends found you.” He explained calmly, attempting to hide his disbelief. “Shall we call your parents? I am sure that they want to see if you are okay. They do need to sign you out.” My lips parted in protest, my gray haired parents shoving there way through a couple of nurses. The two of them signed on the dotted line, Slate disappearing for a moment just to reappear with a wheelchair. Helping me into it, my parents yelled at me the whole ride home. Letting me sleep downstairs on the couch until my leg healed, everyone but Alyssa and I went to bed. A soft knock on the door alerted us, Alyssa skipping over with her signature pink sweats on. Slate and the other survivors stood on the other side of the door, the blank black discs in their hands. Using my crutches, Slate assisted me to his customized hearse. Sitting next to me in the back, my head rested on his lap. Playing with my hair , he had just barely passed junior year to keep up with me. The twins chatted happily with each other, Alyssa and Darren driving the hearse. Glancing around the black interior, red lights bathed us. The hearse screeched to a halt, Slate helping me out. Placing me on his back, dried leaves crunched underneath his feet. PTSD raged inside of me, my body trembling with fright. His hands cupped mine, a brick fire pit awaited us. Tension grew like a weed as the twins built a fire, their black lace summer dresses catching my eyes. My oversized black band t-shirt felt under dressed, Slate adjusting the sleeve of his black dress shirt and black dress pants. Setting me down on the log, Alyssa passed me my crutches. Our attitude towards each other changed, the two of us now inseparable. Struggling to my feet,we dropped our discs all at once. Unnatural screeches shattered the still air, the animals stopping for a moment. Black smoke curled into the air, all of our phones dinging at once.
“Come play the game Camp Happytime, and have the scare of a lifetime.” Mr. Destiny’s voice chirped cheerfully, all of us throwing our phones into the roaring flames. Let’s not do that again, I told myself. Scooping me up, he placed me on his back. Walking away from the flames, none of us cared if someone was stupid to go through with what we had. Let him take what he wants as long as it isn't our lives. We may have unleashed fresh Hell on the world, at this point none of us giving a rat’s ass. Lord help those who fell into his trap next.

Two: NSFW, discussion of sexual violence against a child and triggering fantasies
I've been identifying as a lesbian pretty consistently for a little over a year but I also sometimes think certain men are really attractive and feel very drawn to them. I'm able to get off to straight erotica and have straight sexual fantasies as well, but I have no romantic attraction to men and only a small amount of sexual attraction to them, it's like 90% women and non-men, and 10% men. I'm also not comfortable having sex until I'm in a serious relationship, which is obviously never going to happen with men. If I really wanted to get hyper specific about my sexuality, which I don't, I would say the most accurate way to describe it is basically homoromantic homoflexible but don't want to actually do anything with men.
I'm not sure if this makes me bi or lesbian, so I'd really appreciate some help with that.
Other important context:
-I'm nonbinary and get a lot of gender envy from men, and the men who I feel this way about are usually men who I want to look like. As soon as I realize this I don't feel at all attracted to them and any feeling of thinking they're hot completely shifts. I do also get gender envy from women and non-men but I'm also very attracted to them even without that, and I also am attracted to women and non-men who I don't want to look like and get gender envy from women and non-men that I'm not attracted to.
-I almost never think men are hot unless I feel gender envy toward them
-when I get off to porn and erotica it's often fictional characters and things that would be impossible irl, eg because when I read het romance it's usually fantasy and involves the male character having abilities and body parts that human men physically can't have like a tail or wings or fangs or claws or super strength. I don't watch porn, partially for ethical reasons and partially because it's so unattractive and unrelatable to me.
-I was also sexually abused at a very young and formative age and at the time really heavily internalized the ideas that my worth is in how attractive I am to men and that women, which I was raised and socialized as and still partially identify with, should be sexually passive and submissive to male pleasure even at the expense of our own well-being. So I started having a lot of really harmful sexual fantasies related to this, involving things I would never want irl, but that's been really hard to get past and has had a really strong impact on how I view my sexuality.
ETA: part of why I started identifying as a lesbian was that I’d been thinking a lot about what my type was in men and women. In women it’s easy, I generally have a preference for butches, alt women, and curvier brunettes but am capable of being attracted to most women.
In men though it’s like. I thought I was into conventionally masculine toned preppy athletic guys and I’m not. I thought I was into country boys and I’m not. I thought I was into dad bods and I’m not. I realized I found overly masculine hairy beefcakes kind of…I don’t want to say gross to look at but honestly that’s just how I feel. I realized I found penises kind of ugly on a man, but not on a woman, and thought I might be more into forms of sex where I don’t have to look at a man’s penis, but while I could get off to that as a fantasy the idea of doing it irl wasn’t particularly appealing. Then I thought maybe I was into twinks or more androgynous guys, and while I can definitely see that they’re attractive I don’t think I would want to be with one.
Then I thought maybe I was just more into trans men than cis men, and honestly if I were ever going to be with a guy he’d have to be trans, but the thing is that almost all of the trans guys I’ve thought were attractive were more feminine looking and a lot of them were non passing. And the thing is that just feels really fetishy to me, like not all trans men look different from cis men and a lot of the ones that don’t look like cis men WANT to look like cis men. So if I’m only into this specific subset of feminine appearing non passing trans men and wouldn’t be with a trans guy who’s more masculine looking, like with a beard and a dick and lots of muscle and body hair and a deep voice, I’m obviously not compatible with trans men and I would never want to be the kind of partner who makes him feel undesirable for transitioning or like I see him as any less of a man. That relationship wouldn’t be healthy for either of us, and realizing that made me understand that while there are definitely guys who I think are attractive and while I can get off to them as a fantasy, I could never be with one in real life whether he was trans, cis, or nonbinary.
I’ve definitely had moments of self doubt and internalized lesbophobia since then, and I’m still more comfortable identifying as sapphic or gay because of everything I’ve mentioned earlier about the 10% of sexual attraction I still have toward men. So that’s where I’m at now and I hope it provides some context!

A place for members of PreppyClaws_FP to chat with each other

Reposting because the last post had major errors in it.
The story profiles from the manual in text form, separate from the fandom pages:

• Street Fighter IV Manual
  • Super Street Fighter IV Manual
  • Super Street Fighter IV: Arcade Edition Manual
  • Ultra Street Fighter IV Manual (for posterity)
• Street Fighter IV Prima Official Guide

Ryu

Profile
Date of Birth	July 21
Nationality	Japanese
Height	5'9''
Weight	150 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	44/32/33
Martial Arts Style	Shotokan
Likes	Martial arts, Japanese bean jam
Dislikes	Spiders
Hobbies/Skills	Able to sleep anywhere, hitchhiking

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Continuously polishing the moves he learned from his master Gouken, this solitary street fighter trains tirelessly for his own betterment. His power and nomadic way of life are a big draw to admiring challengers. He seeks the path of the "true warrior" but his pursuit of this lofty goal has set him squarely in the sights of evil organizations who would seek the same for their own ends.	A lone-wolf street fighter who has further honed the techniques taught by his master Gouken through intensive daily training. Many fighters have been drawn to and inspired by his lifestyle and strength. Ryu now travels the world in order to become a "True Martial Artist," but soon finds himself caught up in a plot to exploit his impressive powers.

Ken Masters

Profile
Date of Birth	February 18
Nationality	American
Height	5'9''
Weight	159 lb.
Blood Type	B
Measurements	45/32/34
Martial Arts Style	Shotokan
Likes	Skateboarding, pasta
Dislikes	Pickled plums, soap operas
Hobbies/Skills	Cooking pasta

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Scion of the American financial group that bears his name, Ken Masters is also the closest friend of rival Ryu. With a brand-new life on the way to get his and his wife's family started, he hesitates when invited to climb back into the ring with Ryu. Eventually, with some prodding from Eliza, he decides to take the plunge.	Ken trained with Ryu, who quickly became his closest friend and greatest rival. Ken is the heir apparent to the largest conglomerate in the U.S., the Masters Family. Due to the new life now growing within his wife, Ken is hesitant to take Ryu up on his latest challenge, but Eliza herself persuades him to enter the tournament.

Chun-Li

Profile
Date of Birth	March 1
Nationality	Chinese
Height	5'7''
Weight	Secret
Blood Type	A
Measurements	35/23/35
Martial Arts Style	Chinese Kenpo
Likes	Crepes, fruit, pastries
Dislikes	Bison, crimes, people who have something to hide
Hobbies/Skills	N/A

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Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This Interpol detective uses an arsenal of deadly kicks as she scours the world in search of her missing father. She became a detective at the age of 18. She is currently engaged in an investigation with Guile into rumors of Shadaloo's reemergence.	An ICPO investigator who fights with her beautiful, powerful legs. She joined the force at 18 in order to search for her missing father. Now, sensing again the shadow of Shadaloo, an organization she herself brought to the brink of destruction, she starts a new investigation with the help of Guile.

E. Honda

Profile
Date of Birth	November 3
Nationality	Japanese
Height	6'1''
Weight	302 lb.
Blood Type	A
Measurements	83/71/83
Martial Arts Style	Sumo
Likes	Tiramisu, Chanko stew, baths
Dislikes	Indifference
Hobbies/Skills	Cooking stew

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This bad boy of the sumo circuit continues to make a name for himself on the world stage. He has attained the rank of Ozeki, though he is generally considered good enough to take on the mantle of Yokozuna. He travels the world in an effort to spread sumo's appeal around the world.	A massively popular sumo wrestler, his power always gathers attention. His abilities are said to far outshine his Sumo weight class. In order to make Sumo a "worldwide" sport, he sets out on a journey of combat across the globe.

Blanka

Profile
Date of Birth	February 2
Nationality	Brazilian
Height	6'4''
Weight	216 lb.
Blood Type	B
Measurements	78/47/68
Martial Arts Style	Wild Movement and Electricity
Likes	Samantha (his mother), pirarucu fish, tropical fruit
Dislikes	Army ants
Hobbies/Skills	Hunting, unleashing electricity

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Following a harrowing plane crash in his youth, Blanka found himself alone in the Amazonian jungle, struggling to survive and live on his own, granting him extraordinary survival skills and a unique set of characteristics. He now fights to earn the love and respect of his mother.	A feral orphan in the truest sense of the term, Blanka has survived and fought in the Brazilian jungle since he was stranded there as a baby after a plane crash. He is capable of unexpectedly wild and ferocious attacks. Now he sets out on a journey to make himself into the kind of person that would make the mother he never knew proud.

Zangief

Profile
Date of Birth	June 1
Nationality	Russian
Height	7'0''
Weight	253 lb.
Blood Type	A
Measurements	64/50/59
Martial Arts Style	Combination of Russian Wrestling and American-style Pro-Wrestling
Likes	Wrestling, Cossack dancing
Dislikes	Hadoken and other projectile attacks, beautiful women
Hobbies/Skills	Downing entire bottles of vodka in one gulp, withstanding cold temperatures

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This Russian wrestler is popularly known as the "Red Cyclone." Inside his massive chest beats the heart of a true patriot. He throws himself into another worldwide fight in order to keep a promise he made to a group of doubtful children.	A Russian professional wrestler, also known as the Red Cyclone. His unbelievably muscular body is packed with blazing passion and love for his home country. To keep a promise to the children who look up to him, and to prove he is truly the strongest, he throws himself completely into battle. He will happily walk into a punch if it means he can grab hold of his opponent.

Guile

Profile
Date of Birth	December 23
Nationality	American
Height	6'0''
Weight	190 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	49/33/35
Martial Arts Style	Military Trained Martial Arts Infused with Wrestling Techniques
Likes	Weak coffee
Dislikes	Natto (a Japanese delicacy made of fermented soybeans that Ryu made him try during a trip to Japan)
Hobbies/Skills	Darts

​

Manual Bio:

Guide Bio:

This American Air Force Major has dedicated his life to taking revenge on Bison, the man who killed his best friend, Charlie, so many years ago. His fighting style is a unique blend of military-trained martial arts and other moves that he finds useful in combat. When a series of incidents in which Shadaloo's involvement is suspected come to light, he is quick to partner up with his old friend Chun-Li to get to the bottom of it.

A military man in the U.S. Air Force. He has sworn revenge against M. Bison, the killer of his best friend, Charlie. His own special combination of martial arts is said to give him the strength to slice through anything. Sensing the hand of Shadaloo behind numerous new incidents, he steps up to investigate, along with Chun-Li.

Dhalsim

Profile
Date of Birth	November 22
Nationality	East Indian
Height	5'9''
Weight	106 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	42/18/26
Martial Arts Style	Esoteric Yoga
Likes	Curry, meditation
Dislikes	Sweets, meat
Hobbies/Skills	Preaching, abandonment of self

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This mystical Indian yogi is reluctant to harm his opponents and is a pacifist at heart. Nevertheless, when his family's village is threatened, he once again ventures into the world, steeled for combat and ready to teach evil a lesson.	An Indian mystic who has mastered the power of yoga. Though he remains hesitant to hurt others during battle, he is prepared to wield his flame-blowing powers again, in order to save his beloved family's village.

Balrog (Mike Bison/Boxer)

Profile
Date of Birth	September 4
Nationality	American
Height	6'6''
Weight	225 lb.
Blood Type	A
Measurements	47/35/39
Martial Arts Style	Street boxing
Likes	Women, bourbon
Dislikes	Fish, math, hard work
Hobbies/Skills	Gambling

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This boxer, whose violent tendencies led to his being expelled from the realm of professional boxing, teamed up with Bison to make money. He has not been heard from since Shadaloo's collapse.	A boxer who was cast out from the boxing world due to his love of dangerously violent tendencies... He became one of M. Bison's lieutenants for a substantial fee. He then vanished after the collapse of Shadaloo, but like all the best boxers he is only down and certainly not out...

Vega (Balrog/Claw)

Profile
Date of Birth	January 27
Nationality	Spanish
Height	6'1''
Weight	158 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	48/29/33
Martial Arts Style	Spanish Ninjutsu
Likes	Beautiful things, himself
Dislikes	Ugly things, losers' blood splatter
Hobbies/Skills	Narcissism, sticking to walls

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This narcissist values and trusts in beauty above all else. He joined Bison's organization purely to improve his own aesthetic senses. His extreme speed and beautifully executed move set make it difficult for opponents to keep their minds on the battle. He has not been heard from since Shadaloo's collapse.	A narcissist who believes beauty is the ultimate goal in this world. He worked with M. Bison to further his own aesthetic goals. In combat, he uses his terrible speed to unleash graceful, deadly attacks. He slipped back into the shadows after the fall of Shadaloo...

Sagat

Profile
Date of Birth	July 2
Nationality	Thai
Height	7'4''
Weight	172 lb.
Blood Type	B
Measurements	51/34/37
Martial Arts Style	Muay Thai
Likes	Strong opponents
Dislikes	Shoryuken, helpless people
Hobbies/Skills	Diving (20 minutes or more underwater)

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Also known as "the Invincible Tiger," Sagat is exalted as the King of Muay Thai. His legendary kicks are said to be the most powerful in the world. A fateful defeat at the hands of Ryu left a broad scar on his chest and drove him to even more intense training.	Emperor of the Muay Thai boxing world, also known as the invincible Tiger. It is said that no one can stand against the sheer power of his kicks. His single defeat at the hands of Ryu still burns, literally, in his chest, and he continues to train in order to become stronger.

M. Bison (Vega/Dictator)

Profile
Date of Birth	April 17
Nationality	Unknown
Height	6'0''
Weight	176 lb.
Blood Type	A
Measurements	51/33/36
Martial Arts Style	Psycho Power
Likes	Ruling the world
Dislikes	Weakling, inept henchmen
Hobbies/Skills	Hypnosis

​

Manual Bio:

Guide Bio:

Drug trafficking, human experimentation, weapons dealing-no crime were beyond the reach of Bison's foul Shadaloo organization. He uses his Psycho Power to strike fear into the hearts of those who oppose him and further his own twisted and vile machinations. Thought to have perished in the fall of Shadaloo, Bison garnered a new lease on life via a replacement body and now seeks to usher in a new dark age of terror and intimidation the world over.

Former overlord of the secret organization Shadaloo, whose evil activities ran the gamut from drugs to human experiments and weapon sales, and master of the all-powerful Psycho Power. He was believed to have shared the same fate as that of the fallen Shadaloo, but he now returns in a new body to set another dark scheme into motion.

C. Viper

Profile
Date of Birth	July 16
Nationality	American
Height	5'9''
Weight	123 lb.
Blood Type	AB
Measurements	39/24/35
Martial Arts Style	Espionage (aided with tools)
Likes	Her daughter, money
Dislikes	Overtime
Hobbies/Skills	Magic

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This tough and beautiful agent assumes a businesslike demeanor, seemingly ignoring the pettiness of human emotion and obligation to fellow man in favor of her own goals. She wears a high-tech suit equipped with an assortment of deadly gadgetry. Her true goals and identity are unknown.	A tough and smart female agent. Always business-like, she keeps her emotions in check at all times. Her special suit is packed with concealed weapons, allowing her to launch a variety of unexpected attacks. She can be found at work in various arenas, but her true intentions remain unknown.

Rufus

Profile
Date of Birth	July 30
Nationality	American
Height	6'5''
Weight	408 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	70/98/85
Martial Arts Style	Weird Karate
Likes	Motorcycles, his girlfriend
Dislikes	People who stand out
Hobbies/Skills	Karaoke

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This portly fighter uses his own unique brand of kung fu. He has declared himself to be America's greatest fighter, and he has a deep, though decidedly one-sided, rivalry with Ken Masters. He fights to prove that he is indeed better than Ken, but he frequently mistakes other fighters for his supposed rival.	The self-proclaimed number one fighter in the U.S., who fights using his own homegrown style of kung-fu. He is obsessed with Ken, his rival, and fights to prove that he is the stronger one. Unfortunately, he tends to jump to conclusions, leaving a trail of badly beaten cases of mistaken identity in his wake.

El Fuerte

Profile
Date of Birth	October 29
Nationality	Mexican
Height	5'6''
Weight	154 lb.
Blood Type	B
Measurements	47/32/35
Martial Arts Style	Lucha Libre
Likes	"Nopal (prickly pear)"
Dislikes	Additives
Hobbies/Skills	Can stand on his head for two hours straight

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This fighter divides his time between perfecting his lucha libre skills and his cooking abilities. His indomitable spirit is a match for even the legendary Red Cyclone. He now travels the world in an effort to assemble the greatest recipes on the planet.	A man who is both Luchador and cook. His blazing passion remains unbowed even in the face of Russia's own Red Cyclone. He sets out on a journey to find the ultimate in culinary recipes, though his skills in the kitchen still require some polish...

Abel

Profile
Date of Birth	November 5
Nationality	French
Height	6'6''
Weight	187 lb.
Blood Type	A
Measurements	51/33/35
Martial Arts Style	Mixed martial arts with a focus on judo
Likes	Dogs (living the life of a mercenary offered little time to own pets, but Abel plans to get a dog as soon as the tournament is over.)
Dislikes	Oysters (having been the victim of a bad crop of oysters in the past, he is understandably leery of this shellfish now)
Hobbies/Skills	Sewing (years of repairing his own clothing as a soldier had made him quite adept with a needle and thread)

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This young amnesiac desperately chases down the remnants of Shadaloo. His fighting style is based upon mixed martial arts and is well suited to his mercenary background. Though he may appear to be a bit of a misanthrope at first glance, this is merely a side effect of his earnestness. He has no memories of his past.	A young man who follows whatever leads he can, no matter how tenuous, in order to track down the remnants of Shadaloo. He uses comprehensive martial arts that suggest military training. At first glance, he may be intimidating, but he is actually quite personable. He has lost all memories of his past.

Sakura

Profile
Date of Birth	March 15
Nationality	Japanese
Height	5'2''
Weight	119 lb.
Blood Type	A
Measurements	31/24/33
Martial Arts Style	Imitation of Ryu's Style
Likes	Gym class, white rice
Dislikes	Math class, playing video games with her younger brother
Hobbies/Skills	Decent at cooking (though her dishes do not look appetizing)

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	This high school girl followed her idol Ryu into the world of street fighting. Bright and energetic, she finds enjoyment in all she does and never misses the chance to fight a strong opponent.

Dan Hibiki

Profile
Date of Birth	November 25
Nationality	Chinese
Height	5'10''
Weight	163 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	44/33/35
Martial Arts Style	Saikyo Shotokan
Likes	Taunting
Dislikes	Seaweed, violent rabble-rousers, snobbish preppie types
Hobbies/Skills	Breaking tiles, karaoke

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	This fighter boasts an impressive set of taunts, but his fighting moves are often half-baked. Though he has trained with Gouken in the past, his moves are based more upon his own unique technique, a style he has dubbed Saikyo.

Rose

Profile
Date of Birth	July 3
Nationality	Italian
Height	5'10''
Weight	119 lb.
Blood Type	Unknown
Measurements	38/22/34
Martial Arts Style	Soul Power
Likes	Likes: Sherry
Dislikes	UV rays, waking up early in the morning
Hobbies/Skills	Tarot card reading

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	This beautiful and enigmatic fortune-teller is well-known in Genoa, where she has set up shop. She relies on her mastery of Soul Power, an energy that draws its source from her very life force, rather than on physical technique to vanquish foes.

Gen

Profile
Date of Birth	March 10
Nationality	Chinese
Height	5'5''
Weight	134 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	42/30/31
Martial Arts Style	Chinese Kempo (Mantis and Crane)
Likes	Meat bun, composing Chinese poetry
Dislikes	Crowds
Hobbies/Skills	Traditional Chinese medicine

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	This assassin enjoys legendary notoriety in the underworld. He continues to scour the world for foes worthy of the fight to the death he seeks. He has a connection with Chun-Li's father and, as such, possesses very complex feelings toward her.

Cammy

Profile
Date of Birth	January 6
Nationality	British
Height	5'5''
Weight	101 lb.
Blood Type	34/22/35
Measurements	B
Martial Arts Style	Shadaloo Assassination Techniques; Special Forces Training
Likes	Cats
Dislikes	Everything (when she's in a bad mood)
Hobbies/Skills	Knife throwing

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	This swift and deadly fighter is a member of a British paramilitary group known as Delta Red. She had been brainwashed by Shadaloo and put to use by that evil organization as nothing more than a living weapon, but she does not let this past hold her back and now fights alongside her comrades on a new and dangerous mission.

Fei-Long

Profile
Date of Birth	April 23
Nationality	Chinese
Height	5'8''
Weight	132 lb.
Blood Type	O
Measurements	43/30/31
Martial Arts Style	Kung fu
Likes	Kung fu, being a smart aleck
Dislikes	Apathy, indifference, detachment
Hobbies/Skills	Does all his own stunts

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	This young man has made a big name for himself in the world of Hong Kong cinema. Having trained hard since childhood, there is not a single fighter in Hong Kong that has kung fu skills worthy of being compared to his own.

Akuma

Profile
Date of Birth	Unknown
Nationality	Japanese
Height	5'10''
Weight	176 lb.
Blood Type	Unknown
Measurements	N/A
Martial Arts Style	Shotokan
Likes	Unknown
Dislikes	Unknown
Hobbies/Skills	Unknown

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	This demonic warrior discarded his own humanity when he let the dark power of the Satsui no Hado (Dark or Evil Hado) take over, and murder his own brother Gouken in cold blood. He seeks the ultimate fight to the death and is especially intrigued by Ryu's inherent Satsui no Hado tendencies, which he frequently tempts the younger man into succumbing to once and for all.

Gouken

Profile
Date of Birth	Unknown
Nationality	Japanese
Height	6'1''
Weight	198 lb.
Blood Type	Unknown
Measurements	49/37/35
Martial Arts Style	Shotokan
Likes	Dumpling
Dislikes	Mosquitoes
Hobbies/Skills	Fishing

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	Akuma's brother and mentor to Ryu and Ken, this legendary fighter is responsible for developing and refining Ansatsuken, a fighting style he taught to his pupils Ryu and Ken. He was defeated at the hands of the vile Akuma and now makes his triumphant return after having been presumed dead for decades.

Seth

Profile
Date of Birth	Unknown
Nationality	Unknown
Height	6'6''
Weight	187 lb.
Blood Type	Unknown
Measurements	51/33/35
Martial Arts Style	Ultimate Style Comprised of Knowledge of Fallen Foes
Likes	Scheming
Dislikes	Pathetic humans
Hobbies/Skills	Renovation

​

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
N/A	Seth is the CEO of a weapons manufacturing and trading company known as S.I.N. He has collected data from the world's top fighters and assimilated it into his own fighting style. Though he was developed to be a replacement body for Bison, he has plans of his own. Plans to rebel and make Shadaloo his own.

T. Hawk

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
The proudest Thunderfoot warrior. The attacks from T. Hawk's mammoth frame may be lethal, but he is also just and one with nature. Now he presses on in battle, hoping to find clues that will help him get Julia back from the Shadaloo.	N/A

Dee Jay

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This talented kickboxer is also a million-selling musician! His rhythmic combo attacks are where he really shines.	N/A

Guy

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
The 39th heir of the Bushinryu, a Ninjutsu school that dates back to the warring states period. Sensing the rise of a new evil, he comes to battle trying to put the world right again.	N/A

Cody

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Although Cody was once the hero of Metro City, he couldn't get used to his life of peace, so he went on a rampage and got thrown in jail. When he realized prison life was pretty dull, too, he escaped - and that's when he ran into trouble.	N/A

Ibuki

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
She may have been born in a small mountain village and raised to become a ninja, but Ibuki is really just an ordinary teenager. After setting off to find the man of her dreams," she runs up against some unexpected events.	N/A

Makoto

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
A determined fireball of a karate girl. Left with the task of reviving her school's livelihood, Makoto ventures into the world of global combat.	N/A

Dudley

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
A British pro boxer who's both proud and a perfectionist. While Dudley may seem like a close-range brawling brute, he's also sensitive, always making time for tea and roses.	N/A

Adon

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Adon was once a pupil of Sagat, but when his beloved master fell to Ryu, Adon could never again see him in the same light. He battles now to prove himself as the greatest Muay Thai fighter in the world.	N/A

Hakan

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
A Turkish hero who is both the president of the world's leading cooking oil company, but also a champion Yagli Gures oil wrestler. Now, he's traveling the world in search of oil for both business and pleasure. Hearty and affable, Hakan also has a thick accent	N/A

Juri

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Seth's mysterious female confidant. Juri, an odd epicurean, derives overwhelming joy from the complete destruction of her opponent. She goes after her prey using the mysterious system implanted into her left eye, which can give her unbelievable power.	N/A

Yun

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
A young fighter from Hong Kong who wields the Chinese martial arts drilled into him by his grandfather with fearsome dexterity. He worked at the same restaurant as Chun-Li and followed her into the world of tournament fighting. While lacking in experience, he has a natural gift for combat. He is Yang's twin brother.	N/A

Yang

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
A young fighter from Hong Kong who wields the Chinese martial arts drilled into him by his grandfather with fearsome dexterity. He left on a journey following his older twin brother Yun. Unlike Yun. Yang has a relatively calm and collected personality His ability to keenly observe the movements of his opponents is one of his greatest weapons	N/A

Evil Ryu

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
Warped by the Satsui no Hado, Ryu has begun to walk the path of evil. He wanders the world in search of tights to the death with stronger opponents. Both his appearance and style have changed greatly, giving him a strong resemblance to Akuma.	N/A

Oni

Manual Bio:	Guide Bio:
This is the inhuman form Akuma assumed after being consumed by the Satsui no Hado. Stripped of nearly all human emotion, he lives only to fight.	N/A

Danganronpa V4: Western Harmony: A TV/Theatrical Film
For Lifetime or Netflix or HBO or USA Network or Adult Swim or Freeform or Hulu or MTV or Showtime or CBS or NBC or ABC or FX, or TBS (if on TV)
Directed by
Me (Jaden)
Produced by
Me (Jaden)
Yoshinori Terasawa
Kazutaka Kodaka
James Wan
Leigh Whannell
Tom DeSanto
Written by
Dan Brown
Judd Apatow
Ehren Kruger
Music by
Nate Walcott and Mike Mogis (score)
Masafumi Takada (themes)
Opening song:
“Ultimate Bullet” by Nothing Special ft. Kane Bailey
Montage song:
“Trigger Happy Havoc” by Equal ft. Kane Bailey & Austin Mahone
Ending song:
“Western Harmony” by Equal ft. Kyla Mai, Athena Park, & Jack Dean
“Danganronpa” by My Own Addiction x Nothing Special
Production companies:
Spike Chunsoft
MarVista Entertainment
Crunchyroll
HBO/Netflix/A+E Networks/Williams Street/ABC Signature/Hulu/Paramount Television/Universal Television/Warner Bros. Television/20th Television/Sony Pictures Television/Lionsgate (if on TV)
Distributed by: (if theatrical)
Universal Pictures/Warner Bros. Pictures/Lionsgate/20th Century Studios/Netflix/Paramount Pictures/Sony Pictures Releasing/A24/Toho/Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer
Key:
✅Survived
❌💀Died (29)
❌☯️Executed (25)
Returning cast
Brian Beacock as Monokuma and Monosuke
Rebecca Forstadt as Monomi/Usami
Sean Chiplock as Monotaro
Patrick Seitz as Monokid
Jason Wishnov as Monodam
Natalie Hoover as Monophanie
Erin Fitzgerald as Junko Enoshima (voice filter)
Original characters(students)

