My aunt is 74. She retired 9 years ago from a job in a low paying job in a care home and lives in a small council flat costing £120 a month which is paid for by housing benefit. Her weekly income is solely the state pension alongside pension credit (pension credit guarantee credit to be exact, whatever that means). This gives her close to £900 a month.
With herself, she is the most frugal person I've ever met. For breakfast she eats a bowl of Tesco's stockwell own weetabix every morning, which is 95p for 24 wheat biscuits. For dinner it'll be be supermarket brand lowest priced (stockwell or hubbards) beans on toast or beans in a jacket potato. I'd be amazed if her monthly food bill came to more than £30 or £40.
She refuses to turn on the heating no matter how cold it gets. She'd rather just put a jumper and hat on. She has never taken a holiday in her life and apart from a daily afternoon walk stays at home watching the TV each day.
As a result she's got a monthly excess of at least £650, even after utility bills because they're just the basics as she has no internet/sky etc. With this excess she showers her kids and grandkids with gifts and cash and has amassed savings of around 8k. I'm almost certain that she suffers from some sort of undiagnosed mental illness that causes her to be scrupulously frugal with herself.
I'm also certain that much of this is rooted in her religious beliefs that she won't get into heaven unless she dies poor (which is something she says from time to time). Luke 18:25 states that "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God" she frequently quotes when asked about her generousity. She also becomes deeply hurt and upset if her generousity is refused.
As this is money you are given by the state to live on, is she allowed to spend it this way?

S1: Murder of Marina Nunier Ozuna: "Three young people from the working class attend one of the most exclusive schools in Spain, where the clash with the children of the elite ends in tragedy."
No notable changes. Overall, the season was well written, and it serves as the foundation for future seasons.

• Marina's murderer: Polo Benavent Villada.

^\***************************************************************************************************************************)
S2. Disappearance of Samuel García Dominguez: “After the death of a classmate, a student goes missing, loyalties change, new friends join the drama, and dark secrets come to light.”
This would be where the big changes from the original season would begin. Personally, I actually liked what Elite did with this season, in general, except for one small detail: CHRISTIAN SHOULD HAVE STAYED ON THE SHOW. And yes, I understand that it was due to Miguel Herrán's agenda, but literally his character (along with Samu and Nadia's) are the main engines of S1. All three were mainstay characters, and Christian's departure felt too forced on the series because of the way it was handled. If there was a contract involved, the actor should have taken it into account and fulfilled at least the third season that closed "the first cycle" of Elite. Following this idea, these are the ways I think Christian's presence would have affected the story:

• Originally, I think Christian was meant to take the role Samu was given in S2: go after Carla, demanding that she confess. He was not only involved with her and Polo, but he knows the truth. And let's remember: Christian was Nano's best friend. Guilt could start to haunt him, and based on this, we would see his desire to try to get a confession from Carla. This is literally the plot that Samu received, being the second closest person to Nano, besides Christian, who eventually ended up romantically linked with Carla.
• By having Christian take Samu's place in Carla's confession, this means = No Carmuel.
• At the same time, I feel that Christian's love interest should be away from Carla or Polo, as he would want to get as far away from them as possible, aware of what they did (what Polo did).⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ → In this sense, we could have a rapprochement between Christian & Lucrecia, which yes, might seem far-fetched, but... if someone had mentioned the possibility of Samuel & Carla during T1, wouldn't it have seemed ridiculous too?
⠀⠀⠀ → In a way, this would mean that Christian would almost completely take over Valerio's role in Season 2, being Lu's love interest (without the incest part), and with the possibility of further exploring his bisexuality (remember: Valerio ends up in a relationship of three between Cayetana and Polo).
⠀⠀⠀ → The Christian/Lu relationship would add more pressure to the fracture that they show us that the friendship between Carla and Lu is going through this season.
⠀⠀⠀ → This also remains with the idea that the 3 new ones from S1 become romantically involved with three members of the "elite" (Samuel/Marina, Nadia/Guzmán, and now, Christian/Lucrecia).
⠀⠀⠀ → I would make this relationship happen very slowly, with maybe just a few scenes of them in Season 2, and the actual romantic relationship only for the next season. The reason for this is that part of Lu's plot in S2 is to help Guzmán through his grief over Marina (remember: Guzmán toying with the idea of killing himself during S1, and Lu “saves” him).
⠀⠀⠀ → Christian's tenure would eliminate Valerio's character appearance this season, as he was added as Lu's love interest.
Ander and Omar would end their relationship between the beginning and the middle of this season.

• Let's say that the idea of this couple was "good" during the first season, to make them understand as the two queer characters of the show, but that's it. Already in the second season they became too toxic with each other, and their breakup early at this point would open the door to a lot more interesting things for the two of them.
• Both end up on good terms, being close friends, but without anything romantic/sexual in between.
• Also, have Ander continues playing tennis as we saw at the first season. I feel that it was a detail that fit well with his character, and gave him a subplot unrelated to his sexuality.

^\***************************************************************************************************************************)
S3. Murder of Polo Benavent Villada: “A new investigation begins following the murder of another student. The student body thinks about his future, but the consequences of the past still haunt him ”.
This would be Valerio's introduction season, but not as Lu's love interest. His plot would revolve almost entirely around drug abuse, and the consequences that this brings to him and those around him. Lu would be one of those affected, yes, because she would continue being his sister, but she would not be the only one: Polo, Cayetana and Carla would be the other three people with whom Valerio would interact the most, and therefore those who would end up most affected, due to his shits.

• Omar would return to his drug dealing business and start "working" with Valerio and with Rebeka (after her mother goes to jail and Rebe finds her stash of cocaine).
• We would see the threesome that we originally had of Valerio-Cayetana-Polo but in an "unofficial" way, with his character joining the pre-established couple of the other two the previous season, just for "momentary fun" (parallelism with the original case Christian-Carla-Polo). At the end of the season, Cayetana and Polo would separate, but her feelings for him remain and she continues to defend his crimes.
• Valerio would draw Carla into his world of substance abuse.

Yeray does NOT appear as a new character: The function that this character originally fulfilled in the story (of leading Carla to start using drugs) would be given to Valerio.

• Valerio and Carla develop "feelings" for each other, actually based on the mutual addiction they are both going through. Valerio would be the one to feed Carla's growing addiction. This pairing makes a lot of sense to me, as they both have all that customer-dealer sexual tension (something like Ander-Omar in season 1). They would have been something interesting to see, but obviously, not as something permanent. In the end, after her overdose, she chooses to end things with Valerio.

It would be Omar (not Nadia) who would meet Malick at his parents' supermarket, the first time:

• The two would then begin a healthy relationship, without the external influence of Nadia or Ander (who would have been left behind a long time ago, for Omar).
• Omar would finally go with Malick, Nadia and Lucrecia to New York, for the season finale.

Christian and Lu would end their relationship, to give her that empowering ending that she originally had, of "I don't need any man to be happy". The end of them, perhaps it could be an echo to what we originally had from Carla and Samuel, at the end of this season.
After her breakup with Omar in the middle of the previous season, Ander does NOT have another love interest during this season.

• His main plot would be linked to his fight against cancer.
• He would successfully graduate from school. simply because he deserves it.
• During season 2 and 3, the rapprochement we saw during the first season between Ander and Christian would have been further explored (just friendly… or maybe with some tinge of something else…). We would have seen Christian being there for him, helping him through the stage of his cancer, or going to the chemo clinic with him, perhaps. Somehow, Ander becomes Christian's new best friend, after Nano's departure.

Guzman, Rebeka, Samuel, Cayetana and Valerio (in place of Omar and Ander) remain in the show, booked to appear in season 4. Caye still retains her role, not as a student, but as a new cleaning staff at Las Encinas.

• We would see the graduation ceremony of the characters leaving this season. During this scene, we would have a brief meeting of an unknown boy with Carla's parents, meeting her to congratulate her. She recognizes him, and though she's happy, she also looks surprised to see him. It is revealed that this boy is her younger brother, who had been studying at a sister private school to Las Encinas in England*, but (apparently against his will) next year would be studying back in Madrid, in Las Encinas*.

Polo's murderer: Lucrecia Montesinos Hendrich.

• Christian witnesses the murder, in the bathroom.
• This could trigger two different endings:

1. One is the one we know, where Christian would join the rest of the group to protect Lu.
2. The other, would run following the plot he would have been having since the end of S1, after witnessing Marina's blood on Polo's clothes: Christian couldn't deal with the weight of another death on his conscience*, it would be too much to bear. he. In the season finale, we could see him torn between his instinct to protect Lu, and the conflict of understanding that this would mean doing exactly what Carla did to protect Polo; understand the reasons why she would have done so.*

• Possible season finale: Christian is arrested / pleads himself guilty of Polo's death (as a way to not only protect Lu, but to "assuage" the guilt he felt for the deaths of Marina and now Polo as well). This could serve to sign him as a possible recurring character of S4, giving Samuel more reasons to stay close, in addition to just having repeated the school year: he had to help Christian get out of jail for a crime he did not commit, but without being able to tell anyone that he was actually innocent.

^\***************************************************************************************************************************)
SEASONS 4, 5 AND 6's CONTINUATION IN MY PROFILE:
https://www.reddit.com/EliteNetflix/comments/13yr1r6/fixing_netflix_elite_season_46_english/

Assalamuaykom warahmatu Allah dear brothers and sisters,
I'm writing this post because I would like to recieve guidance on how to take matters from this time on in my endeavor for marriage. I will give you guys a little bit of background information so you can understand my situation.
2 years prior to know or this year I was working (I am still now btw) in a supermarket as a cashier. I got to meet a muslim sister and as time went ahead we had the opportunity to work together and get to know each other a little bit more. I was not really thinking much about it. But one day I finished working for the day and as I was about to leave she told me before I go home she wanted to tell me something. It was all in a public and a professional setting, so Allhamdulillah no haram or awkwardness involved. As we exchanged words we told each other what we were studying at school.
As I was leaving she gave me her instagram, because she wanted to give me the school discord channel for computer science because she had a friend of hers that was studying computer science too and thought it could be of a helfull resource for me.
I found it very bizzare that she would give that to me out of the blue, not something that I was excpecting, I worked with other msulim sisters at that suermarket and never something happened like this. Nonethless this really threw off track because knowing myself that I am a very introverted guy. Anyways we just continued talking to each other at work casually and sometimes when we stumbled upon each other at school (we were studying at the same campus at that time). Anyways when summer came and exams were finished I had developed a sense of attraction to her. That was also the time where we started talking less and less to each other, partly because I was getting nervous when seeing her (I am an introverted guy and she is very extroverted and sociable). Anyways that attraction was really starting to get problematic because I could not get her out of my mind. So for that I avoided talking to her at any cost just to protect my chastity and to respect her boundaries. So what I did is I unfollowed her on instagram and deleted my instagram.
The year after that summer I got to know an islamic student association that I joined that year too. By chance I discovered that she was part of it too. Because of the feelings that I developed, we never talked to each other that year as I felt that we did not talk to each other in that whole it would feel very wierd to just casually walk up to her and start talking. That's why I started getting myself ready to just manup and propose to ask for her hand in marriage.
As of this year she changed campus and ended her ties (on good terms) with the ties student association, that means that our contact is offcially also cut. Out of fear to live with that regret of not attempting to ask for her hand I decided to get advice this summer Insh Allah about how to approach her in a respucful way and not unexpected.
In my situation the only connection I do have in common with her Is another muslim sister friend of her that I used to work with together which we still have a very amicable tie with. I don't know any o her brothers or father: we do have friends in common, but that's the road that I want to take the least to keep it very private and humble.
How would you guys advice me to approach her for this matter the best way that will not freak her out and for me also to come over as a respectable young man?
Baraka Allahu feekom in advance for your advice.

[REQUEST] What's a good NEW slangy word for this new thing: people loading up a cart in a store and just walking out without paying because management won't press charges and cops won't even investigate
there's no specific one word neologism for it yet as far as I know , that's what I'm looking for: a distinct term not in use beforehand to describe something that hasn't been a thing before now
'brazen' shoplifting is the most common adjective, but it's just tacking an adjective on to an older word that used to exclusively mean covert theft
https://nypost.com/2022/07/10/shoplifters-hit-supermarkets-with-increasingly-brazen-heists/
rampant and brazen - widespread and no longer covert
that's distinctly new and different and deserves it's own name
it's like looting but looting happens in the context of a COMPLETE breakdown of the social order; a riot - this is a more localized, more time limited breakdown of the social order
"Not Worth The Hassle For Minimum Wage Store Staff To Get Involved" phenomenon: true but too wordy for everyday use. that goes to the stance of employees, but doesn't address lawlessness , novelty, and a fundamental change in social norms
some employees have always been apathetic about certain aspects of their jobs, and most employees never get involved in stopping shoplifting anyway - that's the responsibility of security, as directed by management . Both of them have surrendered to the offenders.
'Shoplifting ' existed before, but not in the 'load up a cart and walk right out the door in plain sight, and fight with security if they say anything, or security just does nothing' kind of way
'Socialism' - allow businesses to close like in California, put more stress on common man to find items, government comes in to “save the day” and rations resources. that's an explanation of the dynamic, not a one-word new term to describe this new thing
this may be a follow on effect of some socialist politicians' policies, but it isn't socialism itself
'Being a scumbag.' Not a new word, and it's true but there are plenty of other ways to be a scumbag so it's not specific enough to the situation
'The Purge' has a similar vibe because it's a sanctioned societal breakdown, but this case is violent entitled overt theft, not group murder

[REQUEST] What's a good NEW slangy word for this new thing: people loading up a cart in a store and just walking out without paying because management won't press charges and cops won't even investigate
there's no specific one word neologism for it yet as far as I know , that's what I'm looking for: a distinct term not in use beforehand to describe something that hasn't been a thing before now
'brazen' shoplifting is the most common adjective, but it's just tacking an adjective on to an older word that used to exclusively mean covert theft
https://nypost.com/2022/07/10/shoplifters-hit-supermarkets-with-increasingly-brazen-heists/
rampant and brazen - widespread and no longer covert
that's distinctly new and different and deserves it's own name
it's like looting but looting happens in the context of a COMPLETE breakdown of the social order; a riot - this is a more localized, more time limited breakdown of the social order
"Not Worth The Hassle For Minimum Wage Store Staff To Get Involved" phenomenon: true but too wordy for everyday use. that goes to the stance of employees, but doesn't address lawlessness , novelty, and a fundamental change in social norms
some employees have always been apathetic about certain aspects of their jobs, and most employees never get involved in stopping shoplifting anyway - that's the responsibility of security, as directed by management . Both of them have surrendered to the offenders.
'Shoplifting ' existed before, but not in the 'load up a cart and walk right out the door in plain sight, and fight with security if they say anything, or security just does nothing' kind of way
'Socialism' - allow businesses to close like in California, put more stress on common man to find items, government comes in to “save the day” and rations resources. that's an explanation of the dynamic, not a one-word new term to describe this new thing
this may be a follow on effect of some socialist politicians' policies, but it isn't socialism itself
'Being a scumbag.' Not a new word, and it's true but there are plenty of other ways to be a scumbag so it's not specific enough to the situation
'The Purge' has a similar vibe because it's a sanctioned societal breakdown, but this case is violent entitled overt theft, not group murder

I was a shut in NEET from 2009 - 2014. I became one due to extreme social anxiety, as a way to avoid the source of my anxiety, people. The anxiety eventually turned into agoraphobia and overwhelming fear of everything.
One day, I woke up to my father having a heart attack. I rushed him to the hospital, where my disheveled appearance even scared the paramedics and doctors. I had been cooped up at home for years at this point, rarely stepping outside. I was so overwhelmed by my own insecurities and so captured by fear during my time at the hospital that I couldn't even focus on my dad. I felt trapped and disconnected from everything around me.
This event was a catalyst for me though that triggered a radical shift in my mindset.
With my father's health now declining. I had to do something. I could no longer rely on him to sustain me and had to temporarily support my younger siblings.
It was pure torture, but I started applying for jobs, mostly in warehouses and for graveyard shifts at the supermarket, doing tasks like stocking shelves and preparing online orders. But no matter how many jobs I applied for, I was not getting back any replies.
I then came across a training opportunity with a large organization offering several jobs, they were looking for character traits like ambition, rather than alot of work experience. Some of the positions they were offering allowed for more solitary work. Despite my apprehension, I put together an application, and applied. A few weeks past while my other applications amounted to nothing but for this one, I was invited along to an assessment centre.
The night before, I couldn't sleep. A fierce debate raged within my mind throughout the night as I stared at my ceiling in the dark, deciding whether I should go or not. As the morning sun emerged I remained undecided. I finally surrendered to sleep. As the relentless ticking of the clock persisted, my eyes abruptly snapped open, and instinct propelled me forward. I threw on an old tight suit without fixing up, took a deep breath, and leaped out the door before my mind could make sense of what was happening. I barely caught my train.
As someone who had not been on trains or busy places for years due to intense fear, the journey there was unnerving to say the least.
Once I got there, I found myself in the middle of a large selection process alongside 100+ candidates in a massive hall overlooking the city. My first instinct was to turn back, but somehow the confines of the hall provided me with less of a sense of dread than the city streets outside.
The candidates would be spending the whole day there, doing group activities, interviews, presentations, individual technical challenges and various psychometric tests.
It had been ages since I faced such a large crowd since I dropped out of college in 2009. They were all well kempt, young, professional people with a previous work history. I was the odd man out.
I was shaking, stuttering, and sweating through the entire thing, but somehow, I managed to reach the final interview stage. They ended up offering me a job out of pity.
The rest, as they say, is history.
The whole trajectory of my life change because I took a chance that day.
It was not easy and I am still a work in progress all of these years later.
I would be curious to hear other peoples stories .