• Anya Taylor-Joy as Dorothy Lillard/Junko Enoshima, the new leader of Ultimate Despair and the villain (death: vaporized by Kenneth, Harry, Dani, Gia, and Jane using the BFG 9000)
• Jake Short as Kenneth Cole, Ultimate Twitchstreamer and Lucky Student✅(the protagonist) (Twitch handle: CyberViper25)
• Kodi Smit-McPhee as Harry Quark, Ultimate Karate Master✅(the sidekick)
• Bailee Madison as Dani Farrell, Ultimate Fashionista✅(the main female)
• Emma Ivany as Gia Tillman, Ultimate Detective✅
• Arianna Sartor as Jane Grover, Ultimate Country Sensation✅(she has the most fan service, and she wears Prada)
• Layla Vigna as Don Lori Van Blade, Ultimate Mafia Boss✅(she swears too much)
• Sophia Zappia as Ida Salvatore, Ultimate Confectioner✅
• Sean Bell as Lance Chapman, Ultimate Clairvoyant ✅(the other sidekick)
• Stefania Povolo as Margaret Boland, Ultimate Volleyballer✅
• Elizabeth Micciola as Helen Anderson, Ultimate Archaeologist✅
• Sabrina Greco as Evelyn Hanson, Ultimate Legionary✅
• Peyton List as Ginny Harrison, Ultimate Nurse ✅
• Julia Bell as Angela Mobus, Ultimate Hockey star✅
• Lauryn McLaughlin as Sandra Potter, Ultimate Weightlifter✅
• Kate Miles as Maureen Wendell, Ultimate Acrobat✅
• Jorja Garcia as Audrey Beckmann, Ultimate Quarterback❌💀(axe lodged in the back by Stanley)
• Elizabeth McConnell as Gwen Scarlet, Ultimate Assassin✅
• Madison Iseman as Ina Larsson, Ultimate FIFA star❌💀(drink spiked with bleach and poisoned by Carey)
• Carissa DiLuciano as Faye Timmons, Ultimate Nomad✅
• Raymond Ochoa as Andy Campbell, Ultimate Computer Expert❌☯️(Toilet Execution: dies from severe injuries after being hit by a falling toilet dropped by Monokuma)
• Joleene Douitsis as Anna De Lauretta, Ultimate Programmer✅
• Abby Kiatipis as Christine Wellburg, Ultimate Comedian✅(the comic relief)
• Kain Holness as Richard “Lil’ Amazon” Connorsdale, Ultimate Rapper✅
• Marina Ilkov as Lucy Bacharova, Ultimate Tennis star❌💀(throat slit by Andy)
• Nicholas Kastanis as Victor Zane, Ultimate Photographer✅
• Rico Rodriguez as Bruno Fernando, Ultimate Gambler❌☯️(American Revolution Execution: shot by Monokuma’s firing squad)
• Anthony Ramos as Lupe Juarez, Ultimate Farmer❌💀(impaled in the liver by Bruno using a fiery machete)
• Noah Schnapp as James Masters, Ultimate Novel Writer✅
• Charli D’Amelio as Kristen Holland, Ultimate TikToker✅
• Addison Rae as Monica MacLaren, Ultimate TikToker✅
• Sicily Rose as Piper Martin, Ultimate Model✅
• Coco Quinn as Addison Driscoll, Ultimate Painter✅
• Gaten Matarazzo as Johnathan Valmers, Ultimate Biker❌💀(chainsawed by Frida)
• Michael Donato as Tim Von Hyde, Ultimate Boxer✅
• Karl Sabado as Antonio de la Cruz, Ultimate Basketballer✅
• Brandon Lepofsky as Adam Tatringham, Ultimate Judo Master✅
• Kane Bailey as Vale Kubrick, Ultimate Hip-Hop Sensation✅
• Nathan Seaforth as Eric Luggman, Ultimate Hope✅(the god of the machine)
• Nigel Wickramasinghe as Philip Knowles, Ultimate Sheriff✅
• Stefanie Scott as Carey Klahadore, Ultimate Swimmer❌☯️(Toxic Waste Execution: drowned into toxic waste by Monokuma)
• Kathryn Newton as Frida Collingsworth, Ultimate Bodyguard❌☯️ (Hanging Execution: executed by hanging under Monokuma’s orders)
• China Anne McClain as Sarah Davenport, Ultimate Barista✅
• Caleb McLaughlin as Jordan Truman, Ultimate Carpenter✅
• Carlon Jeffery as Will Carlson, Ultimate Mechanic❌☯️(Limb Removal Execution: chained and dismembered by Monokuma)
• Jordan Fisher as Paul Fox, Ultimate Ringmaster❌💀(neck broken by Will)
• McKenna Grace as Tia Leonard, Ultimate Alchemist✅
• Sofia Kotaridis as Sally Watkins, Ultimate Pokémon Trainer✅
• Keagan James as Barry Pryce, Ultimate Disc Jockey✅
• Megan Tavares as Ellie Rivera, Ultimate Watchmaker✅
• Victoria Baldesarra as Melanie Silvers, Ultimate Dentist❌💀(shot in the head by Eve)
• Nathan John as Ben Varmell, Ultimate Soccer star❌☯️(Lightsaber Execution: cut in half by Monokuma’s lightsaber)
• Jaidyn Carpenter as Brenda Guidicelli, Ultimate Dancer✅
• Colin Morin as Oliver Gillespie, Ultimate Gangster✅
• Oscar David Gonzalez as Joaquin Galvas, Ultimate Mariachi✅
• Lauren Bristlon as Lia Gerson, Ultimate Cheerleader❌💀(donutted with brass knuckles by Ben)
• Alyssa Vocino as Nev Wilmington, Ultimate Ninja✅
• Sophia Woodward as Eve Goldberg, Ultimate Chef❌☯️(Spiked Helmet Execution: forced into a spiked helmet trap by Monokuma)
• Mackenzie Gillis as Luella Janssen, Ultimate Mechanic✅
• Lauren Balke as Rosemary Voulgas, Ultimate Figure Skater✅
• Quinn Gugler as Beverley De Guzman, Ultimate Commander✅
• Makenna Mellors as Connie Polvark, Ultimate Gymnast✅
• Brianna Ragusa as Nadine Wottingham, Ultimate Stuntwoman❌💀(electrocuted in a toaster bath by Lin)
• Peter Noronha as Ernest Griffith, Ultimate Wrestler❌💀(garrotted by Blake)
• Holly Dach as Joy McIntyre, Ultimate Graphic Designer✅
• Victoria Dach as Syd McIntyre, Ultimate Goth✅
• Liv Nearing as Carla Mae Golden, Ultimate Equestrian✅
• Calyse Fairclough as Lin Tucker, Ultimate Baker❌☯️(Thwomp Crusher Execution: crushed by a Thwomp under Monokuma’s orders)
• Francine Penales as Daisy Libman, Ultimate Aviator✅
• Francis Vibal as Jeff Reyes, Ultimate Snowboarder❌☯️(Grove Street Execution: forced to be surrendered to Grove Street gangs by Monokuma)
• Paris Berelc as Hannah Torbal, Ultimate Marine Biologist ✅
• Jacob Elordi as Henry Twosiders, Ultimate Philosopher❌💀(died of blunt force trauma after Lawrence bashed a coconut on his head)
• Sydney Sweeney as Yvette Gallren, Ultimate Bard❌💀(stabbed in the lung by Jeff)
• Daniel Gray as Gordon Powell, Ultimate Call of Duty champion✅
• Gabby Villanueva as Tina Rose Troughton, Ultimate Figure Skater✅
• Alexa Hutchins as Barbara Miller, Ultimate Makeup Artist✅
• Maddie Tigert as Tara Lambert, Ultimate Farmer ✅
• Nicole Naumovski as Michelle Tartakova, Ultimate Skydiver✅
• Marcus Alves as Samuel Brooks, Ultimate Paladin✅
• Natasha Jolicoeur as Dana Le Bos, Ultimate Pianist✅
• Skyler Samuels as Leona Baskin, Ultimate Beautician❌💀(massacred by Nomi using bear traps)
• Lauren Taylor as Nomi Parris, Ultimate Lifeguard❌☯️(Guillotine Execution: forced in a guillotine by Monokuma)
• Madison Chafe as Caroline Blackwood, Ultimate YouTuber✅
• Caleb Brady as Greg Baird, Ultimate Handyman✅
• Will Poulter as Marlon Gold, Ultimate Pageant❌💀(tricked into eating an explosive taco by Herbert)
• Lucas Grabeel as Herbert Lee Colbert, Ultimate Archer❌☯️(Arrow Execution: shot by 1000 arrows from Monokuma’s army)
• Jacob Bertrand as Stanley Morgan, Ultimate Butcher❌☯️(Sword Dropping Execution: impaled by falling swords set by Monokuma)
• August Maturo as Jack Norbert, Ultimate Plumber✅
• Johnny Orlando as Chris Tomlinson, Ultimate Doctor✅
• Dylan Minnette as Lawrence Hanson, Ultimate Firefighter❌☯️(Waterboarding Execution: waterboarded by Monokuma)
• Harrison Flint as Kevin Ricardo Ingram, Ultimate Rock Sensation ✅
• Ludi Lin as Sebastian Wong, Ultimate Samurai✅
• Finn Wolfhard as Blake Randall, Ultimate Fanfiction Creator❌☯️(Gasoline Execution: doused in gasoline and set on fire by Monokuma)
• Isabela Merced as Bernadette Garcia, Ultimate Cosplayer❌💀(drowned in the sink by Leigh-Anne)
• Sierra McCormick as Leigh-Anne Taber, Ultimate Magician❌☯️(Tear-gassing Execution: teargassed to death by Monokuma)
• Ryleigh Sandford as Jenny Wellingtonworth, Ultimate Matador✅
• Ignacio Hernandez as Fabian Medina, Ultimate Tanker✅
• Vanesa Singh as Stacy Fischbach, Ultimate Guitarist✅
• Julia Addorisio as Marnie Grayson, Ultimate Princess✅
• Jenna Bulgin as Kenzie Brown, Ultimate Gambler✅
• Quinn Ovoadbo as Johnny Tinger, Ultimate Hip-Hop Sensation✅
• Madison Davenport as Amber Penteghast, Ultimate Con Artist✅
• Athena Park as Vera Lee, Ultimate Taekwondo Master✅
• Vanessa Hudgens as Lorna Dominguez, Ultimate X-Games Champion✅
• Martina Marin as Renata Santiago, Ultimate Reggaeton Sensation✅
• Alexia Zamora as Farah Tomlin, Ultimate Moral Compass✅
• Emily Richard as Jodie Tinkler, Ultimate Entrepreneur✅
• Ethan Erickson as Alex Hobson, Ultimate Swordsman✅
• Corbin Bleu as Max Burke, Ultimate Serial Killer❌☯️(Electric Chair Execution: strapped in an electric chair by Monokuma)
• Mace Coronel as Xander Connors, Ultimate Sculptor❌💀(strapped to a column by Max and impaled by a javelin)
• Gabriela Burgos as Madison Page, Ultimate Vine Legend✅
• Roberto Burgos as Otto Page, Ultimate Conductor✅
• Zac Efron as Russell Hamm, Ultimate Skiier✅
• Michael Edwards as Xavier Griffin, Ultimate EDM Sensation✅
• Danielle Edwards as Paige Griffin, Ultimate EDM Sensation✅
• KJ Apa as Albert McTaggert, Ultimate NASCAR Driver❌💀(hammerclawed by Lars)
• Jack Quaid as Lars Meijer, Ultimate F1 Driver❌☯️(F1 Irony Execution: hit by an F1 car in a twist of irony by Monokuma)
• Nat Wolff as Bob Robertson, Ultimate DIY Expert✅
• Henry Zaga as Rodrigo Wayne, Ultimate Blacksmith✅
• Maisie Williams as Beatrice Sabella, Ultimate Graphic Designer❌💀(slashed in the shower by Martha)
• Blu Hunt as Martha Calvin, Ultimate Le Mans Driver❌☯️(Lawnmower Execution: shredded in a lawnmower by Monokuma)
• Jolie Vanier as Tori Leterrier, Ultimate Ecologist✅
• Timothée Chalamet as Jean-Claude Cornier, Ultimate Hells Angel❌☯️(James Bond Gunbarrel execution: shot in the head in the style of James Bond by Monokuma)
• Lucas Hedges as Simon Loomis, Ultimate Football star❌💀(hand shredded in the garbage disposal and stabbed in the jugular with a glass shard by Jean-Claude)
• Lucas Moretti as Ian Garland, Ultimate Veterinarian✅
• Kyle Ramos as Anthony Coburn, Ultimate Pop Sensation✅
• Kayleigh Halfyard as Kira Faison, Ultimate Admiral✅
• Jack Oldman as Cameron Jay Parsons, Ultimate Lacrosse Star✅
• Shia LaBeouf as Edward Wroughton, Ultimate Muay Thai Master✅
• Sarah Dorothy Little as Becky Faison, Ultimate Sailor✅
• Jordyn Jones as Jaclyn Tomuri, Ultimate Wakeboarder✅
• Chloe Bezer as Jenna Avery Templeton, Ultimate Golfer✅
• Olivia Bezer as Flora Templeton, Ultimate Football star✅
• Isabelle Fage as Louise Korpal, Ultimate Cricket Star✅
• Sophie Fage as Val Korpal, Ultimate Cricket Star✅
• Amy Wills as Ava Merrill, Ultimate Football star✅
• Sam Wills as George Merrill, Ultimate Football star✅
• Ana de Armas as Geraldine De Xanadu, Ultimate Psychiatrist❌💀(pushed in the meat grinder by Miroslava)
• Camila Mendes as Miroslava Marquez, Ultimate Ping Pong star❌☯️(Shotgun Carousel Execution: forced to be in a shotgun carousel with other grunts by Monokuma)
• Lauren Orlando as Shelby Tomlinson, Ultimate eSports star✅
• Preppy Claws as Alice Coltrane, Ultimate Gymnast✅
• Kaitlyn Rogers as Amelia Matthews, Ultimate Social Worker✅
• Olivia Parks as Trudy Baker, Ultimate Kung Fu Master✅
• Richard McCallum as Mason Ryans, Ultimate Mangaka✅
• Chai Hansen as Steven Liu, Ultimate Cowboy❌💀(impaled by a spear along with Debra inflicted by Katrina)
• Sarah Gilman as Debra Mack, Ultimate Lumberjack❌💀(impaled by a spear along with Steven inflicted by Katrina)
• Maia Bridger as Ruby Gunther, Ultimate Astronaut✅
• Jack Bridger as Matthew Gunther, Ultimate Baseball star✅
• Marissa Laird as Luanne Peterson, Ultimate Surfer✅
• Spencer Leue as Fred Benjamin, Ultimate Fisherman✅
• Ashley Leue as Andrea Benjamin, Ultimate Chunin✅
• Lexi Brooke Rivera as Katrina Greentham, Ultimate Entomologist❌☯️(Steam Maze Execution: Head impaled with a metal rod after Monokuma failed the steam maze)
• Ava De Sousa as Nia Davisdale, Ultimate Ravenclaw Mage✅
• Sean Michalicka as Thomas Leeds, Ultimate Spy✅
• Erin Michalicka as Rebecca Leeds, Ultimate Supreme Leader✅
• Jaelyn Mosher as Grace Bennett, Ultimate Desire Grand Prix star✅
• Sam Payne as Geri Wallace, Ultimate Volleyballer✅
• Julia DiMarco as Lindsey Farrow, Ultimate Zookeeper✅
• Rachel Parks as June Walker, Ultimate Inventor✅
• Gabby Jaspers-Fayer as Taylor Grammer, Ultimate Genius✅
• Cassidy Smith as Genevieve May, Ultimate R&B Sensation✅
• Sarah Cox as Kerry O’Brien, Ultimate Paramedic✅
• Colin Harrop as Eric Johnson, Ultimate Videographer✅
• Tegan Fyfe as Tori MacDougall, Ultimate Lifeguard✅
• Madison Pettis as Millie Edwards, Ultimate Maid❌💀(steps on a landmine set by Flora)
• Lucy Fry as Flora Mae Egbert, Ultimate Florist❌☯️(Pendulum Trap Execution: cut in half by the pendulum trap under the orders of Monokuma)
• Alexandra Beaton as Molly Gilman, Ultimate Survey Corps Officer❌💀(hit by a fast-moving Bugatti driven by Tyler)
• Nolan Gross as Tyler Schmidt, Ultimate Bowler❌☯️(Stoning Execution: hit by stones thrown by Monokuma and the Monokubs)
• Ivy Latimer as Trish Goldman, Ultimate Knight✅
• Jules LeBlanc as Brittany Eswick, Ultimate Postwoman✅(the other goddess of the machine)
• Ryleigh Horlock as Natalie Connors, Ultimate Hockey star✅
• Isabella Torcivia as Frankie Hills, Ultimate Diver✅
• Katie Tsiodras as Lydia Harrisdale, Ultimate Coach✅
• Ella Tsotsos as Dina O’Brien, Ultimate Capoeira Master✅
• Ella Damario as Nessa Gainsworth, Ultimate Soccer Star✅
• Aidan Timal as George Freeman, Ultimate Marine✅
• Rebecca Otto as Harley Packersdale, Ultimate Archer✅
• Brianna Aguanno as Jasmine Bradley, Ultimate Cyberpunk✅
• Gavin Baier as Dennis Lockwood, Ultimate Skater✅
• Lili Diamond as Emily James, Ultimate Jeopardy Champion✅
• Austin Peckham as Michael Lucas, Ultimate Grunge Sensation✅
• Sam Diamond as Patrick James, Ultimate Carpenter✅
• Logan Ready as Simon Greensdale, Ultimate Handyman✅
• Nolan Hillier as Clayton Bennett, Ultimate Bartender✅
• Taylor Augusto as Mia Parker, Ultimate ???✅
• Abby Daer as Joan Hammond, Ultimate Lawyer✅
• Logan Daer as Glenn Hammond, Ultimate Hockey star✅
• Jenna Jaime as Maria Lentopoulos, Ultimate Shinigami✅
• Daisy Dobney as Bianca Wellandale, Ultimate Rebel Warrior✅
• Jodie Dobney as Veronica Wellandale, Ultimate Jedi✅
• Louis Francis as Jamison Mack, Ultimate Diamond Smuggler✅
• Santanna O’Grady as Korina Ponderton, Ultimate Fairy Tail Guild Wizard✅
• Cole Duncanson as Joseph O’Langley, Ultimate Steampunk✅
• Lauren Polnick as Melinda Barrett, Ultimate Journalist✅
• Symonne Harrison as Lena Herbert, Ultimate Correspondent❌💀(head bashed with a sledgehammer by Tanner)
• Louis Partridge as Marcus Pentonov, Ultimate Gold Digger❌💀(head bashed with a sledgehammer by Tanner)
• Maggie Thurmon as Lisa May, Ultimate Hunter❌💀(gouged with hedge clippers by Tanner)
• Tanner Buchanan as Tanner Goldman, Ultimate Dictator❌☯️(Laser Collar Execution: head sliced by lasers under Monokuma’s orders)
• Jaime Adler as Brenda Lee Jenkins, Ultimate Metal Sensation✅
• Jacob Sartorius as Chet Baxter, Ultimate Hitman✅
• Camdyn Carney as Arthur Leonard, Ultimate Agent✅
• Shiloh Nelson as Sonya Delaney, Ultimate Crewmate✅
• Elijah Nelson as Jason Delaney, Ultimate Park Ranger✅
• Mark Ballas as Melvin Nichols, Ultimate DWTS Legend✅
• Cash Baker as Roderick Paul, Ultimate Gryffindor Wizard✅
• Kate Marie Baker as Amanda Paul, Ultimate Gryffindor Sorcerer✅ (Roderick’s wife)
• Jesse Ridgway as Lachlan Spears, Ultimate Halo Spartan✅
• Amanda Seyfried as Patricia McFinnegan, Ultimate Norse Specialist✅
• Wyatt Oleff as Emile Kenner, Ultimate Heavy Weapons Specialist✅
• Camilla Woroszylo as Rowan Rozenek, Ultimate Survey Corps Colonel✅
• Abby Enhaynes as Cleo Milton, Ultimate Sword Art Online star✅
• Desmond Barry as Neil Heartman, Ultimate Bowler✅
• Dominic Fike as Angus Perry-Simmons, Ultimate Waiter✅
• Nicole Spicer as Kim Wahlberg, Ultimate Carpenter✅
• Chase Stokes as Ryan Hutchinson, Ultimate Air Force Pilot❌💀(cleaved in the chest by Addie)
• Madelyn Cline as Alycia Dee Malcolm, Ultimate SERN Researcher❌💀(impaled in the neck with a buzzsaw by Addie)
• Cariba Heine as Hallie Fletcher, Ultimate Tour Guide✅
• Mackenzie Foy as Addie Norton, Ultimate Field Reporter❌☯️(Reverse Bear Trap Execution: jaw ripped apart by the reverse bear trap conducted by Monokuma)
• Angus Cloud as Jarrod Hamilton, Ultimate Necromancer✅
• Casey Cott as Neville Patrickson, Ultimate Butler✅
• Phoebe Tonkin as Jillian Brown, Ultimate Vampire✅
• Claire Holt as Annie Hoover, Ultimate Hope✅
• Mads Lewis as Tracey Sparks, Ultimate Swimmer✅
• Riley Lewis as Charlotte Sparks, Ultimate Desire Grand Prix Gamemaster✅
• Dakota Lewis as Mortimer Sparks, Ultimate Fan Artist✅
• Piper Rockelle as Skye Becker, Ultimate Affluent Progeny✅
• Eden Hackel as Rina Creighton, Ultimate Judge✅
• Meaghan Hogg as Gail MacNewell, Ultimate Rogue✅
• Eva Maddeaux as Mia de Panzer, Ultimate Death Knight✅
• Steffi Dines as Olivia Rosenthal, Ultimate Adventurer✅
• Alexia Caputi as Jenna DiMico, Ultimate Podcaster✅
• Natalia Devereaux as Esther Serine, Ultimate Devil Hunter✅
• Jason Li as Brent Chen, Ultimate Yakuza✅
• Brenda Tam as Ashley Worthington, Ultimate Desire Grand Prix star✅
• Alex Wolff as Woodrow Robertson, Ultimate DIY Expert✅
• Erin Ferguson as Jan Østervelt, Ultimate Magician✅
• Avril Osmond as Diane Newell, Ultimate Gamer✅
• Paige McCulloch as Lynn Henson, Ultimate Warlock✅
• Gavin Irvine as Todd Lawrence, Ultimate Paladin✅
• Ashley Bartley as Marcia Howlett, Ultimate Scuba Diver✅
• Jack Nearing as Peter Peterson, Ultimate ???✅
• Meg Donnelly as Lara Zamolt, Ultimate Jester✅

Premise:
In this soft reboot, set 6 years after Killing Harmony, a boy named Kenneth Cole tries to survive a mutual killing game in a school also run by Monokuma called Old Sparrow Academy (based on Hope’s Peak and Ultimate Academy for Gifted Juveniles). He meets many friends and rivals along the way, including his true love, Dani. while solving murder cases with the help of a genius detective and her sidekicks. After investigating who killed who, a class trial occurs; whoever is accused gets executed, but if someone is framed or anonymously the suspect, they can leave the school, but the others will be executed.
PS: The blood is pink, some executions are SAW traps, and all elements from the games are implemented in the film proper.
It is a thriller movie. Monokuma is viler and darker, but he keeps his sense of humour. The film is darker than the games due to the executions.
Ships
Kevin x Ellie (OTP)
Xavier x Helen (OTP)
Mason x Evelyn
Michelle x Samuel
Gia x Thomas
Victor x Margaret
Paige x Lance
Jenny x Fabian
Anna x Cameron
Kenneth x Dani (the main couple)
Proposed sponsors
Coca-Cola
Cup Noodle
Glico
Nestlé
Kracie
Nabisco
Gucci
Prada
Spike Chunsoft

Here are my ideas for the factions of the wild cats in Las Vistas. Some are friendly, some are aggressive, depending on the species, of course.
Luxury Lions The lions' faction of Las Vistas would be inspired by the wealthy aesthetics (baddie, boujee, royalcore, new money, old money, sloanies, and southern belle) and the Capitol Couture from The Hunger Games. The male lions have their signature manes, while some of the lionesses have manes on their heads only. They love to dye and style their manes and dress fabulously. Don't let their stylish theme fool you. They are very powerful warriors and they attack those who cross them.
It is common for Luxury Lions to tattoo and dye their fur in extravagant bright colors. Some lions also have gems implanted in their fur. Most of them also dress in outrageous fashion as well. Being warriors, the Luxury Lions are skilled in weapons as well, usually melee weapons. They conceal them in their outfits, accessories, or hairstyles only to use them when necessary.
The Luxury Lions' have luxurious or fancy-sounding names, like Shimmer, Glimmer, Velvet, Silk, Satin, Cashmere, Lux, Chandelier, Marvel, Gloss, or Facet. Some of them are named after precious metals (Gold, Silver, or Platinum), gemstones (Ruby, Sapphire, Diamond, Amethyst, Jasper, or Tourmaline), shiny stones (Marble or Granite), royalty (Elizabeth, Margaret, Beatrice, Henry, Arthur, or William), or expensive brands (Alex, Louis, Ralph, Lauren, Hermes or Chanel). Their pride names are also based on expensive brands (McQueen, Burberry, Dolce, Gabbana, Gucci, Versace, Salvatore, Balenciaga, and Ferragamo). The known members of the Luxury Lions are their leader, King Vuitton, Amethyst Versace, the lead singer of the Diamonds, and her boyfriend, Turquoise McQueen, the guitarist of the Diamonds.
Bollywood Tigers The tigers' faction, the Bollywood Tigers are also wealthy, but they are the fiercest warriors. They use traditional Indian dances when they fight. In their free time, they do yoga to calm their minds and bodies after a day of dancing or after fighting anyone who crosses them. Like the Luxury Lions, the Bollywood Tigers also love to dress fabulously, but not to the extent. Both male tigers and tigresses wear colorful harem pants, jodhpurs, shalwar, and churidar pants but the tigresses wear them with short tops, long tops, or kameez tunics while the male tigers wear sherwani shirts with their pants. Most of the tigresses wear blouses, saris, long skirts, and veils. They are noticeable by their colorful henna tattoo designs and they are decked out in shiny jewelry.
The tigers' names are taken from words in Hindi and they are led by Rajah and his mate, Devi. Some of the known tigers of this faction are Krishna, Lakshmi, and Heera, the drummer of the Diamonds.
Chill Jaguars The jaguars, like all big cat factions, are wealthy and vicious warriors but their aesthetic is Hispanicore and Junglecore with some details based on the Aztec, the Mayans, and the other Mesoamerican civilizations. They wear colorful clothes, complete with jewelry, flowers, and feathers. They lived a peaceful, loving, and non-violent life, but they were stealthy and they only attacked when threatened or offended. The Chill Jaguars take their names after the Aztecs, the Mayans, and other Mesoamerican languages (like Tonatiuh, Xochiquetzal, and Ollin) or they pick names in Spanish. The known members of the Chill Jaguars are their leader, Señor El Fuego, and the twin brothers, a melanistic jaguar named Tezcatlipoca, and a leucistic jaguar named Quetzalcoatl.
Vanguard Leopards The Vanguard Leopards are artists and fashion designers, with their aesthetic being Avant-garde. Like the Luxury Lions and the Bollywood Tigers, the Vanguard Leopards are also wealthy, but they are known to be innovative or experimental in their concepts or works. They take their names from Avante-Garde artists and fashion designers.
Urban Cheetahs The Urban Cheetahs are into street fashion and like their normal counterparts, they are super fast. They are known to hang out in skate parks, do parkour, make raps, and street art like graffiti, play hip hop music, break dancing, and rhythmic beatboxing. They take their names after hip hop artists or slang and love to party when celebrating. The known members of the urban cheetahs are their leader, Biggie Claws, and his daughter, Nike.
Slope Leopards The snow leopard mutes are known to dress in the snow bunny aesthetic, calling their group Slope Leopards. Their love for ski-themed fashion gave them the advantage to blend in the snow and they use skis and snowboards to fight off intruders. They are in a feud with the Clouded Tropics. When not in the snow or doing winter sports, they would warm up with a nice cup of hot chocolate, but they also love making shaved ice or ground-up ice desserts. They possess snow or ice-themed names. They are led by Elsa.
Clouded Tropics These clouded leopard mutes are known for their tropical-themed aesthetic. They wear clothes that are usually beach-friendly, mostly white clothes to help with the heat of the sun, beige colors, green and brown. They can be seen surfing, sunbathing, swimming, beachcombing, collecting herbs, seaweed, or rocks, fishing or tending to their fruit orchards, planting, boating, building and crafting shell jewelry, napping, and meditating, but they are in a feud with the Slope Leopards, who love the cold. They are also friendly with humans and some trustworthy mutes, but they fight anyone who messed with them. The Clouded Tropics prefer tropical or summer-themed names. They are led by Bondi.
Psychedelic Pumas The cougar mute faction is into bohemian aesthetic but with Native American details and psychedelia aesthetic. Like the Chill Jaguars, they are also peaceful and non-violent and they only attack when threatened or offended. They are seen playing music together, learning about other cultures, meditating, doing yoga, or, otherwise, becoming more at peace, gardening/farming, and supporting local agriculture. They use nature-themed names. Their known members
Preppynxes The lynxes' faction is known to be very preppy, and like the Luxury Lions, the Bollywood Tigers, and the Vanguard Leopards, they are also wealthy. They are polite and proper when it comes to fashion, etiquette, vocabulary, and mannerisms. They tend to be polite to their enemies, but they attack as a last resort. They love playing sports, attending social activities, or doing crafts in their free time. They are led by Norman and Connie.
Kaybug Ocelots These Ocelot mutes are inspired by Y2K aesthetics. This innovative faction of mutes is known to be tech-savvy, and they are skilled inventors. They sometimes clash with the Newton Wolves because of their ideals. They invent a lot that their territory is protected by a force field to keep out intruders, only to deactivate when letting a trustworthy person like Kipo in. The Kaybug Ocelots' leader is Chrome.
Car-acals The Caracal species of mutes live a highway life by racing their cars. They were rivals of the Scooter Skunks, who would sometimes outrace them. The names they picked out were based on car brands. Their leader is Chevrolet.
Rave Bay Cats The Bay Cat Mutes' faction is into raves and they love to party all day. Unlike the dubstep bees, the Rave Bay Cats are generally friendly with humans and mutes alike, and they only attack when they are offended. The Rave Bay Cats get a sense of unity regardless when raving, bringing both mutes and humans together as one. Their leader is DJ MR-BL.
Jaguar-Trendi The Jaguarundi mutes got inspired by the hipsters that they formed their own faction based on it. They are known to flaunt a varied non-mainstream fashion sensibility, wearing vintage and thrift store-bought clothing, hold pacifist and green views, consume organic and artisanal foods, craft alcoholic beverages; and live alternative lifestyles. They are led by Quirky.
Decora Leopard Cats Addicted to the Decora aesthetic, the faction of Leopard Cats love to dress in bright and vivid colored outfits with an excessive amount of decoration. They love to party and hang out in colorful cafes. They are on good terms with some mute factions, like the Luxury Lions, but they tend to be disgusted when seeing the goth apes. Their leader is Hadeko.
Witchy Felis The Felis wild cat mutes' faction is centered around the themes of witchcraft, due to the fact that cats are associated with witches. Like the Chevre Sisters, the Witchy Felis are friendly, but when crossed, they can attack the offender. They are known to perform spells, magic, or gem collecting, and they take their names from nature or the stars. They are led by the Head Witch Luna.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
The first time I met Julie was at the Kirby County Annual Summer Fair. She was involved in the local 4H, which meant stable detail and a week of doting on every racehorse and bucking bronco in the Pacific Northwest. Julie was in love with horses, as many young girls are, but this wasn’t any passing phase. She owned two mares, paid for with her own money, and kept them well fed on a small plot just outside of Kirby.
Being a popular young musician in a small town (I had just turned fifteen), I was asked to play drums in a family-friendly country band playing songs in the key of Jesus. It would only be for one week when the band would have the afternoon slot on the fair’s main stage. It would also be my first paid gig as a professional drummer.
During our first set, I saw the prettiest face staring up at me from the dirt lawn in front of the stage. I smiled back at the young lady, whom I could tell was my age or close to, and watched her wander back to the stable before the song was over. When the set ended, I quickly packed up my gear and headed for the stables, a place I normally wouldn’t be caught dead if I could help it. I was no farm boy. I liked music, skateboarding, and video games. Any and all things cowboy were intimidating and foreign to me.
I looked around for the girl and found her packing hay into a pouch on one of the stable doors.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” She said back to me.
“You didn’t stay for the set.”
“I saw what I wanted to see. Besides, I’m on the clock.”
“Need help?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. Working in a stable was the last thing I wanted to do or knew anything about. The girl gave me a funny look.
“See those hay bales over there? Bring one of them over.”
I looked around stupidly for the hay bales, which were in tall stacks behind me. I walked over and grabbed one. From the middle. I suppose I thought the bales on top would fall perfectly into the open slot, like Tetris bars. Forty pounds of tightly packed hay toppled onto me, which in hindsight could have been a very serious situation if I hadn't been quick on my feet. Still, getting clipped by that much hay put me flat on my ass.
The girl was laughing, hard, and I’ll never forget the sound. It was infectious — so much so that I couldn’t help but laugh back. I got up, brushed off the dirt along with my hurt pride, heaved up one of the fallen bales, and brought it to her.
“Thanks,” She said sarcastically.
“No sweat. What’s your name?”
“Julie. What’s yours?”
“Trevor.”
“Well, Trevor, you better get to work on stacking those hay bales.”
I was staring at a picture of Julie and myself standing outside the Kirby County Racetrack during our Junior year. Julie had won first prize for horse riding. It was a happy day. Julie had scrawled on the bottom of the photo the words “Couldn’t have done it without you, love!” In silver sharpie.
A box labeled “JULIE” was upended on the floor, its contents scattered. Cards, pictures, notebooks, a t-shirt she gave me, funny toy gifts which made us laugh, it was all out in the open now. The last thing I removed from the bottom of the box was a small velvet case containing a diamond ring that once belonged to my grandmother. I presented it to Julie in the equestrian park the week after we graduated high school.
Both of our parents were against the marriage. My family liked Julie, but our relationship had gone through some rocky terrain over the past four years. We were each other’s first everything, and the stampede of young love had trampled over the both of us, leaving us wounded and tired. We were too young, moving too fast. Both eighteen, going on nineteen, and already Julie had found us an affordable apartment where we could finally live together. It had always been our dream, and we thought it would solve all our problems.
But when we were fifteen years old, neither of us had a care for the future. After seven days of playing fair games, riding rides, stable work, and watching the local bands play, our summer tryst at the county fair was coming to an end. But all was not lost! We found out we would both be attending Hawthorn High School in the fall, and miraculously we were placed in the same geology class. It was lunch together and meeting after school to make out behind the school from the first day of freshman year, to the last.
Like many high school couples, we explored our bodies in the backs of cars, or occasionally in our own beds when our parents were away. We both had middle-class families, but where my family was even and without conflict, Julie’s was pure turmoil. Julie had never known her real mother, and her father never spoke about it.
Trinity, Julie’s stepmother, was a difficult woman. She was mentally abusive toward Julie and had hit her on at least two occasions which I was aware of. It is my assumption that Trinity’s anger toward Julie was of a jealous nature, jealous of her beauty, and her potential. Trinity was a sick woman, her type two diabetes jailing her from the true joys of life, and was constantly suffering nerve damage.
By contrast, Julie was healthy and maturing fast. Suddenly, Trinity’s stepdaughter was on the way to what looked like a happy marriage to a young man who loved her dearly. Trinity was in our way at every point in our relationship, and this constant body of antagonism only fueled the elaborate and sentimental dreams of our future.
We began to refer to ourselves as “Husband and Wife” in our sophomore year. I was Julie’s savior from her difficult home life, the rescuer who would fly her away to a safe perch on high where she truly belonged. Our little home would be perfect, just the right size for us. Julie talked about it constantly, how right everything would fit, it’s “Hypothetical Feng Shui” as she used to say.
We discovered far more about ourselves than just how our bodies worked together. I discovered my own jealous nature when she would spend any time with her male friends, which she had many of. Julie discovered her propensity for self-deprecation, of feeling she was never good enough. These were the flint rocks of our worst fights.
Junior year we took what I suppose you could call a “Break” which lasted only a week, but was a deep and lasting cut in the body of our relationship. We had been seeing too much of each other; Julie had elected to be an assistant for my varsity soccer coach (a teacher we both adored) and being on the team I struggled to appropriately divide my relationship life from my athletic life. My coach found me distracted, moody, and unfit to play varsity ball that year.
When senior year came around, I was announced Prom King, but Julie was passed as Queen. Though she was, without doubt, the most beautiful girl in school, she was not preppy, or popular. Julie was far too concerned with her riding and more and more involved with new age-y therapy treatments. I think the sight of me, paired with a different girl as Prom King and Queen, really upset her. Sad really, how much credence we give to meaningless high school traditions.
Real problems did not arise until we were living in an apartment that neither of our parents would be helping us with financially in any way, and trying to plan a wedding we would have to arrange and pay for ourselves.
Julie had always been on the pill. It was prescribed to her as an aid to her anemia. Because of this continual contraception, we had started having unprotected sex very quickly in our relationship. During the second month of living in our new apartment, Julie tested positive on a pregnancy test. She had stopped taking the pill due to a hormonal issue, but we didn’t work hard enough to stop our habit.
An abortion would have been difficult financially, but the truth is we loved each other and wanted to keep the child. It was a terrifying thought, but it was also the fruition of our fantasy as a couple. It was how we always pictured ourselves together: a home of our own, a baby on the way.
For a short time, we both had everything we wanted.
Six weeks later, Julie had a sonogram which went well. The doctor said she was in good condition. I’ll never know what went wrong, but during the fifth week, she woke up one night bleeding heavily and didn’t stop for nine days. She was nauseous, up late vomiting, passing large blood clots, and growing bitter toward a boy whom she was falling out of love with. I was too young to know how to handle the situation maturely, and I came off as passive and unhelpful.
The miscarriage was clinically confirmed, and Julie became depressed. Trinity had paid for the bulk of the doctor’s visits, and two months later, after one particularly ferocious night of arguing, she convinced Julie to break off our engagement.
Over those two months, Julie and I also had a fair number of spats and petty disagreements. I have always wanted to blame Trinity for the way our relationship ended, for causing Julie to fall out of love with me. The truth is I was a selfish and unsupportive partner.
Julie was getting more involved with eastern philosophy, going on weekend camping retreats with a group of people I referred to as “dirties”, and sounding more and more like a hippy every day. What she wanted was more frivolity, more spontaneity, yet she also wanted to stay put in Idaho, to be a homebody. What she had in me was a moody, sensitive boyfriend who wanted to leave town, live on the road, and tour with a famous band. Our dream, which was once in tandem, was becoming a separate fiction.
Though we were no longer engaged to be married, neither of us was mature enough to end the relationship outright. Both of us were waiting for the other to do so. Our relationship reached a catastrophic point when Julie called me “Ryan” in her sleep. When I confronted her the next morning about it, she told me it was just someone she knew from her camping retreats, that it meant nothing.
I learned from one of Julie’s friends that she was sleeping with this “Ryan” guy and that Julie had slept with two of her close male friends during our “break” in Junior year, something I was always paranoid of. I even accused her of it many times prior to our break, and because of that, she took the chance when it came to her.
After being found out, Julie came clean about all of it in a way that came off as slightly proud. I moved my stuff out of the apartment the following week.
I think my last words to Julie were “Goodbye, I guess. I’ll probably never see you again.”
And I wouldn’t. She was gone. All I will ever have of her are these things. These tokens of her, of our love, cherished and stored away in a cardboard box for nine years.
I was holding the picture so tightly it was curling in my hand. My eyes darted from Julie to myself in the picture, stress around my eyes, a fragile, careful smile. Julie was elated, her cheeks red from the surprise of her win, the happiest I had seen her that year.
Something went click in my head. Looking at the both of us side by side, I realized something which made a muscle in my neck pinch. Pearl had Julie’s eyes. But that wasn’t all, Pearl’s upturned nose, and soft chin also belonged to Julie. Pearl’s hair was blonde and fine. Just like my own. She had a sharper jawline than Julie, similar to mine. The way Pearl smiled was just like Julie smiled in this picture, yet Pearl’s is always slightly favoring the right side of her face, just like mine always has.
The sheer bizarreness of this discovery brought me out of my depression. It was all I could think about for the majority of the morning as I packed up a small suitcase with a week's worth of clothing. The ringing was still present in my ears but at this point, I was so used to its company I barely acknowledged it.
I arrived at the airport and paid for the earliest ticket To Kirby International. It was a long way away, and I would be arriving at two in the morning.
The flight to my connection in Salt Lake was long and the middle-aged lady seated next to me was obviously put out by my presence. I hadn’t showered or shaved before I left the house, and I suppose I looked pretty shady. Twice she made attempts to distance herself from me and even asked for a different seat. I didn’t care too much.
The second flight wasn’t full, and I didn’t have to sit next to anyone. I was free to spread my legs a little and sleep almost came, but with it also came images of myself against that great tree, arrow in my chest, my skin decayed and revealing the bones beneath.
An Uber brought me to the front door of my parents’ house in one of the outer neighborhoods of the town of Kirby. The town had grown exponentially in the last few years, far beyond the scope of the original town layout. My parents have had the benefit of seeing their property appreciate in value, and the misery of seeing their once quiet and peaceful town flood with big-city people with big-city money.
Standing there, at the threshold of the house I grew up in, I realized I hadn’t been home in nearly nine years. My parents had come to visit me in New York many times, but I had never returned. Obstinance, anger, fear, it had all kept me in New York. I had busied myself, drowning myself in work, always looking for an excuse to stay in NYC anytime my parents would wish me to come home.
I tried at the door handle and found it unlocked as it usually was. The door was never locked when I lived here, not even overnight. I don’t think anyone in the neighborhood locked their front doors, even when I was a kid. Once inside, I was assailed by the smell of the house — a mixture of wood-shop and herbs de province, a favorite of my mother’s constant cooking. Stumbling my way in the dark, I navigated around furniture and piles of books and magazines which would find themselves rearranged periodically by a bored housewife nearly every week.
Old habits had taken control of my muscles, guiding me to my old bedroom, but when I opened the door, I saw my mother, asleep in my bed. The room was far more her own now, though little shadows of my arrangement could still be found: a poster advertising my high school band’s first show, a fake stuffed moose head, and a collection of drum-sticks from every Hard Rock Cafe I had ever been to. My Mom loved collecting things, and the drumsticks were a way for us to keep track of all the places we’d been. When I was on the road with Crawler, I would send her a new pair as if they were a postcard, marking my stops on tour.
I shut the door gently and headed for the living room couch which had no shortage of comfy blankets and pillows. But instead of the old comfy couch, I found a brand new, stiff, and unfamiliar sectional. I reluctantly planted myself down on the cushions - if you could call them that - and drifted off, uncomfortably, into my world of sleep where I found Pearl waiting for me.
I woke up in the morning to the sound of my hysterical Mother shaking me awake, asking me why I was home, what was wrong, and a bunch of other questions I couldn’t comprehend. I couldn’t tell if my Mom was furious or elated. I’m sure she felt both. She was scared, and also extremely happy to see me.
“You could have called to let us know, we would have been there to pick you up at the airport.” She sobbed out.
“Sorry” was all I managed to mumble. My head was pounding, and all I could think about was the dream I had just woken up from.
“Honey, you look terrible… What happened to you? What happened to your head?” She asked.
“It’s fine, it’s all fine, I just needed to come home.” I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and reached for my pack where I kept a change of clothes.
“We’re you in an accident? Are you in trouble?” She said, unsteadily.
“Mom, I’m okay. It was a little hiking accident, I can probably take this thing off in a day or two.”
“I don’t understand,” said my Mom. I think she realized I wasn’t about to go into any details. I put some distance between us while the memory of last night's dream rattled around in my head.
In my dream, Pearl had demanded something… absurd. So absurd, I was trying my best not to lash out in anger.
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s on a hunting trip. He’ll be home tonight.”
I nodded and left the living room, heading for the shower.
“Three days” Pearl had said in my dream. I had three days to collect what I needed. When I was ready, I would do what she had asked of me on the night of the third day.
“Have you seen any stray cats around town?” Was the first thing I asked my Mother as we sat at the dining room table to eat the omelet she had made for us.
“The neighbor’s cat likes to sit on our porch. Sometimes he gets into the garage. Really pisses your Dad off.”
“I meant more like a real stray — like, not obviously owned by anyone.”
“You’re not planning to bring a cat home, are you?”
There was subtle anguish in my Mom’s voice that had nothing to do with the prospect of a stray cat loose in her house. She was terribly worried about me.
“No, not at all. I’m sorry, I probably sound crazy, but I have to go on a few errands, and explaining it all would probably make you think I actually was crazy. Which I’m not. So, if you have seen any stray cats around while driving or walking through town in the last few days, I’d really appreciate knowing where that was.”
She looked scared, and I hated myself for being so curt toward her.
“You could try the areas by the high school.” She said without looking at me.
The neighborhoods surrounding my old high school were all low income, mostly worn down trailer-houses on neglected lawns beset by droopy trees. I spent the whole morning and most of the afternoon wandering up and down those dismal streets until I found my first cat. He was a tousled-up grey and walked with the geriatric imbalance of an old man.
I reached into my pack, took out one of the cans of cat food I had brought with me, and waved it out for the old grey. He stared at me for a moment, then promptly walked away. I made the mistake of taking a step toward him too quickly and he scampered off beneath a fence into an overgrown backyard jungle.
After circling the block for forty-five minutes or so, I found him again, laying in the shadow of some rubber trash bins. I set out the food before him, close as I could get without spooking him. He rose to his feet, arching his back, and nosed the can of food. I didn’t wait for another opportunity. I picked him up and tossed him in the sack where I kept the cans of food and tightened the string to keep it closed. The cat freaked, clawing me hard through my sweater as I held him. He kicked and mewled inside the bag, but his claws couldn’t pierce the hard fabric. I rushed back to my Mom’s car which she had lent me for the day, tossed the bagged cat into the back, and drove away hoping my actions had gone unnoticed.
“I need it to be Iron. Specifically Iron.” I said to the clerk working at the local building supply shop.
“Okay, an iron rod it is. Cut to what size?”
“Uh, two feet? I need four of them.”
“What are you making?”
This is the kind of thing I was really trying to avoid. Not only did what I was doing make little sense to me, but it was also incredibly disgusting.
“Uh... stakes. For a tent.” I replied.
“Oh, hell, why not just buy a pre-made set?”
“I have to make them myself.”
“You’re gonna forge the sharp end yourself?” He looked at me like I wasn’t fit for the job.
“Yeah. I’ll need, uhm… the thing to hold them, too. When they’re hot.”
“Tongs.” The man said, scrutinizing me.
“Tongs. Yeah. My last pair broke.” I said trying not to break eye contact.
“Seems like a lot of work for tent stakes.”
My dad is a hunter, a true outdoorsman, and he has a huge workspace in his garage to sharpen knives, load his own shotgun shells, and dress any of his kills from grouse to elk. The garage had everything I needed to build a small open forge in the backyard. I dug a small trench into the ground just beyond the cement patio. The patio itself would serve as my anvil. I filled the tent with charcoal and connected my Mom’s hairdryer to a long extension cord from the house, which I would use as a bellows. It would still take a long time to heat the iron, but it worked.
I could feel my Mother watching me from the kitchen window, like a prickling sensation on the back of my neck as I hammered the iron rod to a point on both ends. I’m surprised she didn’t try to stop me, considering the damage I could be doing to her precious yard. She must have been pretty shaken up. It broke my heart to think of my Mom as someone who was scared of me, but I saw no way out of my situation other than to do exactly as Pearl asked.
"Trust me.” She had said. “What we have done, what we will do, it will make your dream come true.” But I knew it was futile. Julie was gone. Pearl was all I had left.
It was well into the night when I finished all four bars, each of them etched with a symbol that Pearl had shown me; the point of two arrows overlapping in opposite directions with a line crossing through them vertically. It looked like something you would see in a Tolkien novel.
After dismantling the forge, and packing the dirt back in, I made my way through the house to the garage door with my tools and was startled to find my Mom sitting on the sectional, looking worried.
“Trevor… what’s going on with you?”
“Mom, it’s late, you should be in bed.”
“This isn’t like you. You haven’t been home in so long, and now you’re lighting fires in the yard, I don’t understand.”
“I’ll be out of your way in a few days.”
“I don’t want you to be out of my way, I want you home, I just want to know what’s happened to you, honey. You’re… you’re not yourself.”
“It’s nothing to worry about. Can I have my bed back? I’d like to get some sleep.”
She stood up, sighing, and sadly made her way upstairs.
That night I dreamt of a house. Not Pearl’s house, but a small bungalow with a fitting little yard and only darkness beyond it. In the yard behind the house was a large tree leering down at me like a strict guardian. I stood outside the fence, staring at the house for the whole night.
The next morning, our neighbor, Shelly, came to visit. My Mom had answered the door, and Shelly asked if her cat had snuck into our garage again last night, as she couldn’t seem to find him anywhere.
“I haven’t seen him around. I’ll check the garage.” said my Mom.
“I’ll check it,” I said, quickly, heading her off.
“Oh my god, is that Trevor?” Said Shelly.
“Hi, Shelly,” I said with a smile.
“Oh, Tina, you must be in heaven. How long are you home for, Trevor?”
“Just a few days.”
“Only a few days! But it’s been so long since I’ve seen you around here.”
“It’s been a long time.” I agreed. “Let me go check the garage.”
After a minute of waiting, I hit the button to open the garage and walked out to meet Shelly.
“Can’t seem to find him, Shelly. I thought he might have gotten under the sawhorses, but there’s no sign of him.”
“Okay, well, he usually turns up. He’ll get hungry.”
“I’m sure he will. I’ll keep the garage open in case I missed him.”
“It’s good to see you, Trevor. I’m sure your Mom is just thrilled to have you home, even for a short time.”
There were two older cats who were available for adoption at the pet clinic. It wasn’t difficult, just a few signatures and a short background check. I purchased as much as I needed to look like a proud new cat parent; comfy cat beds, a few toys, food and milk trays, even a scratchboard. Honestly, I overdid it, but I went home with two cats and very few questions.
That night my father came home from his hunting trip. When he saw me sitting in the living room, he almost shouted -- anger being his emotion of choice when surprised. He wasn’t angry at me, just angry for the sake of it.
“The point is, I’m here for a few days,” I said, firmly. “How was the hunt? Bring anything home?”
“I got myself four snowshoes. Big ones, too, lotta meat.”
“Need any help with them?” I asked. Surprise glided across my father’s brow. I was never eager to help him with anything growing up,
“They just need butchering. I can do it just fine.”
“Let me help. You show me how to do one, and I can finish up while you watch the game.”
I was betting he would appreciate the offer, and I was right.
Once we were out in the garage, my father had me sharpen an extra hunting knife before showing me where to cut and why. A lot of blood had already drained from the bullet wound in the head of the rabbit, but it was still pretty messy. It took about a half-hour for me to get the skin off, and all the organs out.
I was getting used to the feeling of muscle and tendon against the blade, but I struggled with the smell of the carcass.
“Rip, rip hard, son.”
My Dad gave me a bowl to place the livers in, and I nearly gagged while holding them, but I was determined to reach some level of comfortability.
I took the rabbit’s heart in my hands and gave it a good long look before putting it in the bowl.
I went through one more rabbit under the stern guidance of my father. We didn’t speak much, we never did, but the discomfort of each other’s presence was beginning to fade.
“I think I can take it from here,” I said after I was through wrapping up the meat from the first two rabbits, and placing the packs into the chest freezer. I was careful to keep the lid as closed as possible as I did so.
“You sure? You still look a little green.” My Dad said, eying me.
“I’ll manage.”
“Always cut away from yourself.”
“I know, Dad.”
“Thanks for your help, Trevor. That was fun. For me, anyway. It’s — good to have you home.”
He nodded at me, heading for the door, but then turned one last time.
“You know, you’ve really rattled your mother.”
I didn’t have a response, just lowered my head a little, as I began slicing away fur from muscle.
“If something is going on, something bad, you can tell us, Trevor. If you need help... we’ll support you.”
I only nodded. Eventually, I heard the door shut, and when I looked back I saw only my Dad’s boots, left outside the door.
I went to sleep only after I was finished with my preparations for the third night. Again, I dreamt of the little house with the tall tree in the backyard. However, in this dream, I could see the surrounding neighborhood. I had seen it before, in my youth. It was a neighborhood on the outside of town near the stable where Julie kept her horses. The house was unchanged, but I noticed it did not fit in with its surroundings. The other houses in the neighborhood were larger, with wider plots of land. This house was certainly the smallest around, and its purple-blue paint stood out among the muted tones of the other houses.
The next day was a beautiful, pleasant day which I utterly wasted by fretting it away in my old bedroom. I was terribly worried about the task I was about to undertake after sundown.
My parents had gone to sleep around eleven, but I waited until about two in the morning just to be safe. I made my way through the dark halls of my parent's home, which was altogether nostalgic and thrilling. Sneaking out of my parents’ home was something I often did when I was a teenager. Always to see Julie for a night, leaving before sunrise.
I packed in my duffel and started my Dad’s pickup, which was always parked in the driveway.
I had to make a stop at a farm not too far from my parents’ house. It was owned by a Russian family. I had gone to school with their youngest son, who often threw barnyard parties in the summer. This family always won prizes for something at the Kirby County Fair, be it milk, big bunny rabbits, or apple pie. I was pretty certain I would find what I needed.
I made sure to park as close as I could reasonably get away with. I searched the big barn first, naturally, it wasn’t locked. Nothing ever is around here. The big barn only had horses, but I found the goats and sheep in the smaller adjacent barn.
Using a few carrots, I enticed one of the goats to follow me. I looped a rope leash around his neck and kept feeding him as I lead him out of the barn, but my flashlight spooked the nearby chicken coop. A bunch of chicken noises happened all at once, and the goat almost took off, but I gave him a sharp tug and ran him back to the truck. I didn’t turn back to see if anyone followed, I just lifted the goat into the truck-bed and hauled ass out of there.
Almost an hour later, I was across town in the right neighborhood. I followed the street signs I recognized from the previous night and passed the house, which looked exactly as it had in my dreams. I would need to enter the yard from the street behind it, which was called the “old road”. It was without a sidewalk, and lead the way to various housing plots, but never sidled up along any. The yard of the house was fenced off, but it faced that old road.
Using my Dad’s tree trimmers, I made an opening in the fencing large enough for myself and the goat.
No lights were on in the house, and I was a long-distance away, but I was small and slow with my movements nonetheless. Come to think of it, I had no idea if anyone lived there at all. I assumed there was at least an owner by the cut of the lawn, and there was a small garden nearer to the house, though it looked uncared for.
I tied the goat to the lowest branch of the tree in the backyard and set my duffel down at the trunk. I took out the four spikes I had crafted, and a club hammer my Dad kept around for his usual summer project around the house. With a few hits, I drove each spike into the ground around the tree, trying to stay quiet. One spike due north, closest to the house, one south on the far side of the tree, and the other two at east and west, my phone’s built-in compass giving me directions.
I put on my Dad’s hunting gloves and reached into the duffel pulling out one of the four freezer ziplock bags, this one containing the frozen head of the old grey cat I had caught. I placed the open end of his neck upon the northern spike, facing out. The heads of the two adoptees were placed on the east and west spikes.
The last ziplock had the head of the neighbor’s cat inside. It hadn’t had enough time to freeze the way the others had and it was the messiest to deal with, but I cannot pretend I didn’t take any pleasure in knowing it would no longer be a nuisance to my parents. I stuck the head on the southern spike, head facing south.
It must have been the smell of blood that spooked the goat, and I gave it a wide birth while staying within the boundaries of the spikes.
“Once the final feline head is placed, do not pass any one of them…” Pearl had said.
With everything in place, I took out the hunting knife I had used to behead the cats and approached the tree. The goat started to bleat and run, cutting its own windpipe off with the resistance of the rope. I let the animal exhaust itself until it keeled over. Using the knife, I began carving into the bark of the tree. A U shape at the top, with a long line going down and ending with a circle, a point at its center. A long line across, an opposing half-moon on each end, and nine notches on the vertical line. It was the symbol I had seen floating above the door of light, back in Greenwood Cemetery.
The words came to me, as they did in the dream, whispered to me by Pearl. I spoke them aloud as I carved the symbol, as instructed.
“Berald... Beroald... Balbim... Gab... Gabor... Agaba” I repeated this until the symbol was clearly defined.
I raised the knife and noticed something unusual. The tinnitus I had grown so used to over the last few days had changed from the harsh ringing to the most beautiful harmonious overtone, like a chorus of heavenly tuning forks struck in tandem.
“Berald...”
The goat’s eyes met mine for a pleading moment.
“Beroald...”
I brought the knife down, boring the blade into its head.
“Balbim...”
The animal crumpled as blood poured from the wound. I wrenched out the knife.
“Gab...”
I made another cut into the base of the neck at the shoulders.
“Gabor...”
I carved the knife inward, severing the head from the body.
“Agaba.” The knife ripped through the hide at the opposite shoulder, and the head fell, blood pooling on the ground, and though it flowed in all directions it could not break the boundary of the stakes.
The sound of all things began to fade; the overtones, the deeper thrumming in my chest, the wind in the air, the gushing of blood. All of it receded into quiet as if the earth’s master volume fader was slowly dialed back.
Such peace was in that moment, such black serenity, a singular moment without pressure, pain, or identifiable feeling weighing down on me.
I removed the heads of the cats, placed them back into the freezer bags, and walked to the truck. I took out the garden shovel from the truck bed and began digging a hole in the earth near the old road where I eventually buried the gloves, the knife, the stakes, the cat heads, and the carcass of the goat.
Returning home felt unnatural, like the place no longer welcomed me. Passing through the front door felt cold and difficult as if something resistance kept me out. I made it to my old room, which my Mom had let me use again, and lay on my old bed where I had slept next to Julie many nights without my parents knowing. Uneasy, restless nights, waiting for the alarm to go off when we would have to wake up early to sneak her back out, promising each other futures of sleeping in with each other in our own house.
“One day, we won’t have to wake up. We’ll sleep as long as we like, have breakfast in bed, and we’ll be happy. One day.” That was our dream.
That night I slept and dreamt of Pearl. I was in a candlelit room with crimson curtains draping the walls. The entire floor was soft as a downy mattress, and I sprawled out on it, naked. Above me, Pearl’s golden hair floated down, and her lips pressed against mine. She looked different, somehow; shorter, more supple. As we folded into the kiss, I felt another set of lips making their way up my legs. I looked down past Pearl to see another Pearl looking up at me, coquettish, and devious. It was Pearl’s face sure enough, but it seemed the proportions of her body were different, taller somehow. I looked back up at the Pearl nearest my head and found her breasts, grazing them softly with my lips and tongue, feeling the other Pearl explore my lower half.
“You saved us, Trevor.” The two Pearls said together, their voices low and languid.
“Our handsome knight.” Came Pearl’s voice from the right, separate from the other two. This third Pearl made her way out of the shadowy curtains, striding over, and joining the Pearl at my lower half. Again, this Pearl was distinctly different in proportion to the other two, hips slightly wider, neck slightly longer. She and the other Pearl took me in their hands and mouths, messaging, licking up and down, until the third Pearl swung her leg over, straddling my hips.
“I love you, Trevor”. They all said as one. The Pearl at my head lifted away from me, and I felt a small, jealous urge to pull her back to me, but a fourth Pearl bared down upon me, kissing my neck, as the other made her way to my right hand, placing my fingers in her mouth. This new Pearl was less gentle and whispered words like “faster” and “harder” into my ear. I moved my hips at the pace of her command, as the four Pearls cried out together in one unanimous orgasm.
The stimulus, the absolute beauty of the dream around me, was causing me to lose control of my breath. The nearest Pearl cupped my face in her hand, looking at me with a love so sure and comforting. “Easy, my knight. Let my love release your worry.” She hummed in my ear.
“I am yours forever,” said a fifth Pearl. This one floated down from the ceiling in a white gossamer dress, and I could tell that this was the Pearl I had seen in all my prior dreams. The true Pearl. The other four receded, making way for this queen of dreams to fall gently upon me, over me, around me, our bodies connecting naturally, as bodies were designed to. The other four took me by each limb, and every part of my body was covered in kisses like trickles of spring rain. My eyes rolled back, and the strain in every muscle of my body was released by this erotic acupuncture.
I awoke this morning to the soft falling of snow outside my window, covering the lawn in the most perfect shade of white.
I will update more soon.