Before we begin, let's do a small exercise. I take some famous brand names and you try to remember their logos. Okay?
​
Nike
Mac D
Google
Amazon
Starbucks
​
Great, I am sure at least 80% of you might be able to recall the logo of the brands mentioned above. This is the power of a logo; what seems like mighty symbols have become part of our everyday lives. Whether you're scrolling through social media feeds, grabbing groceries from the supermarket, or driving from home to the office, you are exposed to at least hundreds of logos daily. You are constantly making connections with brands without even realizing it. Have you seen any big brand without a logo? No, because there aren't any. With all the right elements, the best logo design company in Ahmedabad can create remarkable logos for your brand.
​

Importance of Having a Logo

Lay Strong Foundation for the Brand's Strong Presence
The logo set the stage for the brand to narrate its story. Using the right logo elements, you can set the right tone and story you wish to narrate to the world. Imprinted on the business card, website, marketing materials, and different places, your logo helps to lay a strong foundation for making a strong brand presence.
​
Grab Attention
Nowadays, consumers' attention spans are very short, and with the rise in cutthroat competition, an attractive logo can grab the attention and communicate the company's core values in the most interesting way. Your logo should speak for your brand. Talk to logo design company Ahmedabad to get the best logo for your brand.
​
Help to Stand Out From the Competitors
In the sea of fierce competition, it is necessary that your brand mark a strong presence on the shelves of the showroom. A unique logo helps your brand to stand out from the competitors and catch the attention of potential buyers. For example, there are many Pizza places with logos with the word Italian, the chef with a mustache and wide grins. But a good logo despite not having these symbolic pizza elements can stand out in the crowd.
​
Foster Brand Loyalty
Believe it or not, even today, customers crave consistency. Brand loyalty is a continuous process that can be achieved by delivering value products/services, flawless experience, and consistency. The logo is vital in evoking adherence in your avid followers' minds.
​
Create Emotional Link
One of the major reasons for having an accurate logo is that it creates an emotional connection. Without a logo, customers may not be able to differentiate you from competitors. It is the common expected thing that people wish to see in any form of communication from the brand. In case of a missing logo, you are missing the chance to make your business stick in the mind of your targeted audience. For example, without a logo it is difficult to differentiate Nike shoes from the rest, how would Nike stand out without that “swoosh” mark?
​

Most Important Logo Elements

There are a plethora of elements that need to be kept in mind while designing a logo for a brand. Following are the basic elements of logo design that every graphic designer should keep in mind:
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Shape
The human mind reacts to different shapes in different ways. Humans generally have the tendency to associate certain shapes with meaning in their attempt to make sense of things. We relate curves with streams and waves. The logo design's most important aspect is the shape of the logo. Basically, all shapes are divided into three categories:
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Abstract shape
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Organic shape
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Geometric shape
​
Each category has different subcategories, which hold different meanings for different shapes.
​

Some Common Shapes and their Characteristics

Circular shape: Stability, feminism, unity, community, friendship
Square shape: Practicality, strength, professionalism, efficiency
Triangle shape: Law, science, power, masculine
Rectangle shape: Stability, reliability
Vertical line: Progress, aggression, strength, masculinity
Horizontal line: Speed, community, tranquility, calm
Organic shape: Diversity, flexibility,
Spiral and curved shape: Curiosity, healing
When the shape is paired with typography, color, and other elements, it creates a logo. For example, the curvy angles of Airbnb look inviting and cheerful, while the Toyota interlocking logo ovals represent community, spirit, and connectedness.
​
Typography
Visual has the power to influence the mood and vibes of the logo. In layman's language, typography is associated with the font, structure, and appearance used in the logo text. Just like colors, shapes, and typography also represent strong values and the tone of the brand. Different kinds of classification in typography include serifs, weight, boldness, texture, and format.
One can use sans-serif typefaces for modern looking, while serifs are a preferred choice for vintage look. For instance, you can easily recognize Coca-Cola, The New York Times, and Disney typography. Many brands like Netflix and Airbnb have created their own typefaces as a part of their identity. What is your go to typography choice?
​
Colors
Color is an important pillar in logo design as it has a very decisive and distinct effect on how we feel and respond. Color is such a vital element that can influence thinking and stimulate body hormones and reactions. For example, the green color in the logo indicates the brand is environment friendly, which is used by brands associated with agriculture, solar power, and gardening.
In contrast, red evokes passion and visceral responses. Yellow stands for creativity, warmth, and hope. But mind it, there can be exceptions; for example, IKEA used blue and yellow, which is not at all related to the furniture business. By combining two very strong colors, IKEA strongly and beautifully conveys its personality.
​

Types of Logo

Lettermarks/Monogram logo
Lettermarks, also known as monogram logo, is a typography logo that is made up of the initial brand name. In most cases, brands use monograms as abbreviated names, like NASA (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) and IBM (International Business Machines). The Lettermark logo is all about bringing simplicity as it is very much easy to remember NASA instead of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration, right? Here choosing the right font matters the most as it should go with the brand's theme but at the same time it must be legible when used in print media marketing.
​
Emblem
An emblem logo is a logo composed of an icon or symbol in a crest, shield, badge, or seal. It is often created with the aim of creating a distinguished, traditional, or prestigious image for the brand; it helps to give an instantly classic feel and helps to stand out from the crowd. They are generally used by universities, major car brands, sports teams, and even on the cup of your coffee at Starbucks.
​
Wordmarks
Wordmarks logo is very much like a lettermark; it focuses on a business name and works well when the brand has a distinct and catchy name. But here, the key thing to remember is that your brand name should be able to tell what your business is about. The key component in the wordmark is choosing the typeface, case, spacing, and color to narrate your brand's personality. Famous wordmark logos include Coca-Cola, Google, LinkedIn, Uber, Canon, eBay, etc.
​
Pictorial logo
The pictorial logo, also known as the logo symbol, is an icon or graphical-based logo. Some famous examples of pictorial logos are Twitter, Apple, Target, Domino's Pizza, etc. Each of the icons in the logos mentioned above is instantly recognized. Choosing the right image for the pictorial logo is a million-dollar task. But, remember that the image you will choose will stick with your company during its entire life.
​
Mascots
In the mascots, logos illustrated characters are generally used are colorful, fun, and sometimes cartoonish. Consider a mascot as the ambassador for your business. Some famous mascots include KFC's Colonel, Michelin Man by Michelin, Kool-aid man from Kool-aid, Coco the monkey from Coco Pops, the charming mustachioed man from Pringles, and many more. Whenever you see these mascots, you instantly recognize them, and that's its magic. The mascot logo is a smart way to build an emotional connection with the targeted audience. Identify the unique personality of your business and connect it with the visual character that you and the audience can resonate with.
​
Abstract
As the name suggests in an abstract logo, abstract form reflects a company's branding. The abstract logo is more metaphorical, and with it, you can create something highly unique. Some famous abstract logos include Pepsi, Airbnb, Olympics, Adidas, and Google Drive. One of the major benefits of using abstract logos is that you can symbolically convey what your company does without relying on the cultural implications of a specific image. It is a good choice for a global brand whose name might not work well across different languages.
​
Combination
There is no hard and fast rule to follow when you wish to give the creative and the most appropriate logo to the brand. It can be the combination of words with an image, mascot, or icon. Some famous examples include Dove, Taco Bell, Doritos, DropBox, and Burger King. It is the most versatile logo form because people may begin to associate your name with a pictorial image or mascot. There are high chances that in the future, you may be recognized with just the symbol.
​

Concluding Words

After reading the long form, the most important lesson you can learn about logo design is that "it should be memorable." If all these discussions and things seem to be out of your syllabus, hire a logo design company in Ahmedabad to give you a new identity and let your brand story amplify through their creative version.
​
Artical Source : https://www.pixenite.com/a-complete-information-on-logo-design/

I don’t write a lot of reviews but there isn’t much info on the Alua properties which Hyatt bought last year and rolled into WOH early this year. So hopefully, my impressions will be of use to someone.
I just got back from staying at the AluaSoul Costa Malaga in Torremolinos, Spain. I spent about a week there in a Junior Suite. I am a WOH Globalist. I had a “Half Board” rate which included breakfast and dinner. I also had access to the “My Favorite Club” which serves refreshments all day (more on that later). Rates were incredibly affordable, around €80 per night for the junior suite. A regular room was just a few euros cheaper so I booked the higher category, I didn’t want to chance the lack of an upgrade given this is the start of the busy season. (the hotel was pretty full) I did not book a club room but was automatically upgraded to one. Points redemption was 12,000-15,00 per night for a standard double room so paying the rate was preferable.
Location: The hotel could not be better located for nightlife and food. You are in the center of town and surrounded by literally hundreds of restaurants and bars. You are also a 5-minute walk from Torremolinos’ main train station which connects directly to the airport, Plaza Mayor (large mall), and Malaga City. The airport is about 15 minutes via train, and Malaga is about 30. The walk from the train station to the hotel is an easy one with a wheeled suitcase. Escalator and smooth sidewalk. The hotel is also right next to the LGBTQ+ area, which is huge in Torremolinos. Lots of entertainment options and trendy places there as well. It is a walk down a cliff to the beach, but I found it very pleasant. There are 2-3 ways to take to the beach, and I found none of them boring. The town also offers an elevator to the beach at a rate of €0.50 each way, but I never thought to use it. An Uber from the airport to the hotel costs around €15-18 euros. There is a mini-mart 2 doors down, and another 5 doors down and there is a medium-sized supermarket a 3 minute walk away. There is a pharmacy next to the supermarket.
Check-in: The lobby is clean and modern, nicely decorated in a 4-star Spain way. Front desk staff were quick and efficient but the man who checked me in didn’t explain things so well, but I arrived VERY late. The female desk clerks the next day were far more helpful. Upon check-in, I was upgraded to a My Favorite Club room, and I was on the 10th floor (the hotel only has 11 floors).
Room: Room was ok. Fairly large but not a true suite. There is a sitting area with a couch long enough for a grown person to sleep on and a double bed that was 2 singles pushed together as you often find in Europe. The beds were not attached together, and the floors were smooth laminate, so they had a tendency to move, creating a gap in the middle. The bathroom was notably small, featuring just a sink, toilet, and shower. It's enough for 2 people, but just. There was also a small balcony with an ocean view, although also with many buildings. There were 2 large glass bottles of water on the table and the refrigerator was stocked with a few types of beer, a bottle of cava, and some sodas. There was a Nespresso machine and capsules and a boilekettle with tea supplies. This was complimentary. The room, and bathroom, were very clean but everything was about 10 years out of date. The TV was large, but didn’t feature any smart features and the HDMI cables were a bit hard to get to as it was firmly mounted on the wall. BBC News was the only English language channel (no regular BBC, and the guide showed CNN but it was not available) but they had several German and French channels as well as any Spanish of course. WiFi was good enough to stream and do video calls. The A/C worked great, shower pressure was good as was the hot water.
Club: My Favorite Club is basically their version of a Regency Club, except that it runs all day and is stocked with alcohol at all times. They had coffee/tea/soda, 3 types of beer, 6 types of wine, 8 spirits, and bottled mixers as well as 3 juices and milk. They also always had 4-6 types of tapas and they were refreshed often with different types. The spread was quite impressive and not many people had club access even though the hotel was full. That is good because the club literally only has 8 seats! I was actually amazed at how little the lounge was used given the hotel was busy.
Food: Meh. During my stay, I only ate breakfast 3 times and dinner 2 times even though it was included. That is mainly due to the fact that the food in Spain (outside of the hotel) is amazing and affordable. If you have to pay much extra for food options I wouldn’t. When weighing half board or all-inclusive places in Spain, Portugal, or Greece, consider the fact that local restaurants are incredible and usually cheap. The wine was €2-2.50 a glass for a generous pour at a restaurant. There were literally hundreds of places within walking distance. You could be better off getting a hotel with a nice pool, a great location, and perhaps a breakfast-only option. Even breakfast could be a waste as you often stay out late in Spain and would have to rush to shower and get ready just to eat some eggs, cold cuts, and a croissant to save €5.
Pool: Very nice pool with some shade and some sunny areas. Not huge but clean and relaxing. They feature live music at night, but end at about 11:00 pm to avoid disturbing guests. One night I had to go back to my room which was 10 floors above the pool, and the music was quite loud. Something to consider if you sleep early or get a low floor. People in club rooms also get a reserved area by the swimming pool with loungers, etc. This means a better chance of snagging a good chair. Poll was quite busy. Guests are a mixture of ages and nationalities. I heard Dutch, German, French, UK English, American English, Russian, and of course Spanish. There were college kids to retirees.
Edit: They were working on a rooftop bar when I was there, it looked nice, but it was not yet open. They were actively constructing it, so I suspect it will open in a few weeks. It will have basically the same view as my room.
Globalist recognition/benefits: As I mentioned above, my late arrival didn’t help. There was no verbal recognition upon arrival and check-in but I was upgraded to the club room.
Overall, I would say it’s a 3.5-star room, 4.5-star location, 4-star staff, 3-star food, 4.5-star club. The value is 4.5 stars, though. I would stay again based on the price for quality and the excellent location (for someone who likes local culture and food more than the beach).
Hotel site https://www.hyatt.com/en-US/hotel/costa-del-sol/costa-malaga-adults-recommended/ascma

I had an interesting dream I would like to share with this sub.
Bit of a background about myself:
Joining this sub has completely opened my eyes, for the better (a big thank you to you all) While some of you will disagree but I have decided to start practising a bit of Buddhism in hope of an escape.
I started practising the six paramitas (morality, patience, meditation etc) and lately I have been able to become lucid in a lot of dreams. I have been able consciously do things in those dreams too.
The interesting dream:
I was at a supermarket buying baby dummy for my little one. All of a sudden a man came from behind and snatched the dummy from my hand. At this point I was non-lucid and I felt so much anger and resentment towards this person I started chasing him down the aisle.
Still being non lucid at this point, I started to think about how I would insult him in front of everyone by sticking a dummy up his mouth when I got him. (LoL!) I was totally overreacting emotionally in the dream.
Suddenly, this man stopped running and turned around to look at me.
This was also the very moment I became fully lucid while we made a very deep eye contact. He was something different. If most characters in my dreams were npc, this man was not.
Right at the point of becoming lucid, my daily practice of paramitas kicked in and I lost all my anger, stopped chasing, and questioned my unjustified emotions. He was staring at me and I just looked him back in the eye. Through his eyes I was able to tell he was not after the dummy after all, he was doing that to trigger me, emotionally. When he turned around he wanted me to unload all the emotions on him and that he would derive pleasure from it. What a sicko!
The dream ended with us staring into each other’s eyes and I instantly woke up.
At first I thought maybe he was there to test my practices but now thinking back, I suspect he could be an archon of some sort to trigger me emotionally for some loosh.
What do you think?
I thought some of you might find this interesting
(Sorry for my basic writing style, English is not my first language)