To mark the 414th episode of Omnibus (because I missed the round number of 400 and won't wait until 500), here's every speculation by Ken and John on the podcast about what the Futurelings will look like, smell like, be like, etc. This is from a notes file on my phone, so maybe I've missed some. Episodes that aren't listed contain no speculations.
(I shared a previous versions of this, but the posts are now archived so can't update it or comment)
​
Intro episode
Cockroaches, presumably.
​
European Starling
Starlings are the only bird left in North America, replacing the Eagle as the symbol of the country.
Live in a community of pacifism and pure energy... who have better taste than current people and revere the Long Winters, and use his track as a National Anthem.
Maybe half goat half person that like peeing on themselves.
​
Defenestration
Futurelings live in a world called Battlefield Earth.
Insectile claw into record grooves to listen to Omnibus.
​
Marathon of 1904
Giant. Megafauna.
Blocks of cheese, or maybe Ents?
​
The Pig War
All living in utopian Cascadia.
No Facebook... and no faces either.
​
Smell-o-vision
Giant moles, smelling the podcast, not hearing it.
​
The Rachel
May be wearing a haircut called the Ken Jennings.
​
Tesseract
Live on potato starch... worship the potato.
​
Water Wars
3.5 feet tall horned toads that lick moisture off rocks.
Listening thousands of feet underground at the water table.
​
Gadsby
Live in hives.
Eat massive 12,000 pound ducks that last the entire futureling’s life.
Click mandibles to write letters.
​
Secret Order of the Double Sunrise
Listening from Singapore which has a billion people, part of a global hive.
Have gossamer dragonfly wings due to evolvolution.
Houston and New York are part of the same megalopolis.
They all have an AI John Roderick in their treehouses.
​
Darien Gap
Sentient fish who live underwater and look at submerged trees.
​
Heil Honey I’m Home!
No such thing as race in futurelings.
All rooms only have three walls due to the main architectural influence being family sitcoms.
​
Monrovia
Old futurelings watch Jeopardy hosted by Alex Trebec’s head in a jar of nutrients.
Might all be part of the Canadian Hegemony.
Mandibles clicking in excitement.
Live in 55,000 small nation states.
​
Kohoutek
Giant Cockroaches again
Twitter became SkyNet and Omnibus is recorded for it.
​
Sentinelese
All left handed, or left mandibled, pincered, winged.
​
Paris Syndrome
Live in prairie dog burrows.
All are descendants of France or Québécois and eat Camembert.
Clack mandibles and speak the Lingua Franca: English.
​
Thomas Midgley
ConAgra is now the world government, and each corn kernel is a full meal.
Population of:
300,000
Or
300 billion living in a superstructure that extends out past the orbit of the moon.
A lot live in 10,000 year old house with lead paint.
​
Mummy Brown
Cockroaches that snort cocaine and find arrows through the head funny.
​
Mutually Assured Destruction
Chuckle into their sleeves.
​
Death disks
the president is a sentient coral reef
Sentient spam in the form of a giant clam
​
Hat etiquette:
Omnibites vs Nonmibites
​
Bellamy salute:
All wrapped in flags
​
Oneida:
All using Oneida silverware.
​
Megafauna:
All a single organism like an Aspen forest?
​
Zuider Zee
All Dutch
​
Rubber Barons
Play future golf with human sacrifice
They are crows (only corn is made in the future)
​
Mary Anning
Cloud of flying mollusks
​
Tuvan throat singing.
Star fish with no sensory equipment
​
Hachiko
Egyptian Hieroglyph Dogs who can write
Descended from British Royal Skye Terrier
With snake and/or tarantulas as pets.
​
Call signs
All live inside Radioshacks
Angels of Mons
Have tentacles
​
Hypercolor
Cold blooded and climb rocks to bask under the many suns
​
Bit Tawil
Live under an unfriendly draconian Pope who has sex with his cousin and inspires future Martin Luthers.
​
Checkerboarding
Have super-crania and can access any record at will from a web of information.
Different parts of the hive mind listen to different Omnibus episodes at one time.
Old timey prospectors, with no teeth, making sourdough bread... but in the asteroid belt.
​
Washington Generals
Type with claws translating via babelfish. Or maybe they are babelfish.
​
Backyard Blast Furnaces
Vermont farmers on collective farms.
Again, aspens spread world wide, all communicating through the connected root network.
​
William Rufus King
Everyone lives in Pearce Country
Sentient descendants of the hepatitis plague.
​
Tylenol Murders
Ectoplasm lives next door, might need to be murdered.
Listeners turn off when they hear about Facebook, as it is as bad as slavery.
​
Moon illusion
Live on planets Musk and Bezos
6 feet long probiscus noses double prehensile noses
Run on their noses with a Fitbit in the crepuscular crevice
​
Spanish Fly
Hundred noses cushballs only reproducing due to bremelanotide.
New date era is AF - after Facebook
​
Gordon Lish
Octopuses all with names that rhyme with “ayden”.
​
Port Chicago Disaster
nope
​
Duchenne Smiles
Faceless, no expressions.
​
Preppy Handbook
Sentient muscles that breath air and live above the sea. Their hive mind is deciding on one blazer for all or individual pieces for each muscle.
Maybe crocodiles or polo horses with human looking-heads attached
Maybe sentient Ivy League college campuses.
​
St. Martin Fistula
Eat bugs. And humans. Through their tentacles.
​
Bugatti Chiron
Travel with flying toilet lids
​
The Conqueror
Sentient algae carpets
Aging creatures with metal detectors.
Sentient four leaf clovers walking around.
​
Boysenberry
Not four legs, lobster people, live in a wreckage of the world where it is always hot. Or in a constant brush fire. Or a glacier.
Four dimensional listeners who see time as a solid object, and are looking at Ken and John “now”.
​
Billy the Pygmy Hippo
Reanimated taxidermy animals?
​
The Koryo Saram
Sentient hat racks.
Sentient labradors who are colorblind
Sentient rods and cones, and the rods are very racists against cones.
Sentient colours?
​
War Rugs
Octopus with a Hitler watercolor painting.
Prayer rugs made of algae and anemones
​
Christian Science Reading Rooms
Grey multi-tentacled old ladies volunteering.
​
Washbär
Raccoons, of course, with opposable thumbs, listening by feeling toffee with grooves.
​
Voyager Golden Records
100% nipples
​
Greek Fire
All Bulgars and Hessians
​
Barefoot Burglar
Have hearing oriffices, and should never insert anything smaller than their tentacle.
​
D-Day Crosswords
Tell time by tides. All amphibious.
​
Michael Rockefeller
Sorted the problem of mad cow disease when eating the brains of their enemies.
Sentient kangaroos?
​
Ea-Nassir
Sentient robots who pay for lubricant with 3D printed meat as their currency.
Communicate historical tweets via empathetic goop.
​
59 Les Paul Standard
Stylus in each tentacle to listen to the gold records holding the Omnibus episodes.
​
Inversion Goggles
Giant ants. Or Jains who don’t want to kill ants.
​
The Berkeley Pit
Copper beings evolved from the bacteria in the pit.
Decemberists wrote the national anthem.
​
Saint Helena Submarine Plot
Nautilus shellfish.
​
Anarchist Cookbook
Consume content through various receptor
Listening in the aftermath of the violent revolution inspired by the Anarchist Cookbook Movie adaptation.
​
Fourth Crusade
Omniscient clouds that already know all of the Omnibus.
Or
Citizens of a decadent cultured empire besieged by a spartan barbarian enemy.
​
Anita Bryant
Borg Blobs
​
Hilbert Hotel
Solve the Hilbert Problems before breakfast. And the Riemann Hypothesis too.
No “guys”. No genders. The only guys are holding boats to piers. They are nautical. Every day is Talk Like A Pirate Day.
Gleep Glop Language based on infinity.
​
Jefferson, State of
All futurelings live in California.
​
Disco Demolition
Baseball evolved into sentient. Round horse balls.
Everyone is a Jehovah’s Witness.
​
Albanian
Sentient Bulgarian algae mats
​
Mail Trucks
Future sentient mail trucks?
​
Dancing Mania
Nope
​
Blue Men of the Sahara
Cloud tentacles in sulphuric seas listening to podcasts across the oceans.
​
Tsar Bomba
Nope
​
Pokémon Go
Actually self-aware Pokémon in a virtual world in the cloud.
Giant sircades?
Islamic fearmongers?
Intelligent chem trails?
Mosquitoes complaining about Omnibus on Facebook.
​
Hollow Earth
Citizens of the hollow Earth.
All AI versions of Ken and John.
All named either Donnie or Marie.
​
Second sleep
Robots that don’t need to sleep.
Do not defecate, only recycle the water inside themselves.
​
Brown Sound
Three genders like midshipmen fish, communicating via sonic waves through mud.
​
The Ballads of Ossian
Nope
​
The Letter J
Live in a future paradise with only 10 letters in the alphabet.
​
Bridley Murphy
Sentient desk calendars that have a sense of humor.
All fractional owners of single memories of Ken and John.
​
Albert Pierrepoint
All living in cells guarded by Robocops.
The word “Facebook” is a profanity.
Or living in cloud cabins.
​
The Doomsday Flight
Multiple hearts and die of hearts attacks.
​
Wild Man Fischer
Sentient aspen grove again.
​
Jennens v. Jennens
Pronounce Jennings with insectile clicks and computer beeps.
Living in a simulation of a post apocalyptic world.
​
The Cagot
Slightly brighter eyes for the futurelings who listen to Omnibus. They will be the outcast heretics.
Look just like us but slightly more like the greys. With wheatish skin.
​
Deep Fried Turkey
Giant intelligent Crawfish.
Intelligent mud bugs.
The turducken/roast without equal is actually the futureling.
​
Pumpkin Pie
Pigs who are Shakespearean actors.
All food made of pumpkin.
​
The Qibla
In the inside of a Dyson Sphere around the earth.
​
Scrappy Doo
An ambiguous mixture of A. Humans who are so heavily into furry culture they have transformed themselves into almost-animals, B. animals who have evolved more and more human attributes so are almost-human and C. real-life creations of a computer AI that achieved sentience at the moment that humans reach peak-furry, so their corporeal avatars look like humanoid animals.
​
Ghost Forests
Sentinel mineralized trees on the coast with pysonic communication with land trees.
Actually ghosts of beagles listening to a continuous loop of Omnibus in a cave.
The ghost of John Lennon.
​
Marmorated Stink Bugs
Bugs listening via vibrations through their probisci.
Punisher issue 28 is their Gutenberg bible and the founding document in their own library of Congress.
​
Robert Smalls
Sentient aspens who keep ferns as slaves to harvest nutrients.
​
Patrick Nagel
Mud bugs
Rio is one document that survives.
​
Telling the Bees
Live in a hive, communicate via social media via dancing.
​
The Christmas Truce
Lobsters that don’t celebrate Christmas. Worship tentacled Cthulhu gods.
​
Thomas Nast
Fur suits.
Sentient wet cardboard boxes.
​
The Turboencabulator
Nope
​
Snowflakes
Listening on Mars
​
Track 61
Can send corporeal objects through time portals.
​
Vica Versa
Soul swapping entities that inhabit any body they want. 6 futurelings per cool body with the uncool bodies sit empty.
​
Trucker Culture
Nope
​
Twins of Benin
Trilateral symmetry
​
Samantha Smith
Nope
​
Flagpole Sitters
Antennae for hearing.
Use meters not feet.
Listening from on top of a pillar and worship Ken and John as gods.
​
Bodies of Mount Everest
Do they celebrate the new year a week after the winter solstice?
Don’t use feet for measures.
Say Kill-o instead of kilo.
​
Jaqualine Cochran
Sentient deep sea eel, maybe with tails tied together.
​
The Foreign Legion
Social media is cordoned off from most of the Futurelings.
​
Freighthopping
Just blonde mustaches the colour of mocha with cream.
All decedents of both John and Ken and their children.
​
Honest Dick
Hive of aspens with a Queen Aspen.
​
Mike the Headless Chicken
Hunter gatherers with tentacles.
Only eat cats.
Have Chip to put social media right into their brains.
​
The Cheesesteak War
Eat cheesesteaks.
​
Tippi Hendren’s Fingernails
Nope
​
Anything into Oil
Jellyfish tentacles or aspen roots.
​
Egg Cracking Machines
Invertebrates have taken over the universe. All have exoskeletons. The only internet left is the Omnibus.
All birds and like it when John talks about chickens.
One massive chicken... that listens to Omnibus.
100% of entertainment programming by JoCo.
​
Indigo
Mollusks.
​
Breezewood, Pennsylvania
Nope
​
Cocaine Hippos
Offspring of the first genetically manipulated Chinese babies.
Or icebergs?
​
Wide skis
Slide down mountains on slime from glands near their anus.
​
Mussolini ‘s nose
Sentient Gas wearing a T-shirt.
​
Breastaurants
Owls with uneven eyes that only eat chicken wings.
​
French Revolutionary Calendar
Marsupials and Tasmanian Devils covered in mucus.
No bilateral symmetry, but need eight holes in their T-shirts.
​
Charge of the Light Brigade
Sentient dung.
​
Hotel detectives
Drives octopodal vehicles.
​
Private Wojtec the Bear
Thoughtful algae
​
Plymouth Rock
Plymouth Rock Chickens that can move things with their minds.
​
Trapper Keeper
Coral polyps as friends.
​
Reindeer Wizards
More aspens
​
The Kamehameha Colonists
Intelligent turtles.
Avian futurelings descended from island birds.
Intelligent guano or corral.
​
Cold Fusion
Antennae and abdomen
​
Furries
Capybara wearing a Ken Jennings suit.
​
Quonset Huts
All living within social media, they are their avatars.
Robot owls. Like Blade Runner. Or clash of the titans.
​
Peak Phosphorus
80% phosphorus in their pseudopods.
Sentient acacia trees who talk using pheromones saying “the ants will not shut up!”
​
Four Color Map Theorem
Higher dimensional beings. Four dimensional crystals. Or many dimensional fungus.
​
Canning
Pacific salmons.
Or maybe sentient botulism.
Or maybe super intelligent yet annoyed sea lions.
​
Bob Dylan’s Christian Period
Have sentient fronds.
​
Lottery Winners
Baltimore is the main city.
The lottery is outlawed.
Aspens.
​
MSG
Sentient gluten wheat.
​
Jugglos
Everyone lives in Plimptonia or Jugglonia.
​
A slow as possible
Future octopuses
Play music with their wings. Sentient wheat chaff with tendrils.
​
Sliced Bread
Mouths, mandibles, Gastropoda, pheromones.
​
Icelandic Incest
All descendants of the third cousins of John and Ken’s offspring.
​
Ticker Tape Parade
All worship the giant styrofoam Ken Jennings head.
Bipedal octopuses clacking their beaks.
​
Angels Dance on the Head of Pin
Shades of blue? They will know how many of them can fit on the head of a pin.
​
Jonny Appleseed
Sentient Apple trees.
​
Government Cheese
Libertarian Coral Reefs
Self-aware green bean casserole.
​
Faces of Death
Made out of skateboards. Sentient longboards are the ruling class.
​
No fault marriages
Jenningites and Roderickites with opposing views on marriage.
Hyper political algae mats wearing whip inflation now buttons.
Intelligent whirling trash gyre in the ocean.
​
Porfirio Rubirosa
Ethereal beings with 11 inch cocks. With whispy children and gas for ears.
​
Fern fever
Propagate via spores.
​
Mother Jones
Super intelligent yellow fever virus.
The Rite of Spring Riots
Cuttlefish people.
Crustaceans with ears.
Single sentient being pure of Zuckerburgian infiltration.
​
Duchess of Bedford
Filter feeders, eat one turtle per yea, live under constantly dark skies.
Sea creatures filtering krill through baleen continuously.
Ants with a singular intelligence.
​
Square Dancing
Sentient octopus that are basically parachutes.
​
Ada Lovelace
The beings left behind after The Rapture.
​
Interferon
Cowctopus (octopus mixed with cow)
Pigtopuses are our current listeners?
​
Christmas Pickle
Billions of years in the future and the planet Earth has fallen into the sun, the calendar is based on stars.
​
Induced Demand
Iguana Jellyfish hybrids.
​
Byzantine Rhinokopia
Dogs with object permanence.
​
The Tech Model Railway Club
Sentient Squirrels
​
Backgammon.
Tentacles or imaginary tentacles, used to play the oldest game, Backgammon. Still love backgammon.
​
George Bush’s Crack Dealer
Robots sad they can’t feel the highest highs.
​
The Death of Trolleys
Equine ancestors or centaurs.
​
Coppicing
Sentient aspens
​
The Tootsie Roll Indian
Sentient Math
​
Longitudinal Film
Don’t worry about ageing. Made entirely out of genes.
Sentient versions of the show: John robots and ken robots.
​
Cow Magnets
Self-aware bezoars.
​
Hikikomori
Only social media animal avatars.
​
The De Haviland Beaver
Sentient De Haviland Beavers... or sentient actual beavers who are resentful of the plane taking their name.
​
Bode’s Law
A society of prey species and predator species, only one side of which are listening to Omnibus episodes for mindless entertainment/ ideas for good governance/ etc.
​
Ferdinandia
Squids with eyebrows.
Future citizens of Ferdinandia curious about the weird Medusa flag.
​
Chick tracts
Sentient Golden Mist.
​
Roald Amundsen’s Airship.
Senitient pixels in google earth.
Sentient Italian fusilli.
​
Pulsars, Discovery of
Emotionally sentient Nobel prize rejected scientists.
​
Sea Silk
Sentient hoodies.
​
Deborah Sampson
Probably all female. Makes aren’t needed.
​
Fletcherism
No mouths, only “eat” UV light shining on their body.
​
Hanky Codes
Sentient aspens.
Everyone has two mothers.
​
The Guru Letters
Giant sentient mosquitos.
​
The Phoebus Cartel
Sentient lightbulb tungsten creatures.
​
Tibetan Memory Trick
Sentient Limerick Oysters.
​
Sister Cities
Sentient earth due to connected nodes of sister cities.
​
Dutch Elm Disease
Two races of sentient trees: deciduous and evergreen.
Replica humans resistant to viruses.
​
Vesna Vulovic
John’s beard has become sentient.
​
Lilith
Lilith is the number one god of the futurelings.
​
Billboards
Snails?
​
Change of Gauge
See in infrared.
Sentient train cars.
120% Basque.
​
Generic Food
Sentient Pigglywiggies laying down the with Sentient Food Lions.
​
Take Ivy
All naked.
​ Mary Kay Pink Cadillacs
Live in Tupperware boxes
​
Aztec Death Whistles
Sentient Star Wars Action figures.
​
Seawise Giant
Sentient GSM (Greek shipping magnates)
Or sentient aspens who have never seen a ship.
​
Cynthia Plaster Caster
Reproduce asexually.
​
Eliza
Overwhelming presence of an AI with John and Ken’s voices, and the Futurelings have to pick if they want the angel or demon voice.
Everyone wears Daft Punk helmets and headphones.
​
Mensa
Mensa becomes the fraternity, sorority and government of The future.
​
Wampum
Clams.
​
The Cavendish Banana
Sentient bananas.
​
Ultramarathons
Octopuses that somehow run ultramarathons.
Unladen African Swallows?
Thousand legged centipede?
​
Carlo Gesualdo
Sexy octopus insects.
Hot clouds of lint
​
The War Before This One
Super intelligent crustaceans.
​
Kon-Tiki
Cephalopods
​
Woodstock 99
Underwater tarantula men
Virtual intelligences that are clones of our past lives, based on our computer game avatars.
​
Operation Ajax
Sentient vegan burger.
​
Bigfoot Hoaxes
Future descendants of a Saskwatch
​
Whole Earth Catalogue
Yurts
​
Flying through the St Louis Arch
Sentient birch.
Always 14 year olds. Sentient teenagers.
Or still infantile at 50.
Everyone can fly like fairies.
​
The Beatle’s Lord of the Rings
Descendants of the Winkelvoss twins.
​
Henry Cavendish
Futurelings are all so introverted that the “spectrum” is reserved for extroverts and their personalities.
​
Magic Eye
Futurelings have only one eye.
Hallucinating all the time.
​
Mother Nature’s Plantasia
Future plants with consciousness.
Quivering aspens.
​
Drywall
Black mould.
​
Mr Rogers Operas
30 year olds who live in the ocean
Descendants of Elmo the muppet
​
Left behind
Polyamorous aspens.
Tendrils and tentacles.
​
Four-Leaf Clovers
Sentient clovers
​
1871 Whaling Disaster
Trilobite people with exoskeletons.
Excrete kerosene.
​
Zaire Space Program
Interplanetary species on Mars and Venus
​
Erdos-Bacon-Sabbath
Cyborg Crustaceans
​
Goat Glands
All goats.
​
Games Buddha Wouldn’t Play
All Buddhists who listen to podcasts in heaven.
​
Oosik
Soccer ferns.
​
385
Mafeking Cadet Corps
Lava lizards.
​
388
The Fresnel Lens
Ant antecedents.
​
391
Middle Initials
One big floating mat of sea grass.
​
394
The Town of Bent Necks
All futurelings wear Dock Martins
​
397
The Cotsworth Calendar
Luminous Slug in the year 3,000
​
399
Laetrile
No longer suffer from cancer.
​
400
Merkins
Hair up to their eyelids
​
401
Potsdam Giants
Spluchy algae balls? Or very tall? Pink mould?
​
404
Ramtha
Put a paper pyramid on their head to hear John and Ken.
​
406
Myers-Briggs
Have a black mirror chip on their head that reads off their Myers-Briggs letters.
Money options: giant fungi. Squares the size of a house with holes in them.
​
407
Salmon Chaos
Sentient squid.
Names may be obsolete.
​
409
The All-Americans go to Japan
Super intelligent fungi in the Southern Hemisphere
​
410
Kalakala
Wearing Jeff Bezos cowboy hats and living on an off world colony.
​
414
The Ma Bell Breakup
Waving tentacles.
Monopolistic coral polyps

Ever since grade three, my friends and I could make Derek Zimmer believe anything. Anything. From Pop-Rocks and Coke make your stomach explode; to earwigs actually burrow in your ears (and one’s on your shoulder right now!); to the typical urban legend of the babysitter and the killer upstairs – and that it actually happened to someone in our neighbourhood.
The best prank we pulled on Derek had to be in grade 6, when we told him that everyone had to go into the girl’s bathroom to change because a toilet had overflowed in the boy’s. This was during gym class too and in our school the bathrooms doubled as change rooms. Geez, he didn’t even question it – didn’t even wait to see us go in first. We followed right behind him while he carried his spare set of clothes with a towel over his shoulder. We didn’t even need to shove him in; he just walked through the door and we locked it behind him and from then on there was nothing but hollering and shrieking from the other side. I got to admit, I still get tickled thinking about it.
After grade seven it stopped being funny – pulling fast ones on him all the time. But, like a bad habit, we kept feeding him lies and watching him fall for them over and over again.
I guess it didn’t help that he had sheltering, hovercraft parents. I mean, the guy believed in Santa Clause until he was thirteen, for Christ’s sake! And they kept walking him to school even though he lived literally just up the street. It wasn’t until Derek begged them, after being tortured by our sneers and jeers, that they finally stopped.
You’d think that they’d have tried to protect him by teaching him not to believe everything he was told. But I guess since they did everything for him, he just always needed someone else to make up his mind.
I don’t want you to get the impression that Derek was slow or something. He was actually a pretty bright kid. He wasn’t top of the class or nothing – and his math and science marks were pathetically low. But, if you spent time with him, you’d see he was actually very insightful, especially when it came to abstract stuff like morality and friendship and artsy stuff too. Oh yes, I was friends with Derek, even though I constantly tricked and made fun of him. Yeah…I was one of those friends. He would actually analyze our favourite TV shows, comparing the ones he liked and the ones he didn’t and go into really meticulous detail about why some were good, and some were bad. What made a joke funny and what didn’t.
At the time, even though I liked talking with him, I kind of thought that all this information was pretty useless – I mean, I just watched shows, movies and played video games for fun, not to write a goddamn dissertation. If Derek had any brains, I thought, he’d put more of his energy into his schoolwork. But now, looking back, it makes me wish our school had a Philosophy class or even an Arts program. I think he would have excelled, rather than constantly being stuck getting C’s and D’s. But we grew up in a small, frozen town in northern Ontario that only offered the bare necessities for a diploma. And in a town where most people work in the mines and spend their spare time ice-fishing and playing hockey, Derek stuck out like a sore thumb.
All the teachers seemed to like him, but you could tell they were pretty frustrated by how difficult he found the material. He was also a bit stubborn at times. For instance, you’d think he would have done well in English, right? Wrong. He shined only in the creative writing assignments but didn’t follow instructions and would never read the books that were assigned. The funny thing was, he was a voracious reader, always reading something. He just didn’t want to be bothered reading Lord of the Flies or Of Mice and Men. He just thought they were a waste of his time.
One thing that Derek excelled at, besides being a very loyal – to a fault – friend, was he was an amazing storyteller. When he got hold of an urban legend, or a dirty joke, or if something happened to him, he would tell it in such a way that we would hang on every word he said. There was no rambling, no “um’s” or “uh’s” – he always took his time and told the story perfectly. The punchline or the ending of his story was always clear and left us howling with laughter, terrified, or desperate to hear more.
More than a few of the stories Derek told us were uncannily frightening – tales of ghosts and creatures in our own hometown. Most of them I could trace back to some origin – usually Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. But there were also a few I had never heard of and could not find a source for. Whenever I confronted him with this, he would give me this knowing smile, his light eyes at ease, and say, “There are somethings that can’t be explained.” He would then pontificate about the other world and how everyone was able to access it if they just suspended their prejudices and disbelief. That was how he got “beamed” his stories. At the time, I thought it was bullshit. This was the only thing I had ever known Derek to lie about. Now looking back, I wish I had realized that this honest, gullible boy was incapable of telling falsehoods. And that what he was telling me was something he at least believed to be true.
Eventually, I got a bit jealous of Derek; I never had a good memory for details – aside from numbers and figures – and often when I told a joke, I’d forget an important part of the set-up and the punchline would fall flat. Or if I told an anecdote about something that happened to me that I thought was funny or exciting, after I’d finish, the listeners would just stare blankly, their vacant faces tacitly screaming, “That’s it?”
(Believe me, it took me a long time and a lot of effort to write this story as well as I have).
I was also jealous of Derek because of the attention he got from girls. Although he wasn’t very athletic, he was tall, fit and good-looking. And his gullible nature, I think, made a lot of them think he was cute. You know, like a lost puppy you just want to take care of. Unfortunately for them, Derek was too absorbed in his own world of Marvel comic books, Stephen King, Family Guy, and Doctor Who to ever take a hint.
This got really interesting in grade ten when Christie Blackwell, a preppy girl from the states, came to our town. Her family was from North Dakota and her father had come here for some administrative job at the local mining company. We didn’t know it at the time, but his position and his family’s move were only temporary.
Now, we had likely nothing in common with this girl, but both Derek and I were absolutely smitten. When you’re in a small town all the kids date each other’s sisters and exes, so I guess everyone was pretty intrigued by this new, pretty face from somewhere exotic – like North Dakota.
For a few weeks, she was all Derek and I could talk about. Some of our other friends thought she was cute too, but Derek and I were head-over-heels. I, however, never got up the courage to speak with her. I might have been top of my class and on the lacrosse team but, I knew what I was in the eyes of girls – a short, fat, sarcastic little boy with a sour disposition. Derek, however, he didn’t have the same cowardice I had. He actually went up to her during lunch break and talked with her!
I watched him approach, grinning from ear to ear, waiting for the humiliation and the peal of shrieking laughter from the other girls. But – she actually talked with him. She was positively radiant when he introduced himself and – I thought I was going to have a heart-attack when – she invited him to sit down at her table.
I admit, I was enraged. It wasn’t fair. It just. Wasn’t. Fair. For some idiot like Derek, with no prospects for the future, to have that girl. And what would that mean for me? Why would he want to hang around some loser when he had that girl on his arm?
Luckily, Derek – as I’ve said – didn’t take hints easily, so it wasn’t until a rumor had started about her liking him that he finally was ready to ask her out.
Of course, he told me first.
“Jimmy!” he shouted over the phone one night. I remember I actually winced from the receiver. “Guess what?” his voice blared at arm’s length. After placing the phone back to my ear, I asked him, and he told me that he had heard it from one of the girls that Christie liked him.
I felt a stone form in the pit of my stomach. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that I wouldn’t have gotten Christie. I just thought neither of us would. So, the fact that he got her, and I hadn’t, really burned my ass.
But then, I got an idea. An idea that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Derek,” I said into the phone. “She doesn’t actually like you. I overheard her and Jennifer (the girl who told him). They’re just playing a trick on you.”
There was silence on the other end.
Derek mumbled out a pitiful “But…” and I knew I had to pounce.
“Listen,” I implored, “if you ask Christie out on a date, everyone will just laugh at you. They’re just doing this to make a fool out of you in front of everyone.”
Again, silence fell on the other end. I could then visualize Derek with his head hanging down, all mopey like he sometimes got.
Then, I took it a bit further. Over the line.
“I mean, c’mon, think about it. You and her? She’s only been in our school three weeks and she’s already top of the class. Everyone turns their head to see her. How are you going to be good enough for that?”
I felt that stone in the pit of my stomach again, but this time for a different reason, after hearing Derek sadly mumble, “You’re right…”
Shamelessly, I changed the subject, asking him if we were going to still hang out this weekend to play X-box at his house but, his voice never came back to normal.
That night, I barely slept. I really felt like shit.
This was the first trick I pulled on Derek that made me feel that way. But it wouldn’t be the last.
It was grade eleven, when Lloyd (our other friend) and I took the pranks too far.
Lloyd and I had just gotten back our exam results for grade 11 Physics and, while we didn’t fail, these marks weren’t going to look good on a university application either. Plus, it was December, so there wasn’t much time left in the semester to make up for it. Of course, ole Derek wasn’t in Physics. Or Chemistry. Or Biology. He found some loophole in a technicality to take something called “Earth and Space Science” in grade 12 for his science/technology credit (don’t ask me how the Ontario education system works).
Also, around this time, Derek was getting super-obsessed with comic books and writing his own (report cards and postsecondary prospects be damned). At the time we thought it was really funny. He didn’t just draw the six boxes with stick-figures in ‘em and the poorly graphed word bubbles like most kids; he actually found out the proper format to write a comic book script. He kept trying to make us read them but – I mean – we didn’t know how. Plus, we were busy. You know, with school?
Anyway, Derek had this long bastard of a comic book script freshly printed from the school library – an adaptation of some classic horror story by Poe or Lovecraft, I think – and he ran up to Lloyd and me in the cafeteria all smiling, waving it at us, begging us to read it. And, remember, this was the same day we got our abysmal test scores back.
Now, despite our understandably pissy mood, both Lloyd and I resisted the urge to tear Derek’s head off. Lloyd said feebly, “Sure, Derek. Give it here. I’ll read it tonight.”
Derek almost leapt off the table bench, he was so excited. He thanked us and then was off to God knows where.
I turned my head and glowered at Lloyd.
“Are you serious?” I asked him. “You realize we have presentation for Chemistry to finish tonight, right?”
Lloyd blew out the side of his mouth.
“I’m not gonna read it, dude,” he said, his eyes cast woefully down on the crumb and grease laden tabletop. “I’m just pranking him,” he concluded, quarter-heartedly.
I sat there and stared at it for a few seconds. Then, another mendacious scheme started spinning in my head.
I knew that my Uncle Eric was coming over for supper that weekend. I told Lloyd that we would both tell Derek that my uncle worked for Marvel Comics and that he had read his script and loved it. And that he was interested in adapting it and giving Derek a job writing for Stan Lee. I’d invite Derek over to speak with him to discuss this “job prospect” at greater length. The funny thing was, my Uncle Eric was a belligerent drunk who’d mostly been unemployed between his time as a trucker and his time as a garbageman. But never – it probably doesn’t need to be said – did he ever work for Marvel Comics.
Lloyd and I both grinned and giggled like evil children. It was perfect. This way, we wouldn’t have to be drilled by Derek’s questions about what our favourite part was; he would be too preoccupied by the idea of having his work actually published. Working for Marvel Comics for Christ’s sake! An early Christmas present for our naïve young friend.
…I guess you can probably figure out what happened next. I’ll try to spare you the cringe-worthy details.
The next morning, Lloyd and I told Derek about my uncle and fed him our line. Derek beamed like I’d never seen before and bought it hook-line-and-sinker. Of course. That Sunday, he came over for dinner, all excited. Of course. My Uncle Eric was two-sheets to the wind, six gin-and-tonics deep and on his seventh that night. Of course. And when Derek approached him, asking about his script and what it’s like to work for Marvel, my Uncle Eric harshly barked what in the hell he was blathering about. Of course.
I promised Lloyd I would give him all the details on Monday. But seeing Derek, hunched over and defeated, like some withered daffodil – I just, had to look away. I didn’t laugh. Didn’t chuckle. Didn’t even smirk. All I could do was look away, that pit in my stomach turning to stone.
On Monday, in front of the school entrance, about thirty minutes before first bell and thirty degrees below zero, Derek stormed right up to me. Indifferent, seeing this coming and finding no despair, surprise or pleasure in it, I stood where I was, ready for him to hammer me.
Instead, there were no threats, no curses, no accusations. Just one question: did I lie about Christie Blackwell too?
Despite being exhausted from the endless stream of assignments and last night’s interminable guilt, I somehow managed the strength to slowly shake my head and mutter no. One last prank on Derek.
With that, Derek said nothing. And simply walked away.
At that moment, standing there alone with sticky icicles running down my upper lip from my nose to my scarf, I thought I was going to throw up.
The next day, I advised Lloyd we give Derek some distance at lunch hour. I suspected we were personae non grata.
But, to my surprise, Derek came over to our table. Stone-faced, without a word he sat down and ate. Lloyd and I glanced over at him then at each other. The three of us just sat and chewed in silence.
Then, after finishing his serving of oily cafeteria French fries, he told us one of his typically great, terrifying stories. His last.
“You guys ever hear about Melvin Sinclair?” he began, cryptically.
Fake-sounding name. Still, a pretty good start.
Lloyd and I both shook our heads, wordlessly.
“He was a student at our school. Way back, when it was run by the nuns.”
I later found out this part of his story was true. Our high school – Pendleton College – was once run by the local nunnery – but this was when it was still a residential school, with only abused, shipped-in Native kids as its student body.
“He’s actually the person I am going to write my next comic script on. I know you two won’t read it, but I think you should hear about him anyway.
“Sinclair was a funny kid. A bit stupid, you know? Believed anything his pals told him.”
This, of course, immediately rang a bell for both of us. Lloyd and I looked at each other knowingly. Still, we were hooked. At least, I was.
“He was also very poor with a sick father at home who couldn’t work. So, a lot of his friends could make him do things with the promise of money.
“So, one night, around this time of year – just before Christmas, all those years ago, Sinclair and his buddies went out onto Saul Laskin Lake. It was frozen solid then, just like it is right now. Sinclair got dared by his buddies to walk out onto the lake – see if he could make it to the other side.
“Now, Sinclair was afraid. Terrified, you know? Saul Laskin is two football fields long and three fields wide. Sure, he knew it had been frozen solid for three months straight and a jackhammer couldn’t make a dent an inch deep in it. But still, he was unsure. He never walked across ice in the middle of winter before. Never even put on a pair of skates.
“To his buddies, he shook his head, no. He didn’t care if it made him a chicken. He wasn’t going out there, risking falling through.
“So, his friends decided to sweeten the deal. They told him that if he made it to the other side, they’d meet him there, after walking along the shoreline, and pay him three-hundred dollars.
“Now, his buddies didn’t have three-hundred dollars, but they did have a thick wad of ten two-dollar bills. So, they slipped one into Sinclair ’s hand, as proof there was more where that’d come from. They both figured it would be worth it to see Sinclair fall through the ice or wet himself from fear.
“Again, Sinclair wasn’t too bright. He was also very poor, and his family was way behind on the electric bill, which was bad since this was one of the worst winters in Canadian history. Not to mention, Christmas was right around the corner. So, he took the two dollars as proof they had two-hundred-and-ninety-eight more and made his way across the ice.
“The two of his friends giggled behind their frozen-snot-covered mittens, egging him on, telling him he was doing great. Sinclair didn’t clue in though. He just kept going, waddling and swaying from side to side like a tight rope walker, terrified the rhino-hide-thick ice would give.
“Now, his two buddies didn’t want Sinclair to get hurt. Not seriously anyway. At worst, they were waiting for him to slip and fall on his ass, so they could laugh at him until their bellies were sore.
“So, Sinclair got sixty feet across the ice when his buddies at the shore heard a sudden crunch. A sharp, unmistakable sound. The ice had cracked. Saul Laskin was giving under Sinclair ’s weight. Apparently, the lake wasn’t so titanium at the middle.
“Feeling a sudden rush of panic and just a bit of guilt, both of them started hollering at the top of their lungs for Sinclair to get off the ice. To turn back. Sinclair didn’t turn around though. He didn’t even stop walking. He was determined to make it to the other side. To make that three-hundred dollars. Cracks in the ice be damned, his house needed heat!
“His pals on the shore watched in horror when Sinclair took four more steps before plummeting through the ice on the fifth. Unable to think, being dumb kids, they freaked and ran away. It took them ten minutes before they realized they needed to go get help.
“A couple of the teachers and one of the farmers from town came out onto the ice. When they got to the break where Sinclair had fallen in, they made a horrific discovery. On the other side of the hole, was a set of freshly frozen footprints. Like prints in the snow but upside down and inside out. They were glistening and raised, like a trail of swollen scar-tissue. And they headed to the other side – to the end of Saul Laskin Lake.
“On the shoreline, the five of them ran to the other side of the pond, coming to the very end, to find that the steps ended at a second gaping hole in the ice.
“Sinclair ’s body was never found. But the doctors were certain it should have been impossible for him to have walked that length of the ice without succumbing to hypothermia.
“Ever since that night, on the anniversary of Melvin Sinclair ’s arctic plunge, they say he comes back, still drenched and half-frozen stiff, looking for the three-hundred dollars promised him. And taking any unfortunate soul who dares wander across the ice, mistaking them for his two pals who had played that cruel joke on him, so very long ago.”
Lloyd and I stared back at Derek speechless, our mouths agape.
The silence was interrupted when two loud, chortling sophomores bumped into Derek from behind, making their way past him.
“This has got to be bull,” Lloyd insisted, rearing back from the table.
“Where’d you get this?” I asked, my eyes having never left Derek’s face.
“I told you,” he said. “It’s the basis of my next comic script, which you won’t read. There are some things out there that can’t be understood. But you can find them out if you just suspend your disbelief.”
I looked hard at him. He smirked.
“I heard it from one of the teachers and from one of the upper-class men last year,” he confessed. “Both of them told the story exactly as I just did.”
I was then fairly certain what Derek was going to say next. And I was right.
“The anniversary of Melvin Sinclair ’s disappearance is tonight,” he whispered, as though we were sharing state-level secrets. “I say we go to Saul Laskin after dark and check it out.”
Lloyd blew out his mouth, his lips making that pffft sound.
“Yeah, all right,” I said hastily. Almost automatically.
“What?” Lloyd blurted.
“I’ll go,” I continued. “Hell, let’s all go.”
“Great!” said Derek, over Lloyd’s grumbled protest. “Meet you both at the shoreline near Tenth and Mockingbird. Be there at ten, sharp.”
With that, Derek stood from his seat, carrying his meal tray to the metal rack and exiting the caf.
“Dude,” Lloyd spun on me. “What gives?”
“Look, man,” I offered Lloyd, weakly. “We did a really lousy thing to Derek. I think the least we can do is spend one late night with him on this little whim.”
“That’s crap!” snapped Lloyd. “This is your way of playing another prank on him.”
I shook my head vigorously, vexed by his charge. “No way!”
“Yeah? Well maybe this is Derek’s way of getting us back. Playing a prank on us. You ever think of that?”
“I doubt it. Derek’s not like that.”
Lloyd just shook his head, obviously miffed.
We didn’t say anything after that. But we both knew we were going to Saul Laskin Lake that evening to meet Derek.
I remember it was ten below zero. Felt like minus twenty with the wind-chill and even worse that close to the ice. The stars were probably out, and fully visible, but I don’t remember seeing them. I could barely see what was in front of me from my face being two-thirds buried behind my scarph and tuque.
I met Lloyd on the way there, about ten yards from the shoreline on Mockingbird, and he was likewise dressed as a winter mummy. As we got closer, we saw a figure standing upright, unfazed by the cutting gale. It was Derek. He was in his snow-pants and a parka but wasn’t wearing anything to cover his head. Just a pair of earmuffs. Bizarrely, he seemed completely comfortable out there, his flushed red cheeks the only thing betraying how cold he was.
“Well, here we are,” he greeted us, cryptically. A just as cryptic smile on his chapped, purple lips.
“What are we doing out here?” Lloyd growled, rubbing his thickly gloved hands together and bouncing from one foot to the other. “It’s freezing!”
“We’re here to see if Melvin Sinclair ’s ghost shows up,” I told him.
The look he gave me could have thawed Saul Laskin Lake.
“I never said it was a ghost,” said Derek, just over the wind.
The two of us stared at our guide into the other world.
“Then what is it?” I asked.
“A zombie?” Lloyd mocked.
Feigning ignorance, Derek just shrugged.
The three of us stood there, in the middle of December in Canada, staring at the frozen lake like three wallflowers around a dancefloor (an analogy that’s not much of a stretch for us).
Predictably, Derek broke the silence.
“How about we play some Truth or Dare?” he asked. I looked over and saw that cryptic smile on his now bluish lips.
“How about we play some Go-Home-And-Sleep-In-A-House-With-Central-Heating?” Lloyd barked.
Me, I couldn’t help myself.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s play some Truth or Dare.”
“You first,” Derek pounced.
Ordinarily, I would have bickered back and forth with Derek to try to get him to go first, but my recently grown conscience forced me to accept this condition.
“Okay,” I said. I then looked out onto the ice, anticipating what the dare might be and not having any of it. “Truth.”
For the first time that night, Derek’s strange smirk disappeared.
“All right,” he said, his face and voice now very serious. “Yesterday morning,” my mind then immediately raced to that moment, regretting my choice for Truth, “when I asked you about Christie Blackwell,”
“Okay, okay, never mind!” I shouted over him, before he could even get the question out. “I changed my mind. Dare. Give me a dare. What? You want me to walk across the lake? Is that it?”
Without speaking, Derek nodded his head, that cryptic little grin reappearing.
I then looked back at the frozen lake. Derek hadn’t lied when he said that it was two football fields long. In fact, it was longer. 273.5 yards to be exact. From where we were standing, I could see only half of the ice, the other side swallowed up by night and fog.
“Okay, here’s a deal,” I said, trying to negotiate my way out of it. “I’ll go as far as where that fog starts. That’s just before you two won’t be able to see me.”
“No deal,” said Derek, his eyes colder than Saul Laskin. “You go all the way across, or until you see Melvin Sinclair, or you admit you believed my story enough that you’re scared to go out there.”
“What?”
“Or choose Truth.”
“I’m not scared of that boogeyman crap!” I exclaimed.
“Then why not go all the way?” said Derek. “You know that lake is perfectly safe for skating. It’s been frozen solid since October.”
“Because it’s stupid, that’s why.”
“Or because you’re afraid Melvin Sinclair will get you.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Fine. Then choose Truth. Answer my question.”
Astonished, I shot him an incredulous look.
“Man, screw you!” I cried. “You’re the one who’s so stupid that you believe that dumb story. You probably did hear it from an upper-class man last year. They knew you’d be gullible enough to buy it.”
I turned to the frozen pond, my eyes melting the ice.
“I’m going to go as far as that fog starts. From there, I’ll be able to see over to the other side. I’ll also be right in the middle so it will prove two things: One, that no one could fall through the ice when it’s this cold out, and two, that there isn’t some supernatural creature roaming around at night. I’ll prove to you there’s no such thing.”
Derek looked back at me. That strange smile disappeared again from his lips and never came back.
“I’m not gullible,” he insisted in a low voice. “The story is true.”
“Ah, up yours,” I said, walking to the edge of the shoreline and shuffling gingerly onto the ice. “Come on, Lloyd. Let’s go.”
“Me?” I heard from behind.
“Come on, you wimp. Let’s show this moron how stupid and full of it he is.”
The two of us waddled onto Saul Laskin. We inched our way closer and closer to the foggy middle, the thick air never seeming to thin out and recede like it normally would. Truthfully, I could barely see an inch in front of me; the whipping, cold air caused me to tear up and turned my tears to icicles on my lashes. But I was too angry to care. In my mind, I told myself I was going to prove to Derek what an idiot he was. In truth, I just wanted anyway to avoid telling him the truth about Christie Blackwell.
We were well past the center-point when I finally decided to stop. Lloyd was a bit ahead of me. I looked around. The fog was so dense. Even worse, I had to blink my eyes rapidly to break up the frozen moisture that accumulated on my lashes.
I roughly cleared my vision with my gloved thumb. And then I saw it. A hunched figure, just obscured by the fog, hobbling slowly toward Lloyd. Lloyd must have been having the same trouble I was, because he made no effort to run or communicate with the figure, even though it was practically right in his line of sight.
At first, I thought it was Derek. Thought he had somehow caught up and was trying to scare us. But I was wrong. I was very, very wrong.
I tried to warn Lloyd. To shout out. To ask who was there. But I couldn’t. The words were trapped in my throat. I was as petrified as the ice I stood upon. I stared, seeing the nearly naked figure come into focus. It was a man – or…what was once a man. The skin was pale, translucent, all the blue and purple veins visible. The hair was blonde – silver and slicked back, like the head had just been submerged in water. It looked like a cadaver that had escaped from the city morgue. Its bright coloured eyes resembled a pair of round, broken mirrors, and never once did I see them close. Not even blink.
Then, I…I heard it speak!
“I did it…” it muttered, hoarsely, the sound like the ruffling of crumpled paper. “I did it…where is she?”
The creature was mere feet from Lloyd, but he’d turned his back to it like it wasn’t there. He then lifted his head, one red eye open, and asked, “Jimmy? Did you say –”
Before he could finish, the walking cadaver shot a long, bony arm, grasping his shoulder with its claw-like fingers.
Lloyd looked around and shrieked.
“Where is she?” the thing muttered huskily. “Where’s my baby?”
Undoubtedly terrified, Lloyd tried to sprint away, only to slip and fall on the ice. The walking cadaver’s grip remained unbroken, causing Lloyd’s winter coat to rip. The thing pinned him, its grasping claws shaking Lloyd by the lapels.
“You said if I did it, you’d tell me where she was!” it hissed into Lloyd’s face. I watched, still petrified, only able to imagine the look of confusion and terror on Lloyd’s bundled-up face.
“Where is she!” the creature screamed. “Where is she? You promised. You promised\!” \ Its voice cracked on the last syllable.
It then started throwing Lloyd’s torso up and down, until the back of his head hit the ice with a shuddering thud. I cringed. It was like the sound of a bowling ball being dropped straight to the tiled, wooden floor. The thing then mounted him, clawing and punching at his lifeless form in a hungry frenzy. With its cracked, blackened teeth bared, the canines resembled a set of fangs.
I wanted to run. I wanted to help – to fight that thing off of my friend. But I swear, I – I couldn’t.
By the time that thing had stopped, I could see freshly fallen red droplets, steaming on the ice around Lloyd’s head. I knew then that he was gone.
What happened next, I can’t explain. The creature laid down on Lloyd’s supine body, putting its pale, grotesquely scabbed head on his chest, as though listening for a heartbeat. I then realized that the fog was thickening. There were whole plumes of smoke wafting up from the ice beneath their bodies. I realized when they began to sink, that the ice was melting.
The creature sunk down beneath the ice, pulling my friend’s carcass along with it. Once they had slipped out of sight, I heard the worst sound you could possibly imagine. The sound of the ice cracking. I looked at my feet and saw a deep gash, shaped like a lightning bolt, tearing a path through the ice beneath my feet and between my legs. Several mini fractures splintered off, creating a spider-web of icy shards.
My senses returning to me, I ran, falling and stumbling, back to the shoreline. I don’t know how many steps I made before I slid and fell through – and was completely submerged in Saul Laskin.
I don’t remember how cold it was – though it was freezing beyond imagination. I just remember the disgusting feeling of my clothes soaking in the water beside my skin– and the sheer panic blaring inside my skull.
Remember how I was short and fat? Well, I also didn’t have a clue how to swim. I just floated there, under the water, not seeing a damned thing, my mind a riot of horrible scenarios and images.
As you would expect, I flailed in desperate mortal fear when I felt a hand grab at me and pull. Thankfully, the hand was pulling me upward, to safety. And it belonged to Derek.
“Jimmy,” Derek panted, after he’d dragged me up onto the surface. “It’s – it’s okay,” he struggled to say, as he too was drenched from head to toe. “Here’s my – my coat...p-put it on.”
He then laid his open parka over my body. Luckily, he had taken it off before diving in to save me. I’m sure now if it wasn’t for his quick thinking, I’d have died that night.
“L-listen – listen to me,” he stammered on. His lips were turning a deep blue, as was his face. “My phone is in one of the coat pockets, call 9-1-1.”
“W-what?” I said, not understanding why he didn’t do it himself.
“Just do it,” he said, then turned and began walking in the direction of that creature.
“Wait!”
“I’m – I’m going to g-g-go get L-l-l-loyd!” he blurted out. Now, this is where I’d like to tell you that I forced Derek to stay with me. That I told him the truth about Christie Blackwell. That I apologized for the cruel joke I had played on him with Lloyd and my Uncle Eric. And for always taking him and his friendship for granted. But that didn’t happen. Shivering from the cold and my own fear, I just watched as he marched away, disappearing into the fog.
I took out his phone from the right pocket and dialed 9-1-1. I remember hearing the phone ring, the monotonous sound reverberating in my skull. I don’t remember anyone answering.
The last thing I remember is the feeling of my body growing warm. All the pain and fear evaporating with the fog. And then, there was blackness. Blackness save for a kaleidoscope of horrible images playing on loop in my mind.
I woke up in the emergency room.
I was told that the paramedics and fire department were called out. That they’d scanned the ice but never found Derek or Lloyd. I was told that I was lucky to be alive. Even luckier that I didn’t have frostbite and would therefore not have to lose any appendages.
Eventually, they got around to asking me why we were out there and what happened. I told them everything. Every last detail. Of course, they all looked at me like I was crazy. Some of them even thought that I might have gone into shock and asked my parents to have me undergo a CAT scan. I never did though.
During my time in the hospital, three thoughts kept spinning around my brain. One, how grateful I was to Derek Zimmer for saving my life. Two, how amazed I was that his story was actually true. And three, why that creature kept asking for its baby, instead of for money, like in Derek’s story. I found out later that the story Derek had told us that afternoon was one of many legends concerning Saul Laskin Lake and that night. Some were about a man whose daughter had been kidnapped by a gang of thieves; that the man was thrown into the lake, his feet encased in concrete, after he’d paid their ransom. Some were of a mentally disturbed woman who had drowned her baby, thinking it was possessed by the devil. And at least half a dozen more I can’t stomach reciting here.
Perhaps the worst moment after that night was when I got a visit from Missus Calhoun, the principal at Pendleton College. She was in her early seventies, stout, with a tight, silver bob cut and a pair of owlish spectacles on her round, little nose. She sat down at my bedside, wearing her shapeless, riotously patterned muumuu, and asked me what had happened at Saul Laskin. I told her. The same story I had told everyone since waking up in the emergency room. When I was done, she just stared at me, expressionless, before giving out a sharp sigh through her tiny nostrils.
“This is what I think happened, James,” she began, a subtle disdain in her voice. “I think you dared Lloyd Apanowicz and Derek to walk out there on the ice. We all know how you tricked and tortured that poor boy since primary school.
“I think when the ice cracked, and your friends fell in, you panicked and came up with this ludicrous lie to cover your tracks, because you think we’re all as gullible as poor Derek Zimmer. Because you think you’re that smart and the rest of us are that dumb. I think you’re a cruel, immature, sociopathic little boy who’ll end up becoming a cheat and a fraud and spend his adult life in and out of prison.”
From my bed, I stared back at her wide-eyed. It was so surreal. An adult – a teacher – speaking to me in such a way.
“And I don’t care who you tell this to,” she hissed. “Because I’m retiring at the end of this school year. And if I never see another sadistic child like you again, it’ll be too soon.”
When I brought up how I had been rescued, had almost succumb to hypothermia myself, she grunted and said, “I don’t know. You seem all right to me. After all, you didn’t even get frostbite out there, did you? And you’re the only one of those boys who survived.”
She then shook her grey head at me, making a tsk-tsk-tsk noise with her tongue.
“In and out of prison,” she repeated to herself, before rising from her chair and leaving me on my own.
Today, I’m happy to tell you her prognosis was false. I haven’t been in jail at any time in my life and the worst I’ve ever gotten is a speeding ticket. That being said, guilt has followed me around ever since that night.
I never told Derek that I had lied about Christie Blackwell, and for that I am eternally sorry. As I am for making Lloyd come with me across the frozen lake. I had also doubted Derek about his story of the spirit that haunts Saul Laskin once a year on a December night. For that too, I am sorry.
I don’t know what compelled me to play so many tricks on him, besides my overly logical, and cynical nature. But ever since that night, I’m not so quick to dismiss something – even if it does seem fantastic. Or even impossible.