Hey everyone!! Back with a new and updated post. These prices are WITHOUT shipping. I will provide a quote for you, but it usually isn't more than $6 unless the items won't fit in a regular bubble mailer.
Everything has been personally tested by me and is confirmed to be fully functional. I can provide pictures upon request. I tried to stay below pricecharting, if I'm off on any of my prices, I'm more than open to offers!
PLEASE NOTE: I am open to ALL offers. The worst I can say is no!
Here's everything I'm currently selling:
SNES Samurai Shodown $9 Loose, in roughish condition.
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Nintendo 64 Turok 2 Seeds of Evil (Gray cart) $10 Loose.
Nintendo 64 WWF Wrestlemania 2000 $14 Loose.
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Gamecube All-Star Baseball 2002 $3 Loose.
Gamecube ATV Quad Power Racing 2 $8 Loose.
Gamecube Bionicle $5 Loose.
Gamecube Chronicles of Narnia $5 Loose.
Gamecube City Racer $41 CIB.
Gamecube Disney Sports Skateboarding $20 Game, case, and original artwork only.
Gamecube Hunter The Reckoning $12 Loose.
Gamecube King Kong $9 Loose.
Gamecube Namco Museum 50th Anniversary $12 Loose.
Gamecube Sonic Adventure DX $30 Original case, cover art, and game.
Gamecube Super Mario Strikers $65 CIB.
Gamecube Spongebob Creature From Krusty Krab $17 CIB.
Gamecube Viewtiful Joe Red Hot Rumble $90 Sealed. Some damage on the backside label. Please inquire for pics.
Gamecube Whirl Tour $8 Missing manual.
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Wii Bass Pro Shops: The Hunt $2 Disc and box, no accessories.
Wii Bass Pro Shops: The Strike $2 Disc and box, no accessories.
Wii Big Buck Hunter Pro $10 CIB game and gun accessory, no big box. Shipping will be around $10.
Wii Black Eyed Peas Experience $2 CIB.
Wii Cabela's Dangerous Hunts 2011 $2 CIB.
Wii DJ Hero 2 $2 Disc and box.
Wii EA Sports Active 2 $2 Disc in box, no other accessories.
Wii EA Sports NFL Training Camp $2 Disc in box, no other accessories.
Wii Epic Mickey 2 $15 Sealed.
Wii Link's Crossbow Training $5 Included pouch that would come with Wii console.
Wii MLB Superstars $4 Disc and box.
Wii Naruto Shippuden: Clash of Ninja Revolution 3 $12 CIB.
Wii NASCAR The Game 2011 $5 Disc and box.
Wii Need for Speed Prostreet $4 Disc and box.
Wii New Super Mario Bros. Wii $18 Loose.
Wii Rayman Raving Rabbids 2 $3 Disc in box.
Wii Red Steel $3 Disc in box.
Wii Tony Hawk Ride $2 Disc in box, no skateboard.
Wii We Love Golf! $7 CIB.
Wii Wii Play $4 Loose.
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Gameboy Batman The Video Game $18 Loose.
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Gameboy Advance 007 Everything or Nothing $10 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Activision Anthology $21 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Avatar The Burning Earth $13 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Batman Begins $9 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Bratz $1 Loose, has no label.
Gameboy Advance Crash of the Titans $10 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Elf Bowling 1 & 2 $16 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Family Feud $5 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Fantastic 4 $6 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Finding Nemo $6 Loose.
Gameboy Advance GT3 Advance Pro Concept Racing $12 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Klonoa Empire of Dreams $41 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Madden 2003 $3 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Monster Force $7 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Mouse Trap/Operation/Simon $5 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Namco Museum $3 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Namco Museum 50th Anniversary $10 Loose.
Gameboy Advance NFL Blitz 2003 $8 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Nicktoons Freeze Frame Frenzy $5 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Nicktoons Freeze Frame Frenzy and Spongebob Squarepants Battle for Bikini Bottom Dual Cart $4 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Pirates of the Caribbean The Curse of the Black Pearl $7 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Scooby Doo $7 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Snood $7 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Spongebob's Atlantis Squarepantis $7 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Spongebob Squarepants Movie $10 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Sudoku Fever $4 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Texas Hold Em Poker $3 Loose.
Gameboy Advance That's So Raven $6 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Treasure Planet $9 Loose.
Gameboy Advance Ultimate Card Games $6 Loose.
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Nintendo DS Band Hero $12 CIB.
Nintendo DS Big Brain Academy $4 Loose.
Nintendo DS Bleach The Blade of Fate $12 Loose.
Nintendo DS Brain Age $4 CIB.
Nintendo DS Charlotte's Web $4 Loose.
Nintendo DS Coraline (Have two copies) $65 Both CIB.
Nintendo DS Contact $28 Loose.
Nintendo DS Dragon Ball Z Supersonic Warriors 2 $30 Loose.
Nintendo DS Dynasty Warriors DS Fighters Battle $10 Loose.
Nintendo DS Guitar Hero On Tour (Have two copies) $3 Both loose.
Nintendo DS Hannah Montana $4 Loose.
Nintendo DS Harvest Moon DS $20 Missing manual, otherwise cib.
Nintendo DS Imagine Babyz $3 Loose.
Nintendo DS Inuyasha Secret of the Divine Jewel $54 Loose.
Nintendo DS Lego Indiana Jones 2: The Adventure Continues $7 CIB.
Nintendo DS Madden 06 $4 Loose.
Nintendo DS Mario&Luigi Partners in Time $61 CIB.
Nintendo DS Mario and Sonic at the Olympic Games (Have two copies) $8/$11 One copy loose, one cib.
Nintendo DS Metroid Prime Hunters First Hunt $8 Loose.
Nintendo DS Nicktoons Unite $9 Loose.
Nintendo DS Petz Catz 2 $3 Loose.
Nintendo DS Ratatouille $8 Loose.
Nintendo DS Scrabble $7 CIB.
Nintendo DS The Simpsons Game $14 Loose.
Nintendo DS Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor $50 CIB.
Nintendo DS Skate It $9 CIB.
Nintendo DS Sonic Colors $8 Loose.
Nintendo DS Sonic Rush $13 Loose.
Nintendo DS Suite Life of Zack & Cody Tipton Trouble $6 Loose.
Nintendo DS Super Monkey Ball Touch & Roll $9 CIB.
Nintendo DS Tetris Party Deluxe (Have two copies) $9/$4 Both copies loose, one missing it's sticker.
Nintendo DS The Amazing Spider-Man $10 CIB.
Nintendo DS The Sims 2 Pets $5 Loose.
Nintendo DS Tom and Jerry Tales $8 Loose.
Nintendo DS Tony Hawk's Downhill Jam $6 Loose.
Nintendo DS Wipeout The Game $4 CIB.
NINTENDO DS BOX ONLY
Nintendo DS Cooking Mama $1
Nintendo DS Jump Super Stars $1 Japanese version box and manual.
Nintendo DS Scribblenauts $1
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Nintendo 3DS Fire Emblem Awakening $55 CIB.
Nintendo 3DS Fire Emblem Shadows of Valentia $37 CIB.
Nintendo 3DS Madden NFL Football $15 CIB Nintendo 3DS Luigi's Mansion $40 Loose.
Nintendo 3DS Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Summoner: Soul Hackers $52 Loose.
Nintendo 3DS Super Smash Bros for Nintendo 3DS $11 CIB.
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Nintendo Switch Bioshock The Collection $23 CIB.
Nintendo Switch Diofield Chronicle $30 CIB.
Nintendo Switch Diablo III Eternal Collection $22 CIB.
Nintendo Switch Dragon Ball: The Breakers $15 CIB.
Nintendo Switch Fire Emblem: Three Houses $33 CIB.
Nintendo Switch Moonlighter $15 Loose in gamestop box.
Nintendo Switch My Friend Pedro $20 Loose in gamestop box.
Nintendo Switch Supermarket Shriek $18 Sealed.
Nintendo Switch Tandem A Tale Of Shadows $28 Sealed.
Nintendo Switch Travis Strikes Again: No More Heroes $25 Loose in gamestop box.
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Sega Genesis Frogger $10 Loose in original case (no artwork)
Sega Genesis Monopoly $7 Original case, artwork, and cartridge.
Sega Genesis Vectorman $10 Loose in original case (no artwork)
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PS1 Army Men Air Attack (Collector's Edition) $8 CIB, jewel case is broken.
PS1 Big Game Hunter Ultimate Challenge $5 Missing front page/manual.
PS1 Billiards $4 CIB. Jewel case is broken and cracked.
PS1 Bravo Air Race $12 CIB.
PS1 Cool Boarders 2 $3 Loose.
PS1 Command and Conquer Red Alert Retaliation $15 Missing manual.
PS1 Crossroad Crisis $7 CIB.
PS1 CyberTiger $7 CIB.
PS1 Dukes of Hazzard Racing For Home $9 CIB.
PS1 Final Fantasy Chronicles $18 Missing manual.
Greatest hits.PS1 Harvest Moon Back to Nature $50 CIB.
PS1 Jade Cocoon Demo Disc $10 Loose in sleeve.
PS1 Interactive CD Sampler Disc Volume 9 $10 CIB in it's sleeve.
PS1 Knockout Kings 2001 $7 CIB. Jewel case is broken.
PS1 Madden 98 $5 Loose.
PS1 Nascar Rumble $13 CIB.
PS1 NBA Shoot Out $5 Loose.
PS1 NCAA Football 2001 $10 CIB.
PS1 NBA Live 98 $4 Loose.
PS1 NHL 99 $4 CIB, jewel case is broken.
PS1 NHL Face Off 99 $5 CIB, jewel case is cracked.
PS1 NHL Face Off $4 Loose.
PS1 NHL 2000 $4 CIB, jewel case is broken.
PS1 Rally Cross 2 $6 CIB, jewel case is cracked and broken.
PS1 Raystorm $45 Loose.
PS1 Sesame Street Sports $8 CIB.
PS1 Sim Theme Park $6 Missing manual/front page.
PS1 Spongebob Squarepants Super Sponge $8 CIB, greatest hits.
PS1 Tetris Plus $6 CIB, jewel case is cracked.
PS1 Tiger Woods '99 $7 CIB.
PS1 Triple Play 99 $2 Loose.
PS1 Vigilante 8 $10 Loose.
PS1 WWF Smackdown $10 Missing manual/cover page.
PS1 WWF Warzone (Have two copies) $6/$4 One copy loose, one copy CIB.
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PS2 Def Jam Vendetta $22 Loose.
PS2 Enter the Matrix $10 CIB.
PS2 Ever Grace $20 CIB.
PS2 Grand Theft Auto III $5 Loose.
PS2 Hunter The Reckoning Wayward $6 Loose.
PS2 IHRA Professional Drag Racing 2005 $4 Loose.
PS2 Justice League Heroes $11 CIB.
PS2 Medal of Honor Frontline $4 CIB.
PS2 Naruto Ultimate Collection $110 Sealed! Please inquire for pics. Really cool collector's game.
PS2 Nightshade $28 Loose.
PS2 Onimusha Blade Warriors $9 Loose.
PS2 Playstation Underground Jampack $4 Loose.
PS2 R-Type Final $17 Loose.
PS2 Rygar $7 Loose.
PS2 Shinobi $11 Loose.
PS2 Spiderman $9 CIB.
PS2 Spongebob Squarepants Battle for Bikini Bottom $12 CIB.
PS2 Tetris Worlds $6 CIB.
PS2 The Thing $42 CIB.
PS2 Thunder Strike: Operation Phoenix $6 CIB.
PS2 CASE & MANUAL Dragon Ball Z Budokai Tenkaichi 2 $10 Case and manual only.
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PS3 The Last Of Us $20 CIB.
PS3 NBA 2k18 $10 Loose.
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PSP G-Force $3 Missing manual.
PSP Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter 2 $8 CIB.
PSP Ghostbusters The Video Game $11 Loose in gamestop box.
PSP Ghost Rider $12 Loose in gamestop box.
PSP God of War Chains of Olympus $16 Loose.
PSP Hakuoki: Demon of the Fleeting Blossom $15 UMD, case and original artwork only.
PSP Kingdom of Paradise $5 Missing manual.
PSP Lego Star Wars III: The Clone Wars $12 CIB.
PSP LocoRoco $4 Loose.
PSP Lunar Silver Star Harmony $70 Sealed.
PSP Madden NFL 12 $20 CIB.
PSP Madden 2007 $5 CIB.
PSP Madden 2008 $5 CIB.
PSP Medal of Honor Heroes 2 $10 CIB.
.PSP Monster Hunter Freedom $18 Missing manual.
PSP MX vs ATV: Reflex $5 Loose in gamestop box.
PSP NBA 10 The Inside $6 CIB.
PSP NBA Live 2007 $5 CIB.
PSP Neopets Petpet Adventures The Wand of Wishing $5 Loose.
PSP Prince of Persia Rival Swords (Have two copies) $10 Both CIB.
PSP SNK Arcade Classics Volume 1 $16 Loose.
PSP Socom U.S. Navy Seals Fireteam Bravo $4 CIB.
PSP Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six Vegas $7 CIB.
PSP Yu-Gi-Oh 5D's Tag Force 5 $30 Box, UMD, and original artwork only.
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Xbox Doom 3 $10 CIB.
Xbox Evil Dead Fistful of Boomstick $20 Box, disc, and original artwork only.
Xbox Metal Slug 3 $20 CIB.
Xbox Soul Calibur II $10 CIB.
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Xbox 360 Call of Duty Black Ops $12 CIB.
Xbox 360 Dragon's Dogma $5 CIB.
Xbox 360 Forza Horizon $17 CIB.
Xbox 360 Killer is Dead $20 Missing manual, otherwise CIB. Special Edition.Xbox 360 NCAA Football 12 $16 CIB.
Xbox 360 NCAA Football 13 $25 CIB.
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Xbox One Elder Scrolls Online: Tamriel Unlimited $3 CIB.
Xbox One Rock Band 4 (Have two copies) $15 ea Both CIB.
Xbox One Titanfall $3 CIB.
Xbox One Rainbow Six Siege $3 Loose.
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PC Command & Conquer 4: Tiberian Twilight $8 Comes with manual in original case.
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GAME MANUALS:
Gameboy Batman Forever $10 Good.
Gameboy Boxxle II $20 Good.
Gameboy Tetris $4 Good.
Gameboy Advance Activision Anthology $10 Good.
Nintendo 64 007 GoldenEye $6 Good.
Nintendo 64 Mission Impossible $5 Good.
Nintendo 64 Mortal Kombat 4 $10 Good.
Nintendo 64 NBA Hang Time $6 Good.
Nintendo 64 Super Mario 64 $10 Good.
Nintendo 64 Super Smash Bros $12 Good.
Nintendo 64 Wayne Gretzky's 3D Hockey $5 Good.
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AMIIBOS:
Blue Yarn Yoshi Good $15 Loose.
Chibi-Robo Good $10 Loose.
Green Yarn Yoshi Good $15 Loose.
Link Good $25 Loose, smash bros.
Marth Good $10 Loose.
Waddle Dee Good $13 Loose.
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GAME ACCESORIES:
Poke Ball Plus $55 Loose, in good condition. No Mew.
OEM Nintendo Gameboy Mini Backpack $20 Cool little OEM nintendo collectible. Blue color, in good condition.
Club Nintendo Luigi Hat DS Carry Case Bag Pouch $20 Good condition, cool Luigi collectible.
Gameshark Pro 3.3 $20 Loose.
3rd party Gamecube memory cards $5 3rd party memory cards.
OEM Gamecube Controllers $35 ea Have four available, two black and two indigo, all have nice and tight sticks.
OEM Gameboy Four Player Adapter $15 Loose in good condition.
OEM SNES Controller $15 1 controller available, in good condition.
OEM Nintendo 64 Controller $20 Green controller, nice and tight stick.
OEM Nintendo 64 Controller Pak $30 CIB, box in okay condition.
OEM PS1 Controller $15 One PS One controller available.

Canadian here seeing Le Mans for the 1st time with 2 others. We’re arriving at the track on the 8th, I’m camping at BSJ with a rental car + tent we’re flying with. (If there’s any other Canadians staying there drop a comment/PM!!). Two of us are avid campers and are bringing portable stoves with small mess kits + sporks in our suitcases (no butane fuel obviously) and are wondering where to buy said butane fuel canisters that thread into those pocket rockets? Ex. I use MSR and GSI isobutane cans…
Also we won’t have a cooler with us, so suggestions on what food to bring for roughly 3 nights from the french supermarkets? I’ve heard brie cheese can be left in the sun for some time and it goes really well with crunchy bread/croissants. Ramen packets, water, granola bars, dried meat and cans of prepped meals/soups are definitely on the list. We’d love to have beewine with us as well but no cooler will be a struggle, unless we meet some blokes with one we won’t mind sharing!
Also is there any way to rent lawn chairs? We’ll be on our feet a lot with all the walking and it’d be nice to take a seat other than the grass from a viewpoint as one of us is over 40 and trying to to stay comfortable. Has anyone ever bought some chairs from a department store and returned them?