Ever since grade three, my friends and I could make Derek Zimmer believe anything. Anything. From Pop-Rocks and Coke make your stomach explode; to earwigs actually burrow in your ears (and one’s on your shoulder right now!); to the typical urban legend of the babysitter and the killer upstairs – and that it actually happened to someone in our neighbourhood.
The best prank we pulled on Derek had to be in grade 6, when we told him that everyone had to go into the girl’s bathroom to change because a toilet had overflowed in the boy’s. This was during gym class too and in our school the bathrooms doubled as change rooms. Geez, he didn’t even question it – didn’t even wait to see us go in first. We followed right behind him while he carried his spare set of clothes with a towel over his shoulder. We didn’t even need to shove him in; he just walked through the door and we locked it behind him and from then on there was nothing but hollering and shrieking from the other side. I got to admit, I still get tickled thinking about it.
After grade seven it stopped being funny – pulling fast ones on him all the time. But, like a bad habit, we kept feeding him lies and watching him fall for them over and over again.
I guess it didn’t help that he had sheltering, hovercraft parents. I mean, the guy believed in Santa Clause until he was thirteen, for Christ’s sake! And they kept walking him to school even though he lived literally just up the street. It wasn’t until Derek begged them, after being tortured by our sneers and jeers, that they finally stopped.
You’d think that they’d have tried to protect him by teaching him not to believe everything he was told. But I guess since they did everything for him, he just always needed someone else to make up his mind.
I don’t want you to get the impression that Derek was slow or something. He was actually a pretty bright kid. He wasn’t top of the class or nothing – and his math and science marks were pathetically low. But, if you spent time with him, you’d see he was actually very insightful, especially when it came to abstract stuff like morality and friendship and artsy stuff too. Oh yes, I was friends with Derek, even though I constantly tricked and made fun of him. Yeah…I was one of those friends. He would actually analyze our favourite TV shows, comparing the ones he liked and the ones he didn’t and go into really meticulous detail about why some were good, and some were bad. What made a joke funny and what didn’t.
At the time, even though I liked talking with him, I kind of thought that all this information was pretty useless – I mean, I just watched shows, movies and played video games for fun, not to write a goddamn dissertation. If Derek had any brains, I thought, he’d put more of his energy into his schoolwork. But now, looking back, it makes me wish our school had a Philosophy class or even an Arts program. I think he would have excelled, rather than constantly being stuck getting C’s and D’s. But we grew up in a small, frozen town in northern Ontario that only offered the bare necessities for a diploma. And in a town where most people work in the mines and spend their spare time ice-fishing and playing hockey, Derek stuck out like a sore thumb.
All the teachers seemed to like him, but you could tell they were pretty frustrated by how difficult he found the material. He was also a bit stubborn at times. For instance, you’d think he would have done well in English, right? Wrong. He shined only in the creative writing assignments but didn’t follow instructions and would never read the books that were assigned. The funny thing was, he was a voracious reader, always reading something. He just didn’t want to be bothered reading Lord of the Flies or Of Mice and Men. He just thought they were a waste of his time.
One thing that Derek excelled at, besides being a very loyal – to a fault – friend, was he was an amazing storyteller. When he got hold of an urban legend, or a dirty joke, or if something happened to him, he would tell it in such a way that we would hang on every word he said. There was no rambling, no “um’s” or “uh’s” – he always took his time and told the story perfectly. The punchline or the ending of his story was always clear and left us howling with laughter, terrified, or desperate to hear more.
More than a few of the stories Derek told us were uncannily frightening – tales of ghosts and creatures in our own hometown. Most of them I could trace back to some origin – usually Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. But there were also a few I had never heard of and could not find a source for. Whenever I confronted him with this, he would give me this knowing smile, his light eyes at ease, and say, “There are somethings that can’t be explained.” He would then pontificate about the other world and how everyone was able to access it if they just suspended their prejudices and disbelief. That was how he got “beamed” his stories. At the time, I thought it was bullshit. This was the only thing I had ever known Derek to lie about. Now looking back, I wish I had realized that this honest, gullible boy was incapable of telling falsehoods. And that what he was telling me was something he at least believed to be true.
Eventually, I got a bit jealous of Derek; I never had a good memory for details – aside from numbers and figures – and often when I told a joke, I’d forget an important part of the set-up and the punchline would fall flat. Or if I told an anecdote about something that happened to me that I thought was funny or exciting, after I’d finish, the listeners would just stare blankly, their vacant faces tacitly screaming, “That’s it?”
(Believe me, it took me a long time and a lot of effort to write this story as well as I have).
I was also jealous of Derek because of the attention he got from girls. Although he wasn’t very athletic, he was tall, fit and good-looking. And his gullible nature, I think, made a lot of them think he was cute. You know, like a lost puppy you just want to take care of. Unfortunately for them, Derek was too absorbed in his own world of Marvel comic books, Stephen King, Family Guy, and Doctor Who to ever take a hint.
This got really interesting in grade ten when Christie Blackwell, a preppy girl from the states, came to our town. Her family was from North Dakota and her father had come here for some administrative job at the local mining company. We didn’t know it at the time, but his position and his family’s move were only temporary.
Now, we had likely nothing in common with this girl, but both Derek and I were absolutely smitten. When you’re in a small town all the kids date each other’s sisters and exes, so I guess everyone was pretty intrigued by this new, pretty face from somewhere exotic – like North Dakota.
For a few weeks, she was all Derek and I could talk about. Some of our other friends thought she was cute too, but Derek and I were head-over-heels. I, however, never got up the courage to speak with her. I might have been top of my class and on the lacrosse team but, I knew what I was in the eyes of girls – a short, fat, sarcastic little boy with a sour disposition. Derek, however, he didn’t have the same cowardice I had. He actually went up to her during lunch break and talked with her!
I watched him approach, grinning from ear to ear, waiting for the humiliation and the peal of shrieking laughter from the other girls. But – she actually talked with him. She was positively radiant when he introduced himself and – I thought I was going to have a heart-attack when – she invited him to sit down at her table.
I admit, I was enraged. It wasn’t fair. It just. Wasn’t. Fair. For some idiot like Derek, with no prospects for the future, to have that girl. And what would that mean for me? Why would he want to hang around some loser when he had that girl on his arm?
Luckily, Derek – as I’ve said – didn’t take hints easily, so it wasn’t until a rumor had started about her liking him that he finally was ready to ask her out.
Of course, he told me first.
“Jimmy!” he shouted over the phone one night. I remember I actually winced from the receiver. “Guess what?” his voice blared at arm’s length. After placing the phone back to my ear, I asked him, and he told me that he had heard it from one of the girls that Christie liked him.
I felt a stone form in the pit of my stomach. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that I wouldn’t have gotten Christie. I just thought neither of us would. So, the fact that he got her, and I hadn’t, really burned my ass.
But then, I got an idea. An idea that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Derek,” I said into the phone. “She doesn’t actually like you. I overheard her and Jennifer (the girl who told him). They’re just playing a trick on you.”
There was silence on the other end.
Derek mumbled out a pitiful “But…” and I knew I had to pounce.
“Listen,” I implored, “if you ask Christie out on a date, everyone will just laugh at you. They’re just doing this to make a fool out of you in front of everyone.”
Again, silence fell on the other end. I could then visualize Derek with his head hanging down, all mopey like he sometimes got.
Then, I took it a bit further. Over the line.
“I mean, c’mon, think about it. You and her? She’s only been in our school three weeks and she’s already top of the class. Everyone turns their head to see her. How are you going to be good enough for that?”
I felt that stone in the pit of my stomach again, but this time for a different reason, after hearing Derek sadly mumble, “You’re right…”
Shamelessly, I changed the subject, asking him if we were going to still hang out this weekend to play X-box at his house but, his voice never came back to normal.
That night, I barely slept. I really felt like shit.
This was the first trick I pulled on Derek that made me feel that way. But it wouldn’t be the last.
It was grade eleven, when Lloyd (our other friend) and I took the pranks too far.
Lloyd and I had just gotten back our exam results for grade 11 Physics and, while we didn’t fail, these marks weren’t going to look good on a university application either. Plus, it was December, so there wasn’t much time left in the semester to make up for it. Of course, ole Derek wasn’t in Physics. Or Chemistry. Or Biology. He found some loophole in a technicality to take something called “Earth and Space Science” in grade 12 for his science/technology credit (don’t ask me how the Ontario education system works).
Also, around this time, Derek was getting super-obsessed with comic books and writing his own (report cards and postsecondary prospects be damned). At the time we thought it was really funny. He didn’t just draw the six boxes with stick-figures in ‘em and the poorly graphed word bubbles like most kids; he actually found out the proper format to write a comic book script. He kept trying to make us read them but – I mean – we didn’t know how. Plus, we were busy. You know, with school?
Anyway, Derek had this long bastard of a comic book script freshly printed from the school library – an adaptation of some classic horror story by Poe or Lovecraft, I think – and he ran up to Lloyd and me in the cafeteria all smiling, waving it at us, begging us to read it. And, remember, this was the same day we got our abysmal test scores back.
Now, despite our understandably pissy mood, both Lloyd and I resisted the urge to tear Derek’s head off. Lloyd said feebly, “Sure, Derek. Give it here. I’ll read it tonight.”
Derek almost leapt off the table bench, he was so excited. He thanked us and then was off to God knows where.
I turned my head and glowered at Lloyd.
“Are you serious?” I asked him. “You realize we have presentation for Chemistry to finish tonight, right?”
Lloyd blew out the side of his mouth.
“I’m not gonna read it, dude,” he said, his eyes cast woefully down on the crumb and grease laden tabletop. “I’m just pranking him,” he concluded, quarter-heartedly.
I sat there and stared at it for a few seconds. Then, another mendacious scheme started spinning in my head.
I knew that my Uncle Eric was coming over for supper that weekend. I told Lloyd that we would both tell Derek that my uncle worked for Marvel Comics and that he had read his script and loved it. And that he was interested in adapting it and giving Derek a job writing for Stan Lee. I’d invite Derek over to speak with him to discuss this “job prospect” at greater length. The funny thing was, my Uncle Eric was a belligerent drunk who’d mostly been unemployed between his time as a trucker and his time as a garbageman. But never – it probably doesn’t need to be said – did he ever work for Marvel Comics.
Lloyd and I both grinned and giggled like evil children. It was perfect. This way, we wouldn’t have to be drilled by Derek’s questions about what our favourite part was; he would be too preoccupied by the idea of having his work actually published. Working for Marvel Comics for Christ’s sake! An early Christmas present for our naïve young friend.
…I guess you can probably figure out what happened next. I’ll try to spare you the cringe-worthy details.
The next morning, Lloyd and I told Derek about my uncle and fed him our line. Derek beamed like I’d never seen before and bought it hook-line-and-sinker. Of course. That Sunday, he came over for dinner, all excited. Of course. My Uncle Eric was two-sheets to the wind, six gin-and-tonics deep and on his seventh that night. Of course. And when Derek approached him, asking about his script and what it’s like to work for Marvel, my Uncle Eric harshly barked what in the hell he was blathering about. Of course.
I promised Lloyd I would give him all the details on Monday. But seeing Derek, hunched over and defeated, like some withered daffodil – I just, had to look away. I didn’t laugh. Didn’t chuckle. Didn’t even smirk. All I could do was look away, that pit in my stomach turning to stone.
On Monday, in front of the school entrance, about thirty minutes before first bell and thirty degrees below zero, Derek stormed right up to me. Indifferent, seeing this coming and finding no despair, surprise or pleasure in it, I stood where I was, ready for him to hammer me.
Instead, there were no threats, no curses, no accusations. Just one question: did I lie about Christie Blackwell too?
Despite being exhausted from the endless stream of assignments and last night’s interminable guilt, I somehow managed the strength to slowly shake my head and mutter no. One last prank on Derek.
With that, Derek said nothing. And simply walked away.
At that moment, standing there alone with sticky icicles running down my upper lip from my nose to my scarf, I thought I was going to throw up.
The next day, I advised Lloyd we give Derek some distance at lunch hour. I suspected we were personae non grata.
But, to my surprise, Derek came over to our table. Stone-faced, without a word he sat down and ate. Lloyd and I glanced over at him then at each other. The three of us just sat and chewed in silence.
Then, after finishing his serving of oily cafeteria French fries, he told us one of his typically great, terrifying stories. His last.
“You guys ever hear about Melvin Sinclair?” he began, cryptically.
Fake-sounding name. Still, a pretty good start.
Lloyd and I both shook our heads, wordlessly.
“He was a student at our school. Way back, when it was run by the nuns.”
I later found out this part of his story was true. Our high school – Pendleton College – was once run by the local nunnery – but this was when it was still a residential school, with only abused, shipped-in Native kids as its student body.
“He’s actually the person I am going to write my next comic script on. I know you two won’t read it, but I think you should hear about him anyway.
“Sinclair was a funny kid. A bit stupid, you know? Believed anything his pals told him.”
This, of course, immediately rang a bell for both of us. Lloyd and I looked at each other knowingly. Still, we were hooked. At least, I was.
“He was also very poor with a sick father at home who couldn’t work. So, a lot of his friends could make him do things with the promise of money.
“So, one night, around this time of year – just before Christmas, all those years ago, Sinclair and his buddies went out onto Saul Laskin Lake. It was frozen solid then, just like it is right now. Sinclair got dared by his buddies to walk out onto the lake – see if he could make it to the other side.
“Now, Sinclair was afraid. Terrified, you know? Saul Laskin is two football fields long and three fields wide. Sure, he knew it had been frozen solid for three months straight and a jackhammer couldn’t make a dent an inch deep in it. But still, he was unsure. He never walked across ice in the middle of winter before. Never even put on a pair of skates.
“To his buddies, he shook his head, no. He didn’t care if it made him a chicken. He wasn’t going out there, risking falling through.
“So, his friends decided to sweeten the deal. They told him that if he made it to the other side, they’d meet him there, after walking along the shoreline, and pay him three-hundred dollars.
“Now, his buddies didn’t have three-hundred dollars, but they did have a thick wad of ten two-dollar bills. So, they slipped one into Sinclair ’s hand, as proof there was more where that’d come from. They both figured it would be worth it to see Sinclair fall through the ice or wet himself from fear.
“Again, Sinclair wasn’t too bright. He was also very poor, and his family was way behind on the electric bill, which was bad since this was one of the worst winters in Canadian history. Not to mention, Christmas was right around the corner. So, he took the two dollars as proof they had two-hundred-and-ninety-eight more and made his way across the ice.
“The two of his friends giggled behind their frozen-snot-covered mittens, egging him on, telling him he was doing great. Sinclair didn’t clue in though. He just kept going, waddling and swaying from side to side like a tight rope walker, terrified the rhino-hide-thick ice would give.
“Now, his two buddies didn’t want Sinclair to get hurt. Not seriously anyway. At worst, they were waiting for him to slip and fall on his ass, so they could laugh at him until their bellies were sore.
“So, Sinclair got sixty feet across the ice when his buddies at the shore heard a sudden crunch. A sharp, unmistakable sound. The ice had cracked. Saul Laskin was giving under Sinclair ’s weight. Apparently, the lake wasn’t so titanium at the middle.
“Feeling a sudden rush of panic and just a bit of guilt, both of them started hollering at the top of their lungs for Sinclair to get off the ice. To turn back. Sinclair didn’t turn around though. He didn’t even stop walking. He was determined to make it to the other side. To make that three-hundred dollars. Cracks in the ice be damned, his house needed heat!
“His pals on the shore watched in horror when Sinclair took four more steps before plummeting through the ice on the fifth. Unable to think, being dumb kids, they freaked and ran away. It took them ten minutes before they realized they needed to go get help.
“A couple of the teachers and one of the farmers from town came out onto the ice. When they got to the break where Sinclair had fallen in, they made a horrific discovery. On the other side of the hole, was a set of freshly frozen footprints. Like prints in the snow but upside down and inside out. They were glistening and raised, like a trail of swollen scar-tissue. And they headed to the other side – to the end of Saul Laskin Lake.
“On the shoreline, the five of them ran to the other side of the pond, coming to the very end, to find that the steps ended at a second gaping hole in the ice.
“Sinclair ’s body was never found. But the doctors were certain it should have been impossible for him to have walked that length of the ice without succumbing to hypothermia.
“Ever since that night, on the anniversary of Melvin Sinclair ’s arctic plunge, they say he comes back, still drenched and half-frozen stiff, looking for the three-hundred dollars promised him. And taking any unfortunate soul who dares wander across the ice, mistaking them for his two pals who had played that cruel joke on him, so very long ago.”
Lloyd and I stared back at Derek speechless, our mouths agape.
The silence was interrupted when two loud, chortling sophomores bumped into Derek from behind, making their way past him.
“This has got to be bull,” Lloyd insisted, rearing back from the table.
“Where’d you get this?” I asked, my eyes having never left Derek’s face.
“I told you,” he said. “It’s the basis of my next comic script, which you won’t read. There are some things out there that can’t be understood. But you can find them out if you just suspend your disbelief.”
I looked hard at him. He smirked.
“I heard it from one of the teachers and from one of the upper-class men last year,” he confessed. “Both of them told the story exactly as I just did.”
I was then fairly certain what Derek was going to say next. And I was right.
“The anniversary of Melvin Sinclair ’s disappearance is tonight,” he whispered, as though we were sharing state-level secrets. “I say we go to Saul Laskin after dark and check it out.”
Lloyd blew out his mouth, his lips making that pffft sound.
“Yeah, all right,” I said hastily. Almost automatically.
“What?” Lloyd blurted.
“I’ll go,” I continued. “Hell, let’s all go.”
“Great!” said Derek, over Lloyd’s grumbled protest. “Meet you both at the shoreline near Tenth and Mockingbird. Be there at ten, sharp.”
With that, Derek stood from his seat, carrying his meal tray to the metal rack and exiting the caf.
“Dude,” Lloyd spun on me. “What gives?”
“Look, man,” I offered Lloyd, weakly. “We did a really lousy thing to Derek. I think the least we can do is spend one late night with him on this little whim.”
“That’s crap!” snapped Lloyd. “This is your way of playing another prank on him.”
I shook my head vigorously, vexed by his charge. “No way!”
“Yeah? Well maybe this is Derek’s way of getting us back. Playing a prank on us. You ever think of that?”
“I doubt it. Derek’s not like that.”
Lloyd just shook his head, obviously miffed.
We didn’t say anything after that. But we both knew we were going to Saul Laskin Lake that evening to meet Derek.
I remember it was ten below zero. Felt like minus twenty with the wind-chill and even worse that close to the ice. The stars were probably out, and fully visible, but I don’t remember seeing them. I could barely see what was in front of me from my face being two-thirds buried behind my scarph and tuque.
I met Lloyd on the way there, about ten yards from the shoreline on Mockingbird, and he was likewise dressed as a winter mummy. As we got closer, we saw a figure standing upright, unfazed by the cutting gale. It was Derek. He was in his snow-pants and a parka but wasn’t wearing anything to cover his head. Just a pair of earmuffs. Bizarrely, he seemed completely comfortable out there, his flushed red cheeks the only thing betraying how cold he was.
“Well, here we are,” he greeted us, cryptically. A just as cryptic smile on his chapped, purple lips.
“What are we doing out here?” Lloyd growled, rubbing his thickly gloved hands together and bouncing from one foot to the other. “It’s freezing!”
“We’re here to see if Melvin Sinclair ’s ghost shows up,” I told him.
The look he gave me could have thawed Saul Laskin Lake.
“I never said it was a ghost,” said Derek, just over the wind.
The two of us stared at our guide into the other world.
“Then what is it?” I asked.
“A zombie?” Lloyd mocked.
Feigning ignorance, Derek just shrugged.
The three of us stood there, in the middle of December in Canada, staring at the frozen lake like three wallflowers around a dancefloor (an analogy that’s not much of a stretch for us).
Predictably, Derek broke the silence.
“How about we play some Truth or Dare?” he asked. I looked over and saw that cryptic smile on his now bluish lips.
“How about we play some Go-Home-And-Sleep-In-A-House-With-Central-Heating?” Lloyd barked.
Me, I couldn’t help myself.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s play some Truth or Dare.”
“You first,” Derek pounced.
Ordinarily, I would have bickered back and forth with Derek to try to get him to go first, but my recently grown conscience forced me to accept this condition.
“Okay,” I said. I then looked out onto the ice, anticipating what the dare might be and not having any of it. “Truth.”
For the first time that night, Derek’s strange smirk disappeared.
“All right,” he said, his face and voice now very serious. “Yesterday morning,” my mind then immediately raced to that moment, regretting my choice for Truth, “when I asked you about Christie Blackwell,”
“Okay, okay, never mind!” I shouted over him, before he could even get the question out. “I changed my mind. Dare. Give me a dare. What? You want me to walk across the lake? Is that it?”
Without speaking, Derek nodded his head, that cryptic little grin reappearing.
I then looked back at the frozen lake. Derek hadn’t lied when he said that it was two football fields long. In fact, it was longer. 273.5 yards to be exact. From where we were standing, I could see only half of the ice, the other side swallowed up by night and fog.
“Okay, here’s a deal,” I said, trying to negotiate my way out of it. “I’ll go as far as where that fog starts. That’s just before you two won’t be able to see me.”
“No deal,” said Derek, his eyes colder than Saul Laskin. “You go all the way across, or until you see Melvin Sinclair, or you admit you believed my story enough that you’re scared to go out there.”
“What?”
“Or choose Truth.”
“I’m not scared of that boogeyman crap!” I exclaimed.
“Then why not go all the way?” said Derek. “You know that lake is perfectly safe for skating. It’s been frozen solid since October.”
“Because it’s stupid, that’s why.”
“Or because you’re afraid Melvin Sinclair will get you.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Fine. Then choose Truth. Answer my question.”
Astonished, I shot him an incredulous look.
“Man, screw you!” I cried. “You’re the one who’s so stupid that you believe that dumb story. You probably did hear it from an upper-class man last year. They knew you’d be gullible enough to buy it.”
I turned to the frozen pond, my eyes melting the ice.
“I’m going to go as far as that fog starts. From there, I’ll be able to see over to the other side. I’ll also be right in the middle so it will prove two things: One, that no one could fall through the ice when it’s this cold out, and two, that there isn’t some supernatural creature roaming around at night. I’ll prove to you there’s no such thing.”
Derek looked back at me. That strange smile disappeared again from his lips and never came back.
“I’m not gullible,” he insisted in a low voice. “The story is true.”
“Ah, up yours,” I said, walking to the edge of the shoreline and shuffling gingerly onto the ice. “Come on, Lloyd. Let’s go.”
“Me?” I heard from behind.
“Come on, you wimp. Let’s show this moron how stupid and full of it he is.”
The two of us waddled onto Saul Laskin. We inched our way closer and closer to the foggy middle, the thick air never seeming to thin out and recede like it normally would. Truthfully, I could barely see an inch in front of me; the whipping, cold air caused me to tear up and turned my tears to icicles on my lashes. But I was too angry to care. In my mind, I told myself I was going to prove to Derek what an idiot he was. In truth, I just wanted anyway to avoid telling him the truth about Christie Blackwell.
We were well past the center-point when I finally decided to stop. Lloyd was a bit ahead of me. I looked around. The fog was so dense. Even worse, I had to blink my eyes rapidly to break up the frozen moisture that accumulated on my lashes.
I roughly cleared my vision with my gloved thumb. And then I saw it. A hunched figure, just obscured by the fog, hobbling slowly toward Lloyd. Lloyd must have been having the same trouble I was, because he made no effort to run or communicate with the figure, even though it was practically right in his line of sight.
At first, I thought it was Derek. Thought he had somehow caught up and was trying to scare us. But I was wrong. I was very, very wrong.
I tried to warn Lloyd. To shout out. To ask who was there. But I couldn’t. The words were trapped in my throat. I was as petrified as the ice I stood upon. I stared, seeing the nearly naked figure come into focus. It was a man – or…what was once a man. The skin was pale, translucent, all the blue and purple veins visible. The hair was blonde – silver and slicked back, like the head had just been submerged in water. It looked like a cadaver that had escaped from the city morgue. Its bright coloured eyes resembled a pair of round, broken mirrors, and never once did I see them close. Not even blink.
Then, I…I heard it speak!
“I did it…” it muttered, hoarsely, the sound like the ruffling of crumpled paper. “I did it…where is she?”
The creature was mere feet from Lloyd, but he’d turned his back to it like it wasn’t there. He then lifted his head, one red eye open, and asked, “Jimmy? Did you say –”
Before he could finish, the walking cadaver shot a long, bony arm, grasping his shoulder with its claw-like fingers.
Lloyd looked around and shrieked.
“Where is she?” the thing muttered huskily. “Where’s my baby?”
Undoubtedly terrified, Lloyd tried to sprint away, only to slip and fall on the ice. The walking cadaver’s grip remained unbroken, causing Lloyd’s winter coat to rip. The thing pinned him, its grasping claws shaking Lloyd by the lapels.
“You said if I did it, you’d tell me where she was!” it hissed into Lloyd’s face. I watched, still petrified, only able to imagine the look of confusion and terror on Lloyd’s bundled-up face.
“Where is she!” the creature screamed. “Where is she? You promised. You promised\!” \ Its voice cracked on the last syllable.
It then started throwing Lloyd’s torso up and down, until the back of his head hit the ice with a shuddering thud. I cringed. It was like the sound of a bowling ball being dropped straight to the tiled, wooden floor. The thing then mounted him, clawing and punching at his lifeless form in a hungry frenzy. With its cracked, blackened teeth bared, the canines resembled a set of fangs.
I wanted to run. I wanted to help – to fight that thing off of my friend. But I swear, I – I couldn’t.
By the time that thing had stopped, I could see freshly fallen red droplets, steaming on the ice around Lloyd’s head. I knew then that he was gone.
What happened next, I can’t explain. The creature laid down on Lloyd’s supine body, putting its pale, grotesquely scabbed head on his chest, as though listening for a heartbeat. I then realized that the fog was thickening. There were whole plumes of smoke wafting up from the ice beneath their bodies. I realized when they began to sink, that the ice was melting.
The creature sunk down beneath the ice, pulling my friend’s carcass along with it. Once they had slipped out of sight, I heard the worst sound you could possibly imagine. The sound of the ice cracking. I looked at my feet and saw a deep gash, shaped like a lightning bolt, tearing a path through the ice beneath my feet and between my legs. Several mini fractures splintered off, creating a spider-web of icy shards.
My senses returning to me, I ran, falling and stumbling, back to the shoreline. I don’t know how many steps I made before I slid and fell through – and was completely submerged in Saul Laskin.
I don’t remember how cold it was – though it was freezing beyond imagination. I just remember the disgusting feeling of my clothes soaking in the water beside my skin– and the sheer panic blaring inside my skull.
Remember how I was short and fat? Well, I also didn’t have a clue how to swim. I just floated there, under the water, not seeing a damned thing, my mind a riot of horrible scenarios and images.
As you would expect, I flailed in desperate mortal fear when I felt a hand grab at me and pull. Thankfully, the hand was pulling me upward, to safety. And it belonged to Derek.
“Jimmy,” Derek panted, after he’d dragged me up onto the surface. “It’s – it’s okay,” he struggled to say, as he too was drenched from head to toe. “Here’s my – my coat...p-put it on.”
He then laid his open parka over my body. Luckily, he had taken it off before diving in to save me. I’m sure now if it wasn’t for his quick thinking, I’d have died that night.
“L-listen – listen to me,” he stammered on. His lips were turning a deep blue, as was his face. “My phone is in one of the coat pockets, call 9-1-1.”
“W-what?” I said, not understanding why he didn’t do it himself.
“Just do it,” he said, then turned and began walking in the direction of that creature.
“Wait!”
“I’m – I’m going to g-g-go get L-l-l-loyd!” he blurted out. Now, this is where I’d like to tell you that I forced Derek to stay with me. That I told him the truth about Christie Blackwell. That I apologized for the cruel joke I had played on him with Lloyd and my Uncle Eric. And for always taking him and his friendship for granted. But that didn’t happen. Shivering from the cold and my own fear, I just watched as he marched away, disappearing into the fog.
I took out his phone from the right pocket and dialed 9-1-1. I remember hearing the phone ring, the monotonous sound reverberating in my skull. I don’t remember anyone answering.
The last thing I remember is the feeling of my body growing warm. All the pain and fear evaporating with the fog. And then, there was blackness. Blackness save for a kaleidoscope of horrible images playing on loop in my mind.
I woke up in the emergency room.
I was told that the paramedics and fire department were called out. That they’d scanned the ice but never found Derek or Lloyd. I was told that I was lucky to be alive. Even luckier that I didn’t have frostbite and would therefore not have to lose any appendages.
Eventually, they got around to asking me why we were out there and what happened. I told them everything. Every last detail. Of course, they all looked at me like I was crazy. Some of them even thought that I might have gone into shock and asked my parents to have me undergo a CAT scan. I never did though.
During my time in the hospital, three thoughts kept spinning around my brain. One, how grateful I was to Derek Zimmer for saving my life. Two, how amazed I was that his story was actually true. And three, why that creature kept asking for its baby, instead of for money, like in Derek’s story. I found out later that the story Derek had told us that afternoon was one of many legends concerning Saul Laskin Lake and that night. Some were about a man whose daughter had been kidnapped by a gang of thieves; that the man was thrown into the lake, his feet encased in concrete, after he’d paid their ransom. Some were of a mentally disturbed woman who had drowned her baby, thinking it was possessed by the devil. And at least half a dozen more I can’t stomach reciting here.
Perhaps the worst moment after that night was when I got a visit from Missus Calhoun, the principal at Pendleton College. She was in her early seventies, stout, with a tight, silver bob cut and a pair of owlish spectacles on her round, little nose. She sat down at my bedside, wearing her shapeless, riotously patterned muumuu, and asked me what had happened at Saul Laskin. I told her. The same story I had told everyone since waking up in the emergency room. When I was done, she just stared at me, expressionless, before giving out a sharp sigh through her tiny nostrils.
“This is what I think happened, James,” she began, a subtle disdain in her voice. “I think you dared Lloyd Apanowicz and Derek to walk out there on the ice. We all know how you tricked and tortured that poor boy since primary school.
“I think when the ice cracked, and your friends fell in, you panicked and came up with this ludicrous lie to cover your tracks, because you think we’re all as gullible as poor Derek Zimmer. Because you think you’re that smart and the rest of us are that dumb. I think you’re a cruel, immature, sociopathic little boy who’ll end up becoming a cheat and a fraud and spend his adult life in and out of prison.”
From my bed, I stared back at her wide-eyed. It was so surreal. An adult – a teacher – speaking to me in such a way.
“And I don’t care who you tell this to,” she hissed. “Because I’m retiring at the end of this school year. And if I never see another sadistic child like you again, it’ll be too soon.”
When I brought up how I had been rescued, had almost succumb to hypothermia myself, she grunted and said, “I don’t know. You seem all right to me. After all, you didn’t even get frostbite out there, did you? And you’re the only one of those boys who survived.”
She then shook her grey head at me, making a tsk-tsk-tsk noise with her tongue.
“In and out of prison,” she repeated to herself, before rising from her chair and leaving me on my own.
Today, I’m happy to tell you her prognosis was false. I haven’t been in jail at any time in my life and the worst I’ve ever gotten is a speeding ticket. That being said, guilt has followed me around ever since that night.
I never told Derek that I had lied about Christie Blackwell, and for that I am eternally sorry. As I am for making Lloyd come with me across the frozen lake. I had also doubted Derek about his story of the spirit that haunts Saul Laskin once a year on a December night. For that too, I am sorry.
I don’t know what compelled me to play so many tricks on him, besides my overly logical, and cynical nature. But ever since that night, I’m not so quick to dismiss something – even if it does seem fantastic. Or even impossible.

Hello
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I’d like to present to you Joestars, my attempt at Beastars x Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure crossover. This was originally posted on the BeastarsCrusaders subreddit however, I am posting it here so more people can see it (also the other sub is a little dead). This post contains chapters 1-8, rewritten to contain better, more fitting dialogue, some Stand redesigns, and a few changes to the plot. So comb your beautiful hair, hang up your frog you called the boss with, stand up, stand proud, sit down and enjoy Joestars
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(sorry for the long wait, I was busy doing college and really wanted to perfect this. I’m going on hiatus for now and will continue when season 2 comes out and inspires me. Also, apologies in advance if I get the characters wrong).
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Chapter 1
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???? ???
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“The arrow” whispered a dark figure. In one of its hands was a bow and the other, an arrow , “follow the arrow, the arrow knows who to find. He will pay” Strangely, the arrow in the figure’s hand was seemingly moving on its own pointing at something, or someone. When the arrow found someone, the figure pulled back the arrow in the bow and released it. It did this several times, going through several people, a komodo dragon, a red deer, a white rabbit, and many more. Eventually the man left, hoping the arrow was correct.
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...
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Legoshi sat on his bunk as his roommates slept. He was currently looking out the window. That one white rabbit Haru was currently occupying his mind. Such a small herbivore, but there was something about her. She just had this air of confidence and complexity. Legoshi was about to doze off, when suddenly something felt, off. It was as if something inside of him, activated. It was a strange feeling, almost as if a switch had been pulled.
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He thought about Jack, after taking a sniff, he smiled, he could picture Jack perfectly, sleeping soundly like a pup and- Legoshi froze, realizing what just happened. He looked over to Jack’s bunk wide eyed. something wasn't right. He wasn’t able to picture his friend as perfectly as before and on scent alone! He looked down at his hands and jerked back at the sight of them, with a quiet “AH!” his hands were larger and claws were longer than they have ever been. they were completely black and were, flickering, almost like a flame.
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Immediately Legoshi went out of bed quietly so as to not wake the other canids and quietly darted into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He was about to wash his face, but when he looked in the mirror his mouth dropped.
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Instead of seeing his reflection, he saw a shadowy figure that resembled him somewhat . It stared back at the wolf with glowing red eyes. It’s mouth was dropped as well, revealing white sharp teeth and a pure red inside. Was this what he looked like? Legoshi was breathing heavily now, confused as to what happened to him. Was this even him? He backed up to the wall behind him, noticing that whatever it was only affected him from the waist up as his legs looked normal. Legohsi closed his eyes and whispered, “ Is this me? Wh-what’s going on?!” All the stressed wolf could do was put his hands over his head and look down, eyes closed and shaking his head....
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“Master……”
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The voice, it was a ghostly, calming one, and as Legoshi looked up, he was met with the same shadowy body. Except, its mouth was closed and didn’t look panicked like he was.
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“Master,” the body’s mouth was moving on its own, matching the voice “Master... I am you.”
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“You’re…. Me?”
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“Yes, I am your soul, your fighting spirit. I am your Stand,「Hungry Like The Wolf」.”
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“「Hungry Like The Wolf」?”
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“Yes, you can, return me if you’d like. Would that calm you down, dear Master? You activated me, after all.”
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Legoshi stood there for a moment and suddenly the body went away, revealing his normal grey self in his white night shirt, “O-oh?”. He stood there again, and the body, his Stand, reappeared.
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“See, it’s not hard, now sleep, you’re tired aren’t you? Tired and hungry.”
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Legoshi agreed with his new Stand, he was tired. He returned it, and went back to bed. However, he struggled to fall back asleep. The idea that he had this thing, this Stand, and the fact that it could talk to him made him toss and turn. Eventually however, the need for sleep exceeded his fear, and Legoshi fell asleep.
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Chapter 2
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Haru woke up, she was in the infirmary. All she could remember from last night was a sharp pain. A nurse walked in and raised her eyebrows in surprise.
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“You’re finally awake!”
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“Huh? What happened?”
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“A student found you knocked out cold last night. You didn’t seem to wake up. Other than that we couldn’t find any other injuries. Do you feel fine?”
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“Yeah, I do.”
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“Very good, you can leave when ready.”
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“Right, then I’ll be going now.” Haru got out of the hospital bed and walked out of the infirmary. She then continued her day as normal.
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...
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Haru was watering some flowers outside her dorm as usual. Being the only member of the gardening club, the Netherlands Dwarf rabbit took a liking to plants, as they were much better to be with than, some other people. She had quite a wild night and morning. Haru put down the watering can to admire the plants, pedals, stems, and all. When suddenly she was pushed forward and fell into the planterbed on her precious flowers. She then heard the laughter of a trio of all too familiar voices.
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“Wow Haru, I like the new plant! Though it looks like it needs some water.”
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Suddenly Haru could feel something cold and wet on her back, it was water, they were watering her. Haru turned over to see the familiar sight of the Harlequin Rabbit Mizuchi holding her watering can and her two cronies standing at either side of her.
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“I thought that wolf scared you off!”
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“We thought it would eat you, and yet here we are. Besides, the wolf probably thought you’d taste terrible, with all the man meat that’s in you!”
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Haru did not take that well, he hand clutched the dirt beneath her and her teeth were gritted, she wanted to do something to her but what? She didn’t know. Could she do anything? What could she do?
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Suddenly a pink figure came out of her chest and a pink projectile was shot into Mizuchi’s. Her jaw suddenly dropped and eyes widened as she stared into the distance. She dropped Haru’s watering can and began to cry. She did this for a few good minutes as the dwarf rabbit and two cronies stared awkwardly in silence at her. The crying devolved into screaming as she clutched her chest. The screaming and crying continued, with the screaming sounding worse and worse. Haru didn’t want to know what would happen to her. She wanted this to stop, to stop. The projectile was immediately shot back into Haru’s chest. Mizuchi took a few deep breaths as she regained her senses and found herself staring at Haru again. Mizuchi hesitated for a few seconds, then ran away screaming. The two cronies looked at her running away, then at Haru. Haru quickly changed her confused expression into a smirk. They then did the same thing, running away screaming. Haru felt relieved, those three would finally stop bothering her, hopefully. Though she wasn’t exactly sure what she did to the Harlequin rabbit. She took a closer look at the figure that came out of her chest. It looked kind of like a rabbit. Its lower body was a trail of some kind of pink gas that flowed out of the rabbit’s chest. Its upper body was pink and white. Its “ears'' resembled two red halves of a broken heart and a red ruby was where its nose should be. Most notably, starting from the ruby and ending near the waist was some kind of long crack. The figure flew out of Haru’s chest and two pink legs with white “shoes'' were formed as it hovered next to Haru. It seemed like it was staring back at her. “Huh,” said Haru as the name came to her:
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“「Heartbreaker」..........”
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(courtesy of my friend u/Cannon-Fodder2004 for help coming up with the Stand name and STANDO POWAH! As well as any further help for this story)
Chapter 3
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Louis sat in the bed of his dorm, staring at his foot once again and the dreaded number on it, 4. 4 4 4 4, he once again remembered his past, his father Oguma, and the knife. It was a dangerous world, but he wouldn’t let that get in the way of becoming a Beastar. And if any of those carnivores, those, living weapons, tried to stop him, he still had his pistol. However, Louis wondered if it was enough to protect him. Of course it could kill most living things, it’s a gun after all, but he didn’t have it on him all the time. Was he really safe without it? Maybe he shouldn’t rely on it so much, but what else could he do? Carnivores can use claws and sharp teeth. What can he use? His antlers? There was nothing he could really do.
Or was there?
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The red deer felt something inside of him. He then heard some kind of robotic moving noise and saw two long objects on his shoulders “What the-?!!?” exclaimed Louis as he began looking at them. They were a metallic white, rectangular in shape with rounded edges. Louis remained silent as he examined these two things with great wonder, what are these? Suddenly something came out of Louis and the things on his shoulders were no longer there. Instead they were on a figure that sort of resembled a deer. It was slender like him and seemed to possess dark grey “fur.” What was the most strange were the bits of what appeared to be some kind of grey metallic machinery on it. The way it snaked across the thing's body suggested that it was intruding on its “flesh.” The machinery had completely taken over one of its “eyes” leaving a glowing red dot in its place. It also completely took over a part of its “leg,” completely replacing one of its “feet” with a mechanical-looking one. hovered next to the red deer’s bed looking back at Louis. Looking at the shoulder shapes from the front. It was clear what they were from the round tips. They were guns, two large shoulder cannons. “Hmmmm… 「Guns N’ Roses」, so that’s your name...” Louis wondered how well this, thing, could shoot. The thing turned to the left, then Louis heard a loud “PFDDDDDDDD” as the shoulder cannons of 「Guns N’ Roses」 began to fire rapidly leaving several bullet holes in his dorm wall. Louis ducked down on his bed unsure of what he just did or happened or how exactly to stop this.「Guns N’ Roses」came out of him, could it go back into him? A few seconds after thinking about it the firing noise stopped, Louis looked up. It was gone. The red deer sat back up and gawked at the destruction it had left, a ridiculous amount of bullet holes were scattered all across the room. Louis wasn’t sure how the hell he would explain this to the staff. Maybe he should just get ready for class and pretend this never happened. Louis activated and unfolded 「Guns N’ Roses」’ shoulder cannons. This was quite a bizarre morning.
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Chapter 4
???? ???
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“I don’t know where I got this arrow, but the note said to follow it, so I will. I hope it works. Let’s see,” The figure armed with a bow followed the arrow in his hand as it pointed in a specific direction. It eventually led him to a large orange striped cat walking down a street “huh, a tiger… Alright.” The figure pulled back the arrow in its bow and released.
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...
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Most of the animals were walking back to their dorms in Cherryton and Bill was no exception. As he was walking back, the tiger remembered that one bizarre night he had, could remember walking down some lonely street in the city and then feeling something stab him shortly after. He clenched his teeth and looked down to see where the pain was coming from. It was from his leg, there was an arrow sticking out of it. It was quite absurd to see. If someone was trying to kill him, why use a bow? Bill then quickly realized how painful the arrow was; he closed his eyes and grunted in pain. It was...really painful. It caused him to collapse. He couldn’t remember much after that, all he knew was that when he woke up it was still night, and the arrow was gone. So was the wound, strangely enough. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to walk around the city alone at night. As he was thinking about this, he failed to notice the back of a lion in front of him and accidentally bumped into him the lion staggered then turned around clearly not looking too happy at what the tiger did to him
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“Hey! Watch where you’re going dumbass!”
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“Huh?”
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“You think you can push me around just because you’re bigger than me? You wanna fight?”
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“What? No.”
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“Really? You sound like you do!”
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“What are you talking about?”
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“You know exactly what! Dumbass!”
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“Uhhhh…?”
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By this time a lot of students gathered around to witness the quarreling between the two big cats. It was clear the tiger wouldn’t be escaping this fight. Well, he managed to fight Legoshi, this lion maybe a little tougher though, but that won’t stop him. The lion got into a fighting stance and so did Bill. After getting into his fighting stance two white fangs. Bill blinked twice? Was he seeing things? Nope, the two fangs were still there, as Bill stared at them with a dumbfounded look.
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“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! STOP STARING OFF!!”
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Bill stopped staring at the fangs and looked at the angry lion. Could he not see the fangs? The lion made a dash towards Bill. The two fangs turned horizontally then swiftly began to fly towards the lion and then… they missed. They missed the lion. Bill was a little disappointed at the sight, he thought the fangs would stab him, or do something cool. Oh, well guess this’ll just be a normal fight. Right as the lion was about to punch Bill the sound of screaming filled air stopping the lion in his tracks. The two looked to where the screams were coming from and saw two students, a goat, and a cheetah with stab wounds. That was all they could see, except for Bill who saw those very same fangs that had “missed” the lion lodged into the two students. All of sudden the fangs retracted from the two students and returned to their floating position. Blood then began to flow from the wounds. the bloody streams moved towards the two floating fangs. The fight’s onlookers witnessed this in horror. It seemed that they could see the blood but not the fangs. The small crowd quickly fled the scene shortly after as the two injured students became unconscious. Eventually, an orb from the students’ blood was formed around the fangs. The bloody orb then morphed into a featureless hovering figure. The bloody figure flew back to Bill standing in between him and the lion. The lion backpedaled a few steps in fear at this crazy sight, but then quickly regained his composure. If he had to get through this, whatever it was, so be it. The lion threw a punch. The blood figure opened up a hole in its body and the lion’s fist went through it. It then closed the hole. The lion tried to pull his hand out of the figure but couldn’t as the blood around it dried rapidly, trapping it. Bill watched the whole thing go down in awe. What is this thing? Was he controlling it? Could he control it? As Bill thought about this, the figure's hand raised its own “fist”, dried it, wetted the blood around the lion’s hand and threw its punch. The dried blood fist connected the lion’s face, knocking him off his feet. Bill formed a smile at the sight of this. “I can control it!!!”
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The lion got his strength back and got up on his feet again. He didn’t know how he would fight the crimson figure but he wouldn’t give up just yet. Bill continued to smile as the left “arm” of the blood figure diminished as the right arm extended towards the enemy fighter, its “hand” formed into a spike of dry blood. The spike stabbed the lion in the arm. The lion let out a cry of pain. The spike retracted from the fighter and formed back into an arm. The lion stared at the figure for a few seconds
“I give up! I give up! You win!!!!!!”
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The lion ran away from the tiger, at a slightly slower speed than a cheetah. Leaving Bill with the blood figure and the two unconscious students. Bill looked at his red guardian. “ 「Give Blood」 huh? This is awesome!”
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Today was a bizarre day, and one that marked the beginning of the Cherryton students' quiet life getting turned upside down.
Chapter 5:
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The next day:
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A strange visitor walked the Cherryton campus. He received quite a few glances from the students that saw him, and many whispered to each other behind his back about him. Maybe he was a guest or teacher? He clearly looked out of place in this school. He wasn’t wearing a school uniform. He was wearing a white cap, overcoat, and pants along with a blue shirt. He also didn’t look high-school age, rather he seemed to be in his late 20s at least. Above all else however, he was human. A species that you don’t normally see everyday. The human ignored the students’ glances and whispers as he continued his stroll on the campus.
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Eventually the human caught sight of a grey wolf, Legoshi. He was simply standing in place staring off at something. “Hey!” the human said, pointing at Legoshi in a rather dramatic fashion. “You!”
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Legoshi quickly turned his head to see the human “Oh? Me?”
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“Yeah, you.” The human took a few steps towards Legoshi. “Do you know anything about a small white rabbit?”
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Legoshi's draw dropped slightly and eyes widened at the question for a brief moment. “Uh, no, well, maybe, why do you ask?”
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“That doesn’t concern you.” A purple apparition with long flowing hair and a gold headband came out of the human, hovering next to him.
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Legoshi caught sight of the apparition and took a few steps back in shock, “Uh, mister there’s some purple thing next to you.”
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The human made a surprised grunt at the wolf’s comment, but then calmed quickly, “so you have a Stand...”
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“Uh, Stand? Wait, uh yeah, I have a Stand. 「Hungry like the Wolf」.” The red eyed flaming shadow appeared.
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“I see.” Both then withdrew their Stands. “I’m looking for a white rabbit. She, along with several other students have possibly been shot with a Stand arrow.”
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“Shot with an arrow?” Legoshi thought about the absurdity of the question. An arrow? However his eyes began to widen at the sudden realization. “Haru….”
“What?”
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“Haru… HARU!!” Legoshi immediately broke into a run.
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“Hey, wait!” The human tried to stop Legoshi but before he knew it the wolf was too far away to hear him. He sighed and tipped his hat, “Good grief.”
Chapter 6
“So you also have this, power.” The shirtless Louis was sitting on the bed in the gardening shed, his Stand 「Guns N’ Roses」was standing next to the bed. The red deer was eyeing Haru’s 「Heartbreaker」.
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“That’s about right.” Replied the Stand’s user. She was putting on the buckle of her school uniform.
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Louis looked at his Stand “They are nice to look at. But I don’t see any point beyond that.” He and the rabbit withdrew their Stands
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“I don’t know Louis, 「Heartbreaker」helped out a lot yesterday.”
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The red deer was about to say something, but was cut short by the sound of glass breaking. A black figure was in the room now, frantically breathing. It looked to be in the shape of a canine. It seemed familiar as well.
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“HARU!!!” The black figure disappeared revealing the currently panicked gray wolf Legoshi.
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“L-Legoshi…..?” Haru said, slightly dazed at the sudden sight.
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Legoshi crouched down “Haru I heard you were shot, are you ok!!??”
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“Legoshi…”
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“You’re not bleeding anywhere right??!!!! Please tell me you’re fine!!!”
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“Legoshi!”
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“Do you need to go to the infirmary? I can take you there right now if you’re too injured to go!”
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“LEGOSHI!!!”
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Legoshi paused. Haru tried to think of something to say but she couldn’t form words to say that would rectify the situation. The wolf then took a sniff and turned to head and his eyes met the eyes of the shirtless red deer Louis “Louis…?”
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Louis tried his best to retain his composure. But, every cell in his body was fuming with anger. He stood up
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“DAMN IT LEGOSHI!”
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「Guns N’ Roses」was activated and threw a punch at the grey wolf. It connected with his face sending him flying into the wall. Legoshi quickly got up and activated his own Stand and proceeded to throw a swipe at the deer’s stand. 「Guns N’ Roses」 tried to dodge the swipe, but it still managed to leave a medium sized cut on the Stand’s arm which left the same mark on its user.
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“「Star Platinum: The World」!”
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Before the wolf and deer could do anything else a purple apparition suddenly appeared between them holding his arms out between the two stands. Legoshi recognized it. He looked to the door and saw the white clothed human
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“Good grief you two. You can save the fighting for later. Get patched up and meet me back out here."
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…
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Legoshi, Louis, and Haru were all standing in the rather quiet gardening club. Standing in front of them was Jotaro.
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“I think it’s time for me to tell you my name. I’m Jotaro and I’m currently here on behalf of the Speedwagon Foundation.”
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“The Speedwagon Foundation?” Asked Legoshi.
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“Yes, the Speedwagon Foundation is dedicated to medical research, along with that, it also focuses on the research of Stands, and any related activity.”
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“Stands?” Asked Louis.
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“Yes, Stands, it’s the power we all have. They’re a manifestation of your fighting spirit or soul, most likely caused by getting shot by a Stand arrow. Recently we’ve received information that a person in possession of one of these Stand Arrows shot several students at this school, one of them being a small white rabbit.”
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“A small white rabbit?” Asked Haru.
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“Yes, and seeing how you were with two stand users, it’s safe to assume that it’s you. Do you remember getting shot?”
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“Uh, not really, it was about two days ago. All I remember was a sharp pain and then I woke up in the infirmary, a nurse said I was knocked out cold.”
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“I see. So you have a Stand as well.”
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Louis crossed his arms. “So, why were you looking for Haru specifically? What exactly is so important about her?”
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“From the information we had gathered, the only specific student we knew was shot was Haru. I wanted to make her an offer, but seeing how you and the wolf are also stand users I’ll extend it to the both of you as well. But first what are you’re names.”
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“Louis”
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“I’m Legoshi”
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Jotaro nodded “I assume you were both shot too.”
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“I don’t exactly remember being shot.”
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“Me neither, there was one night I could hardly sleep. I wasn’t shot at all.”
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Jotaro hesitated for a moment “Mmm, alright. While we have taken care of the person with the Stand arrow, we’ve received word that there’s possibly another person near this city who is also in possession of a Stand arrow. Most likely a Stand user. With that information in mind, I’d appreciate any kind of help tracking him down and possibly fighting him.”
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The red deer raised an eyebrow. “So you’re asking us, a bunch of high school students, to help you?”
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“You three all have Stands, that alone makes you more powerful than the average animal. There’s also no knowing what chaos the Stand user could potentially cause with the arrow. So, what do you say?”
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Louis shook his head, “This isn’t my problem, I don’t see a reason to get myself involved with it.
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Legoshi rubbed his neck “Yeah, I’m with Louis on this, I’ve got school to attend to.”
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“And I have plants to water,” Haru said.
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Jotaro hesitated, his eyes covered by darkness. “I see, that’s fine, here.” The human pulled out his phone “In case you change your mind, I’ll give you my number. I’ll be sticking around here for a while.” After a short time the three had “Jotaro” in their contacts. With the conversation being over Jotaro bid the trio farewell and began walking towards the door to the garden club. Louis watched Jotaro leave with intense eyes, there was something about that human he didn’t like. When Jotaro exited the gardening club the deer pointed a finger at Legoshi “Not a word of what happened today, do you understand?”
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Legoshi recoiled a bit and held out his hands “y-yeah, I do, I won’t say anything I swear it.”
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“Louis…” Haru said.
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Louis turned to Haru “I apologize for what has happened,” Louis then exited the gardening club leaving the wolf and rabbit alone. Legoshi tried to say something to Haru, but was still a bit nonplussed about the events that happened.
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“E-eh, I’ll talk to you later.” Legoshi left the gardening club as well.
Chapter 7
The day continued on as normal…
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Legoshi was on the catwalk with the rest of the stagehands. Down below Louis was directing the drama club members on the next big production. As he worked the lights, he began to think about what happened so far. It was indeed quite bizarre. Not only did he get this “Stand” thing (who also liked to talk to him) along with two of his classmates. He also barged in on them while they were together. He didn’t know how the two thought of him now. But seeing how Louis barely acknowledged the wolf’s existence ever since that happened, it most likely wasn’t good. He still needed to talk to Haru, but he thought it was best to do tomorrow on a new day. He then thought about Jotaro, more specifically what the human said. Haru was shot with a “Stand arrow.” That’s how she got her Stand. She was shot with that thing. Legoshi began to wonder, according to Jotaro, several other students were shot. So, who was exactly shot? Who else here at Cherryton academy had a Stand, and what could they do with it? Jotaro mentioned another animal with a Stand arrow as well. As Legoshi thought about this he noticed Bill. The tiger was acting a bit strange, he seemed quite excited about something, smirking, and sometimes staring off. Was he planning something? Should he do something about it? Could he do something about it? He remembered what happened last time he tried to stop Bill’s shenanigans, it didn’t end well. Maybe it was best if he didn’t get involved. Legoshi continued to work on the lights
...
It was dinner time at the cafeteria. Legoshi sat at a lonely table, eating the many school meals that were provided to students. Legoshi ate the typical carnivore meal: beans, eggs, bread, everything a carnivore needed to grow big and strong. Though there was no meat. As he was chomping away at his meal he thought about bringing out his Stand. He was going to be stuck with it forever, probably, so he thought he should get to know it better. He looked around him to see if anyone could see or notice him. He didn’t exactly know if people were able to see 「Hungry Like The Wolf」. Jotaro certainly was, but he was surprised when Legoshi noticed 「Star Platinum」. Legoshi thought about what would happen if people saw it. Seeing his reaction when he first saw the red-eyed body around him yesterday, others would probably react in similar fashion. Maybe he could test it? It was worth a shot “「Hungry Like The Wolf」,” whispered Legoshi. The Stand activated, the wolf then got up and began to wander around the nearby tables to see if anyone noticed his Stand. No one seemed to notice, when he got close to a table people were still eating. Even when he was sure someone could see him, they still acted normally. One even asked him what he was doing walking around. So they couldn’t see his Stand. He was in the clear. He sat back down at his table and gave his Stand a hi as he continued eating.
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The Stand responded with its ghostly voice “Hello Master”
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“Uhhh, so, how are you?”
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“However you are, Master… Hungry.”
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“Uhh, alright then, well, I’m eating.”
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There was a pause then the Stand spoke “Hmmm… that rabbit.”
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“What? Haru?”
​
“Yes that rabbit……. Devour her.” Legoshi nearly choked on his food at what his Stand said.
​
“What? No!”
​
“You’re hungry, she has meat on her.”
​
The wolf started to feel nervous “I’m not eating Haru!”
​
“Dear Master, I know you well, and I know deep within your heart, you want to consume her, you want her meat, you can do it in one bite, no one will know, and you will no longer be hungry.”
​
Now Legoshi was sweating and breathing heavily. He was not afraid of his Stand, no. He was afraid of himself, afraid of what he would do. It felt like that one night all over again. “The food I’m eating right now is fine! I don’t need meat.”
​
“Is it really? I know you desire the tender flesh of that rabbit more than another, egg sandwich.”
​
As Legoshi continued to breathe his fear began to turn into anger. Growling he slammed his fist on the table “LISTEN! I’M NOT GOING TO-!”
​
Legoshi then quickly became aware of what was happening, the entire cafeteria was silent, and all of them seemed to be staring at him. The wolf then realized what the students were seeing, to them, it looked like he was talking to himself. Legoshi withdrew「Hungry Like The Wolf」, awkwardly smiled, and slowly went back to eating. ...
​
There was still a few minutes left before the students had to go back to their dorms. Legoshi sat in the rec room with his hand under his chin next to the Golden Retriever Jack, his best friend. In front of them was a TV which was going on and on about a string of carnivore devourings that happened last night. Legoshi let out a long tired sigh.
​
“Long day huh?” Asked Jack.
​
“Mmmm, yeah”
​
“I heard you back at the cafeteria.”
​
Legoshi cringed a bit at Jack’s comment “You did?”
​
“Yep, couldn’t really see you that well from where I was sitting. Were you talking to someone or something?”
​
“You could say that..” Legoshi sighed again
​
“Aww, don’t worry about it.” Jack said, smiling.
​
Legoshi then caught the sight of something, looking up and saw what appeared to be a sun. However, it wasn’t the kind of sun you’d see outside, for one thing this sun wasn’t bright, hot, or round. It was flat, yellow and had a face on it. Kinda like those suns you’d see in an old painting. The face didn’t have a nose, only a mouth and eyes. It appeared to be grinning. Was it a Stand? Legoshi was about to say something, but before he could the sun’s “rays” began to slowly rotate. As they rotated they made a mechanical “chk” noise. Suddenly Legoshi’s mind started feeling hazy. He tried to summon his Stand but he couldn’t. He could barely hear anything. All his senses were dulled. His vision seemed blurred as well.
​
“Jack…?” Was all he could muster.
​
“Calm down. Let it happen.”
​
Suddenly Legoshi felt a wave of euphoria, as memories began to play inside of his head. He saw memories of his childhood, good times with Jack, times with bugs, even more recent memories like the good times he had with Haru. It made Legoshi smile, something he hadn’t done in a long time. Eventually, whatever was happening to him stopped and reality came flooding back to him. The wolf jumped slightly and then breathed, everything was back to normal and he felt quite refreshed.
​
“Better now?” Asked the Golden Retriever, closing his eyes and grinning.
​
“Jack, that, thing. Was that your Stand?”
​
“Wait,” Jack’s draw dropped as he opened his eyes which shimmered in excitement. “You can see this!?” Jack summoned the sun again, it was no longer grinning and had a neutral expression on its face.
​
“Uh, yeah.”
​
“Really!? That’s awesome! All the other guys in 701 couldn’t see it all!”
​
“Oh, huh, so they aren’t all Stand users.”
​
“They aren’t what?”
​
“Stand users, Jack, what you have is a Stand, I have one too.”
​
“That's what 「Wouldn't it Be Nice」is? A Stand?”
​
“「Wouldn't it Be Nice」?”
​
“That’s the name of my power, er Stand.”
​
“Oh.” Legoshi hesitated for a moment “Jack, how long have you had your Stand?”
​
“Well, I’ve been able to use it since this morning.”
​
“Hmmm… Did anything strange happen yesterday?”
​
“Well,I think I was stabbed by something yesterday. Can’t exactly remember what happened but I remember passing out and waking up with no scratches or anything. It was pretty weird.”
​
Legoshi nodded and then looked back at the TV, he must have been shot with a Stand arrow. Legoshi began to wonder, maybe he shouldn’t be too worried about his other classmates being shot. If Jack was anything to go by, maybe his classmates having Stands wasn’t such a bad thing.
​
As Legoshi thought about this Jack said “So you, have a Stand too right? Could you show me it.” Legoshi looked back at Jack and remembered what happened back at the cafeteria, he certainly did not want something like that to happen again, let alone in front of his best friend. He shook his head “No.”
​
“Awww, why not?”
​
“I don’t like bringing it out.”
​
“Ok, ok,” Jack looked back at the clock “It’s getting pretty late, we should probably head to our room.”
​
Legoshi agreed
…
​
Legoshi and Jack met up with the rest of the 701 members and they all went back to their room. However, when they opened the door, something was off...
Chapter 8:
​
When they opened the door, the canines were greeted by an odd scent, inside the room, things seemed off, objects that weren’t nailed down seemed in different positions than before.
​
“Eh, what’s that smell? Durham, did you get a girlfriend?” asked Minguno inquisitively squinting his eyes at the coyote.
​
“What are you talking about? You’d think I’d get that lucky? If anything, I think you got a girlfriend.” Replied the coyote.
​
“I did not! But someone must’ve, Collot?”
​
As the canines were bust bickering with each other Legoshi stood frozen, eyes wide and jaw dropped. He recognized the scent. Could it be? No, no it couldn’t, please no. Legoshi immediately activated 「Hungry Like The Wolf」 and began sniffing. His worst fears were confirmed. Approximately 8 hours ago Jotaro entered the room, he immediately went on all fours and began to crawl around the room following the human’s trail. Amongst the 701 members, Jack noticed the strange flaming shadowy body Legoshi had. Was that Legoshi’s stand? Jack thought it looked pretty cool, but didn’t understand why he didn’t want to bring it out back in the rec room. However at the moment he had more important matters to attend to and tried breaking up the argument the other pack members were having. Meanwhile as Legoshi was crawling around the dorm, the wolf could hear a voice whisper to him.
​
“Master oh Master, I am so sorry for what happened.”
​
“What?” Legoshi whispered back “What are you talking about?”
​
“When you were eating, when everyone stared at you, the embarrassment you felt, it was horrible. Master, dear Master, please forgive me. I only want what is best for you.”
​
Legoshi didn’t know how to respond to his Stand. It went from pressuring him to eat Haru to begging for his forgiveness. But, he’d worry about it later, right now he was more worried about what Jotaro did.
​
“Yeah, sure.”
​
“Oh thank you Master. Thank you.”
​
And with that the Stand remained quiet. Sniffing around, it became evident that the human left no stone unturned, everything was searched, drawers, cabinets, etc. However, worst of all is when the wolf found the scent on his bunny magazine. Judging by how old the scent was in relation to other things in the room, Jotaro seemed to have quickly flipped through the thing before putting it away. Legoshi really needed to get rid of that thing. Though, the question remained, why? Why did Jotaro do this? Did he have something he wanted? Wait… Remembering back in the gardening club Jotaro mentioned the Stand arrow. When he and Louis didn’t admit to remembering getting shot… Is this why he searched the room? Because Jotaro thought the wolf had the arrow? Did he not trust him? Legoshi began to panic. The wolf withdrew his Stand as anxiety and stress washed over his body. He stood up, his little panic attack managed to attract the attention of his fellow pack members.
​
“What’s gotten into you Legoshi?” Asked Collot.
​
“Something happened to you?” Asked Miguno.
​
“I-I need a moment, I’m going out for a minute.”
​
“But you don’t want to anger the housemother!” Durham said.
​
“Uh guys,” Jack said, trying to draw attention away from Legoshi “Maybe we should just let him go.”
​
The pack members reluctantly obliged and Legoshi exited the dorm and went into the hallway, believing it to be private enough. The stressed wolf pulled out his cellphone and called Jotaro. After a bit of ringing, Legoshi heard a familiar voice.
“Hello?”
​
“J-Jotaro? Did- did you look through my room!?”
​
“What?”
​
“You looked through my room! I don’t have the arrow!”
​
Legoshi could hear a sigh through the phone “Goo-”
​
“I don’t have the arrow. I didn’t even know it existed until-!”
​
“SHUT UP! YOU’RE DAMN ANNOYING!” Jotaro sighed again. “Look, I did not find anything suspicious, you’re fine.”
​
“You looked through my magazine…”
​
“I was in highschool once too.”
​
Legoshi just sighed, all his energy had been used up from panicking, now, he was just tired.
​
“It will not happen again. Goodbye.” And with that, the human hung up.
​
Legoshi put his phone away. The pack members were probably asleep by now, at least he hoped. He went back into the dorm, and went to sleep. Today was another bizarre day, hopefully tomorrow will be normal.
…
​
“Out of all the places this arrow could’ve taken me, why is it this damn preppy school?” The figure sighed “Just need to be quick about this, in and out…”
…
​
“Damnit, that was too close, maybe there’s another way to follow this thing.”
​
…
​
The Next Day
Legoshi was walking to the cafeteria. He was planning on meeting Haru and clearing up issues that happened yesterday in the gardening club. As he was walking, he noticed how strange the herbivores were acting, a lot of them seemed to keep a good distance away from carnivores and some refused to look them in the eye. It was probably because of that broadcast last night. They were all probably scared
​
“Legoshi!”
​
Suddenly the gray wolf could feel something grabbing his tail, looking back he saw it was Juno grabbing his tail. She must have been anxious. It made sense seeing how intense the carnivore herbivore tension was at the moment. As Legoshi thought about this, he failed to notice several purple tendrils entering his ears.

What led me to think of this pack was the potential new addition of fairies in the upcoming expansion (I really hope it's fairies) and then this led me to wonder what kind of a pack could we see werewolves make a return in. I think having them make a comeback in a Teenage Dream expansion would be perfect and super fun!
CAS
Body hair body hair body hair. Teens are growing and growing hairier too, seems a good place to have body hair make a return as well as with the addition of werewolves. Teen themed clothes and hair would be included too like school cheerleading outfits, letterman jackets, pigtails/ponytails, turtle necks under sweaters, plaid skirts/dresses, ripped jeans, chokers and scrunchies with preppy and goth swatches.
Build/Buy

• New hobby items (saxophone, bass guitar, drum kit, keyboard, football, pom poms and a Rubik's cube)
  
• Photobooths, ticket booths, candy floss booths and ice cream stall
  
• arcade machines, the claw, VR pod and whac-a-mole
  

-New England themed furnishings and build items
World

• Maybe a Massachussets inspired world with New England styled houses.
  
• Overall grey weather except in Summer and a National Park/Forest/Woodland.
  
• New movie theatre lot type with screenings and a ticket booth
  
• New Arcade lot type
  

-Football Stadium

• Carnival (Ferris wheel, carousel, roller coaster, kissing booth, spooky house and bumper cars!)

Gameplay

• New Teen romance interactions (Nervous kiss, sharing drinks/ice cream, playful embrace)

-New overall Romance interactions (Slow dance, hold hands, kiss in theatre, woohoo/mess around in photobooth)

• Prom/Formal event! With new gymnasium hidden lot. Get picked up in limousine, a vintage convertible or get a ride with your date.
  
• Detention! Want to skip school? Might want to think twice unless you want to be kept back the next school day
  
• More part time jobs! Teens can work at the theatre, library and the arcade
  
• After school activities. Teens can choose to join the football team, cheerleading team, science club, mathletes, art club, band and student council
  

Every club has its perks! Footballers and cheerleaders get discounts at the theatre, science club and mathletes can persuade teachers for better grades. Art club and band get discounts at the arcade and the student council can schmooze their way out of detention and report delinquents.

• Homecoming Event at Football Stadium
  
• If your teen persists to be mischievous and neglect their grades, they'll receive a temporary delinquent trait. Perks include intimidating kids, teasing mathletes, littering and skipping detention (skipping detention three times in one week gets them expelled)
  
• Throw Teen Parties and be the talk of the school! Unless you do bad.
  
• Form a band with your teen friends and post your videos on simtube for a bit of small change and maybe even fame? (Fame with Get Famous)
  
• Go to the Carnival with friends, family or a date. Gorge on candy floss, take your date on a Ferris wheel, take your toddler on a carousel and play with your kids in the bumper cars.
  
• Werewolves. Introducing the moon cycle, werewolves make a return with unique abilities, perks and greater appetites. They have a human form and a hairier werewolf form (Gain fitness faster, mobilise fast on all fours in werewolf form, intimidate delinquents, intimidate for discounts, puppy dog eyes and beg for love romance interactions and belly rub interaction. Werewolves are also more impacted by break ups and get werewolf rage when angered. During a fullmoon they gain skill faster, achieve level 10 fitness temporarily and become immune to death flags. They are also locked in werewolf state.)
  

Careers

• Firefighters make a return!
  
• Librarian
  

The seniors at Effingham County High School were free for tonight at least. With all of them gathered at Desmond and Eliza McElroy’s house, this Saturday night was shaping up to be the best yet for those Effingham Rebels. Both for the in-crowd and outcasts.
The disparate cliques were well-represented inside Eliza and Desmond McElroy’s house… inside their parents’ lavish country home. One located ten or so miles beyond the Rincon, Georgia city limits. Perfect for the parties that got too out of hand. There were no neighbors to annoy, the home too far from the police station or any businesses. Instead, these high schoolers had their own teenage wasteland to themselves… Even if Eliza McElroy didn’t approve.
They’d never thrown a party here before. But Eliza had many reasons to be nervous. She wasn’t ‘hot’ (at least not in the traditional sense) like her brother Des. She wasn’t eighteen like him. And she damn sure wasn’t popular like him… not for the cool reasons anyway.
Hiding in a living room corner, Eliza scanned the scene with trepidation rather than rejoice. The tall bookshelf next to her, the scattered pretty psychedelic paintings no barricade between her and her conceited classmates.
Everything about Eliza stood out. The beaming blue eyes, the stringy black hair. The skinny physique... save for a little pudge in the stomach. Also the dimples she rarely showed nor had much reason to… Much like her well-endowed breasts, Eliza didn’t like any attention whether it was positive or negative. The decent looks, the prep potential for this high school junior always self-sabotaged in the form of no make-up and no name-brand clothes. Certainly the baggy jeans and even baggier flannel shirt wouldn’t cut it if she wanted to join Effingham High’s elite. But at least on this cool October night, Eliza had an excuse for covering her pasty skin-
That same complexion Desmond could flaunt with ease. There he was on the couch, his arm wrapped around Maggie Quinn. No, not his girlfriend, nor one he had much interest in by Eliza’s estimation… but she was typical for Des’s one-night affairs and flings. Pretty, tall, thin. Even at sixteen, Maggie was ripe for a Miss America swimsuit contest. Those tan looks and tumbling golden curls further intensifying Eliza’s insecurities as both an introverted virgin and all-too-dependent sister.
Not many things annoyed Eliza more than Maggie’s high-pitched laugh. She’d heard it plenty enough in gym class when the cheerleader’s clique made Eliza’s life a living Hell.
Now here the bitch was with Des of all people. His charisma was radiant. Rather than nerves, he felt fire. His face and body an improvement on all things Eliza… Only unlike a newer model, those McElroy good genes only existed in this first edition. Certainly, Eliza felt she didn’t inherit that carefree smile and smooth skin. Nor Des’s en vogue fashion sense. Certainly his tee shirt and cargo pants were more than form flattering… much to the joy of Effingham High’s female (and closeted male) population.
On the couch, Eliza’s brother straightened his backwards cap. One eye on Maggie’s beauty, the other on his beautiful Bud Light longneck.
Sure, Eliza couldn’t hear their conversation. Not over the bombastic speakers some asshole had set at max volume. Not over Marky Mark’s “Good Vibrations”… So much sound and soul the CD player and VCR next to it kept rattling in place.
But Eliza knew the way Maggie was pawing Des’s chest, the way he was eyeing her flawless features, Eliza knew she had no chance of bonding with her beloved brother tonight. At least, not for now...
So already the party was getting on her nerves… and they were still two hours away from midnight. Who knew how many more hours away from when this shit show would officially end? When will they ever leave, Eliza fumed internally. Is further delaying your sister’s happiness really worth this bitch’s attention…
Eliza clinged tighter to her almost-full beer bottle. She didn’t like the taste to begin with… especially if it meant prolonging the agony of being stuck in her home with a bunch of people she couldn’t stand. This was no different than the lunches she spent sitting by herself in Effingham High’s crowded and claustrophobic cafeteria. No different than the group projects that teachers gave her like unwitting prison sentences… At this point, Eliza wished her parents had just stayed home for the weekend. Anything but this teenage escape bullshit.
Now Eliza’s home felt unfamiliar. Uncomfortable. Already, she’d stumbled upon a couple making out in her upstairs bedroom. Somehow, the McElroy two-story “country estate” felt more contained than those dreaded classrooms. Eliza had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The outside only brought rural desolation and a chilling wind… not to mention hoards of people, hoards of assholes who’d been making fun of her since kindergarten. Those pick-ups and convertibles lining up in the front yard, ambushing all the University Of Georgia dawg lawn ornaments and scattered birdbaths only further enraged Eliza… not to mention how that asshole Leon had already hurled three bottles at her mom Francine’s St. Francis statue.
Being trapped inside also meant being surrounded by these same shitty people. There were at least fifty or so teenagers running wild, all the juniors and seniors Des allured. None of whom liked Eliza… which she was all too aware of.
By now, the kitchen was a literal chugfest. That antique chandelier a spotlight for the drunkest clowns, the drunkest ‘Rebels’ their school had to offer. The Rebels’ revelry a human barrier to the Trimline wall phone. No way Eliza could phone for help if shit did hit the fan. Not when the social anxiety barely let her survive school and all its painful interactions.
Upstairs was rife with both framed family photos and attractive couples getting down in the various bedrooms and bathrooms. Already, Eliza had seen stray puke strewn all over her dad Alan’s colorful rugs.
Only a matter of time before these idiots break mom and dad’s record collection, thought Eliza. That Beatles butcher album’s about to get butchered. She took another sip of that bitter beer. Unable to hide her disgust for both the taste and the crowd she found herself in. The one she looked forward to avoiding come every Friday afternoon.
But man, she had no escape. Already Eliza knew Cindy Cohen was hugging the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. She knew the backyard was infested by immaturity both in and around the swimming pool, by both male and female banshees. The Effingham High crowd eager to wreak havoc on any property that wasn’t theirs. Especially one built by such an eccentric family… not that such morons had the capability to respect the McElroy’s affinity for fine art and collectibles. To them, this wasn’t so much a museum as a madhouse.
Eliza knew they had no respect. Even if she knew Des didn’t… or was too distracted by the flirtatious bimbos around him to care.
Come on, come on, feel it feel it! shouted Marky Mark off Alan’s rattling speakers. Off a stereo that’d been abused all night.
Not to Eliza’s surprise the Effingham’s rebels were, well, rebelling. The living room the least hectic, but that wasn’t saying much... Not when less crowded meant eight high school seniors, a couple of shared bongs, and countless scattered Bud Lights… and Eliza hiding in the corner.
The bulky television stayed on MTV, R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” somehow on mute in favor of Marky Mark And The Funky Bunch. The sprawling room for once stifling due to the cluster of cliques. So many people Eliza and Des had to drag down their colorful bean bag chairs earlier to appease this mostly-standing-room-only stadium. The table lamps provided enough lighting, much more than the big window across the room could during this dark night. At least there was no sunlight to reflect off Eliza’s pale frown. Off her obvious alienation.
Feel the vibration! continued the cheese rap.
Cackling with Maggie, Des put his sneakers on the coffee table. Too drunk to care about squishing Alan and Francine’s Fangoria magazines.
Brushing the building sweat from her bangs, Eliza looked out that window. Compelled to it not by curiosity but desperation. A chance to avoid the madding crowd… Or at least avoid their eye contact and sadistic snickering.
Eliza looked beyond Leon and Cheryl’s sloppy kiss on the other couch. Beyond April’s obnoxious drunken laughter. But sadly, this view didn’t offer much solace. No effect on the suffocating stranglehold “Good Vibrations” had on the soundtrack. No salvation from the self-conscious state Eliza McElroy found herself in.
Not that the dense forest, adorable Dawg memorabilia, or cold darkness could survive Effingham High’s onslaught and its most deplorable characters. Outside, there was the collision of countrified preps and Rincon blue bloods. Stoners destined for failed attempts at rock stardom, athletes and cheerleaders destined for eternal Effingham County residency, and the honor students all too desperate to fit in. A wide variety of races and styles sure. But no one like Eliza. Nor anyone that wanted to make the attempt to like her either. She was everyone’s target. The students’ punching bag for elevating themselves in this high school hierarchy. Maybe not everyone could be Maggie Quinn or a stud quarterback like Will Lime… but at least they were never a weirdo loser like Eliza.
Assholes, she thought to herself in that corner. That miserable jail cell in her own Goddamn house. Eliza glanced beside her. At all the horror and true crime novels dominating the bookshelf. Too bad this can’t be a revolving bookcase and rotate me the Hell out of here. She flashed an annoyed look over at Des.
He was still busy with Maggie. Still flirting. He clanged his Bud Light into hers, their smiles brighter than yet another pick-up’s headlights cruising down the driveway.
Why can’t he try… Eliza thought. She took another sip of booze. Her stoic toughness immediately hit by disgust! Eliza still nowhere used to alcohol. Nowhere used to parties for that matter. She struggled to finish the beer. Struggled to force that hardened scowl back on her face. He usually spends time with me at least. Not kissing their asses all night!
Deep down, she knew that Des’s ability to blend in made his Rincon life much easier. Not to mention much more fun. More tolerable. His charisma, his clothes. Like an undercover cop, Des played along with a crowd and town he knew was beneath his individuality and intelligence. However, Eliza loved the real side of him. The side when they were alone at home or when Des drove her to school. They had more in common than Effingham High realized. That their classmates were too dumb to perceive. After all, the McElroy family all got along. They had a bond built on both blood and creativity.
When you turn eighteen, they’ll like you too, Eliza’s grandmother Emmanuella constantly reassured her in that shrill Southern accent. You’ll have the boys all over you then, honey! You’ll be beautiful at that senior prom!
Eliza still had a hard time believing this senior year miracle. High school life would always be easy for a charming guy like her brother. His attractive looks and physique made that certain. Her, on the other hand… there was only so much a school-proclaimed ‘ugly sister’ could do. Especially with absolute shit for self-esteem.
Now she kept her glower steady on Des and Maggie. Their yapping dominant in a sea of senior year drama.
So come on now, feel the vibration! Marky Mark further taunted Eliza.
Then Maggie went in for a clumsy kiss. Des eager to match her drunk passion.
More disgust shot through Eliza. She took another sip of Bud… begrudgingly. The beer a little less sickening than having to watch her older brother make out.
“Hey, check this shit out!” hollered a nasally drawl.
For once, the cafeteria chatter gave way to an intrigued silence. All eyes, even Eliza’s, went to Ken and Robert, Effingham High’s two most popular class clowns. Ken in jeans and a tattered Led Zeppelin tee, Robert in a dark hoodie. Their red cups no match for the marijuana scent basked into their clothes and long hair. And Ken’s scraggly beard.
Leading the charge toward the stereo, Ken held up a small cassette tape with pride. “We just finished recording it yesterday!” he continued proclaiming in his nasally voice.
“Yeah, that shit’s rad, man!” Robert added.
Maggie groaned, everyone amused except her… Everyone except her and Eliza, of course.
“We don’t wanna hear that shit!” Maggie yelled.
“Too bad!” Ken quipped. He kept marching on to the speakers, not slowing down at all.
An “oh shit!” erupted near the T.V., from none other than Malcolm Duncan, a short stoner with dimples for days. And also Ken and Robert’s bandmate. He was slouching in a chair by a shelf tower chock-full of VHS tapes. He raised his longneck with triumph. “Let’s do it big, rebels!”
“Do it big, baby!” Ken responded.
Robert stopped by the coffee table, letting Ken ambush Marky Mark.
“No! Leave it on the radio!” Maggie demanded. “We all know y’all suck!”
“No, they don’t!” Leon said. His hand around his girl, currently entangled in her braids...
“Yeah, I like y’all,” Cheryl added.
Robert pointed right at the party’s token black couple. “Thank you, Leon!”
“Hey, I got you, man!” Leon responded.
Maggie started to stand. “Just play that shit in the garage-”
Keeping his constant cool, Des held a hand in front of Maggie, holding her back. “It’s okay, just let them play,” he smirked, his Southern tone built off a lethargic calmness.
Maggie entered an irritated silence. Then again, Des’s beautiful eyes were convincing enough.
“I appreciate it, Des,” Robert said before burping.
“It’s too late anyway!” Ken announced. “It’s our turn to shine.”
“And that was Marky Mark,” began a DJ’s beaming interlude.
Ken killed the nighttime voice with one switch.
“Hit it!” Malcolm yelled.
More uneasy with more people, Eliza glanced back at the bookshelf. The titles comforted her in the crowd. At least captivated her for the moment... In Cold Blood, Bloch’s Psycho, King’s Carrie, Fred Harrison’s Brady And Hindley. Books her, Francine, and Emmanuella had devoured since Eliza was in grade school.
Then came the homemade rock ‘n roll! Complete with screams, out-of-tune guitars, tribal drumming… horrendous production quality… the sound so shitty it couldn’t even be considered garage rock. Nor a poor man’s Led Zeppelin or all the other hard rock “The Rebels” tried to emulate but didn’t have the talent nor resources to.
Taking center stage, Ken did the devil’s horn hand gesture. “We’re the Rebels, y’all!”
Sharing a laugh with Cheryl, Leon grooved to the fast pace. “Hey, that’s what I’m talking about!” he yelled.
The others partook in the partying. Des’s hand on Maggie’s leg to stifle her protests…
Malcolm turned the music down just a hair.
Then Ken looked right at him.
Pleading his innocence, Malcolm held up the Bud Light. “Hey, just a little, man!”
Ken cracked a smile. “Naw, you’re good.”
Robert snatched his arm. His buzz going berserk. “They’re taking shots in the kitchen!”
“Hell, let’s go!” Ken responded. He beat Robert for the lead, commanding Malcolm in the process. The band eager to “exit” this stage! The three of them rushing right past Eliza...
Cowering further back in the corner, Eliza forced herself to look elsewhere. The nerves coming back with a vengeance. She forced another beer swig… Unable to talk even if she wanted to due to that bitter booze.
Seated a few feet away, April and her bestie Yvonne shared a bean bag. Their shared smirks crosshairs on Eliza.
“She gives me the creeps…” Yvonne remarked, quiet enough for a pretend whisper but just loud enough to ensure Eliza would hear.
“I agree, she’s ugly,” April sneered, not even trying to hide her disgust.
Battling tears, Eliza avoided their sadistic stares. The freakshow gawking… She forced her gaze back to the window. This alienated soul unable to withdraw completely from the teasing… too well within earshot of the bitchy best friends to even try.
“How’s her brother so hot and she’s so gross,” April continued, a wicked smile overcoming her. She readjusted her glasses, eliciting a chuckle from Yvonne. “I mean good God, talk about genetics gone bad, girl!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Eliza saw a laughing Yvonne grab April’s bony shoulder, both of their plastic red cups splashing cheapass vodka, splashing all over Yvonne’s tumbling black hair. “Stop it!” Yvonne told her.
April pointed over at Des. By now, he and Maggie stuck in those precious moments between the first few kisses and carnal overdrive… not enough privacy.
“I mean just look at him!” April said to Yvonne.
On the couch, Maggie felt along Des’s hips and ass.
“He’s fine as Hell,” April continued.
Maggie now latched on to Des’s waist in a tight grip. Grinning, Des pulled her hand back.
April faced Yvonne. “She needs to sue her mom. Like for real.”
“Man, you so mean!” Yvonne said through the smirk, her Hispanic accent slipping through that strained drawl. Almost a necessity for any minority to fit in with the cool kids around here. “This is her house too.”
Eliza slightly turned… A pathetic attempt at acting oblivious. A method she’d perfected but at the moment struggled with... She was used to hiding the tears at school, in the hallways. But not in her own home. The house where Des, mom, dad, and grandma Emmanuella comforted her from the horrors of Effingham High.
April scoffed. “Like I’m supposed to care! She better be glad Des’s fineass is her brother or else no one’d ever come here.”
“No shit,” Yvonne replied.
Still Eliza felt April’s glower stay on her. The teenage knives piercing into her anxiety.
“Besides,” April said. She smiled at Yvonne and shook her hair back, posing as if she knew Eliza could hear her every word, feel every jab. “Maybe he’ll wanna get with me.”
Chuckling, Yvonne raised her cup. “You’s a skank…”
“I mean can you blame me?”
Keeping the weeping quiet, Eliza picked at her own pockets... Pulled up those baggy jeans a little higher. Maybe I’m finally losing weight, she tried to joke to herself.
“I don’t know,” Yvonne said. She nodded toward Des. “Looks like Maggie’s going total slut mode now.”
Eliza slid a finger into one of her pants’ belt loops. Felt a cold touch.
April couldn’t help but look off at Des to admire those long legs in the tight cargos, the broad shoulders… “I don’t think he likes her.”
“Dude, every guy does,” Yvonne said.
Even Eliza had to follow April’s smitten stare.
Des pulled Maggie in closer but her intoxication was more pronounced. She kept running her hands all over him, trying to get in closer, his arms a gentle barricade.
“Yeah, well, I don’t care about being his sloppy seconds,” April said.
“You’re crazy,” Yvonne scoffed. She put her cup toward April’s. “Cheers, bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah…” They each took a smug sip.
In one quick swipe, Eliza knocked away her straggler tears. Screw them… She held up the Bud Light.
“But I agree,” Yvonne said to April. “His sister’s so weird…”
Worst Fall Break ever... Eliza took a sip. This one was smooth, steady. The most comforting beer she’d ever had.
You’ll get them one day! Emmanuella would tell her. I promise you, Eliza! You’ll show them soon!
Now a grin overtook Eliza’s melancholy. “I hope so, grandma,” she muttered.
Lowering the Bud and ignoring both the Rebels’ trash music and her trash classmates, Eliza stared out the window once more. These late nights were always her favorite… usually due to the desolation and freedom. But right now she was stuck watching a few football players chug down a longneck each in a cringey race against time.
Eliza stayed repulsed by these Rebels. She’d call the cops right now but knew they wouldn’t bother coming out this far barring a serious emergency related to one of Rincon’s more social or richer residents. No way they’d come down Landon Road for her weirdass. Much less arresting any football players or preps for the “mild misconduct”...
Surrounding her, the music just got worse and worse. A premiere party I never asked for. But Eliza didn’t wanna look away. She didn’t wanna face her brother and Maggie’s revolting sparks or April’s verbal assault. So her gaze drifted back to the forest. To the long branches swaying in the breeze… The deep, eerie woods lurking closeby.
Suddenly, a quick burst of light showed her something! Someone standing on the edge of the forest! A tall figure, one shrouded in shadows. They just stood still… the flash of those incoming headlights too quick to get more.
The Camry got closer and closer. Yet another arrival, another prep intruder for this painful party. Only this wasn’t the average Rincon royal or jock. Instead, all Eliza could do was cringe when she saw Joseph Baker step out. The seventeen-year-old of her dreams complete with his own matching paleness and swooped brown bangs. But unlike Eliza, he had the beauty and body to compete for Des’s babes. Those emerald eyes helpful for sure.
Great… Eliza thought. He gets to see me play loser even at home. Regardless, she turned her attention back to the woods. Back to that spot. The chilling night making it impossible for a glimpse at the figure she just saw moments earlier…
But Eliza was too jaded and bitter to be scared. She took another sip of Bud Light. By now used to the taste… and even starting to enjoy its effects.
“What the Hell are you doing with her!” a female siren blared.
Eliza turned to see both Des and Maggie standing up, Des’s entertained intrigue a subdued contrast to Maggie’s drunken anger-
An anger matched by Cynthia. The cheerleader co-captain that would’ve long overtaken Maggie’s social status at Effingham High if not for her mixed Latina heritage and middle-class roots. But right now Cynthia wasn’t backing down! Her ponytail waved about with each shout and aggressive gesture.
“I got you the Ciroc, bitch!” Cynthia hurled at her. “I didn’t tell you to come messing with my man!”
Maggie pointed right at her. A Devilish redness dominating her good looks. “You can’t claim shit!” came that Banshee cry. “It just happened!” She snagged Des’s shoulder for support both physically and emotionally. “AIn’t that right, babe?”
Des didn’t have a chance at hiding the smirk.
Cynthia stepped toward him, her stature short but full of rage. “You told me this was for us, Desi!”
Beneath these pretty spotlights, Des just shrugged. “Hey, I just wanna have a good time.”
“What!” each girl yelled.
Des put his hands (and Bud Light up). “Look, I’m not dating anyone right now. That’s not what this is about.”
“Get it, Des!” Leon was heard shouting with facetious glee...
Then came Cheryl’s sudden punch to her boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Ow, baby!” Leon cried.
“Shut up!” Cheryl said.
Cynthia gave Des a shove! “But you said you were with me!”
Following Cynthia, Maggie grabbed Des’s arm, sinking her fingernails into that smooth skin. “What do you think we just had, Des! This was our moment, this is us! You want me, just tell her!”
“You bitch!” Cynthia shouted at her.
Des gave Eliza a bemused shrug. All as the bullets of barbs kept flying…
“He doesn’t love poor white trash!” Maggie cried.
“Bitch, I’m not white!” Cynthia retaliated.
For the first time all party, Eliza gave a genuine smile. Des’s helplessness sympathetic but humorous.
The siblings’ interaction ended once Maggie swung the first punch! Only Cynthia beat her to the punch by giving her a harsh push!
Des struggled to get between them. “Hey, y’all! I just wanted to have a party!”
Cheryl catcalled for fun!
“Yeah, that’s my girl,” Leon quipped.
Shaking her head in dismay, Eliza faced the T.V. The million pound behemoth currently playing Extreme’s “More Than Words” on mute… but Eliza still wasn’t sure which was worse. The cheese ballad or the amateur rock music scoring the catfight...
“God, look at him!” Eliza heard April’s twang tell Yvonne. “That body, that ass. That everything!”
“Girl, you stalking him,” Yvonne replied.
As annoyed as she was, Eliza turned just in time to see Cynthia shove Des back into Maggie. The melodramatic struggle incorporating all three of them...
“Look, just cool it!” Des’s attempt at putting out this female fire. At this point a forest fire beyond control.
All the while, April’s eyes ate Eliza’s brother alive. Particularly his assets of exposed biceps and bubbly ass.
“But you ain’t lying,” Eliza heard Yvonne say.
Eliza just cringed. Not much else she could do at this point.
Now Cynthia lunged forward! Her clumsy charge leading to a chokehold on Des!
“You bitch!” Maggie cried.
“Hey!” Eliza shouted, her voice meek from years of alienation.
Neither Maggie nor Cynthia paid any attention to her as they swung away at each other. Des laughing as he struggled to break them up. Not bothered at all by Cynthia’s continual chokehold...
“Goddamn!” Leon yelled.
Great… Fighting the nerves, Eliza put the beer on the shelf and charged toward her brother. “Hey, let him go!”
Behind her, she heard April and Yvonne cackle.
“That girl’s about to get her ass beat!” Yvonne quipped.
Of course, to no one’s surprise, the cheerleader and Maggie weren’t stopping. All Des did was flash Eliza that smile. That Desi smile.
“Eliza, I got this!” he said
Des finally knocked away Cynthia’s hand. Both Cynthia and Maggie still jostling for position for their dream date…
“You ugly skank!” Cynthia screamed at Maggie.
“Bitch, you’re just jealous!” Maggie hurled back.
Their sheer strength pushed Des’s arms in closer, literally closing the gap on their blood battle! Not that Des’s frame could block their punches, claws, and slaps. Much less dodge those erratic slaps to the face…
Still chuckling, Des licked the blood off his lip. “Jesus Christ...”
Lunging for her rival, Maggie knocked Des’s cap off!
“Trashyass!” Maggie shouted at Cynthia.
Eliza then got past the open doorway-
When a soft mattress sent her back toward the bookshelf! “Shit!” she yelled.
“Oh my God!” April snorted with laughter.
Eliza crashed into the shelf. Back in her corner. Only a few books fell out, but at least Eliza’s startling reflexes snagged that Bud Light mid-air!
“Coming through!” Ken shouted.
There was the band, the Rebels, heading for their ‘stage’. Ken, Malcolm, and Robert helping carry the blow-up mattresses into the room. Will and Joseph amongst the moving crew.
Eliza’s heart pounded faster. The erotic excitement for once overpowering the anxiety… at least for now.
“Hey, put it by the window!” yelled Will’s Georgia growl. His chiseled features well beyond his eighteen years. The tight name-brand preppy clothing on that alluring body finally taking some of the female gaze off of Des… Enough to get Cynthia and Maggie pausing their showdown.
But Eliza’s focus stayed on Joseph. Especially as he walked past her...
“Y’all need any help?” April said, eager to get closer to the studs.
“Naw, we got it!” Ken answered before anyone else.
The crew all went for the window. Somehow, they still managed to hang on to their longnecks, their sloppy navigation helped by Leon… and an April who just couldn’t help herself.
To the tune of the shitty rock music, Eliza’s gawking veered into creep territory. Watching Joseph shake his head to push those bangs aside. Watching his muscles flex from the heavy lifting. His ass bounce with each step. Not even the Rebels’ hectic rhythm could disrupt this steamy viewing. Why not admire, she reassured herself. Not like he’d be into me anyway.
April coincidentally gravitated next to Will as she “helped” him lay the blow-up mattress beneath the window. “You glad I helped?” she cooed.
Eliza heard Yvonne laughing. Glad that the mean-spirited laughs weren’t directed at her for once.
With a nervous laugh, Will faced April. His expression explaining the obvious: I’m too good-looking and popular to ever go beneath my league. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Maybe we can grab a drink-” April started.
Moving fast, Will brushed past her, right toward Maggie. “Hey-ooo! What’s going on.”
Both Cynthia and Maggie stood up straight, displaying even more desire than the obvious affection they showed Des.
“Hey, Will,” they said in unison.
Smirking, Des took a step back.
He’d be happy with sloppy seconds, noted Eliza. Not that second place is bad. She turned her attention back to Joseph. To her relief, no buzzards were on him. Maybe I’m his second place, she couldn’t help but think.
“Nice try,” she heard Yvonne say.
Eliza looked over to see a defeated April crash next to her bestie. Immediately, April indulging in more booze.
“Aww,” Yvonne teased.
“Whatever…” April fumed.
Yvonne pointed her toward Eliza’s brother. Past the competition between Cynthia and Maggie for their grand prize Will. “Looks like Des might be available…”
“Whoo!” cried a drunken roar.
Raising the Bud, Eliza looked toward the window, the center of the room. By now, the Rebels, Leon, and Cheryl were partying on the blow-up mattresses. Jumping on the makeshift beds like rock stars. Leon with his arm wrapped around Cheryl, their drinks well on the verge of splashing out. Malcolm clutched on to the bong, ready for the next hit… And Ken and Robert just shouted along to the music.
The sight was sheer bliss. Certainly an upgrade over April’s anger. But Eliza couldn’t help but stare on out the window. The October night able to distract her from Joseph… from the one shot she had to make a move while he was awkward and alone...
Because the figure was back. Illuminated by slow headlights, Eliza now had a clearer view. A scarier one.
What she saw was a man in black. The man tall and muscular and standing in the same exact spot. The same position. His black jacket draped over equally raven gloves, pants, and shoes. The macabre outfit topped off by a wide brim black fedora. A face forever hidden by shadows cast by the dangling tree limbs...
Eliza couldn’t see much more. No features or skin. Nothing but the large axe the man held in his left hand…