There are instincts that you develop when you’re a parent. If you don’t have any children it might be a little hard to understand. If you have a toddler, for example, and they’re in the other room and silent for more than a few seconds, there’s a good chance they’re up to no good. I take that back, most of the time they’re doing nothing, but you still have to check. You feel a compulsion to check. I don’t think it’s a learned skill, I think it’s an actual instinct.
Paleolithic parents who didn’t check on their toddlers every few minutes, just to double check that they weren’t being stalked by smilodons were unlikely to have grandchildren and pass on their genes. You just feel you need to check, like getting goosebumps, a compulsion. I suppose it’s the same reason little kids are always demanding you look at them and what they’re doing.
I think that instinct starts to atrophy as your kids grow. They start learning to do things for themselves, and before you know it, they’re after their own privacy, not your attention. I don’t think it ever goes away though. I expect, decades from now, my own grown kids will visit and bring my grandkids with them. And the second I hear a baby crying in the earliest morning hours, I’ll be alert and ready for anything, sure as any old soldier who hears his name whispered in the dark of night.
I felt that alarm just the other day. First time in years. My boy came home from riding bikes with a couple of his friends. I’m pretty sure they worked out a scam where they asked each of their parents for a different new console for Christmas, and now they spend their weekends traveling between the three houses so they can play on all of them.
We all live in a nice neighborhood. A newer development than the one I grew up in, same town though. It’s the kind of place where kids are always playing in the streets, and the cars all routinely do under 20. My wife and I make sure the kids have helmets and pads, and we’re fine with the boy going out biking with his friends, as long as they stay in the neighborhood.
You know, a lot of people in my generation take some weird sort of pride in how irresponsible we used to be when we were young. I never wore a helmet. Rode to places, without telling any adults, that we never should have ridden to. Me and my friends would make impromptu jumps off of makeshift ramps and try to do stupid tricks, based loosely on stunts we’d seen on TV. Other people my age seem to wax nostalgic for that stuff and pretend it makes them somehow better people. I don’t get it. Sometimes I look back and shudder. We were lucky we escaped with only occasional bruises and road burns. It could have gone so much worse.
My son and his buddies came bustling in the front door at about 2 PM on a Saturday. They did the usual thing of raiding the kitchen for juice and his mother’s brownies, and I took that as my cue to abandon the television in the living room for my office. I was hardly noticing the chaos, by this point, it was becoming a regular weekend occurrence. But as I was just leaving, I caught something in the chatter. My boy said something about, “... that guy who was following us.”
He hadn’t said it any louder or more clearly than anything else they’d been talking about, all that stuff I’d been filtering out. Yet some deeper core process in my brain stem heard it, interpreted it, then hit the red alert button. My blood ran cold and every hair on my skin stood at attention.
I turned around and asked “Somebody followed you? What are you talking about?” I wasn’t consciously aware of how strict and stern my voice came out, yet when the jovial smiles dropped off of their faces it was apparent that it had been so.
“Huh?” my son said, his voice high-pitched and talking fast, like when he thinks he’s in trouble and needs to explain. “We thought we saw somebody following us. There wasn’t though. We didn’t really see anybody and we’d just spooked ourselves.”
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“Nothing? We really didn’t see anybody! Honest! I just saw something out of the corner of my eye! But there wasn’t really nobody there!”
“Yeah!,” said one of his buds. “Peripheral! Peripheral vision! I thought maybe I saw something too, but when I looked I didn’t see anything. I don’t have my glasses with me, but when I really looked I got a good look and there was nothing.”
The three boys had that semi-smiling but still concerned look that this was only a bizarre misunderstanding, but they were still being very sincere. “Were they in a car?”
“No, Dad, you don’t get it,” my boy continued, “They were small. We thought it was a kid.”
“Yeah,” said the third boy. “We thought maybe it was Tony Taylor’s stupid kid sister shadowing us. Getting close to throwing water balloons. Just cause she did that before.”
“If you didn’t get a good look how did you know it was a kid?”
“Because it was small!” my kid explained, though that wasn’t helping much. “What I mean is, at first I thought it was behind a little bush. It was way too small a bush to hide a grown-up. That’s why we thought it was probably Tony’s sister.”
“But you didn’t actually see Tony’s sister?” I asked.
“Nah,” said one of his buds. “And now that I think about it, that bush was probably too small for his sister too. It would have been silly. Like when a cartoon character hides behind a tiny object.”
“That’s why we think it was just in our heads,” explained the other boy, “That and the pole.”
“Yeah,” my son said. “The park on 14th and Taylor?” That was just a little community park, a single city block. Had a playground, lawn, a few trees, and some benches. “Anyway, we were riding past that, took a right on Taylor. And we were talking about how weird it would be if somebody really were following us. That’s when Brian thought he saw something. Behind a telephone pole.”
“I didn’t get a good look at it either,” the friend, Brian, “explained. Just thought I did. Know how you get up late at night to use the bathroom or whatever and you look down the hallway and you see a jacket or an office chair or something and because your eyes haven’t adjusted you think you see a ghost or burglar or something? Anyway, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned there wasn’t anything there.”
“Yeah, it was just like sometimes that happens, except this time it happened twice on the same bike ride, is all,” the other friend explained.
“And you’re sure there was nothing there?”
“Sure we’re sure,” my boy said. “We know because that time we checked. We each rode our bikes around the pole and there was nothing. Honest!”
“Hmmm,” I said. The whole thing seemed reasonable and nothing to be concerned about, you’d think.. The boys seemed to relax at my supposed acceptance. “Alright, sounds good. Hey, just let me know before you leave the house again, alright?” They all rushed to seem agreeable as I left the room, then quickly resumed their snacking and preceded to play their games.
I kept my ear out, just in case. My boy, at least this time, dutifully told me his friends were about to leave. He wasn’t very happy with me when I said they wouldn’t be riding home on their bikes, I was going to drive them home. The other boys didn’t complain, but I suppose it wasn’t their place, so my boy did the advocating for them, which I promptly ignored. I hate doing that, ignoring my kid’s talkback. My dad was the same way. It didn’t help that I struggled to get both of their bikes in the trunk, and it was a pain to get them back out again. My boy sulked in the front seat on the short ride back home. Arms folded on chest, eyes staring straight ahead, that lip thing they do. He seemed embarrassed for having what he thought was an over-protective parent. I suppose he was angry at me as well for acting, as far as he knew, irrationally. Maybe he thought he was being punished for some infraction he didn’t understand.
Well, it only got worse when we got home. I told him he wasn’t allowed to go out alone on his bike anymore. I’d only had to do that once before, when he was grounded, and back then he’d known exactly what he’d done wrong and he had it coming. Now? Well, he was confused, furious, maybe betrayed, probably a little brokenhearted? I can’t blame him. He tramped upstairs to his room to await the return of his mother, who was certain to give a sympathetic ear. I can’t imagine how upset he’ll be if he checks the garage tomorrow and finds I’ve removed his tires, just in case.
I wish I could explain it to him. I don’t even know how.
Where should I even begin? The town?
When I was about my son’s age I had just seen that movie, The Goonies. It had just come out in theaters. I really liked that movie, felt a strong connection. A lot of people do, can’t blame them, sort of a timeless classic. Except I wasn’t really into pirate’s treasure or the Fratellis, what really made me connect was a simple single shot, still in the first act. It’s right after they cross the threshold, and leave the house on their adventure. It was a shot of the boys, from above, maybe a crane shot or a helicopter shot, as they’re riding their bikes down a narrow forested lane, great big evergreen trees densely growing on the side of the road, they’re all wearing raincoats and the road is still wet from recent rain.
That was my childhood. I’ve spent my whole life in the Pacific Northwest. People talk to outsiders about the rain, and they might picture a lot of rainfall, but it’s not the volume, it’s the duration. We don’t get so much rain, it just drizzles slowly, on and on, for maybe eight or nine months out of the year. It doesn’t matter where I am, inside a house, traveling far abroad, anywhere I am I can close my eyes and still smell the air on a chilly afternoon, playing outdoors with my friends.
It’s not petrichor, that sudden intense smell you get when it first starts to rain after a long dry spell. No, this was almost the opposite, a clean smell, almost the opposite of a scent, since the rain seemed to scrub the air clean. The strongest scent and I mean that in the loosest sense possible, must have been the evergreen needles. Not pine needles, those were too strong, and there weren’t that many pines anyway. Douglas fir and red cedar predominated, again the root ‘domination’ seems hyperbole. Yet those scents were there, ephemeral as it is. Also, there was a sort of pleasant dirtiness to the smell, at least when you rode bikes. It wasn’t dirt, or mud, or dust. Dust couldn’t have existed except perhaps for a few fleeting weeks in August. I think, looking back, it was the mud puddles. All the potholes in all the asphalt suburban roads would fill up after rain with water the color of chocolate milk. We’d swerve our BMX bikes, or the knock-off brands, all the way across the street just to splash through those puddles and test our “suspensions.,” meaning our ankles and knees. The smell was always stronger after that. It had an earthiness to it. Perhaps it was petrichor’s lesser-known watery cousin.
There were other sensations too, permanently seared into my brain like grill marks. A constant chilliness that was easy to ignore, until you started working up a good heart rate on your bike, then you noticed your lungs were so cold it felt like burning. The sound of your tires on the wet pavement, particularly when careening downhill at high speed. For some reason, people in the mid-80s used to like to decorate their front porches with cheap, polyester windsocks. They were often vividly colored, usually rainbow, like prototype pride flags. When an occasional wind stirred up enough to gust, the windsocks would flap, and owning to the water-soaked polyester, make a wet slapping sound. It was loud, it was distinct, but you learned to ignore it as part of the background, along with the cawing of crows and distant passing cars.
That was my perception of Farmingham as a kid. The town itself? Just a typical Pacific Northwest town. That might not mean much for younger people or modern visitors, but there was a time when such towns were all the same. They were logging towns. It was the greatest resource of the area from the late 19th century, right up until about the 80s, when the whole thing collapsed. Portland, Seattle, they had a few things going on beyond just the timber industry, but all the hundreds of little towns and small cities revolved around logging, and my town was no exception.
I remember going to the museum. It had free admission, and it was a popular field trip destination for the local school system. It used to be the City Hall, a weird Queen Anne-style construction. Imagine a big Victorian house, but blown up to absurd proportions, and with all sorts of superfluous decorations. Made out of local timber, of course. They had a hall for art, I can’t even remember why, now. Maybe they were local artists. I only remember paintings of sailboats and topless women, which was a rare sight for a kid at the time. There was a hall filled with 19th-century household artifacts. Chamber pots and weird children's toys.
Then there was the logging section, which was the bulk of the museum. It’s strange how different things seemed to be in the early days of the logging industry, despite being only about a hundred years old, from my perspective in the 1980s. If you look back a hundred years from today, in the 1920s, you had automobiles, airplanes, electrical appliances, jazz music, radio programs, flappers, it doesn’t feel that far removed, does it? No TV, no internet, but it wouldn’t be that strange. 1880s? Different world.
Imagine red cedars, so big you could have a full logging crew, arms stretched out, just barely manage to encircle one for a photographer. Felling a single tree was the work of days. Men could rest and eat their lunches in the shelter of a cut made into a trunk, and not worry for safety or room. They had to cut their own little platforms into the trees many feet off the ground, just so the trunk was a little bit thinner, and thus hours of labor saved. They used those long, flexible two-man saws. And double-bit axes. They worked in the gloom of the shade with old gas lanterns. Once cut down from massive logs thirty feet in diameter, they’d float the logs downhill in sluices, like primitive wooden make-shift water slides. Or they’d haul them down to the nearest river, the logs pulled by donkeys on corduroy roads. They’d lay large amounts of grease on the roads, so the logs would slide easily. You could still smell the grease on the old tools on display in the museum. The bigger towns had streets where the loggers would slide the logs down greased skids all the way down to the sea, where they’d float in big logjams until the mills were ready for processing. They’d call such roads “skid-rows.” Because of all the activity, they’d end up being the worst parts of town. Local citizens wouldn’t want to live there, due to all the stink and noise. They’d be on the other side of the brothels and the opium dens. It would be the sort of place where the destitute and the insane would find themselves when they’d finally lost anything. To this day, “skidrow” remains a euphemism for the part of a city where the homeless encamp.
That was the lore I’d learned as a child. That was my “ancestry” I was supposed to respect and admire, which I did, wholeheartedly. There were things they left out, though. Things that you might have suspected, from a naive perspective, would be perfect for kids, all the folklore that came with the logging industry. The ghost stories, and the tall tales. I would have eaten that up. They do talk about that kind of thing in places far removed from the Pacific Northwest. But I had never heard about any of it. Things like the Hidebehind. No, that I’d have to discover for myself.
There were four of us on those bike adventures. Myself. Ralph, my best friend. A tough guy, the bad boy, the most worldly of us, which is a strange thing to say about an eight-year-old kid. India, an archetypal ‘80s tomboy. She was the coolest person I knew at the time. Looking back, I wonder what her home life was like. I think I remember problematic warning signs that I couldn’t have recognized when I was so young, but now raise flags. Then there was Ben. A goofy kid, a wild mop of hair, coke bottle glasses, type 1 diabetic which seemed to make him both a bit pampered by his mother, who was in charge of all his insulin, diet, and schedule, and conversely a real risk taker when she wasn’t around.
When we first saw it…
No, wait. This was the problem with starting the story. Where does it all begin? I’ll need to talk about my Grandfather as well. I’ve had two different perspectives on my Grandfather, on the man that he was. The first was the healthy able-bodied grandparent I’d known as a young child. Then there was the man, as I learned about him after he had passed.
There was a middle period, from when I was 6 to when I was 16, when I hardly understood him at all, as he was hit with a double whammy of both Parkinson’s and Alzheimer's. His decline into an invalid was both steep and long drawn out. That part didn’t reflect who he was as a person.
What did I know of him when I was little? Well I knew he and my grandmother had a nice big house and some farmland, out in the broad flat valley north of Farmingham. Dairy country. It had been settled by Dutch immigrants back in the homesteading days. His family had been among the first pioneers in the county too. It didn’t register to me then that his surname was Norwegian, not Dutch. I knew he had served in the Navy in World War II, which I was immensely proud of for reasons I didn’t know why. I knew he had a job as a butcher in a nearby rural supermarket. He was a bit of a farmer too, more as a hobby and a side gig. He had a few cattle, but mostly grew and harvested hay to sell to the local dairies. I knew he had turned his garage into a machine shop, and could fix damn near anything. From the flat tires on my bicycle to the old flat-bed truck he’d haul hay with, to an old 1950s riding lawnmower he somehow managed to keep in working order. I knew he could draw a really cool cartoon cowboy, I knew he loved to watch football, and I knew the whiskers on his chin were very pokey, and they’d tickle you when he kissed you on the cheek, and that when you tried to rub the sensation away he’d laugh and laugh and laugh.
Then there were the parts of his life that I’d learn much later. Mostly from odd passing comments from relatives, or things I’d find in the public records. Like how he’d been a better grandfather than a father. Or how his life as I knew it had been a second, better life. He’d been born among the Norwegian settler community, way up in the deep, dark, forest-shrouded hills that rimmed the valley. He’d been a logger in his youth. Technologically he was only a generation or two from the ones I’d learned about in the museum. They’d replaced donkeys with diesel engines and corduroy roads with narrow gauge rail. It was still the same job, though. Dirty, dangerous, dark. Way back into those woods, living in little logging camps, civilization was always a several-day hike out. It became a vulgar sort of profession, filled with violent men, reprobates, and thieves. When my grandfather’s father was murdered on his front porch by a lunatic claiming he’d been wronged somehow, my grandfather hiked out of there, got into town, and joined the Navy. He vowed never to go back. The things he’d seen out in those woods were no good. He’d kept that existence away from me. Anyways…
Tommy Barker was the first of us to go missing. I say ‘us’ as if I knew him personally. I didn’t. He went to Farmingham Middle School, other side of town, and several grades above us. From our perspective, he may as well have been an adult living overseas.
Yet it felt like we got to know him. His face was everywhere, on TV, all over telephone poles. Everybody was talking about him. After he didn’t return from a friend’s house, everybody just sort of assumed, or maybe hoped, that he’d just gotten lost, or was trapped somewhere. They searched all the parks. Backyards, junkyards, refrigerators, trunks. Old-fashioned refrigerators, back before suction seals, had a simple handle with a latch that opened when you pulled on it. It wasn’t a problem when the fridges were in use and filled with food. But by the 80s old broke-down refrigerators started filling up backyards and junkyards, and they became deathtraps for kids playing hide-and-seek. The only opened from the outside. I remember thinking Tommy Barker was a little old to have likely been playing hide-and-seek, but people checked everywhere anyway. They never found him.
That was about the first time we saw the Hidebehind. Ben said he thought he saw somebody following us, looked like, maybe, a kid. We’d just slowly huffed our way up a moderately steep hill, Farmingham is full of them, and when we paused for a breather at the top, Ben said he saw it down the hill, closer to the base. Yet when we turned to look there was nothing there. Ben said he’d just seen it duck behind a car. That wasn’t the sort of behavior of a random kid minding his own business. Yet the slope afforded us a view under the car’s carriage, and except for the four tires, there were no signs of any feet hiding behind the body. At first, we thought he was pulling our leg. When he insisted he wasn’t, we started to tease him a little. He must have been seeing things, on account of his poor vision and thick glasses. The fact that those glasses afforded him vision as good as or better than any of us wasn’t something we considered.
The next person to disappear was Amy Brooks. Fifth-grader. Next elementary school over. I remember it feeling like when you’re traveling down the freeway, and there’s a big thunderstorm way down the road, but it keeps getting closer, and closer. I don’t remember what she looked like. Her face wasn’t plastered everywhere like Tommy’s had been. She was mentioned on the regional news, out of Seattle, her and Tommy together. Two missing kids from the same town in a short amount of time. The implication was as obvious as it was depraved. They didn’t think the kids were getting lost anymore. They didn’t do very much searching of backyards. The narratives changed too. Teachers started talking a lot about stranger danger. Local TV channels started recycling old After School Specials and public service announcements about the subject.
I’m not sure who saw it next. I think it was Ben again. We took him seriously this time though. I think. The one I’m sure I remember was soon after, and that time it was India who first saw it. It’s still crystal clear in my memory, almost forty years later, because that was the time I first saw it too. We were riding through a four-way stop, an Idaho Stop before they called it that, when India slammed to a stop, locking up her coaster brakes and leaving a long black streak of rubber on a dry patch of pavement. We stopped quickly after and asked what the problem was. We could tell by her face she’d seen it. She was still looking at it.
“I see it,” she whispered, unnecessarily. We all followed her gaze. We were looking, I don’t know, ten seconds? Twenty? We believed everything she said, we just couldn’t see it.
“Where?” Ralph asked.
“Four blocks down,” she whispered. “On the left. See the red car? Kinda rusty?” There was indeed a big old Lincoln Continental, looking pretty ratty and worn. I focused on that, still seeing nothing. “Past that, just to its right. See the street light pole? It’s just behind that.”
We also saw the pole she was talking about. Metal. Aluminum, I’d have guessed. It had different color patches, like metallic flakeboard. Like it’d had been melted together out of scrap.
I could see that clearly even from that distance. I saw nothing behind it. I could see plenty of other things in the background, cars, houses, bushes, front lawns, beauty bark landscape.. There was no indication of anything behind that pole.
And then it moved. It had been right there where she said it had been, yet it had somehow perfectly blended into the landscape, a trick of perspective. We didn’t see it at all until it moved, and almost as fast it had disappeared behind that light pole. We only got a hint. Brown in color, about our height in size.
We screamed. Short little startled screams, the involuntary sort that just burst out of you. Then we turned and started to pedal like mad, thoroughly spooked. We made it to the intersection of the next block when it was Ralph who screeched to a halt and shouted, “Wait!”
We slowed down and stopped, perhaps not as eagerly as we’d done when India yelled. Ralph was looking back over his shoulder, looking at that metal pole. “Did anybody see it move again?’ he asked. We all shook our heads in the negative. Ralph didn’t notice, but of course, he didn’t really need an answer, of course we hadn’t been watching.
“If it didn’t move, then it’s still there!” Ralph explained the obvious. It took a second to sink in, despite the obvious. “C’mon!” he shouted, and to our surprise, before we could react, he turned and took off, straight down the road, straight to where that thing had been lurking.
We were incredulous, but something about his order made us all follow hot on his heels. He was a sort of natural leader. I thought it was total foolishness, but I wasn’t going to let him go alone. I think I got out, “Are you crazy?!”
The wind was blowing hard past our faces as we raced as fast as we could, it made it hard to hear. Ralph shouted his response. “If it’s hiding that means its afraid!” That seemed reasonable, if not totally accurate. Lions hide from their prey before they attack. Then again, they don’t wait around when the whole herd charges. Really, the pole was coming up so fast there wasn’t a whole lot of time to argue. “Just blast past and look!” Ralph added. “We’re too fast! It won’t catch us.”
Sure, I thought to myself. Except maybe Ben, who always lagged behind the rest of us in a race. The lion would get Ben if any of us.
We rushed past that pole and all turned our heads to look. “See!” Ralph shouted in triumph. There was simply nothing there. A metal streetlight pole and nothing more. We stopped pedaling yet still sped on. “Hang on,” Ralph said, and at the next intersection he took a fast looping curve that threatened to crash us all, but we managed and curved behind him. We all came to the pole again where we stopped to see up close that there was nothing there, despite what we had seen moments before.
“Maybe it bilocated,” Ben offered. We groaned. We were all thinking it, but I think we were dismissive because it wasn’t as cool a word as ‘teleport.”
“Maybe it just moved when we weren’t looking,” I offered. That hadn’t been long, but that didn’t mean anything if it moved fast. The four of us slowly looked up from the base of the pole to our immediate surroundings. There were bushes. A car in a carport covered by a tarpaulin. The carport itself. Garbage cans. Stumps. Of course the ever-present trees. Whatever it was it could have been hiding behind anything. Maybe it was. We looked. Maybe it would make itself seen. None of us wanted that. “OK, let’s get going,” Ralph said, and we did so.
I got home feeling pretty shaken that afternoon. I felt safe at home. Except for the front room, which had a big bay window looking out onto the street, and the people who lived across it. There were plenty of garbage cans and telephone poles and stumps that a small, fast thing might hide behind. No, I felt more comfortable in my bedroom. There was a window, but a great thick conical cypress tree grew right in front of it, reaching way up over the roof of the house. If anything, it offered ME a place to hide, and peer out onto the street to either side of the tree. It was protective, as good as any heavy blanket.