By Malcolm MacDonald
Ever since grade three, my friends and I could make Derek Zimmer believe anything. Anything. From Pop-Rocks and Coke make your stomach explode; to earwigs actually burrow in your ears (and one’s on your shoulder right now!); to the typical urban legend of the babysitter and the killer upstairs – and that it actually happened to someone in our neighbourhood.
The best prank we pulled on Derek had to be in grade 6, when we told him that everyone had to go into the girl’s bathroom to change because a toilet had overflowed in the boy’s. This was during gym class too and in our school the bathrooms doubled as change rooms. Geez, he didn’t even question it – didn’t even wait to see us go in first. We followed right behind him while he carried his spare set of clothes with a towel over his shoulder. We didn’t even need to shove him in; he just walked through the door and we locked it behind him and from then on there was nothing but hollering and shrieking from the other side. I got to admit, I still get tickled thinking about it.
After grade seven it stopped being funny – pulling fast ones on him all the time. But, like a bad habit, we kept feeding him lies and watching him fall for them over and over again.
I guess it didn’t help that he had sheltering, hovercraft parents. I mean, the guy believed in Santa Clause until he was thirteen, for Christ’s sake! And they kept walking him to school even though he lived literally just up the street. It wasn’t until Derek begged them, after being tortured by our sneers and jeers, that they finally stopped.
You’d think that they’d have tried to protect him by teaching him not to believe everything he was told. But I guess since they did everything for him, he just always needed someone else to make up his mind.
I don’t want you to get the impression that Derek was slow or something. He was actually a pretty bright kid. He wasn’t top of the class or nothing – and his math and science marks were pathetically low. But, if you spent time with him, you’d see he was actually very insightful, especially when it came to abstract stuff like morality and friendship and artsy stuff too. Oh yes, I was friends with Derek, even though I constantly tricked and made fun of him. Yeah…I was one of those friends. He would actually analyze our favourite TV shows, comparing the ones he liked and the ones he didn’t and go into really meticulous detail about why some were good, and some were bad. What made a joke funny and what didn’t.
At the time, even though I liked talking with him, I kind of thought that all this information was pretty useless – I mean, I just watched shows, movies and played video games for fun, not to write a goddamn dissertation. If Derek had any brains, I thought, he’d put more of his energy into his schoolwork. But now, looking back, it makes me wish our school had a Philosophy class or even an Arts program. I think he would have excelled, rather than constantly being stuck getting C’s and D’s. But we grew up in a small, frozen town in northern Ontario that only offered the bare necessities for a diploma. And in a town where most people work in the mines and spend their spare time ice-fishing and playing hockey, Derek stuck out like a sore thumb.
All the teachers seemed to like him, but you could tell they were pretty frustrated by how difficult he found the material. He was also a bit stubborn at times. For instance, you’d think he would have done well in English, right? Wrong. He shined only in the creative writing assignments but didn’t follow instructions and would never read the books that were assigned. The funny thing was, he was a voracious reader, always reading something. He just didn’t want to be bothered reading Lord of the Flies or Of Mice and Men. He just thought they were a waste of his time.
One thing that Derek excelled at, besides being a very loyal – to a fault – friend, was he was an amazing storyteller. When he got hold of an urban legend, or a dirty joke, or if something happened to him, he would tell it in such a way that we would hang on every word he said. There was no rambling, no “um’s” or “uh’s” – he always took his time and told the story perfectly. The punchline or the ending of his story was always clear and left us howling with laughter, terrified, or desperate to hear more.
More than a few of the stories Derek told us were uncannily frightening – tales of ghosts and creatures in our own hometown. Most of them I could trace back to some origin – usually Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. But there were also a few I had never heard of and could not find a source for. Whenever I confronted him with this, he would give me this knowing smile, his light eyes at ease, and say, “There are somethings that can’t be explained.” He would then pontificate about the other world and how everyone was able to access it if they just suspended their prejudices and disbelief. That was how he got “beamed” his stories. At the time, I thought it was bullshit. This was the only thing I had ever known Derek to lie about. Now looking back, I wish I had realized that this honest, gullible boy was incapable of telling falsehoods. And that what he was telling me was something he at least believed to be true.
Eventually, I got a bit jealous of Derek; I never had a good memory for details – aside from numbers and figures – and often when I told a joke, I’d forget an important part of the set-up and the punchline would fall flat. Or if I told an anecdote about something that happened to me that I thought was funny or exciting, after I’d finish, the listeners would just stare blankly, their vacant faces tacitly screaming, “That’s it?”
(Believe me, it took me a long time and a lot of effort to write this story as well as I have).
I was also jealous of Derek because of the attention he got from girls. Although he wasn’t very athletic, he was tall, fit and good-looking. And his gullible nature, I think, made a lot of them think he was cute. You know, like a lost puppy you just want to take care of. Unfortunately for them, Derek was too absorbed in his own world of Marvel comic books, Stephen King, Family Guy, and Doctor Who to ever take a hint.
This got really interesting in grade ten when Christie Blackwell, a preppy girl from the states, came to our town. Her family was from North Dakota and her father had come here for some administrative job at the local mining company. We didn’t know it at the time, but his position and his family’s move were only temporary.
Now, we had likely nothing in common with this girl, but both Derek and I were absolutely smitten. When you’re in a small town all the kids date each other’s sisters and exes, so I guess everyone was pretty intrigued by this new, pretty face from somewhere exotic – like North Dakota.
For a few weeks, she was all Derek and I could talk about. Some of our other friends thought she was cute too, but Derek and I were head-over-heels. I, however, never got up the courage to speak with her. I might have been top of my class and on the lacrosse team but, I knew what I was in the eyes of girls – a short, fat, sarcastic little boy with a sour disposition. Derek, however, he didn’t have the same cowardice I had. He actually went up to her during lunch break and talked with her!
I watched him approach, grinning from ear to ear, waiting for the humiliation and the peal of shrieking laughter from the other girls. But – she actually talked with him. She was positively radiant when he introduced himself and – I thought I was going to have a heart-attack when – she invited him to sit down at her table.
I admit, I was enraged. It wasn’t fair. It just. Wasn’t. Fair. For some idiot like Derek, with no prospects for the future, to have that girl. And what would that mean for me? Why would he want to hang around some loser when he had that girl on his arm?
Luckily, Derek – as I’ve said – didn’t take hints easily, so it wasn’t until a rumor had started about her liking him that he finally was ready to ask her out.
Of course, he told me first.
“Jimmy!” he shouted over the phone one night. I remember I actually winced from the receiver. “Guess what?” his voice blared at arm’s length. After placing the phone back to my ear, I asked him, and he told me that he had heard it from one of the girls that Christie liked him.
I felt a stone form in the pit of my stomach. Don’t get me wrong, I knew that I wouldn’t have gotten Christie. I just thought neither of us would. So, the fact that he got her, and I hadn’t, really burned my ass.
But then, I got an idea. An idea that would haunt me for the rest of my life.
“Derek,” I said into the phone. “She doesn’t actually like you. I overheard her and Jennifer (the girl who told him). They’re just playing a trick on you.”
There was silence on the other end.
Derek mumbled out a pitiful “But…” and I knew I had to pounce.
“Listen,” I implored, “if you ask Christie out on a date, everyone will just laugh at you. They’re just doing this to make a fool out of you in front of everyone.”
Again, silence fell on the other end. I could then visualize Derek with his head hanging down, all mopey like he sometimes got.
Then, I took it a bit further. Over the line.
“I mean, c’mon, think about it. You and her? She’s only been in our school three weeks and she’s already top of the class. Everyone turns their head to see her. How are you going to be good enough for that?”
I felt that stone in the pit of my stomach again, but this time for a different reason, after hearing Derek sadly mumble, “You’re right…”
Shamelessly, I changed the subject, asking him if we were going to still hang out this weekend to play X-box at his house but, his voice never came back to normal.
That night, I barely slept. I really felt like shit.
This was the first trick I pulled on Derek that made me feel that way. But it wouldn’t be the last.
It was grade eleven, when Lloyd (our other friend) and I took the pranks too far.
Lloyd and I had just gotten back our exam results for grade 11 Physics and, while we didn’t fail, these marks weren’t going to look good on a university application either. Plus, it was December, so there wasn’t much time left in the semester to make up for it. Of course, ole Derek wasn’t in Physics. Or Chemistry. Or Biology. He found some loophole in a technicality to take something called “Earth and Space Science” in grade 12 for his science/technology credit (don’t ask me how the Ontario education system works).
Also, around this time, Derek was getting super-obsessed with comic books and writing his own (report cards and postsecondary prospects be damned). At the time we thought it was really funny. He didn’t just draw the six boxes with stick-figures in ‘em and the poorly graphed word bubbles like most kids; he actually found out the proper format to write a comic book script. He kept trying to make us read them but – I mean – we didn’t know how. Plus, we were busy. You know, with school?
Anyway, Derek had this long bastard of a comic book script freshly printed from the school library – an adaptation of some classic horror story by Poe or Lovecraft, I think – and he ran up to Lloyd and me in the cafeteria all smiling, waving it at us, begging us to read it. And, remember, this was the same day we got our abysmal test scores back.
Now, despite our understandably pissy mood, both Lloyd and I resisted the urge to tear Derek’s head off. Lloyd said feebly, “Sure, Derek. Give it here. I’ll read it tonight.”
Derek almost leapt off the table bench, he was so excited. He thanked us and then was off to God knows where.
I turned my head and glowered at Lloyd.
“Are you serious?” I asked him. “You realize we have presentation for Chemistry to finish tonight, right?”
Lloyd blew out the side of his mouth.
“I’m not gonna read it, dude,” he said, his eyes cast woefully down on the crumb and grease laden tabletop. “I’m just pranking him,” he concluded, quarter-heartedly.
I sat there and stared at it for a few seconds. Then, another mendacious scheme started spinning in my head.
I knew that my Uncle Eric was coming over for supper that weekend. I told Lloyd that we would both tell Derek that my uncle worked for Marvel Comics and that he had read his script and loved it. And that he was interested in adapting it and giving Derek a job writing for Stan Lee. I’d invite Derek over to speak with him to discuss this “job prospect” at greater length. The funny thing was, my Uncle Eric was a belligerent drunk who’d mostly been unemployed between his time as a trucker and his time as a garbageman. But never – it probably doesn’t need to be said – did he ever work for Marvel Comics.
Lloyd and I both grinned and giggled like evil children. It was perfect. This way, we wouldn’t have to be drilled by Derek’s questions about what our favourite part was; he would be too preoccupied by the idea of having his work actually published. Working for Marvel Comics for Christ’s sake! An early Christmas present for our naïve young friend.
…I guess you can probably figure out what happened next. I’ll try to spare you the cringe-worthy details.
The next morning, Lloyd and I told Derek about my uncle and fed him our line. Derek beamed like I’d never seen before and bought it hook-line-and-sinker. Of course. That Sunday, he came over for dinner, all excited. Of course. My Uncle Eric was two-sheets to the wind, six gin-and-tonics deep and on his seventh that night. Of course. And when Derek approached him, asking about his script and what it’s like to work for Marvel, my Uncle Eric harshly barked what in the hell he was blathering about. Of course.
I promised Lloyd I would give him all the details on Monday. But seeing Derek, hunched over and defeated, like some withered daffodil – I just, had to look away. I didn’t laugh. Didn’t chuckle. Didn’t even smirk. All I could do was look away, that pit in my stomach turning to stone.
On Monday, in front of the school entrance, about thirty minutes before first bell and thirty degrees below zero, Derek stormed right up to me. Indifferent, seeing this coming and finding no despair, surprise or pleasure in it, I stood where I was, ready for him to hammer me.
Instead, there were no threats, no curses, no accusations. Just one question: did I lie about Christie Blackwell too?
Despite being exhausted from the endless stream of assignments and last night’s interminable guilt, I somehow managed the strength to slowly shake my head and mutter no. One last prank on Derek.
With that, Derek said nothing. And simply walked away.
At that moment, standing there alone with sticky icicles running down my upper lip from my nose to my scarf, I thought I was going to throw up.
The next day, I advised Lloyd we give Derek some distance at lunch hour. I suspected we were personae non grata.
But, to my surprise, Derek came over to our table. Stone-faced, without a word he sat down and ate. Lloyd and I glanced over at him then at each other. The three of us just sat and chewed in silence.
Then, after finishing his serving of oily cafeteria French fries, he told us one of his typically great, terrifying stories. His last.
“You guys ever hear about Melvin Sinclair?” he began, cryptically.
Fake-sounding name. Still, a pretty good start.
Lloyd and I both shook our heads, wordlessly.
“He was a student at our school. Way back, when it was run by the nuns.”
I later found out this part of his story was true. Our high school – Pendleton College – was once run by the local nunnery – but this was when it was still a residential school, with only abused, shipped-in Native kids as its student body.
“He’s actually the person I am going to write my next comic script on. I know you two won’t read it, but I think you should hear about him anyway.
“Sinclair was a funny kid. A bit stupid, you know? Believed anything his pals told him.”
This, of course, immediately rang a bell for both of us. Lloyd and I looked at each other knowingly. Still, we were hooked. At least, I was.
“He was also very poor with a sick father at home who couldn’t work. So, a lot of his friends could make him do things with the promise of money.
“So, one night, around this time of year – just before Christmas, all those years ago, Sinclair and his buddies went out onto Saul Laskin Lake. It was frozen solid then, just like it is right now. Sinclair got dared by his buddies to walk out onto the lake – see if he could make it to the other side.
“Now, Sinclair was afraid. Terrified, you know? Saul Laskin is two football fields long and three fields wide. Sure, he knew it had been frozen solid for three months straight and a jackhammer couldn’t make a dent an inch deep in it. But still, he was unsure. He never walked across ice in the middle of winter before. Never even put on a pair of skates.
“To his buddies, he shook his head, no. He didn’t care if it made him a chicken. He wasn’t going out there, risking falling through.
“So, his friends decided to sweeten the deal. They told him that if he made it to the other side, they’d meet him there, after walking along the shoreline, and pay him three-hundred dollars.
“Now, his buddies didn’t have three-hundred dollars, but they did have a thick wad of ten two-dollar bills. So, they slipped one into Sinclair ’s hand, as proof there was more where that’d come from. They both figured it would be worth it to see Sinclair fall through the ice or wet himself from fear.
“Again, Sinclair wasn’t too bright. He was also very poor, and his family was way behind on the electric bill, which was bad since this was one of the worst winters in Canadian history. Not to mention, Christmas was right around the corner. So, he took the two dollars as proof they had two-hundred-and-ninety-eight more and made his way across the ice.
“The two of his friends giggled behind their frozen-snot-covered mittens, egging him on, telling him he was doing great. Sinclair didn’t clue in though. He just kept going, waddling and swaying from side to side like a tight rope walker, terrified the rhino-hide-thick ice would give.
“Now, his two buddies didn’t want Sinclair to get hurt. Not seriously anyway. At worst, they were waiting for him to slip and fall on his ass, so they could laugh at him until their bellies were sore.
“So, Sinclair got sixty feet across the ice when his buddies at the shore heard a sudden crunch. A sharp, unmistakable sound. The ice had cracked. Saul Laskin was giving under Sinclair ’s weight. Apparently, the lake wasn’t so titanium at the middle.
“Feeling a sudden rush of panic and just a bit of guilt, both of them started hollering at the top of their lungs for Sinclair to get off the ice. To turn back. Sinclair didn’t turn around though. He didn’t even stop walking. He was determined to make it to the other side. To make that three-hundred dollars. Cracks in the ice be damned, his house needed heat!
“His pals on the shore watched in horror when Sinclair took four more steps before plummeting through the ice on the fifth. Unable to think, being dumb kids, they freaked and ran away. It took them ten minutes before they realized they needed to go get help.
“A couple of the teachers and one of the farmers from town came out onto the ice. When they got to the break where Sinclair had fallen in, they made a horrific discovery. On the other side of the hole, was a set of freshly frozen footprints. Like prints in the snow but upside down and inside out. They were glistening and raised, like a trail of swollen scar-tissue. And they headed to the other side – to the end of Saul Laskin Lake.
“On the shoreline, the five of them ran to the other side of the pond, coming to the very end, to find that the steps ended at a second gaping hole in the ice.
“Sinclair ’s body was never found. But the doctors were certain it should have been impossible for him to have walked that length of the ice without succumbing to hypothermia.
“Ever since that night, on the anniversary of Melvin Sinclair ’s arctic plunge, they say he comes back, still drenched and half-frozen stiff, looking for the three-hundred dollars promised him. And taking any unfortunate soul who dares wander across the ice, mistaking them for his two pals who had played that cruel joke on him, so very long ago.”
Lloyd and I stared back at Derek speechless, our mouths agape.
The silence was interrupted when two loud, chortling sophomores bumped into Derek from behind, making their way past him.
“This has got to be bull,” Lloyd insisted, rearing back from the table.
“Where’d you get this?” I asked, my eyes having never left Derek’s face.
“I told you,” he said. “It’s the basis of my next comic script, which you won’t read. There are some things out there that can’t be understood. But you can find them out if you just suspend your disbelief.”
I looked hard at him. He smirked.
“I heard it from one of the teachers and from one of the upper-class men last year,” he confessed. “Both of them told the story exactly as I just did.”
I was then fairly certain what Derek was going to say next. And I was right.
“The anniversary of Melvin Sinclair ’s disappearance is tonight,” he whispered, as though we were sharing state-level secrets. “I say we go to Saul Laskin after dark and check it out.”
Lloyd blew out his mouth, his lips making that pffft sound.
“Yeah, all right,” I said hastily. Almost automatically.
“What?” Lloyd blurted.
“I’ll go,” I continued. “Hell, let’s all go.”
“Great!” said Derek, over Lloyd’s grumbled protest. “Meet you both at the shoreline near Tenth and Mockingbird. Be there at ten, sharp.”
With that, Derek stood from his seat, carrying his meal tray to the metal rack and exiting the caf.
“Dude,” Lloyd spun on me. “What gives?”
“Look, man,” I offered Lloyd, weakly. “We did a really lousy thing to Derek. I think the least we can do is spend one late night with him on this little whim.”
“That’s crap!” snapped Lloyd. “This is your way of playing another prank on him.”
I shook my head vigorously, vexed by his charge. “No way!”
“Yeah? Well maybe this is Derek’s way of getting us back. Playing a prank on us. You ever think of that?”
“I doubt it. Derek’s not like that.”
Lloyd just shook his head, obviously miffed.
We didn’t say anything after that. But we both knew we were going to Saul Laskin Lake that evening to meet Derek.
I remember it was ten below zero. Felt like minus twenty with the wind-chill and even worse that close to the ice. The stars were probably out, and fully visible, but I don’t remember seeing them. I could barely see what was in front of me from my face being two-thirds buried behind my scarph and tuque.
I met Lloyd on the way there, about ten yards from the shoreline on Mockingbird, and he was likewise dressed as a winter mummy. As we got closer, we saw a figure standing upright, unfazed by the cutting gale. It was Derek. He was in his snow-pants and a parka but wasn’t wearing anything to cover his head. Just a pair of earmuffs. Bizarrely, he seemed completely comfortable out there, his flushed red cheeks the only thing betraying how cold he was.
“Well, here we are,” he greeted us, cryptically. A just as cryptic smile on his chapped, purple lips.
“What are we doing out here?” Lloyd growled, rubbing his thickly gloved hands together and bouncing from one foot to the other. “It’s freezing!”
“We’re here to see if Melvin Sinclair ’s ghost shows up,” I told him.
The look he gave me could have thawed Saul Laskin Lake.
“I never said it was a ghost,” said Derek, just over the wind.
The two of us stared at our guide into the other world.
“Then what is it?” I asked.
“A zombie?” Lloyd mocked.
Feigning ignorance, Derek just shrugged.
The three of us stood there, in the middle of December in Canada, staring at the frozen lake like three wallflowers around a dancefloor (an analogy that’s not much of a stretch for us).
Predictably, Derek broke the silence.
“How about we play some Truth or Dare?” he asked. I looked over and saw that cryptic smile on his now bluish lips.
“How about we play some Go-Home-And-Sleep-In-A-House-With-Central-Heating?” Lloyd barked.
Me, I couldn’t help myself.
“Sure,” I said. “Let’s play some Truth or Dare.”
“You first,” Derek pounced.
Ordinarily, I would have bickered back and forth with Derek to try to get him to go first, but my recently grown conscience forced me to accept this condition.
“Okay,” I said. I then looked out onto the ice, anticipating what the dare might be and not having any of it. “Truth.”
For the first time that night, Derek’s strange smirk disappeared.
“All right,” he said, his face and voice now very serious. “Yesterday morning,” my mind then immediately raced to that moment, regretting my choice for Truth, “when I asked you about Christie Blackwell,”
“Okay, okay, never mind!” I shouted over him, before he could even get the question out. “I changed my mind. Dare. Give me a dare. What? You want me to walk across the lake? Is that it?”
Without speaking, Derek nodded his head, that cryptic little grin reappearing.
I then looked back at the frozen lake. Derek hadn’t lied when he said that it was two football fields long. In fact, it was longer. 273.5 yards to be exact. From where we were standing, I could see only half of the ice, the other side swallowed up by night and fog.
“Okay, here’s a deal,” I said, trying to negotiate my way out of it. “I’ll go as far as where that fog starts. That’s just before you two won’t be able to see me.”
“No deal,” said Derek, his eyes colder than Saul Laskin. “You go all the way across, or until you see Melvin Sinclair, or you admit you believed my story enough that you’re scared to go out there.”
“What?”
“Or choose Truth.”
“I’m not scared of that boogeyman crap!” I exclaimed.
“Then why not go all the way?” said Derek. “You know that lake is perfectly safe for skating. It’s been frozen solid since October.”
“Because it’s stupid, that’s why.”
“Or because you’re afraid Melvin Sinclair will get you.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Fine. Then choose Truth. Answer my question.”
Astonished, I shot him an incredulous look.
“Man, screw you!” I cried. “You’re the one who’s so stupid that you believe that dumb story. You probably did hear it from an upper-class man last year. They knew you’d be gullible enough to buy it.”
I turned to the frozen pond, my eyes melting the ice.
“I’m going to go as far as that fog starts. From there, I’ll be able to see over to the other side. I’ll also be right in the middle so it will prove two things: One, that no one could fall through the ice when it’s this cold out, and two, that there isn’t some supernatural creature roaming around at night. I’ll prove to you there’s no such thing.”
Derek looked back at me. That strange smile disappeared again from his lips and never came back.
“I’m not gullible,” he insisted in a low voice. “The story is true.”
“Ah, up yours,” I said, walking to the edge of the shoreline and shuffling gingerly onto the ice. “Come on, Lloyd. Let’s go.”
“Me?” I heard from behind.
“Come on, you wimp. Let’s show this moron how stupid and full of it he is.”
The two of us waddled onto Saul Laskin. We inched our way closer and closer to the foggy middle, the thick air never seeming to thin out and recede like it normally would. Truthfully, I could barely see an inch in front of me; the whipping, cold air caused me to tear up and turned my tears to icicles on my lashes. But I was too angry to care. In my mind, I told myself I was going to prove to Derek what an idiot he was. In truth, I just wanted anyway to avoid telling him the truth about Christie Blackwell.
We were well past the center-point when I finally decided to stop. Lloyd was a bit ahead of me. I looked around. The fog was so dense. Even worse, I had to blink my eyes rapidly to break up the frozen moisture that accumulated on my lashes.
I roughly cleared my vision with my gloved thumb. And then I saw it. A hunched figure, just obscured by the fog, hobbling slowly toward Lloyd. Lloyd must have been having the same trouble I was, because he made no effort to run or communicate with the figure, even though it was practically right in his line of sight.
At first, I thought it was Derek. Thought he had somehow caught up and was trying to scare us. But I was wrong. I was very, very wrong.
I tried to warn Lloyd. To shout out. To ask who was there. But I couldn’t. The words were trapped in my throat. I was as petrified as the ice I stood upon. I stared, seeing the nearly naked figure come into focus. It was a man – or…what was once a man. The skin was pale, translucent, all the blue and purple veins visible. The hair was blonde – silver and slicked back, like the head had just been submerged in water. It looked like a cadaver that had escaped from the city morgue. Its bright coloured eyes resembled a pair of round, broken mirrors, and never once did I see them close. Not even blink.
Then, I…I heard it speak!
“I did it…” it muttered, hoarsely, the sound like the ruffling of crumpled paper. “I did it…where is she?”
The creature was mere feet from Lloyd, but he’d turned his back to it like it wasn’t there. He then lifted his head, one red eye open, and asked, “Jimmy? Did you say –”
Before he could finish, the walking cadaver shot a long, bony arm, grasping his shoulder with its claw-like fingers.
Lloyd looked around and shrieked.
“Where is she?” the thing muttered huskily. “Where’s my baby?”
Undoubtedly terrified, Lloyd tried to sprint away, only to slip and fall on the ice. The walking cadaver’s grip remained unbroken, causing Lloyd’s winter coat to rip. The thing pinned him, its grasping claws shaking Lloyd by the lapels.
“You said if I did it, you’d tell me where she was!” it hissed into Lloyd’s face. I watched, still petrified, only able to imagine the look of confusion and terror on Lloyd’s bundled-up face.
“Where is she!” the creature screamed. “Where is she? You promised. You promised\!” \ Its voice cracked on the last syllable.
It then started throwing Lloyd’s torso up and down, until the back of his head hit the ice with a shuddering thud. I cringed. It was like the sound of a bowling ball being dropped straight to the tiled, wooden floor. The thing then mounted him, clawing and punching at his lifeless form in a hungry frenzy. With its cracked, blackened teeth bared, the canines resembled a set of fangs.
I wanted to run. I wanted to help – to fight that thing off of my friend. But I swear, I – I couldn’t.
By the time that thing had stopped, I could see freshly fallen red droplets, steaming on the ice around Lloyd’s head. I knew then that he was gone.
What happened next, I can’t explain. The creature laid down on Lloyd’s supine body, putting its pale, grotesquely scabbed head on his chest, as though listening for a heartbeat. I then realized that the fog was thickening. There were whole plumes of smoke wafting up from the ice beneath their bodies. I realized when they began to sink, that the ice was melting.
The creature sunk down beneath the ice, pulling my friend’s carcass along with it. Once they had slipped out of sight, I heard the worst sound you could possibly imagine. The sound of the ice cracking. I looked at my feet and saw a deep gash, shaped like a lightning bolt, tearing a path through the ice beneath my feet and between my legs. Several mini fractures splintered off, creating a spider-web of icy shards.
My senses returning to me, I ran, falling and stumbling, back to the shoreline. I don’t know how many steps I made before I slid and fell through – and was completely submerged in Saul Laskin.
I don’t remember how cold it was – though it was freezing beyond imagination. I just remember the disgusting feeling of my clothes soaking in the water beside my skin– and the sheer panic blaring inside my skull.
Remember how I was short and fat? Well, I also didn’t have a clue how to swim. I just floated there, under the water, not seeing a damned thing, my mind a riot of horrible scenarios and images.
As you would expect, I flailed in desperate mortal fear when I felt a hand grab at me and pull. Thankfully, the hand was pulling me upward, to safety. And it belonged to Derek.
“Jimmy,” Derek panted, after he’d dragged me up onto the surface. “It’s – it’s okay,” he struggled to say, as he too was drenched from head to toe. “Here’s my – my coat...p-put it on.”
He then laid his open parka over my body. Luckily, he had taken it off before diving in to save me. I’m sure now if it wasn’t for his quick thinking, I’d have died that night.
“L-listen – listen to me,” he stammered on. His lips were turning a deep blue, as was his face. “My phone is in one of the coat pockets, call 9-1-1.”
“W-what?” I said, not understanding why he didn’t do it himself.
“Just do it,” he said, then turned and began walking in the direction of that creature.
“Wait!”
“I’m – I’m going to g-g-go get L-l-l-loyd!” he blurted out. Now, this is where I’d like to tell you that I forced Derek to stay with me. That I told him the truth about Christie Blackwell. That I apologized for the cruel joke I had played on him with Lloyd and my Uncle Eric. And for always taking him and his friendship for granted. But that didn’t happen. Shivering from the cold and my own fear, I just watched as he marched away, disappearing into the fog.
I took out his phone from the right pocket and dialed 9-1-1. I remember hearing the phone ring, the monotonous sound reverberating in my skull. I don’t remember anyone answering.
The last thing I remember is the feeling of my body growing warm. All the pain and fear evaporating with the fog. And then, there was blackness. Blackness save for a kaleidoscope of horrible images playing on loop in my mind.
I woke up in the emergency room.
I was told that the paramedics and fire department were called out. That they’d scanned the ice but never found Derek or Lloyd. I was told that I was lucky to be alive. Even luckier that I didn’t have frostbite and would therefore not have to lose any appendages.
Eventually, they got around to asking me why we were out there and what happened. I told them everything. Every last detail. Of course, they all looked at me like I was crazy. Some of them even thought that I might have gone into shock and asked my parents to have me undergo a CAT scan. I never did though.
During my time in the hospital, three thoughts kept spinning around my brain. One, how grateful I was to Derek Zimmer for saving my life. Two, how amazed I was that his story was actually true. And three, why that creature kept asking for its baby, instead of for money, like in Derek’s story. I found out later that the story Derek had told us that afternoon was one of many legends concerning Saul Laskin Lake and that night. Some were about a man whose daughter had been kidnapped by a gang of thieves; that the man was thrown into the lake, his feet encased in concrete, after he’d paid their ransom. Some were of a mentally disturbed woman who had drowned her baby, thinking it was possessed by the devil. And at least half a dozen more I can’t stomach reciting here.
Perhaps the worst moment after that night was when I got a visit from Missus Calhoun, the principal at Pendleton College. She was in her early seventies, stout, with a tight, silver bob cut and a pair of owlish spectacles on her round, little nose. She sat down at my bedside, wearing her shapeless, riotously patterned muumuu, and asked me what had happened at Saul Laskin. I told her. The same story I had told everyone since waking up in the emergency room. When I was done, she just stared at me, expressionless, before giving out a sharp sigh through her tiny nostrils.
“This is what I think happened, James,” she began, a subtle disdain in her voice. “I think you dared Lloyd Apanowicz and Derek to walk out there on the ice. We all know how you tricked and tortured that poor boy since primary school.
“I think when the ice cracked, and your friends fell in, you panicked and came up with this ludicrous lie to cover your tracks, because you think we’re all as gullible as poor Derek Zimmer. Because you think you’re that smart and the rest of us are that dumb. I think you’re a cruel, immature, sociopathic little boy who’ll end up becoming a cheat and a fraud and spend his adult life in and out of prison.”
From my bed, I stared back at her wide-eyed. It was so surreal. An adult – a teacher – speaking to me in such a way.
“And I don’t care who you tell this to,” she hissed. “Because I’m retiring at the end of this school year. And if I never see another sadistic child like you again, it’ll be too soon.”
When I brought up how I had been rescued, had almost succumb to hypothermia myself, she grunted and said, “I don’t know. You seem all right to me. After all, you didn’t even get frostbite out there, did you? And you’re the only one of those boys who survived.”
She then shook her grey head at me, making a tsk-tsk-tsk noise with her tongue.
“In and out of prison,” she repeated to herself, before rising from her chair and leaving me on my own.
Today, I’m happy to tell you her prognosis was false. I haven’t been in jail at any time in my life and the worst I’ve ever gotten is a speeding ticket. That being said, guilt has followed me around ever since that night.
I never told Derek that I had lied about Christie Blackwell, and for that I am eternally sorry. As I am for making Lloyd come with me across the frozen lake. I had also doubted Derek about his story of the spirit that haunts Saul Laskin once a year on a December night. For that too, I am sorry.
I don’t know what compelled me to play so many tricks on him, besides my overly logical, and cynical nature. But ever since that night, I’m not so quick to dismiss something – even if it does seem fantastic. Or even impossible.

Ok so- I'm going to invite everyone to share their unique situations, aesthetics, visualizations, dreams, and such for each "world" that Lana creates for each of her albums. I don't know about you but Ive created certain realities over the years through listening to her albums, each it's own distinctive dreamscape. I thought we could all share where we go to when we put ourselves into the music ♥️ please feel free to share as much or little as you'd like 💕
Born To Die: American Suburbia, mid to late teens, in the mid 2000s.
Hanging in my friends back yards, swinging in hammocks, having dinner on porches with my friends, swimming in their pools, driving together, getting high together. Just having the typical ideal American teen summertime experience. It's immature but it's fun and we love it.
Paradise: Southwestern USA Deserts, in my early 20s, in the 90s.
Riding motorcycles in the deserts, with rebels and crazy kids, we escaped from the boring societal norms of college and jobs and found ourselves living for adventure. We're tough and gritty but we're a tight group. We watch all the sunsets and dine and dash at the diners. We stay at cheap motels and run from the police. We're free. And we love it.
Ultraviolence: Bouncing between NYC and LA, in late teens/early 20s, in the late 2000s.
I'm a young artist, finding myself, and struggling with my personal life and social life but I'm making it through. I feed off of the energies of the cities. Everywhere I go inspires my creativity and lust for making art and expressing myself authentically. I can't seem to forget life back home, and haven't fully embraced the bold choice of moving from city to city and being so independent. I still rely on others, I still think of my family too much. I ended up in the wrong crew. I ended up in trailer parks. I can't claw my way out on my own. I'm desperate.
Honeymoon: Florida, mid 40s, in the 1950s.
The luxury life of housewives in perfect Floridian suburbs by the beaches. We hate our marriages but we love the money. We sweep our affairs and lies under the carpet of our failing marriages. We miss our youth, our freedom and our vitality. We still feel like the same thriving and free teens. But adult life is complicated. It was time grow up but never wanted to. So we kept our lives in order, but had more lives hiding on the side. We escape to resorts and motels and beaches to forget the pain. We're free. But only for a weekend.
Lust for Life: New England Woodlands (Maine, NH, VT), early 20s, in the 70s.
Hippy tripping our way across New England forests and rocky coasts in a bus full of beautiful souls, hearty laughs and lots of joints. We pray to the sky and the moon and the stars. Our nightly campfires fuel the passions of our love for each other, for nature and for the future. We visit the preppy coastal towns, the rich towns with the old money, the new beaches with the retro motels, the local art museums and bookshops. We drive, and ride, and live our lives. We're free, and free and free.
Norman Fucking Rockwell: SoCal, in late 20s, in the late 2010s.
Thrashing the angsty underbearings of a relationship we can't figure out. The hazy electric neon nights of clubs and parties and beaches and love making. Life is complex. We're not teenagers anymore. We dance where we can and we sing where we can and we smoke wherever the hell we want. The patio lights twinkle above our dancing feet as we sway in slow motion to the tunes of the radio. We feel lost but we cover it up because we're supposed to be happy. We're supposed to be living, but it feels like we're dying. We thirst for any last breath of youth that we can inhale quick enough. It's sad and it's lonely, but at least we have each other. Whatever that means now. There are the beautiful moments too. The ones where we kiss by the beach and soak the sunset glow into our shining skin. We hold on tight and brace for more life.
Chemtrails Over the Country Club: Midwest, USA, early 30s in the early 2010s.
I'm road tripping through Midwestern USA in a van with a group of friends. We stop at little dive bars every night, even older saloon style places too. We dance, we sing, we laugh, we cry. We look on life and our problems and escape for a little while in the paradise of the Americana heartlands. We're more mature in our lives now. We reflect on life, who we are, our experiences, our spirituality, our dreams and futures and plans. It's perfect and it's magical, and we've finally seen ourselves through. We can smile at the good and the bad, and yearn for the moments of glory we're yet to live. We're just beginning a new chapter. We're grateful. Things are looking up.

The seniors at Effingham County High School were free for tonight at least. With all of them gathered at Desmond and Eliza McElroy’s house, this Saturday night was shaping up to be the best yet for those Effingham Rebels. Both for the in-crowd and outcasts.
The disparate cliques were well-represented inside Eliza and Desmond McElroy’s house… inside their parents’ lavish country home. One located ten or so miles beyond the Rincon, Georgia city limits. Perfect for the parties that got too out of hand. There were no neighbors to annoy, the home too far from the police station or any businesses. Instead, these high schoolers had their own teenage wasteland to themselves… Even if Eliza McElroy didn’t approve.
They’d never thrown a party here before. But Eliza had many reasons to be nervous. She wasn’t ‘hot’ (at least not in the traditional sense) like her brother Des. She wasn’t eighteen like him. And she damn sure wasn’t popular like him… not for the cool reasons anyway.
Hiding in a living room corner, Eliza scanned the scene with trepidation rather than rejoice. The tall bookshelf next to her, the scattered pretty psychedelic paintings no barricade between her and her conceited classmates.
Everything about Eliza stood out. The beaming blue eyes, the stringy black hair. The skinny physique... save for a little pudge in the stomach. Also the dimples she rarely showed nor had much reason to… Much like her well-endowed breasts, Eliza didn’t like any attention whether it was positive or negative. The decent looks, the prep potential for this high school junior always self-sabotaged in the form of no make-up and no name-brand clothes. Certainly the baggy jeans and even baggier flannel shirt wouldn’t cut it if she wanted to join Effingham High’s elite. But at least on this cool October night, Eliza had an excuse for covering her pasty skin-
That same complexion Desmond could flaunt with ease. There he was on the couch, his arm wrapped around Maggie Quinn. No, not his girlfriend, nor one he had much interest in by Eliza’s estimation… but she was typical for Des’s one-night affairs and flings. Pretty, tall, thin. Even at sixteen, Maggie was ripe for a Miss America swimsuit contest. Those tan looks and tumbling golden curls further intensifying Eliza’s insecurities as both an introverted virgin and all-too-dependent sister.
Not many things annoyed Eliza more than Maggie’s high-pitched laugh. She’d heard it plenty enough in gym class when the cheerleader’s clique made Eliza’s life a living Hell.
Now here the bitch was with Des of all people. His charisma was radiant. Rather than nerves, he felt fire. His face and body an improvement on all things Eliza… Only unlike a newer model, those McElroy good genes only existed in this first edition. Certainly, Eliza felt she didn’t inherit that carefree smile and smooth skin. Nor Des’s en vogue fashion sense. Certainly his tee shirt and cargo pants were more than form flattering… much to the joy of Effingham High’s female (and closeted male) population.
On the couch, Eliza’s brother straightened his backwards cap. One eye on Maggie’s beauty, the other on his beautiful Bud Light longneck.
Sure, Eliza couldn’t hear their conversation. Not over the bombastic speakers some asshole had set at max volume. Not over Marky Mark’s “Good Vibrations”… So much sound and soul the CD player and VCR next to it kept rattling in place.
But Eliza knew the way Maggie was pawing Des’s chest, the way he was eyeing her flawless features, Eliza knew she had no chance of bonding with her beloved brother tonight. At least, not for now...
So already the party was getting on her nerves… and they were still two hours away from midnight. Who knew how many more hours away from when this shit show would officially end? When will they ever leave, Eliza fumed internally. Is further delaying your sister’s happiness really worth this bitch’s attention…
Eliza clinged tighter to her almost-full beer bottle. She didn’t like the taste to begin with… especially if it meant prolonging the agony of being stuck in her home with a bunch of people she couldn’t stand. This was no different than the lunches she spent sitting by herself in Effingham High’s crowded and claustrophobic cafeteria. No different than the group projects that teachers gave her like unwitting prison sentences… At this point, Eliza wished her parents had just stayed home for the weekend. Anything but this teenage escape bullshit.
Now Eliza’s home felt unfamiliar. Uncomfortable. Already, she’d stumbled upon a couple making out in her upstairs bedroom. Somehow, the McElroy two-story “country estate” felt more contained than those dreaded classrooms. Eliza had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The outside only brought rural desolation and a chilling wind… not to mention hoards of people, hoards of assholes who’d been making fun of her since kindergarten. Those pick-ups and convertibles lining up in the front yard, ambushing all the University Of Georgia dawg lawn ornaments and scattered birdbaths only further enraged Eliza… not to mention how that asshole Leon had already hurled three bottles at her mom Francine’s St. Francis statue.
Being trapped inside also meant being surrounded by these same shitty people. There were at least fifty or so teenagers running wild, all the juniors and seniors Des allured. None of whom liked Eliza… which she was all too aware of.
By now, the kitchen was a literal chugfest. That antique chandelier a spotlight for the drunkest clowns, the drunkest ‘Rebels’ their school had to offer. The Rebels’ revelry a human barrier to the Trimline wall phone. No way Eliza could phone for help if shit did hit the fan. Not when the social anxiety barely let her survive school and all its painful interactions.
Upstairs was rife with both framed family photos and attractive couples getting down in the various bedrooms and bathrooms. Already, Eliza had seen stray puke strewn all over her dad Alan’s colorful rugs.
Only a matter of time before these idiots break mom and dad’s record collection, thought Eliza. That Beatles butcher album’s about to get butchered. She took another sip of that bitter beer. Unable to hide her disgust for both the taste and the crowd she found herself in. The one she looked forward to avoiding come every Friday afternoon.
But man, she had no escape. Already Eliza knew Cindy Cohen was hugging the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. She knew the backyard was infested by immaturity both in and around the swimming pool, by both male and female banshees. The Effingham High crowd eager to wreak havoc on any property that wasn’t theirs. Especially one built by such an eccentric family… not that such morons had the capability to respect the McElroy’s affinity for fine art and collectibles. To them, this wasn’t so much a museum as a madhouse.
Eliza knew they had no respect. Even if she knew Des didn’t… or was too distracted by the flirtatious bimbos around him to care.
Come on, come on, feel it feel it! shouted Marky Mark off Alan’s rattling speakers. Off a stereo that’d been abused all night.
Not to Eliza’s surprise the Effingham’s rebels were, well, rebelling. The living room the least hectic, but that wasn’t saying much... Not when less crowded meant eight high school seniors, a couple of shared bongs, and countless scattered Bud Lights… and Eliza hiding in the corner.
The bulky television stayed on MTV, R.E.M.’s “Losing My Religion” somehow on mute in favor of Marky Mark And The Funky Bunch. The sprawling room for once stifling due to the cluster of cliques. So many people Eliza and Des had to drag down their colorful bean bag chairs earlier to appease this mostly-standing-room-only stadium. The table lamps provided enough lighting, much more than the big window across the room could during this dark night. At least there was no sunlight to reflect off Eliza’s pale frown. Off her obvious alienation.
Feel the vibration! continued the cheese rap.
Cackling with Maggie, Des put his sneakers on the coffee table. Too drunk to care about squishing Alan and Francine’s Fangoria magazines.
Brushing the building sweat from her bangs, Eliza looked out that window. Compelled to it not by curiosity but desperation. A chance to avoid the madding crowd… Or at least avoid their eye contact and sadistic snickering.
Eliza looked beyond Leon and Cheryl’s sloppy kiss on the other couch. Beyond April’s obnoxious drunken laughter. But sadly, this view didn’t offer much solace. No effect on the suffocating stranglehold “Good Vibrations” had on the soundtrack. No salvation from the self-conscious state Eliza McElroy found herself in.
Not that the dense forest, adorable Dawg memorabilia, or cold darkness could survive Effingham High’s onslaught and its most deplorable characters. Outside, there was the collision of countrified preps and Rincon blue bloods. Stoners destined for failed attempts at rock stardom, athletes and cheerleaders destined for eternal Effingham County residency, and the honor students all too desperate to fit in. A wide variety of races and styles sure. But no one like Eliza. Nor anyone that wanted to make the attempt to like her either. She was everyone’s target. The students’ punching bag for elevating themselves in this high school hierarchy. Maybe not everyone could be Maggie Quinn or a stud quarterback like Will Lime… but at least they were never a weirdo loser like Eliza.
Assholes, she thought to herself in that corner. That miserable jail cell in her own Goddamn house. Eliza glanced beside her. At all the horror and true crime novels dominating the bookshelf. Too bad this can’t be a revolving bookcase and rotate me the Hell out of here. She flashed an annoyed look over at Des.
He was still busy with Maggie. Still flirting. He clanged his Bud Light into hers, their smiles brighter than yet another pick-up’s headlights cruising down the driveway.
Why can’t he try… Eliza thought. She took another sip of booze. Her stoic toughness immediately hit by disgust! Eliza still nowhere used to alcohol. Nowhere used to parties for that matter. She struggled to finish the beer. Struggled to force that hardened scowl back on her face. He usually spends time with me at least. Not kissing their asses all night!
Deep down, she knew that Des’s ability to blend in made his Rincon life much easier. Not to mention much more fun. More tolerable. His charisma, his clothes. Like an undercover cop, Des played along with a crowd and town he knew was beneath his individuality and intelligence. However, Eliza loved the real side of him. The side when they were alone at home or when Des drove her to school. They had more in common than Effingham High realized. That their classmates were too dumb to perceive. After all, the McElroy family all got along. They had a bond built on both blood and creativity.
When you turn eighteen, they’ll like you too, Eliza’s grandmother Emmanuella constantly reassured her in that shrill Southern accent. You’ll have the boys all over you then, honey! You’ll be beautiful at that senior prom!
Eliza still had a hard time believing this senior year miracle. High school life would always be easy for a charming guy like her brother. His attractive looks and physique made that certain. Her, on the other hand… there was only so much a school-proclaimed ‘ugly sister’ could do. Especially with absolute shit for self-esteem.
Now she kept her glower steady on Des and Maggie. Their yapping dominant in a sea of senior year drama.
So come on now, feel the vibration! Marky Mark further taunted Eliza.
Then Maggie went in for a clumsy kiss. Des eager to match her drunk passion.
More disgust shot through Eliza. She took another sip of Bud… begrudgingly. The beer a little less sickening than having to watch her older brother make out.
“Hey, check this shit out!” hollered a nasally drawl.
For once, the cafeteria chatter gave way to an intrigued silence. All eyes, even Eliza’s, went to Ken and Robert, Effingham High’s two most popular class clowns. Ken in jeans and a tattered Led Zeppelin tee, Robert in a dark hoodie. Their red cups no match for the marijuana scent basked into their clothes and long hair. And Ken’s scraggly beard.
Leading the charge toward the stereo, Ken held up a small cassette tape with pride. “We just finished recording it yesterday!” he continued proclaiming in his nasally voice.
“Yeah, that shit’s rad, man!” Robert added.
Maggie groaned, everyone amused except her… Everyone except her and Eliza, of course.
“We don’t wanna hear that shit!” Maggie yelled.
“Too bad!” Ken quipped. He kept marching on to the speakers, not slowing down at all.
An “oh shit!” erupted near the T.V., from none other than Malcolm Duncan, a short stoner with dimples for days. And also Ken and Robert’s bandmate. He was slouching in a chair by a shelf tower chock-full of VHS tapes. He raised his longneck with triumph. “Let’s do it big, rebels!”
“Do it big, baby!” Ken responded.
Robert stopped by the coffee table, letting Ken ambush Marky Mark.
“No! Leave it on the radio!” Maggie demanded. “We all know y’all suck!”
“No, they don’t!” Leon said. His hand around his girl, currently entangled in her braids...
“Yeah, I like y’all,” Cheryl added.
Robert pointed right at the party’s token black couple. “Thank you, Leon!”
“Hey, I got you, man!” Leon responded.
Maggie started to stand. “Just play that shit in the garage-”
Keeping his constant cool, Des held a hand in front of Maggie, holding her back. “It’s okay, just let them play,” he smirked, his Southern tone built off a lethargic calmness.
Maggie entered an irritated silence. Then again, Des’s beautiful eyes were convincing enough.
“I appreciate it, Des,” Robert said before burping.
“It’s too late anyway!” Ken announced. “It’s our turn to shine.”
“And that was Marky Mark,” began a DJ’s beaming interlude.
Ken killed the nighttime voice with one switch.
“Hit it!” Malcolm yelled.
More uneasy with more people, Eliza glanced back at the bookshelf. The titles comforted her in the crowd. At least captivated her for the moment... In Cold Blood, Bloch’s Psycho, King’s Carrie, Fred Harrison’s Brady And Hindley. Books her, Francine, and Emmanuella had devoured since Eliza was in grade school.
Then came the homemade rock ‘n roll! Complete with screams, out-of-tune guitars, tribal drumming… horrendous production quality… the sound so shitty it couldn’t even be considered garage rock. Nor a poor man’s Led Zeppelin or all the other hard rock “The Rebels” tried to emulate but didn’t have the talent nor resources to.
Taking center stage, Ken did the devil’s horn hand gesture. “We’re the Rebels, y’all!”
Sharing a laugh with Cheryl, Leon grooved to the fast pace. “Hey, that’s what I’m talking about!” he yelled.
The others partook in the partying. Des’s hand on Maggie’s leg to stifle her protests…
Malcolm turned the music down just a hair.
Then Ken looked right at him.
Pleading his innocence, Malcolm held up the Bud Light. “Hey, just a little, man!”
Ken cracked a smile. “Naw, you’re good.”
Robert snatched his arm. His buzz going berserk. “They’re taking shots in the kitchen!”
“Hell, let’s go!” Ken responded. He beat Robert for the lead, commanding Malcolm in the process. The band eager to “exit” this stage! The three of them rushing right past Eliza...
Cowering further back in the corner, Eliza forced herself to look elsewhere. The nerves coming back with a vengeance. She forced another beer swig… Unable to talk even if she wanted to due to that bitter booze.
Seated a few feet away, April and her bestie Yvonne shared a bean bag. Their shared smirks crosshairs on Eliza.
“She gives me the creeps…” Yvonne remarked, quiet enough for a pretend whisper but just loud enough to ensure Eliza would hear.
“I agree, she’s ugly,” April sneered, not even trying to hide her disgust.
Battling tears, Eliza avoided their sadistic stares. The freakshow gawking… She forced her gaze back to the window. This alienated soul unable to withdraw completely from the teasing… too well within earshot of the bitchy best friends to even try.
“How’s her brother so hot and she’s so gross,” April continued, a wicked smile overcoming her. She readjusted her glasses, eliciting a chuckle from Yvonne. “I mean good God, talk about genetics gone bad, girl!”
Out of the corner of her eye, Eliza saw a laughing Yvonne grab April’s bony shoulder, both of their plastic red cups splashing cheapass vodka, splashing all over Yvonne’s tumbling black hair. “Stop it!” Yvonne told her.
April pointed over at Des. By now, he and Maggie stuck in those precious moments between the first few kisses and carnal overdrive… not enough privacy.
“I mean just look at him!” April said to Yvonne.
On the couch, Maggie felt along Des’s hips and ass.
“He’s fine as Hell,” April continued.
Maggie now latched on to Des’s waist in a tight grip. Grinning, Des pulled her hand back.
April faced Yvonne. “She needs to sue her mom. Like for real.”
“Man, you so mean!” Yvonne said through the smirk, her Hispanic accent slipping through that strained drawl. Almost a necessity for any minority to fit in with the cool kids around here. “This is her house too.”
Eliza slightly turned… A pathetic attempt at acting oblivious. A method she’d perfected but at the moment struggled with... She was used to hiding the tears at school, in the hallways. But not in her own home. The house where Des, mom, dad, and grandma Emmanuella comforted her from the horrors of Effingham High.
April scoffed. “Like I’m supposed to care! She better be glad Des’s fineass is her brother or else no one’d ever come here.”
“No shit,” Yvonne replied.
Still Eliza felt April’s glower stay on her. The teenage knives piercing into her anxiety.
“Besides,” April said. She smiled at Yvonne and shook her hair back, posing as if she knew Eliza could hear her every word, feel every jab. “Maybe he’ll wanna get with me.”
Chuckling, Yvonne raised her cup. “You’s a skank…”
“I mean can you blame me?”
Keeping the weeping quiet, Eliza picked at her own pockets... Pulled up those baggy jeans a little higher. Maybe I’m finally losing weight, she tried to joke to herself.
“I don’t know,” Yvonne said. She nodded toward Des. “Looks like Maggie’s going total slut mode now.”
Eliza slid a finger into one of her pants’ belt loops. Felt a cold touch.
April couldn’t help but look off at Des to admire those long legs in the tight cargos, the broad shoulders… “I don’t think he likes her.”
“Dude, every guy does,” Yvonne said.
Even Eliza had to follow April’s smitten stare.
Des pulled Maggie in closer but her intoxication was more pronounced. She kept running her hands all over him, trying to get in closer, his arms a gentle barricade.
“Yeah, well, I don’t care about being his sloppy seconds,” April said.
“You’re crazy,” Yvonne scoffed. She put her cup toward April’s. “Cheers, bitch.”
“Yeah, yeah…” They each took a smug sip.
In one quick swipe, Eliza knocked away her straggler tears. Screw them… She held up the Bud Light.
“But I agree,” Yvonne said to April. “His sister’s so weird…”
Worst Fall Break ever... Eliza took a sip. This one was smooth, steady. The most comforting beer she’d ever had.
You’ll get them one day! Emmanuella would tell her. I promise you, Eliza! You’ll show them soon!
Now a grin overtook Eliza’s melancholy. “I hope so, grandma,” she muttered.
Lowering the Bud and ignoring both the Rebels’ trash music and her trash classmates, Eliza stared out the window once more. These late nights were always her favorite… usually due to the desolation and freedom. But right now she was stuck watching a few football players chug down a longneck each in a cringey race against time.
Eliza stayed repulsed by these Rebels. She’d call the cops right now but knew they wouldn’t bother coming out this far barring a serious emergency related to one of Rincon’s more social or richer residents. No way they’d come down Landon Road for her weirdass. Much less arresting any football players or preps for the “mild misconduct”...
Surrounding her, the music just got worse and worse. A premiere party I never asked for. But Eliza didn’t wanna look away. She didn’t wanna face her brother and Maggie’s revolting sparks or April’s verbal assault. So her gaze drifted back to the forest. To the long branches swaying in the breeze… The deep, eerie woods lurking closeby.
Suddenly, a quick burst of light showed her something! Someone standing on the edge of the forest! A tall figure, one shrouded in shadows. They just stood still… the flash of those incoming headlights too quick to get more.
The Camry got closer and closer. Yet another arrival, another prep intruder for this painful party. Only this wasn’t the average Rincon royal or jock. Instead, all Eliza could do was cringe when she saw Joseph Baker step out. The seventeen-year-old of her dreams complete with his own matching paleness and swooped brown bangs. But unlike Eliza, he had the beauty and body to compete for Des’s babes. Those emerald eyes helpful for sure.
Great… Eliza thought. He gets to see me play loser even at home. Regardless, she turned her attention back to the woods. Back to that spot. The chilling night making it impossible for a glimpse at the figure she just saw moments earlier…
But Eliza was too jaded and bitter to be scared. She took another sip of Bud Light. By now used to the taste… and even starting to enjoy its effects.
“What the Hell are you doing with her!” a female siren blared.
Eliza turned to see both Des and Maggie standing up, Des’s entertained intrigue a subdued contrast to Maggie’s drunken anger-
An anger matched by Cynthia. The cheerleader co-captain that would’ve long overtaken Maggie’s social status at Effingham High if not for her mixed Latina heritage and middle-class roots. But right now Cynthia wasn’t backing down! Her ponytail waved about with each shout and aggressive gesture.
“I got you the Ciroc, bitch!” Cynthia hurled at her. “I didn’t tell you to come messing with my man!”
Maggie pointed right at her. A Devilish redness dominating her good looks. “You can’t claim shit!” came that Banshee cry. “It just happened!” She snagged Des’s shoulder for support both physically and emotionally. “AIn’t that right, babe?”
Des didn’t have a chance at hiding the smirk.
Cynthia stepped toward him, her stature short but full of rage. “You told me this was for us, Desi!”
Beneath these pretty spotlights, Des just shrugged. “Hey, I just wanna have a good time.”
“What!” each girl yelled.
Des put his hands (and Bud Light up). “Look, I’m not dating anyone right now. That’s not what this is about.”
“Get it, Des!” Leon was heard shouting with facetious glee...
Then came Cheryl’s sudden punch to her boyfriend’s shoulder.
“Ow, baby!” Leon cried.
“Shut up!” Cheryl said.
Cynthia gave Des a shove! “But you said you were with me!”
Following Cynthia, Maggie grabbed Des’s arm, sinking her fingernails into that smooth skin. “What do you think we just had, Des! This was our moment, this is us! You want me, just tell her!”
“You bitch!” Cynthia shouted at her.
Des gave Eliza a bemused shrug. All as the bullets of barbs kept flying…
“He doesn’t love poor white trash!” Maggie cried.
“Bitch, I’m not white!” Cynthia retaliated.
For the first time all party, Eliza gave a genuine smile. Des’s helplessness sympathetic but humorous.
The siblings’ interaction ended once Maggie swung the first punch! Only Cynthia beat her to the punch by giving her a harsh push!
Des struggled to get between them. “Hey, y’all! I just wanted to have a party!”
Cheryl catcalled for fun!
“Yeah, that’s my girl,” Leon quipped.
Shaking her head in dismay, Eliza faced the T.V. The million pound behemoth currently playing Extreme’s “More Than Words” on mute… but Eliza still wasn’t sure which was worse. The cheese ballad or the amateur rock music scoring the catfight...
“God, look at him!” Eliza heard April’s twang tell Yvonne. “That body, that ass. That everything!”
“Girl, you stalking him,” Yvonne replied.
As annoyed as she was, Eliza turned just in time to see Cynthia shove Des back into Maggie. The melodramatic struggle incorporating all three of them...
“Look, just cool it!” Des’s attempt at putting out this female fire. At this point a forest fire beyond control.
All the while, April’s eyes ate Eliza’s brother alive. Particularly his assets of exposed biceps and bubbly ass.
“But you ain’t lying,” Eliza heard Yvonne say.
Eliza just cringed. Not much else she could do at this point.
Now Cynthia lunged forward! Her clumsy charge leading to a chokehold on Des!
“You bitch!” Maggie cried.
“Hey!” Eliza shouted, her voice meek from years of alienation.
Neither Maggie nor Cynthia paid any attention to her as they swung away at each other. Des laughing as he struggled to break them up. Not bothered at all by Cynthia’s continual chokehold...
“Goddamn!” Leon yelled.
Great… Fighting the nerves, Eliza put the beer on the shelf and charged toward her brother. “Hey, let him go!”
Behind her, she heard April and Yvonne cackle.
“That girl’s about to get her ass beat!” Yvonne quipped.
Of course, to no one’s surprise, the cheerleader and Maggie weren’t stopping. All Des did was flash Eliza that smile. That Desi smile.
“Eliza, I got this!” he said
Des finally knocked away Cynthia’s hand. Both Cynthia and Maggie still jostling for position for their dream date…
“You ugly skank!” Cynthia screamed at Maggie.
“Bitch, you’re just jealous!” Maggie hurled back.
Their sheer strength pushed Des’s arms in closer, literally closing the gap on their blood battle! Not that Des’s frame could block their punches, claws, and slaps. Much less dodge those erratic slaps to the face…
Still chuckling, Des licked the blood off his lip. “Jesus Christ...”
Lunging for her rival, Maggie knocked Des’s cap off!
“Trashyass!” Maggie shouted at Cynthia.
Eliza then got past the open doorway-
When a soft mattress sent her back toward the bookshelf! “Shit!” she yelled.
“Oh my God!” April snorted with laughter.
Eliza crashed into the shelf. Back in her corner. Only a few books fell out, but at least Eliza’s startling reflexes snagged that Bud Light mid-air!
“Coming through!” Ken shouted.
There was the band, the Rebels, heading for their ‘stage’. Ken, Malcolm, and Robert helping carry the blow-up mattresses into the room. Will and Joseph amongst the moving crew.
Eliza’s heart pounded faster. The erotic excitement for once overpowering the anxiety… at least for now.
“Hey, put it by the window!” yelled Will’s Georgia growl. His chiseled features well beyond his eighteen years. The tight name-brand preppy clothing on that alluring body finally taking some of the female gaze off of Des… Enough to get Cynthia and Maggie pausing their showdown.
But Eliza’s focus stayed on Joseph. Especially as he walked past her...
“Y’all need any help?” April said, eager to get closer to the studs.
“Naw, we got it!” Ken answered before anyone else.
The crew all went for the window. Somehow, they still managed to hang on to their longnecks, their sloppy navigation helped by Leon… and an April who just couldn’t help herself.
To the tune of the shitty rock music, Eliza’s gawking veered into creep territory. Watching Joseph shake his head to push those bangs aside. Watching his muscles flex from the heavy lifting. His ass bounce with each step. Not even the Rebels’ hectic rhythm could disrupt this steamy viewing. Why not admire, she reassured herself. Not like he’d be into me anyway.
April coincidentally gravitated next to Will as she “helped” him lay the blow-up mattress beneath the window. “You glad I helped?” she cooed.
Eliza heard Yvonne laughing. Glad that the mean-spirited laughs weren’t directed at her for once.
With a nervous laugh, Will faced April. His expression explaining the obvious: I’m too good-looking and popular to ever go beneath my league. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
“Maybe we can grab a drink-” April started.
Moving fast, Will brushed past her, right toward Maggie. “Hey-ooo! What’s going on.”
Both Cynthia and Maggie stood up straight, displaying even more desire than the obvious affection they showed Des.
“Hey, Will,” they said in unison.
Smirking, Des took a step back.
He’d be happy with sloppy seconds, noted Eliza. Not that second place is bad. She turned her attention back to Joseph. To her relief, no buzzards were on him. Maybe I’m his second place, she couldn’t help but think.
“Nice try,” she heard Yvonne say.
Eliza looked over to see a defeated April crash next to her bestie. Immediately, April indulging in more booze.
“Aww,” Yvonne teased.
“Whatever…” April fumed.
Yvonne pointed her toward Eliza’s brother. Past the competition between Cynthia and Maggie for their grand prize Will. “Looks like Des might be available…”
“Whoo!” cried a drunken roar.
Raising the Bud, Eliza looked toward the window, the center of the room. By now, the Rebels, Leon, and Cheryl were partying on the blow-up mattresses. Jumping on the makeshift beds like rock stars. Leon with his arm wrapped around Cheryl, their drinks well on the verge of splashing out. Malcolm clutched on to the bong, ready for the next hit… And Ken and Robert just shouted along to the music.
The sight was sheer bliss. Certainly an upgrade over April’s anger. But Eliza couldn’t help but stare on out the window. The October night able to distract her from Joseph… from the one shot she had to make a move while he was awkward and alone...
Because the figure was back. Illuminated by slow headlights, Eliza now had a clearer view. A scarier one.
What she saw was a man in black. The man tall and muscular and standing in the same exact spot. The same position. His black jacket draped over equally raven gloves, pants, and shoes. The macabre outfit topped off by a wide brim black fedora. A face forever hidden by shadows cast by the dangling tree limbs...
Eliza couldn’t see much more. No features or skin. Nothing but the large axe the man held in his left hand…