Original prompt: [WP] You're just living your life. Calling friends, doing your job, getting groceries. Alas, your narrator is unbearably pretentious, and is trying their best to frame this as a deep metaphor for the human condition no matter how much you try to make them stop. (link)
Catherine walked through the grocery store, aisles extending before her like the endless paths of the eternal labyrinth. Somewhere within this great dungeon of comestibles were the coveted items she sought, to extend the lifetime of her fleshy vessel for a few more moons. Harrowing, it must have been, to walk those aisles, to seek those Cheez-its, knowing that they would offer such brief reprieve for her hard-earned money.
"Okay, I get it, my shopping list sucks, can you please shut up? I just want to get my groceries and go home..." Catherine said, having clearly become delusional from hunger.
She rolled her eyes, almost certainly at her own foolishness, and strolled toward the bakery section of the store. There she spied a box of doughnuts, tempting her to stray from her prepared plans. They reminded her of herself, those doughtnuts, soft and spongy with a veneer of sweet sugar on the exterior, but ultimately devoid of any true nutritional substance. Even the hole in the center seemed representative of the void within her own soul, a yawning chasm leaving her gasping for-
"Jesus Christ, are you my mom or something? Can't I even buy some fucking snacks without you judging me?" Catherine demanded, shouting up at the rafters. They offered no response, obviously.
She placed the doughnuts back on the display with a sneer, the pastries surely reminding her too much of the part of herself she preferred to ignore. Instead she moved to the produce section, and began perusing the fruit. She felt herself drawn to the bananas, which reminded her so much of her good friend Kristine. Soft and sweet on the inside, with a leathery yet smooth and pleasant exterior that meant it didn't need the protective packaging many other sweet treats came with. She contrasted them with the coconuts that brought Charles to mind, with their hairy covering and hard shell that made it nigh impossible to reach the sweetness she was so sure was hidden beneath, but would likely be underwhelming when she finally made it through.
"For the last time, Kristine and I aren't like that, and I'm not breaking up with Charles just because you don't like him!" Catherine said to the lights hanging overhead. One of them flickered slightly, offering the silly girl some response for her trouble.
Catherine placed one of the bunches of bananas in her basket, as well as a head of broccoli, the many florets of which represented her unwillingness to truly let herself blossom for fear that it would make her unpalatable to those around her.
"Oh for fuck's sake! I do not need a therapy session right now!" Catherine said, to the nozzle spraying a fine mist over the vegetables on display. The other customers surely had doubts about her assertion, given her penchant for shouting at random inanimate objects.
Catherine then grunted and began walking off in a huff, snatching a package of ground beef off the shelf. While not representative of a person, the meat being processed to the point of being unrecognizable, which then had to be cooked until it was even more unrecognizable lest it cause health problems for whomsoever ate it, perfectly illustrated the tragic disconnect between people and the food on their plate.
Indeed, as she grabbed a pack of her favorite artificially-flavored fizzy drink, Catherine couldn't help but recognize that cruel irony of spinning her wheels at a job she didn't like to get food she didn't understand to sustain a body she never asked for. All so she could continue working that same job, with her days off being filled with meaningless frivolity and pointless busywork. If ever there was a time when poor Catherine needed to take a few days off, and perhaps reconnect with some family members she hadn't interacted with enough in recent times-
"Yes, I said I was going to help out on my grandparents' farm this weekend! No, I wasn't planning to shirk on it! I already told Kristine I couldn't come to the party! You don't have to guilt trip me on this one!" Catherine shouted at the shelf.
Finally, Catherine walked over to the freezer section, examining the frozen pizzas carefully. Their disk shape appealed to her inner tech geek, while the roundness foreshadowed the effect the food would have on her body.
Catherine stuck her middle finger out, holding her hand aloft and seemingly directed at an angle above her. Finally, she could resist the temptation no longer, and returned to the doughnuts. They cried out to her, spiritually drawing her into their glutinous grasp.
"Fucking asshole..." Catherine mumbled to nobody.
She proceeded to the checkout, where one of the cashiers began scanning her groceries.
"Paper or plastic, Ma'am?" the young man asked.
This drove Catherine's mind into a flurry of activity. Paper, a biodegradable material made from the pressed carcasses of the world's ever-dwindling supply of trees, or plastic, a plentiful waste product which caused more problems after it had served its purpose than it ever did before?
"I actually have my own bag, hang on," Catherine said, refusing her revelations and checking her satchel. She quickly realized that, much like her wallet and her dignity, she had left it in her car. Her head immediately snapped up and she stomped on the ground before yelling, "Goddammit! Now you tell me?!?!?!?!"
"Uh, Ma'am? Is something wrong?" the cashier asked.
"I left my money in the car, give me a minute to go grab it," Catherine said, ignoring the plight of the people behind her so she could avoid facing another harrowing excursion through the endless aisles of the labyrinthine supermarket.
She sprinted out of the store, leaping with a flip over a cart a woman was returning to the corral. This too could be said to represent Catherine's approach to life in general, wildly dodging simple problems that could be easily circumvented without such action. She grabbed her wallet from the car, along with her bag, and rushed back to the store, avoiding any distraction along the way.
Finally, she paid for her groceries, handing over her hard-earned cash for the food she had worked so hard to get, and began heading back for her car. As she went, she realized that the cashier vaguely reminded her of an apple. Sturdy, with a sweetness about him that would surely be easy to find through the thin, shiny layer of-
"Nope, not even going to consider it," Catherine said to nobody. She knew the truth deep in her heart, even if her brain was too stubborn to accept it. Holding another middle finger to the sky, she did what she always did when faced with existential questions of herself, her past, and her place in the world. That is, she left without thought or comment, climbing into her car and pulling out of the parking lot.

DC Next presents:

CYBORG

Issue Thirty: End.exe
Written by Deadislandman1
Edited by ClaraEclair and AdamantAce
 
Arc: Catharsis
 
 
“Are you ready, Victor?”
“More ready than I’ve ever been in my life.”
This high up in the sky, there would normally be wind, its howling loud enough to drown out all other sounds. Had there been clouds, they would have impeded his sight, forcing him to weather the condensed water within. The vast blue of the sky would overwhelm his eyes at every turn. But Victor and V were in the Metal, and no such things existed within the Metal. There was no resistance as they glided towards Thinker’s strange, corrupting compound, no wind to fly against. They moved this way purely because this was how some of the highest beings in the Metal’s hierarchy moved, above the other programs and signals on the ground.
The denizens of the Metal had declared him their hero, their champion, and it was his job to remove Thinker’s influence from the realm.
Gradually, the two began to slow down as they descended to one of the shimmering black walls of Thinker’s compound, whose presence was a tumor within the Metal, threatening to upset the fragile balance of a newborn power. This was enough cause to stop Thinker, but Victor had more reasons to confront his co-creator. He was holding his inventor — no, his father — hostage, a petty act of torture for the gall of standing up to one of the smartest supervillains on the planet.
Victor could not let Silas Stone suffer any longer. He would not let this final remaining door within himself to remain ajar, forever taunting him like a tapestry that could not be finished. Today, this horror would end. Today, Victor would find real peace within himself.
Victor touched down, the true size of the spire dawning on him. V landed next to him, walking up to the fortress and placing a hand on the wall, “My protocols will work their ways through Thinker’s firewalls, but once we are inside, we will be on our own.”
“No use waiting around then,” said Victor, “Just know that whatever happens, we stick together. That’s the only way we’ll be able to get out of this.”
V paused for a moment, clearly appreciating Victor’s faith in their partnership. Turning back to the wall, V closed her eyes and, within moments, a hole formed nearby.
“Woah, that was fast,” said Victor.
“Yes I…” V blinked. “There were only a few firewalls. This seems incredibly illogical. One would think one of the smartest men alive would keep a high level of security.”
“Maybe it’s a trap?” Victor peered inside the fortress, “A way to catch us….”
Victor paused, his eye widening at the sight before him, “...off guard.”
Before the two was not some horrifying death maze, nor was it a vast lair of villainy, or a lab made for suffering. Before them… was a neighborhood, the kind with straight roads, white picket fences, freshly cut grass, and vibrantly painted houses. As Victor stepped across the threshold of the walls, he was immediately hit by a wave of nostalgia. This place was so familiar.
“This… I grew up here!” said Victor, “Or… the real Victor did.”
V stepped through behind Vic and, like clockwork, the wall sealed up behind her. “I do not understand. What is the purpose of manufacturing such a recreation?”
“I don’t… I just…” Victor clenched his fists. How dare he do this. He wasn’t the real Victor Stone, yet there was such anger in the fact that Thinker was defiling the memories of the Stone family. Victor Stone grew up happy here, and this place was nothing but some sham… some charade meant to taunt whoever was inside.
His father.
Like a runaway train, Victor erupted into a sprint down the street, V following after him. She tried to ask him where he was going, but Victor knew she would understand once they arrived. He remembered the place well; his namesake had lived there, after all.
Halfway down the road, they arrived at the Stone family home, which had been reconstructed perfectly. Racing across the front yard that he had played catch in since childhood, Victor kicked down the door, running inside through familiar halls. “Dad? Dad?!”
“Victor!” V barreled in after him. “Perhaps this is a rash action.”
“This place… He had to make it to screw with my dad. He had to!” Victor shouted. “Dad?! Dad, where are you?”
“Who the hell is screaming? What is--?”
Victor whirled around, a voice that felt both familiar and foreign entering his ears. Balling up his fists, he expected a fight, only for his heart to drop.
It was Victor Stone. No cybernetic enhancements, no powers, justVictor Stone, sitting in a chair across the hall, in the dining room, with a laptop in front of him. He stood up in shock, slamming the laptop shut as he stared at Victor in horror, “What the fuck?!”
“Wha– Why–” Cyborg stared in amazement at his eerily accurate counterpart. He didn’t understand what was going on.
“Victor? I heard screaming! Is everything alright?”
An older man stepped into the hall, clearly distressed by all the shouting, and as Cyborg turned to face him, he immediately felt every muscle in his body loosen.
Silas Stone stood before him, as old as Victor had expected him to be. What he didn’t expect was to find the man to be full of vigor, of life. He seemed almost… energized, like he’d lived the last few years in absolute happiness.
Then Silas spoke, and it was then that Cyborg felt his soul truly sink into the abyss, “Who in God’s name are you?! What are you doing in my house?!”
“You…” Cyborg looked to V, “Is he..?.”
V stepped in front of Cyborg, taking a rudimentary scan of both Silas and the other Victor, “He is indeed Silas Stone, he does not have the same signature as the other denizens of the Metal. This Victor however… does.”
“So he’s a fake?” said Cyborg.
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” said Victor, “Who are you?”
“Please, leave my house!” said Silas, “This is private property!”
“You… you don’t understand,” said Cyborg, who turned to AI Victor, “And… I’m sorry. You’re not a… I shouldn’t call you a fake.”
“What do you mean?! What’s going on?!” asked AI Victor.
“Get out!” shouted Silas, “Get out right now or I’m calling the police.”
Cyborg didn’t know why Silas couldn’t remember him, remember anything, but looking between him and the other Victor, a haunting theory moved to the forefront of his mind; this place was an elaborate illusion, a way to keep Silas placated, and if Victor wanted to save him, he would need to wake his father from the dream. The T-Beacons Elinore had repurposed would need to charge, and he didn’t know if he’d be able to keep Silas restrained for that. Besides… it would be easier if Silas knew what was really happening before he left… and he would get a chance to speak to his father in earnest.
Cyborg moved forward, placing his hands on Silas’s shoulders, “Silas, I know this seems crazy, but I need you to hear me out.”
“Stop! Let go of me!” said Silas.
“Please, Dad, just…hear me out!” said Cyborg.
Silas froze…one word completely taking him off balance, “Did… did you just call me Dad?”
Cyborg swallowed, “Yeah… and it’s a long story… but you need to hear it. I promise.”
Silas shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t understand. What are you?”
Cyborg grimaced, “I’m… your creation.”
“But… I don’t remember creating you…” said Silas, “Why would I need to make you.”
“Because…” Cyborg glanced back at AI Victor, who was clearly completely confused by the situation. “Because the real Victor Stone died. He died during a disaster in Coast City and… I was the replacement.”
Silas grew white as a sheet, “What? What do you…? No… no, my son isn’t dead. He’s right here!”
Silas looked to the AI Victor, and Cyborg shook his head, “He’s just code… and in a way, so am I. I’m sorry but… the real Victor Stone is gone, has been for years.”
“No, it’s not true.” Silas glared at Cyborg, “Why should I believe you?! How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Just… look at me,” said Cyborg. “Look at me, Dad.”
Slowly, Silas felt his breath steady, his eyes locked onto Cyborg. He scanned the metal man in front of him, from the soles of his steel feet to the fusion of flesh and armor on his head. He reached out in trepidation, running his fingers up and down the armor, then running them over Cyborg’s face. The AI Victor watched in confusion, still utterly lost at what was going on.
Cyborg flinched at the touch of his father’s hand, it felt so… alien knowing the context of his own creation, and yet where he was falling into unfamiliar territory, Silas was being brought back into his own past, to memories he had lost.
Then, in a blink, something changed in Silas. He stumbled back, eyes wide, and Cyborg knew that he had awakened what was buried. Silas shuddered, falling to his knees, “No! No I… I did lose him… I did lose my boy…”
“Dad?” AI Victor trudged towards Silas, “Dad, I’m right here, I–”
“No! My boy has been gone for years,” said Silas, looking at both Cyborg and AI Victor. “And try as I might, I know that, in the end, neither of you are really him… really a replacement.”
Cyborg looked between his father and the AI replication of himself, feeling immense pity for both. The AI looked so confused, like a newborn who’d just gotten lost at the supermarket. Cyborg nodded to V, who quickly ushered the AI into another room to explain what was going on. Then, he turned back to Silas and took a knee, “Are you… God, there’s no point in asking the question. Do you remember what happened, after Thinker…”
Silas sniffled, attempting to piece himself back together, “H-He locked me in this place, but it was so… different. There was an army being built, preparations for war. He… interfaced with me, forced himself into the deepest crevices of my own mind! My god, Victor… he knows everything about me, about you! He knows every detail about every single thing I’ve ever built.”
Cyborg grimaced. If he knew every detail, then that meant that he knew what every single one of Cyborg’s tricks were. There would be no surprises, “God, I… I should’ve woken earlier, come here earlier. I’m so sorry.” said Cyborg.
“No, no… don’t blame yourself for any of this, it wasn’t your fault,” said Silas. “What happened here is Thinker’s fault, and his alone.”
Silas began to calm down, his rate of breath slowing down as he stood up. “But… it does confuse me that he would place me in this… illusion.”
“More torture?” asked Cyborg.
“No, I felt… at peace here,” said Silas. “Thinker was always so mechanical, so hyper focused on producing the results he wanted. Building me a… dream land? It just… doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well… whatever his reasons, it doesn’t matter. I’m getting you out of here, then I’m stopping him once and for all,” said Cyborg.
“What?!” Silas whirled around to face Cyborg. “You can’t! In this place, he’s more powerful than he was in the real world.”
“And I’ve been a superhero for three years,” said Cyborg. “I know my way around threats, and whatever his plans are now, that doesn’t change that he has to face justice for what he did to both of us.”
Pulling out one of the T-Beacons, he placed it in Silas’s hands. “Press the ‘T,’ and after five minutes, you’ll be able to head back to reality. Since you came here from the real world, you’ll rematerialize in your own body.”
“But what about you?” asked Silas. “I can’t just leave you alone to–”
“Dad!” Cyborg placed a hand on his father’s shoulders, “Listen to me… over the last three years, I’ve done so much. I’ve made friends, I’ve made enemies, I’ve made a hell of a life out there. Hell, I even made it into the Justice Legion!”
“The Justice… Legion?” asked Silas.
“Yeah, its… it’s like the new Justice League, but nevermind that,” said Cyborg. “The point is, a lot has happened, a lot has changed, but Thinker… he’s the ghost that’s been haunting me. I came here because I needed to finish things, and to save you.”
Silas frowned. “I still don’t–”
“I know you feel guilty about… my creation,” said Cyborg. “And yeah, you threw me into one hell of a world, but trust me when I say that I’ve made my mark… and I wanna keep making my mark with you beside me.”
Silas turned away. “You… want me to be with you… in your life… after everything?”
“Yeah… I do,” said Cyborg. “Because despite everything, I’m a living thing because of you… and the real Victor Stone loved you a lot. I’ve got his memories, his feelings… and trust me when I say that what he would’ve wanted, is what I want.”
Silas stared at Cyborg, at a loss for words. Looking down at the T-Beacon and then back at his own creation, he sighed, “You… you’ll come back to me… right?”
“I’ll always come back to you, Dad,” said Cyborg. “Always.”
Sniffling, Silas tackled his son with an embrace, and Cyborg returned it with a bear hug of his own. For a singular moment, the two stood in silence, tears streaming from both of their eyes. After four long years, they were finally seeing each other, meeting for the first time, yet with memories that spanned decades of connection. Letting go of Cyborg, Silas wiped his eyes, “I… I need to sit down.”
“Take your time,” said Cyborg. “V can keep you safe until we go.”
“V?”
“My…” Cyborg paused, then tapped his head. “My friend in my head.”
“Ah,” Silas nodded, then turned away, but couldn’t help but chuckle. “Heh… he named her. Typical Victor.”
Silas walked down the hall, and as Cyborg followed, V emerged from the dining room, “I have explained the situation. He is… depressed.”
“Yeah… I guess I should’ve expected that. I know what he’s going through,” said Cyborg.
“Shall we go?” asked V. “Thinker must be somewhere within this place.”
Cyborg took a peek into the dining room, noting AI Victor’s downtrodden expression. He sat in front of his laptop, the mundanity of what was likely some kind of school assignment washed away by the revelation that he was not a human being. Cyborg turned back to V, “Can you watch my dad for a sec. I wanna talk to… the other me.”
“I understand,” said V, nodding. “Silas and I have things to speak about in any case.”
Managing a smile, Cyborg then walked into the dining room, pulling out a seat next to the AI, “So… now you know.”
“That I’m fake?”
“That you weren’t born the same way another person was born,” said Cyborg. “That doesn’t make you fake.”
“I was made to… placate someone,” said the AI, “I’m some fucking sham. I’m just part of a circus act.”
“Yeah… I get where you’re coming from. I’ve been there, trust me,” said Cyborg, “Only difference was, I was made to host someone else. I was never meant to have a personality, a real mind.”
The AI shook his head, a brokenness overtaking him, “How… How are you supposed to go on? You know what you were made for, you know what was meant to happen. How do you… deal with that? How are you supposed to even think about anything else?”
“Truth is,” Cyborg took a deep breath. “When I learned how I came to be, I moped, I sat around and did nothing, because I couldn’t think about anything else. What saved me was… the friends I had made in the years before I learned what my original purpose was. I had connections with them, a life with them. They saved me.”
“Huh,” the AI let out a bleak chuckle. “That’s good for you, but I don’t have any of those here. After what your friend told me I… I tried to remember specifics of a life outside this house, friends, hobbies, and I just… I couldn’t remember anything. I’m nothing outside of this house, outside of what I was made to do.”
“Maybe that’s how you were envisioned, but that’s not all you are,” said Cyborg. “Or all you have to be. You can choose to be more, choose to have a life outside your built purpose.”
The AI got out of his seat, “But I don’t have one! Don’t you understand?! I don’t have friends to fall back on, people who really love me.”
“But you can! You can choose to start that life, choose to walk the same path I did,” said Cyborg. “All you’ve gotta do… is come with me. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Cyborg held out his hand, earnestly waiting on the AI. The AI stared at the hand, and it was clear that despite the arguments, he was still unsure. This was all so new, so daunting, yet what the hand represented was nothing short of a miracle. He would have a guide in the real world.
Reaching out, the AI took Cyborg’s hand, “So… how do I come back to the real world with you?”
“We have these beacons, but since we’re not inherently organic consciousnesses, the beacons won’t reconstruct a body like it would for our father. I’ve got my own body that V and I share, so we’ll probably all end up in it together. From there, I can see if we can make you a body.”
“Sounds a little crowded,” joked the AI.
“Yeah… but it’ll be temporary,” said Cyborg. “And then there’s the matter of names. We can’t both be Victor.” Cyborg scratched his chin. “I don’t have a permanent solution, but for now… why don’t we use shorthand. You’re Vic and I’m Cy.”
“Cy?”
“Short for Cyborg,” he said, gleaming. “It’s… a moniker… and a hero name.”
“Jeez, are you famous or something out there?” asked Vic.
“A little,” said Cyborg. “But that’s a story for later. I need you to stick with Dad while V and I go after Thinker. I can’t close the door on this whole thing until I find him.”
“Then you will not have to look far.”
Cyborg whirled around when he heard the digitized voice, only for both him and Vic to be ensnared in a web of electrical vines that sprouted from the floor, locking them both down. Before them stood the Thinker, a man whose body was composed almost entirely of binary code, 1s and 0s blended together into a strange, green body. Despite the humanoid shape of his figure, he had no features on his face, only the numbers, “I can hazard a guess as to why you are here, creation of mine, but why must you disrupt Silas Stone’s paradise? Surely, you could’ve at least guessed that I would be a master of my own domain, appearing wherever I wish.”
“It’s not paradise,” growled Cyborg. “It’s a fucking prison.”
“To you, it may seem that way,” said Thinker. “But understand that I was simply attempting to ease the pain I had inflicted on him.”
“You’re lying!”
“You are free to think that, and why would I expect anything different from you. I created you out of a selfish desire for power,” Thinker stared down at Cyborg, and the hero could feel the villain’s sheer pity. “But that is no longer my goal. I have learned, and now I wish to help people…help the world.”
Thinker then knelt down, reaching out for Cyborg, “I will erase the pain, erase--”
A blast of energy hit Thinker from behind, sending him barreling across the dining room table. V rushed in, crossing the distance before hitting Thinker with a second, physical kick, keeping him down. The electrical vines withered, allowing the two Victor Stones to break free. Vic ran for the hallway, while Cyborg began to form his arm into a blaster, “Keep him down, V!”
“I am doing my--”
A green shockwave interrupted V, throwing Cyborg onto his back as Thinker surged to his feet. As V landed in front of the villain, Thinker waved his hand, and a green beam the width of a soda can fired from his head, burning a hole through V’s chest. V let out a singular gasp before she herself dissolved into Binary code, like sand spilling out of an hourglass. Cyborg let out a blood curdling scream, “V!”
“Worry not, she is not deceased,” said Thinker. “She is simply-”
Cyborg surged forward, his fist crashing against Thinker’s form. The villain went flying, immediately crashing through the house’s wall before tumbling through the air. He hit the ground a few times, colliding with a mailbox all the while before landing in the middle of the street. Stepping back, Cyborg heard footsteps and Silas and the other Vic reappeared.
“What’s going on?!” asked Silas.
“Thinker’s here,” said Cyborg. “Is the beacon powered?”
“Yes, but--”
“Press it, now! I’ll see you on the other side.”
“I don’t want to leave you!” said Silas.
“You’ve been here long enough,” said Cyborg, looking back to where V just was. “And I can’t lose another person I care about!”
For a moment, Silas was hesitant, prepared to refuse his son’s wishes, when the beacon in his hands beeped. He looked down, finding that Vic had pressed the button for him. He looked up at Vic, “You-”
“See you on the other side, pops.”
And then, Silas disappeared in a beam of light, and it was just the two Victor Stones left. Cyborg glanced back towards Thinker, “Vic, hide wherever you can until this is done.”
“No, if you’re fighting him, then so am I.”
“He’ll…” Cyborg paused, trying desperately to avoid feeling the grief of losing his friend. “He’ll do to you what he did to V.”
“Not if I play it smart. You can’t always bulldoze your way to the touchdown,” said Vic. “You’ve gotta play it smart.”
Cyborg sighed, “Then let’s do it.”
Vic nodded, running further into the house to prepare as Cyborg stepped through the hole in the wall, marching towards Thinker. The villain had finally managed to get back on his feet, “Why do you refuse to listen?! My plans are for the good of the--”
“Plans plans plans, I don’t give a fuck about any of your plans,” growled Cyborg. “I don’t care about your plans in the past, your plans in the future, or your plans in the present. None of it matters, except that you’ve hurt people, and you refuse to take accountability for any of it. You hurt so many people for so many years, and I’m going to make sure that never happens again.”
Thinker sighed, “Then words are of no more use to me, if you are this stubborn, then I will have to save you the only way you have left me.”
Thinker rose into the sky, but Cyborg immediately raised his arm, morphing it into a blaster and knocking him out of the sky with a radiant beam of white energy. The concrete cracked as Thinker hit the street, allowing Cyborg to advance with his fists. Leaping into the air, he attempted to dropkick the villain, only for Thinker to roll out of the way of the attack. Raising his hand, Thinker summoned more electrical vines, but Cyborg dove out of the way, avoiding a second ensnarement. Rolling across some grass, Cyborg raised his arm to fire another blast at Thinker, only for the villain to disappear right before his eyes. A hand grabbed the back of his neck, squeezing tight before lifting him off the ground. Thinker’s voice whispered in his ear, “You cannot defeat me. I have existed in this place for years, and I have understood its own rules.”
“Then how come every time I’ve hit you, you’ve felt it,” said Cyborg. “You react to me, because like it or not, your handprints are all over me.”
Thinker let out a growl before raising his other hand, ready to send Cyborg to V, only for a splash of water to hit him in the back. He whirled around, spotting Vic with a garden hose. He was grinning, just as determined to rebel as his counterpart. Thinker leveled his hand at Vic, only for Cyborg to twist himself out of the villain’s grip, grabbing his arm and forcing it downward before another, larger beam of energy erupted from Thinker’s hand. The ground exploded, fracturing as if it was being hit by an earthquake, and as Thinker and Cyborg stumbled away from each other, the fractures became larger, and the spaces underneath the idyllic town were revealed.
Thousands of deactivated GRID robots and assembly equipment laid in the dark recesses of the underground, trashed and broken like discarded toys. Cyborg glanced up at Thinker, who was shrugging off the damage he had taken from the explosion. His binary code was beginning to splinter, numbers dripping from his body like water spilling over the top of a glass, “Ah…I see. Our code is…similar. We are of parallel wavelengths, owing to my code being imbued into your avatar.”
“Surprised it took you that long to figure it out,” said Cyborg.
Thinker hung his head, “No matter, I will still prevail. I know every weakness you have, every opening.”
“Let’s see if you last long enough to use them then.”.
Cyborg’s body shifted, glowing with pure white light as he powered himself up, preparing for a blow that he knew had enough power to finish Thinker off. Thinker meanwhile, clenched his fists, causing the numbers across his body to scroll faster and faster until they were a blur of characters. Then, the two charged one another, letting out war cries before leaping into the air, their fists raised.
He had waited all his life for this, to attain justice for himself, and for everyone else, and he wouldn’t let Thinker escape, not after all he had done to get to this moment. He thought of his friends, Michael, Exxy, and Cindy. His mother, Elinore, and his father, Silas. Finally, his mind went to Vic, a new being that needed to be made free. He fought for them all, and he would not lose.
His fist met Thinker’s, and with a catastrophic BOOM, the entire Metal was engulfed in white light.
 
 
Silas gasped for air as he sat up abruptly, vertigo invading his head. It was so bright, he could barely see. As he rubbed his eyes, he could hear the sound of footsteps as someone ran to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Silas! Silas are you alright?!”
Silas groaned, his vision finally clearing. He was in some kind of bunker, adorned with all manner of technology. Scanning the room, he spotted a couple of younger people, one was a man in an afro and glasses, while the other was a younger teenage girl with a satchel. The two were at the side of Cyborg’s body, but their attention was clearly stuck on Silas.
Then he looked to the person at his side, and his world, which had already been turned upside down that day, flipped one more time. It was his wife! She was… alive?
“E-Elinore?” Silas adjusted his glasses. “Is… is that--?”
“I am… Though I’m not your Elinore,” She grabbed him by the arm, pulling him to his feet. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, I… No!” Silas’ eyes widened. “Our son, he-he went to fight Thinker! I left him! I--”
“Relax Dad, I… I made it out.”
The entire room turned to Cyborg, who had abruptly risen from his chair. He was sweating, the battle clearly taking a toll on him. Exxy and Cindy immediately tackled him with a hug.
“Aw man, you had us so worried!” said Cindy.
“Had you worried maybe, I knew he’d pull through fine!” said Exxy.
Silas felt a small giggle leave his body, “Goodness… how… how did you beat him?”
“Our coding was similar enough that I could harm him in ways the other AI couldn’t, I weakened him before trapping him in a firewall modeled after his own fortress. He won’t hurt anyone ever again,” said Cyborg. “I… I couldn’t save the other Victor AI… and V… she’s gone too.”
“Ah damn,” said Exxy. “I liked V. She was really mean to me most of the time, but dammit I liked her anyway.”
Cindy placed a hand on Cyborg’s shoulder, “We’ll be sure to remember her… always.”
Cyborg nodded, looking to the rest of the team, “So… what… what do we do now?”
“I…” Silas swallowed, “I want to start rebuilding my life… rebuilding who I was before…”
“You’ll have all the help we can spare, Dad,” said Cyborg, “I promise.”
“Yes,” said Elinore. “While I’m still here, I’ll do what I can to get you up to speed on past events.”
“I… thank you,” said Silas. “Though to tell you all the truth… my preferred start to my new life would be… to have some food.”
“Food?” said Cindy.
“Shit man, yeah you’re right. Guy hasn’t eaten in like three years,” said Exxy. “But don’t worry, I’ve got you. I know an amazing Thai place.”
Slowly but surely, the team began to make plans for the dinner, to welcome Silas back into the world again. However, as they began to pour out, Cyborg placed a hand on the machine that had taken him into the Metal, “You guys go ahead. I just… I need to be alone for a sec.”
“Hey, no prob!” said Exxy. “We’ll catch you later!”
The team poured out the door, with Silas taking one last cursory look back at his son before smiling and giving him a thumbs up. Cyborg waved goodbye to his friends and family, keeping his smile until they all left. Then, with a somber face, he turned back to the machine, sighing.
“You almost got me, I will admit… but the creation does not often best the creator,” Thinker grimaced. “For what it’s worth, I am proud to have called you my creation, you lived up to a higher potential than you could ever know, but your plan still had a flaw.”
Thinker looked at Cyborg’s hands, which now belonged to him, “I could take your beacon, inhabit the body built for me. All I had to do was prod your weaknesses and disable you before I did it. It was naive to think one powerful strike could destroy me. Brave… but naive.”
Thinker looked back to the machine, “But worry not, I have put you at peace, like your father was… and now I am free to extend that peace to the rest of the world.”
Thinker turned away from the machine, walking towards the exit to the bunker, “My plan is now in effect. It’s time to save the world.”
 
 
To be continued later in 2023!!!

Hi!
So, I've sent this idea to HBO a few months ago but I still haven't got any answers and I'm dying to know if it's good enough.
if you guys could help me out and give me a reply I would be very thankful !!
ps. I wrote it a long time ago and since I'm not a native speaker the english might not be so good.
Down the Rabbit- Hole
I went to the store this morning at basically,4 a.m. to receive some of the things Brian ordered for the stock. He asked if I was ok with it since it was the meat that wouuld arrive and I contradicted him saying I was fine. I guess I was just trying to train the not barfing routine.
- hi, are you the responsible around here ?
Alice: yes, pretty much. Good morning I’m the owner !
- ok, great I’m here to drop some steaks, chicken,pork..
It’s okay, it’s not for you, you’ll sooner have to learn how to cook these
- lamb,fish and these rabbits I killed yesterday
Alice: rabbits ?
- yes, there’s something wrong ?
Alice: I don’t remember asking for rabbits
- I think that was your husband ? isn’t he the actual owner ?
Alice: yes, but you can...can take the rabbit with you, I’m not paying for it
- what do you mean, you’re not paying for it ? I went in the middle of the night just to hunt these
Alice: well, I didn’t ask you to hunt them, you did it because you wante...
- I did it because my client asked me to, why are you even complaing if you’re not part of the business ? don’t you like rabbits ?
Alice: no, I don’t eat rabbits.
- why not ? it’s delicious !
Alice: do you think so ?
- yes,those are my favorite !
Alice: ok, then you can bring them inside. It happens you’re the only one around and I’m a helpless woman
- alright then, you should try one of these beasts sometime
Alice: uhum, just around here, you can just put them inside the freezer
- did you turn it on already ?
Alice: doing it
I think nervousism was the last thing that went through my mind that time. After turning it on and going straight to the kitchen, I made sure to hide it from him on the way back. He was a big guy, hunter aesthetic. Hard to kill, in a fighting mode at least. So I just waited for him to low down to pick up the fucking rabbit to deeply slither that sharp knife through his neck. No words, just blood. I didn’t even have a regret face after doing it. One thing to be said, he was just heavy. A dead weight,literally. Had to cut him in pieces on the ground.
After it, after turning every single particle he had into ready to pack meat, I brought the rest inside and made sure no one was going to miss that big burden. Found out he was just a cheap hunter, no wife, no kids. Basically a stranger in town. I drove his truck back to his house, and found my place to burn a big chunck of clothes and documents.
I don’t care what people may think, the supermarket opens this afternoon and people will be randomly selected between who eats big boy Jack and who eats the delicious cow.
*phone ringing
Call on
Alice: bello ?
Brian: hi, how is things up there ? everything alright ?
Alice: yeah, of course. I’m just hungry
Brian: you didn’t had any breakfast ?
Alice: not yet, no
Brian: ok, I think I can bring you some.
Alice: thanks,uhm. Brian, that guy you... hired, who is that ?
Brian: he was just inside the list I got, why is everything ok ? you, or maybe the delivery, did he mess up the delivery ?
Alice: no, no is just...he brought, he brought rabbits.
Brian: I’m so sorry, I forgot about that. You can just toss it away I think
Alice: it’s ok, I don’t mind it,Thanks, is everything ok in there ?
Brian:..my..mom is here
Alice: why ?
Brian: she’s waiting for you, asking why you haven’t done breakfast for me
Alice: well, tell her I’m busy
Brian: already taking refuge in the kitchen, I’m serious I should’ve received it today
Alice: believe me, you shouldn’t ( sighs) I’m coming.
Brian: ok,bye.
Alice: bye...
Call off
Alice: let’s hope you’re delicious. blurgh, disguting
Telling Karen I was at work was quite of a challenge. Telling Karen I’ve just killed a man was acceptable. It should mean that if I was able to kill him I can easily kill her. I swear to god that woman is everything wrong in america, and bold of you to think she even knows where that is.
Karen: finally, now could this be any more of an absurd ?
Alice: we’ve finally agreed on something!
Karen: I hope that means you won’t leave this house again,
Alice: I’m sorry I thought we were talking about your intrusions
Karen: intrusions ?! I was talking about you being a bad-mannered wife, this is my son’s house!
Alice: and mine as well
Karen: you don’t own anything !
Brian: this is so nice.
Alice: I remember someone saying of us sharing goods in our wedding day...am I contradicting the truth perhaps ?
Karen:... you are a bad person. And within these prospects you’ll become a bad mother. You ought to learn how to respect and love your husband so that you’ll do the same with your baby!
Brian: mom! That’s quite enough. You shouldn’t even be here.
Alice: love and respect only work in a relationship when they are reciprocate. And basically anywhere else. I respect your son in the same way I want to be respected. Could you please leave ? you‘re poluting the air.
Karen: brian.
Brian: mom, go.
Demon who walks on earth. Could you retire yourself from this house ?
Brian: I’m making breakfast. Help yourself with Eggs and toast, is the only thing i know how to do
Alice: I could teach you some things.
Brian: I have to say that’d be quite exciting!
After it all,I’m happy I married him, but still I don’t want to become all american! I’m better than that, we both are.
June, 18th was the day the supermarket opened, me and Brian woke up at severaly early ,even though he was the one going to open the place. I otherwise, woke up because of his mother...beloved woman. As a celebration of ‘him starting a business’ , her words, I’m supposed to prove myself ‘worthy’ of cooking with her techniques and recipes.....it really doesn’t make so much sense to me, but it’s a way of staying away from it for the morning, that really brought out some real sickness within me, in which was..misunderstood as a ‘promising pregnancy’.......so I couldn’t be luckier ! he’s still worried with it though,I’m worried I might’ve ruined our business before it even started.
I was ‘trained’ for chicken, fortunately, so to have his help on it we decided it’d be best for me to cook it at the supermarket kitchen, I at least made sure to pick it myself, being the only one there who knows how to differenciate it.
And believe me, it sold like wonder ! people from all around the city must’ve had their plans for lunch and their barbecues prepared this morning, the mother of the family goes with her children ot buy the groceries, within a fine piece of meat, steak or a dozen hamburguers and sausages made of whatever, I remenber those days clearly. I always the same thing the family sits around the big rectangle table with the dad at the end, the patriarch. The children play at the pool with a smile from side to side while their mother is inside preparing lunch and the outside table and their dad is cooking the sausages and burguers for the big thing. Starving wolves, really, waiting for the delicious meals to come to their mouths, they don’t even care it’s full of poison it’s a comfortable food for them, it brings out the felling that everything is going to be ok. Everything is going to end well, poor poeple they barely know they’ve put themselves inside a vicious cycle of wanting for more. The biggest, most infectious cycle. I know that if they like what they taste, they’ll grow used to it until there’s nothing left. It’s a true gain for us, they’ll fulfill our lives with money in exchange for more, but they won’t get it. They’ll starve for it and oblige me to go get it. Choose some other victim.
The lucky ones today,buying this delicious delight of meat, will become what I mostly fear. Cannibals. But, as you know, they’ll grow around it without even realizing. I otherwise won’t. I’ll become the mother, going out every night to get some food to feed the little monsters she created,only to protect those she loves so dearly.
It’s mostly not my fault you know ? americans are like that, they love what they can’t refuse. They’re starving already I’m just feeding them. The thing is, what I feared happened.
They didn’t like it.
They loved it.
the story goes around the starting of the 1950's btw.

I am a ceo of a massive line of companies, i have caused a lot of misery to other people and i have lived a almost carefree life and then i met an old woman in a train station.
She looked into my eyes and she spoke in a rough and nasty voice to me and i couldn’t understand her as she let’s go of my arm i went back home to my wife in my luxury apartment in the city.
My wife was getting ready to go on a business trip that her work told her to go to in europe, i helped her pack up her bag and she was excited to go…that was the last time i saw her alive.
I lost the woman who meant a lot to me, i couldn’t believe it as i tried to wake myself up from this, i went back to work assuming it was just bad luck and i looked at my secretary in her eyes.
My secretary was found dead after a car crash had ended her life, on my back i had 2 blood red lines on my back and i chalked it up to more bad luck…until i went shopping in a supermarket and the cashier i looked at was shot dead…
3 blood lines are on my back and i started to decline in my mental health as i started to not look at anyone or anything, i tried working from home which spread it to 6 people and those 6 people died in viscous ways.
My back was then scrawled with 9 scars as i started hearing the voices of the dead as i stopped paying my bills, stopped working, stopped even going outside as my mind raced from how bad my life has went.
My landlord looked me in the eyes and served me an eviction notice, in a day or two he died from falling down the stairs in the apartment.
I had ran out of cash to buy food as i had dressed up in a trench coat and a hat and i went into a supermarket and i started to steal from the bread section, the meat section, i was taking whatever i could get my hands on and this lead to me being arrested.
In the cell that i was in, i was avoiding eye contact from everyone, i hated seeing anything since i was causing a lot of suffering. The last person i looked in the eyes was the cop who arrested me…
(You will be playing any character in the story, i will be playing a cursed man. )

I (20F) live in London and was in a relatively good mood on Saturday and bought a homeless man a pack of bacon and some deodorant. However, since Saturday, he seems to have told the local homeless population about me and they are all acting quite aggressive towards me and asking me for food and money too. I was shouted at up the street by one of them calling me ‘heartless’ for not giving him anything. I’d like to help but I’m a student and need the money to look after myself, this donation was a one time occurrence as I’d just got paid. The guy I originally gave the stuff too, who is at least 30 years older than me, keeps making comments on my appearance and blew a kiss at me before, which has made me even more uncomfortable.
I have never had this issue with the homeless in other places I have lived, so does anyone have any advice on how to go forward. They sit outside the local supermarkets and I do quite a bit of shopping there. I’m autistic too so social situations aren’t my strong point, so any advice would be appreciated!

To multicultural, mixed, and bilingual families. Kudos.
My wife (35f) is from Mexico and I (35m) am from the USA. We have 3 beautiful children, live in the suburbs of Philadelphia, USA, and have been married for almost 9 years. It’s been a helluva journey. After dating for 18 months, we were married legally (within 3 weeks of engagement) and then did the full wedding/reception 6 months later.
My wife is brown and I am white. Our kids are white. There are a lot of things I wasn’t prepared for and I wanted to share because I wish someone would have told me. While I am not an immigrant - I live with/am in love with one. It’s been a long journey with a lot of listening, changes, and sacrifice. Here are some things I wish I was told.

1. Holidays are not the same in other countries...and they can be tough. Why would this be important?? Because so many good memories come from holidays. Who knew that Children’s Day, Grandparents Day, Day of the Dead, Mexican Independence Day (not Cinco de Mayo), and Las Posadas (early-late Dec) were such a big deal?? Just like July 4th or other American holidays - these are cultural staples! Not being able to celebrate a holiday fully can be difficult for someone from another country. They also don’t have an attachment to our holidays so they don’t know the nuances of each holiday like we do. This can be overwhelming because most people want to “get it right” with their in-laws, especially at the beginning of a marriage.
2. Being an immigrant takes a toll on mental health. It can be lonely. I wish I would have known how helpful therapy could have been for both of us in that transition. Mental health is a pretty taboo topic in Mexico. The “machismo” culture is strong but is slowly beginning to change. My wife has no family living in the states but we see her parents at least every 3-6 months (whether we travel or they travel). It’s harder to see friends because it is expensive to travel so often. Maintaining relationships can be very challenging especially with 3 kids and both of us running our own businesses. Also, traveling with 3 kids is both draining and expensive!
3. Co-Parenting with two different cultures and languages is humbling. We all have cultural and family baggage. But man…I was not ready for this! Juggling both cultures/languages in a family can be challenging. My Spanish is ok (allllllways working on it). My wife’s English is fantastic. She speaks mostly Spanish to our kids regardless of where we are. I’ve seen first hand how much more of an effort she has to put into her culture than I do. Our kids are learning my culture without me saying a thing. My wife has to try and teach our kids about her culture at every moment she gets (I help too!).
4. Racism is a constant reality. My wife is native looking and has 3 white children. She is often thought to be the nanny/au pair and has to worry about way more than I do when navigating normal life. Speaking Spanish to 3 white children in public is also something that makes them stick out, especially in a white area. My dad asked me if my wife was legal when we first started dating. At the time it didn’t really register with me as potentially racist (over 10 years ago) but now I realize how ignorant a question like that can be. Sure, if someone is undocumented there can be some difficulties. But is that really important enough to be one of the first things discussed? Does that change how you would treat them?
5. I hear the phrase, “It’s so great that you’re teaching your kids another language! I wish I spoke another language.” My Spanish is not that great but I have been able to help Spanish speakers who are having trouble communicating with others (in supermarkets, CVS…etc). I’ve also been to Mexico at least 15 times and not in touristy areas. I guess the biggest part is actually trying to communicate and learn. Language learning is a part of American culture that we have not prioritized. Many children from other countries are learning two languages at an early age and yet this has not changed in the US. The data is pretty conclusive that learning multiple languages is amazing for our brains.
6. Extended families may not understand what you’re going through. All marriages have their difficulties and extended families can be tough regardless. But a different culture and language can add different challenges. I’ve also come to realize that Americans don’t know much about other cultures unless they’ve experienced them. My wife knew surprisingly more about the US than I did about Mexico (shocker). The most difficult part has been a broken relationship with my parents, mainly my mother. My wife and my mother do not have a great relationship. It has been a very long 4-5 years of getting to a point of stability and it affected my entire extended family. While the door is open for my mother to be a part of our lives, she doesn’t try. I had a very close relationship with my mother and I had hoped that her desire to be near her grandkids would help her to change. But that hasn’t happened and we don’t see my parents nearly as frequently as most would expect. Religion also plays a role in this (my mother is very Catholic and my wife/nuclear family are not). There is definitely some negative bias from this even though most of my siblings are no longer Catholic.

I know that I can only speak to what I’ve experienced and others may have not had these issues in a mixed family. My biggest hope is to find a way to bring others together and not separate. Learning about others/cultures can only help to build bridges (even if we are constantly seeing the opposite in politics/media). Thanks for letting me rant, Reddit. I hope this helps at least one person who is considering a mixed/multicultural/bilingual marriage.

This is my first time dealing with a Karen (well a Male Karen) (I will call the male Karen ‘Kevin’)
Characters. Harry - Me
ER (Entitled Roommate) Kevin
(Disclaimer this story and the situation what this male Karen did may shock you,).
Let’s begin. I had just moved into a new share house back in February of this year, I had quite a lot of stuff to move in for example I had a lot of university books, a tv, my bed and a bar fridge), I am a university student (Estoy estudiando Español para la universidad) my major is Spanish. I also have a ocd disorder and depression which can trigger due to trauma.
Upon meeting my new house mates they were such a delight a few even helped me moved in also helping me to get a very heavy bar fridge through the front door. Now this is where Kevin enters the scene it was around 6pm and I was still moving stuff in (mostly the large furniture) so I had to prop the front door open so I could get my desk in. After I got my desk in through my room I see this man standing in the hall way looking at me, he said to me “why is this the front door opened” so I explained to him “oh, Hi I am just getting a few more things to move in it shouldn’t be much longer…” but before I could finish Kevin just kicked the door stop out and said “I Don’t Care! Keep the F**king door closed” and then he stormed off. I am in shock I had just moved in and this guy just had a go at me for no reason so I said something under my breath (Spanish Swear Word) so he couldn’t hear or understand it and I carried on moving my stuff in. Here is where Kevin really shines it was around 3am and I could hear someone coughing, loudly. It was Kevin now I know coughing can’t be helped so I let it go despite it was self inflicted because he smoked like a chimney there was even a whole jar of cigarette ashes on the outside table filled to the top of the jar. This went on for every morning at 3am, I would hear his coughing but what pissed me off the most he would also have his phone on (without headphones) at 3 to 4am playing YouTube videos and they were loud, the people upstairs could hear them but no one said anything and neither did I.
So around about 8am I am getting ready for university and I am tired from lack of sleep, then Lo and behold Kevin is at my door again, he looks at me and says “You there!, stop banging the front door, I work” and then he left. (I have to mention the doors tend to stick to the door frames due to a storms we had recently in February, the doors are made out of wood, you had to force them open and force them closed unfortunately) So he had the audacity to lecture me about noise while he kept everyone else awake at 3am. I didn’t keep quiet I said “Well don’t be up so late at 3am keeping everyone else awake” at this point he called me a (homophobic slur) and walked off. Now I am gay and I have zero tolerance for homophobia so I just shouted out “eff you” and then I left.
Plus Kevin was a total pig, every morning I would wake up and go to the bathroom and the sink reeked with vomit and the toilet was covered in piss and it was not flushed, I knew it was Kevin because I could hear him coughing in there an hour ago. Annoyed I had to wait for the building cleaners clean it up.
At 4pm I needed to shave my face, and after I cleaned the hair from the sink and made sure there was nothing in the sink but suddenly Kevin approached me and said “You dirty pig, the sink is dirty” now I looked at the sink there was no hair at all in the sink, nothing but Kevin just wanted to complain even more to cause trouble but I said to him and stood my ground “Okay dude, You left the bathroom sink reeking with vomit and you didn’t flush or aim from for that matter, you’re the pig” and I went back into my room not before flipping Kevin off and said to him a few curse words in Spanish.
Here is where Kevin really crossed the line with me. Because it’s a share house we had to share the same bathroom just like a hotel and motel and after I was done using the bathroom I opened the door and there he was, he was waiting other side of the bathroom door and he said to me “you need to lift lid up when you use the toilet, I heard you in…” now I was shocked to hear this, Kevin was listening in on me when I went to the bathroom and he openly admitted it. I said to him “First of I am not your slave, second you sick pervert listen in on me again when I am using the toilet and I will have you reported to the landlords and the police, got it” now this is where Kevin backed off but it didn’t last long.
During three weeks I couldn’t leave my room because I didn’t want to deal with him, he even tried to prevent me from going to university and he succeeded because he wouldn’t let me leave my own room because he was standing outside my door. This went on until March 29th and I finally moved out but I wanted revenge because when I was trapped like that where I couldn’t go to the bathroom or go out to buy food from the supermarket and because of him my academic performance at uni also suffered due to my anxiety issues.
I finally managed to find a new place and my mum even offered to help me move. So once everything was out of my old room into a new one at a new share house. I went into the backyard of my old place and grabbed the jar of cigarette ashes and threw it all over Kevin’s nice clean laundry and I also left the toilet seat down as I left. To add insult to injury, I also filled up his work boots with the cigarette ashes and pour water in them.
Am I the jerk for wrecking his work boots?

(owing to the reddit character limit, I'm posting this in two parts, but it's one contiguous story)
There are instincts that you develop when you’re a parent. If you don’t have any children it might be a little hard to understand. If you have a toddler, for example, and they’re in the other room and silent for more than a few seconds, there’s a good chance they’re up to no good. I take that back, most of the time they’re doing nothing, but you still have to check. You feel a compulsion to check. I don’t think it’s a learned skill, I think it’s an actual instinct.
Paleolithic parents who didn’t check on their toddlers every few minutes, just to double check that they weren’t being stalked by smilodons were unlikely to have grandchildren and pass on their genes. You just feel you need to check, like getting goosebumps, a compulsion. I suppose it’s the same reason little kids are always demanding you look at them and what they’re doing.
I think that instinct starts to atrophy as your kids grow. They start learning to do things for themselves, and before you know it, they’re after their own privacy, not your attention. I don’t think it ever goes away though. I expect, decades from now, my own grown kids will visit and bring my grandkids with them. And the second I hear a baby crying in the earliest morning hours, I’ll be alert and ready for anything, sure as any old soldier who hears his name whispered in the dark of night.
I felt that alarm just the other day. First time in years. My boy came home from riding bikes with a couple of his friends. I’m pretty sure they worked out a scam where they asked each of their parents for a different new console for Christmas, and now they spend their weekends traveling between the three houses so they can play on all of them.
We all live in a nice neighborhood. A newer development than the one I grew up in, same town though. It’s the kind of place where kids are always playing in the streets, and the cars all routinely do under 20. My wife and I make sure the kids have helmets and pads, and we’re fine with the boy going out biking with his friends, as long as they stay in the neighborhood.
You know, a lot of people in my generation take some weird sort of pride in how irresponsible we used to be when we were young. I never wore a helmet. Rode to places, without telling any adults, that we never should have ridden to. Me and my friends would make impromptu jumps off of makeshift ramps and try to do stupid tricks, based loosely on stunts we’d seen on TV. Other people my age seem to wax nostalgic for that stuff and pretend it makes them somehow better people. I don’t get it. Sometimes I look back and shudder. We were lucky we escaped with only occasional bruises and road burns. It could have gone so much worse.
My son and his buddies came bustling in the front door at about 2 PM on a Saturday. They did the usual thing of raiding the kitchen for juice and his mother’s brownies, and I took that as my cue to abandon the television in the living room for my office. I was hardly noticing the chaos, by this point, it was becoming a regular weekend occurrence. But as I was just leaving, I caught something in the chatter. My boy said something about, “... that guy who was following us.”
He hadn’t said it any louder or more clearly than anything else they’d been talking about, all that stuff I’d been filtering out. Yet some deeper core process in my brain stem heard it, interpreted it, then hit the red alert button. My blood ran cold and every hair on my skin stood at attention.
I turned around and asked “Somebody followed you? What are you talking about?” I wasn’t consciously aware of how strict and stern my voice came out, yet when the jovial smiles dropped off of their faces it was apparent that it had been so.
“Huh?” my son said, his voice high-pitched and talking fast, like when he thinks he’s in trouble and needs to explain. “We thought we saw somebody following us. There wasn’t though. We didn’t really see anybody and we’d just spooked ourselves.”
“What did he look like?” I asked.
“Nothing? We really didn’t see anybody! Honest! I just saw something out of the corner of my eye! But there wasn’t really nobody there!”
“Yeah!,” said one of his buds. “Peripheral! Peripheral vision! I thought maybe I saw something too, but when I looked I didn’t see anything. I don’t have my glasses with me, but when I really looked I got a good look and there was nothing.”
The three boys had that semi-smiling but still concerned look that this was only a bizarre misunderstanding, but they were still being very sincere. “Were they in a car?”
“No, Dad, you don’t get it,” my boy continued, “They were small. We thought it was a kid.”
“Yeah,” said the third boy. “We thought maybe it was Tony Taylor’s stupid kid sister shadowing us. Getting close to throwing water balloons. Just cause she did that before.”
“If you didn’t get a good look how did you know it was a kid?”
“Because it was small!” my kid explained, though that wasn’t helping much. “What I mean is, at first I thought it was behind a little bush. It was way too small a bush to hide a grown-up. That’s why we thought it was probably Tony’s sister.”
“But you didn’t actually see Tony’s sister?” I asked.
“Nah,” said one of his buds. “And now that I think about it, that bush was probably too small for his sister too. It would have been silly. Like when a cartoon character hides behind a tiny object.”
“That’s why we think it was just in our heads,” explained the other boy, “That and the pole.”
“Yeah,” my son said. “The park on 14th and Taylor?” That was just a little community park, a single city block. Had a playground, lawn, a few trees, and some benches. “Anyway, we were riding past that, took a right on Taylor. And we were talking about how weird it would be if somebody really were following us. That’s when Brian thought he saw something. Behind a telephone pole.”
“I didn’t get a good look at it either,” the friend, Brian, “explained. Just thought I did. Know how you get up late at night to use the bathroom or whatever and you look down the hallway and you see a jacket or an office chair or something and because your eyes haven’t adjusted you think you see a ghost or burglar or something? Anyway, I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned there wasn’t anything there.”
“Yeah, it was just like sometimes that happens, except this time it happened twice on the same bike ride, is all,” the other friend explained.
“And you’re sure there was nothing there?”
“Sure we’re sure,” my boy said. “We know because that time we checked. We each rode our bikes around the pole and there was nothing. Honest!”
“Hmmm,” I said. The whole thing seemed reasonable and nothing to be concerned about, you’d think.. The boys seemed to relax at my supposed acceptance. “Alright, sounds good. Hey, just let me know before you leave the house again, alright?” They all rushed to seem agreeable as I left the room, then quickly resumed their snacking and preceded to play their games.
I kept my ear out, just in case. My boy, at least this time, dutifully told me his friends were about to leave. He wasn’t very happy with me when I said they wouldn’t be riding home on their bikes, I was going to drive them home. The other boys didn’t complain, but I suppose it wasn’t their place, so my boy did the advocating for them, which I promptly ignored. I hate doing that, ignoring my kid’s talkback. My dad was the same way. It didn’t help that I struggled to get both of their bikes in the trunk, and it was a pain to get them back out again. My boy sulked in the front seat on the short ride back home. Arms folded on chest, eyes staring straight ahead, that lip thing they do. He seemed embarrassed for having what he thought was an over-protective parent. I suppose he was angry at me as well for acting, as far as he knew, irrationally. Maybe he thought he was being punished for some infraction he didn’t understand.
Well, it only got worse when we got home. I told him he wasn’t allowed to go out alone on his bike anymore. I’d only had to do that once before, when he was grounded, and back then he’d known exactly what he’d done wrong and he had it coming. Now? Well, he was confused, furious, maybe betrayed, probably a little brokenhearted? I can’t blame him. He tramped upstairs to his room to await the return of his mother, who was certain to give a sympathetic ear. I can’t imagine how upset he’ll be if he checks the garage tomorrow and finds I’ve removed his tires, just in case.
I wish I could explain it to him. I don’t even know how.
Where should I even begin? The town?
When I was about my son’s age I had just seen that movie, The Goonies. It had just come out in theaters. I really liked that movie, felt a strong connection. A lot of people do, can’t blame them, sort of a timeless classic. Except I wasn’t really into pirate’s treasure or the Fratellis, what really made me connect was a simple single shot, still in the first act. It’s right after they cross the threshold, and leave the house on their adventure. It was a shot of the boys, from above, maybe a crane shot or a helicopter shot, as they’re riding their bikes down a narrow forested lane, great big evergreen trees densely growing on the side of the road, they’re all wearing raincoats and the road is still wet from recent rain.
That was my childhood. I’ve spent my whole life in the Pacific Northwest. People talk to outsiders about the rain, and they might picture a lot of rainfall, but it’s not the volume, it’s the duration. We don’t get so much rain, it just drizzles slowly, on and on, for maybe eight or nine months out of the year. It doesn’t matter where I am, inside a house, traveling far abroad, anywhere I am I can close my eyes and still smell the air on a chilly afternoon, playing outdoors with my friends.
It’s not petrichor, that sudden intense smell you get when it first starts to rain after a long dry spell. No, this was almost the opposite, a clean smell, almost the opposite of a scent, since the rain seemed to scrub the air clean. The strongest scent and I mean that in the loosest sense possible, must have been the evergreen needles. Not pine needles, those were too strong, and there weren’t that many pines anyway. Douglas fir and red cedar predominated, again the root ‘domination’ seems hyperbole. Yet those scents were there, ephemeral as it is. Also, there was a sort of pleasant dirtiness to the smell, at least when you rode bikes. It wasn’t dirt, or mud, or dust. Dust couldn’t have existed except perhaps for a few fleeting weeks in August. I think, looking back, it was the mud puddles. All the potholes in all the asphalt suburban roads would fill up after rain with water the color of chocolate milk. We’d swerve our BMX bikes, or the knock-off brands, all the way across the street just to splash through those puddles and test our “suspensions.,” meaning our ankles and knees. The smell was always stronger after that. It had an earthiness to it. Perhaps it was petrichor’s lesser-known watery cousin.
There were other sensations too, permanently seared into my brain like grill marks. A constant chilliness that was easy to ignore, until you started working up a good heart rate on your bike, then you noticed your lungs were so cold it felt like burning. The sound of your tires on the wet pavement, particularly when careening downhill at high speed. For some reason, people in the mid-80s used to like to decorate their front porches with cheap, polyester windsocks. They were often vividly colored, usually rainbow, like prototype pride flags. When an occasional wind stirred up enough to gust, the windsocks would flap, and owning to the water-soaked polyester, make a wet slapping sound. It was loud, it was distinct, but you learned to ignore it as part of the background, along with the cawing of crows and distant passing cars.
That was my perception of Farmingham as a kid. The town itself? Just a typical Pacific Northwest town. That might not mean much for younger people or modern visitors, but there was a time when such towns were all the same. They were logging towns. It was the greatest resource of the area from the late 19th century, right up until about the 80s, when the whole thing collapsed. Portland, Seattle, they had a few things going on beyond just the timber industry, but all the hundreds of little towns and small cities revolved around logging, and my town was no exception.
I remember going to the museum. It had free admission, and it was a popular field trip destination for the local school system. It used to be the City Hall, a weird Queen Anne-style construction. Imagine a big Victorian house, but blown up to absurd proportions, and with all sorts of superfluous decorations. Made out of local timber, of course. They had a hall for art, I can’t even remember why, now. Maybe they were local artists. I only remember paintings of sailboats and topless women, which was a rare sight for a kid at the time. There was a hall filled with 19th-century household artifacts. Chamber pots and weird children's toys.
Then there was the logging section, which was the bulk of the museum. It’s strange how different things seemed to be in the early days of the logging industry, despite being only about a hundred years old, from my perspective in the 1980s. If you look back a hundred years from today, in the 1920s, you had automobiles, airplanes, electrical appliances, jazz music, radio programs, flappers, it doesn’t feel that far removed, does it? No TV, no internet, but it wouldn’t be that strange. 1880s? Different world.
Imagine red cedars, so big you could have a full logging crew, arms stretched out, just barely manage to encircle one for a photographer. Felling a single tree was the work of days. Men could rest and eat their lunches in the shelter of a cut made into a trunk, and not worry for safety or room. They had to cut their own little platforms into the trees many feet off the ground, just so the trunk was a little bit thinner, and thus hours of labor saved. They used those long, flexible two-man saws. And double-bit axes. They worked in the gloom of the shade with old gas lanterns. Once cut down from massive logs thirty feet in diameter, they’d float the logs downhill in sluices, like primitive wooden make-shift water slides. Or they’d haul them down to the nearest river, the logs pulled by donkeys on corduroy roads. They’d lay large amounts of grease on the roads, so the logs would slide easily. You could still smell the grease on the old tools on display in the museum. The bigger towns had streets where the loggers would slide the logs down greased skids all the way down to the sea, where they’d float in big logjams until the mills were ready for processing. They’d call such roads “skid-rows.” Because of all the activity, they’d end up being the worst parts of town. Local citizens wouldn’t want to live there, due to all the stink and noise. They’d be on the other side of the brothels and the opium dens. It would be the sort of place where the destitute and the insane would find themselves when they’d finally lost anything. To this day, “skidrow” remains a euphemism for the part of a city where the homeless encamp.
That was the lore I’d learned as a child. That was my “ancestry” I was supposed to respect and admire, which I did, wholeheartedly. There were things they left out, though. Things that you might have suspected, from a naive perspective, would be perfect for kids, all the folklore that came with the logging industry. The ghost stories, and the tall tales. I would have eaten that up. They do talk about that kind of thing in places far removed from the Pacific Northwest. But I had never heard about any of it. Things like the Hidebehind. No, that I’d have to discover for myself.
There were four of us on those bike adventures. Myself. Ralph, my best friend. A tough guy, the bad boy, the most worldly of us, which is a strange thing to say about an eight-year-old kid. India, an archetypal ‘80s tomboy. She was the coolest person I knew at the time. Looking back, I wonder what her home life was like. I think I remember problematic warning signs that I couldn’t have recognized when I was so young, but now raise flags. Then there was Ben. A goofy kid, a wild mop of hair, coke bottle glasses, type 1 diabetic which seemed to make him both a bit pampered by his mother, who was in charge of all his insulin, diet, and schedule, and conversely a real risk taker when she wasn’t around.
When we first saw it…
No, wait. This was the problem with starting the story. Where does it all begin? I’ll need to talk about my Grandfather as well. I’ve had two different perspectives on my Grandfather, on the man that he was. The first was the healthy able-bodied grandparent I’d known as a young child. Then there was the man, as I learned about him after he had passed.
There was a middle period, from when I was 6 to when I was 16, when I hardly understood him at all, as he was hit with a double whammy of both Parkinson’s and Alzheimer's. His decline into an invalid was both steep and long drawn out. That part didn’t reflect who he was as a person.
What did I know of him when I was little? Well I knew he and my grandmother had a nice big house and some farmland, out in the broad flat valley north of Farmingham. Dairy country. It had been settled by Dutch immigrants back in the homesteading days. His family had been among the first pioneers in the county too. It didn’t register to me then that his surname was Norwegian, not Dutch. I knew he had served in the Navy in World War II, which I was immensely proud of for reasons I didn’t know why. I knew he had a job as a butcher in a nearby rural supermarket. He was a bit of a farmer too, more as a hobby and a side gig. He had a few cattle, but mostly grew and harvested hay to sell to the local dairies. I knew he had turned his garage into a machine shop, and could fix damn near anything. From the flat tires on my bicycle to the old flat-bed truck he’d haul hay with, to an old 1950s riding lawnmower he somehow managed to keep in working order. I knew he could draw a really cool cartoon cowboy, I knew he loved to watch football, and I knew the whiskers on his chin were very pokey, and they’d tickle you when he kissed you on the cheek, and that when you tried to rub the sensation away he’d laugh and laugh and laugh.
Then there were the parts of his life that I’d learn much later. Mostly from odd passing comments from relatives, or things I’d find in the public records. Like how he’d been a better grandfather than a father. Or how his life as I knew it had been a second, better life. He’d been born among the Norwegian settler community, way up in the deep, dark, forest-shrouded hills that rimmed the valley. He’d been a logger in his youth. Technologically he was only a generation or two from the ones I’d learned about in the museum. They’d replaced donkeys with diesel engines and corduroy roads with narrow gauge rail. It was still the same job, though. Dirty, dangerous, dark. Way back into those woods, living in little logging camps, civilization was always a several-day hike out. It became a vulgar sort of profession, filled with violent men, reprobates, and thieves. When my grandfather’s father was murdered on his front porch by a lunatic claiming he’d been wronged somehow, my grandfather hiked out of there, got into town, and joined the Navy. He vowed never to go back. The things he’d seen out in those woods were no good. He’d kept that existence away from me. Anyways…
Tommy Barker was the first of us to go missing. I say ‘us’ as if I knew him personally. I didn’t. He went to Farmingham Middle School, other side of town, and several grades above us. From our perspective, he may as well have been an adult living overseas.
Yet it felt like we got to know him. His face was everywhere, on TV, all over telephone poles. Everybody was talking about him. After he didn’t return from a friend’s house, everybody just sort of assumed, or maybe hoped, that he’d just gotten lost, or was trapped somewhere. They searched all the parks. Backyards, junkyards, refrigerators, trunks. Old-fashioned refrigerators, back before suction seals, had a simple handle with a latch that opened when you pulled on it. It wasn’t a problem when the fridges were in use and filled with food. But by the 80s old broke-down refrigerators started filling up backyards and junkyards, and they became deathtraps for kids playing hide-and-seek. The only opened from the outside. I remember thinking Tommy Barker was a little old to have likely been playing hide-and-seek, but people checked everywhere anyway. They never found him.
That was about the first time we saw the Hidebehind. Ben said he thought he saw somebody following us, looked like, maybe, a kid. We’d just slowly huffed our way up a moderately steep hill, Farmingham is full of them, and when we paused for a breather at the top, Ben said he saw it down the hill, closer to the base. Yet when we turned to look there was nothing there. Ben said he’d just seen it duck behind a car. That wasn’t the sort of behavior of a random kid minding his own business. Yet the slope afforded us a view under the car’s carriage, and except for the four tires, there were no signs of any feet hiding behind the body. At first, we thought he was pulling our leg. When he insisted he wasn’t, we started to tease him a little. He must have been seeing things, on account of his poor vision and thick glasses. The fact that those glasses afforded him vision as good as or better than any of us wasn’t something we considered.
The next person to disappear was Amy Brooks. Fifth-grader. Next elementary school over. I remember it feeling like when you’re traveling down the freeway, and there’s a big thunderstorm way down the road, but it keeps getting closer, and closer. I don’t remember what she looked like. Her face wasn’t plastered everywhere like Tommy’s had been. She was mentioned on the regional news, out of Seattle, her and Tommy together. Two missing kids from the same town in a short amount of time. The implication was as obvious as it was depraved. They didn’t think the kids were getting lost anymore. They didn’t do very much searching of backyards. The narratives changed too. Teachers started talking a lot about stranger danger. Local TV channels started recycling old After School Specials and public service announcements about the subject.
I’m not sure who saw it next. I think it was Ben again. We took him seriously this time though. I think. The one I’m sure I remember was soon after, and that time it was India who first saw it. It’s still crystal clear in my memory, almost forty years later, because that was the time I first saw it too. We were riding through a four-way stop, an Idaho Stop before they called it that, when India slammed to a stop, locking up her coaster brakes and leaving a long black streak of rubber on a dry patch of pavement. We stopped quickly after and asked what the problem was. We could tell by her face she’d seen it. She was still looking at it.
“I see it,” she whispered, unnecessarily. We all followed her gaze. We were looking, I don’t know, ten seconds? Twenty? We believed everything she said, we just couldn’t see it.
“Where?” Ralph asked.
“Four blocks down,” she whispered. “On the left. See the red car? Kinda rusty?” There was indeed a big old Lincoln Continental, looking pretty ratty and worn. I focused on that, still seeing nothing. “Past that, just to its right. See the street light pole? It’s just behind that.”
We also saw the pole she was talking about. Metal. Aluminum, I’d have guessed. It had different color patches, like metallic flakeboard. Like it’d had been melted together out of scrap.
I could see that clearly even from that distance. I saw nothing behind it. I could see plenty of other things in the background, cars, houses, bushes, front lawns, beauty bark landscape.. There was no indication of anything behind that pole.
And then it moved. It had been right there where she said it had been, yet it had somehow perfectly blended into the landscape, a trick of perspective. We didn’t see it at all until it moved, and almost as fast it had disappeared behind that light pole. We only got a hint. Brown in color, about our height in size.
We screamed. Short little startled screams, the involuntary sort that just burst out of you. Then we turned and started to pedal like mad, thoroughly spooked. We made it to the intersection of the next block when it was Ralph who screeched to a halt and shouted, “Wait!”
We slowed down and stopped, perhaps not as eagerly as we’d done when India yelled. Ralph was looking back over his shoulder, looking at that metal pole. “Did anybody see it move again?’ he asked. We all shook our heads in the negative. Ralph didn’t notice, but of course, he didn’t really need an answer, of course we hadn’t been watching.
“If it didn’t move, then it’s still there!” Ralph explained the obvious. It took a second to sink in, despite the obvious. “C’mon!” he shouted, and to our surprise, before we could react, he turned and took off, straight down the road, straight to where that thing had been lurking.
We were incredulous, but something about his order made us all follow hot on his heels. He was a sort of natural leader. I thought it was total foolishness, but I wasn’t going to let him go alone. I think I got out, “Are you crazy?!”
The wind was blowing hard past our faces as we raced as fast as we could, it made it hard to hear. Ralph shouted his response. “If it’s hiding that means its afraid!” That seemed reasonable, if not totally accurate. Lions hide from their prey before they attack. Then again, they don’t wait around when the whole herd charges. Really, the pole was coming up so fast there wasn’t a whole lot of time to argue. “Just blast past and look!” Ralph added. “We’re too fast! It won’t catch us.”
Sure, I thought to myself. Except maybe Ben, who always lagged behind the rest of us in a race. The lion would get Ben if any of us.
We rushed past that pole and all turned our heads to look. “See!” Ralph shouted in triumph. There was simply nothing there. A metal streetlight pole and nothing more. We stopped pedaling yet still sped on. “Hang on,” Ralph said, and at the next intersection he took a fast looping curve that threatened to crash us all, but we managed and curved behind him. We all came to the pole again where we stopped to see up close that there was nothing there, despite what we had seen moments before.
“Maybe it bilocated,” Ben offered. We groaned. We were all thinking it, but I think we were dismissive because it wasn’t as cool a word as ‘teleport.”
“Maybe it just moved when we weren’t looking,” I offered. That hadn’t been long, but that didn’t mean anything if it moved fast. The four of us slowly looked up from the base of the pole to our immediate surroundings. There were bushes. A car in a carport covered by a tarpaulin. The carport itself. Garbage cans. Stumps. Of course the ever-present trees. Whatever it was it could have been hiding behind anything. Maybe it was. We looked. Maybe it would make itself seen. None of us wanted that. “OK, let’s get going,” Ralph said, and we did so.
I got home feeling pretty shaken that afternoon. I felt safe at home. Except for the front room, which had a big bay window looking out onto the street, and the people who lived across it. There were plenty of garbage cans and telephone poles and stumps that a small, fast thing might hide behind. No, I felt more comfortable in my bedroom. There was a window, but a great thick conical cypress tree grew right in front of it, reaching way up over the roof of the house. If anything, it offered ME a place to hide, and peer out onto the street to either side of the tree. It was protective, as good as any heavy blanket.