https://thewest.com.au/sport/peel-thunder-football-club/wafl-2023-sebit-kuek-putting-hand-up-to-cover-for-injured-star-sean-darcy-c-10884454
Fremantle forward Sebit Kuek believes he can help the Dockers cover for the absence of injured ruckman Sean Darcy.
Forwards Jye Amiss, Josh Treacy, and Luke Jackson have all found form during the club’s four-game winning streak, but a spot in front of goals may become available with Jackson set to spend more time in the ruck due to Darcy’s “moderate” hamstring injury.
The high-leaping Kuek, who was taken out of East Perth in last year’s mid-season draft, said he was ready for the step up to AFL level.
“I can see myself breaking into the team,” he said.
“It’s just opportunity. The boys are going well right now. When it’s my turn, I’ll be up and ready to go.
“I’ve got really good coaching. (Development coach) Adam Read and the boys, they’ve got me to the point where I really know the game plan.”
Kuek has kicked 13 goals in eight WAFL games for Peel this year, including a bag of four against Perth in round two and hauls of three against West Coast and West Perth in rounds six and seven respectively.
The 22-year-old said he had improved greatly over his 12 months with the Dockers.
“Bringing consistency each and every week is something I’ve been working on,” Kuek said.
“It’s just about bringing effort each week and grinding away.
“Sometimes things don’t play out the way I want but there’s always next week, that’s footy.”
Kuek is one of several key position options to come in for the hamstrung Darcy, with recruit Josh Corbett and big-bodied ruckman Liam Reidy also performing strongly at the lower level.

Here is my quantitative analysis for Weis Markets, Inc. ($WMK).

Snapshot for Weis Markets, Inc.

Sector: Consumer Non-Cyclicals
Industry: Food and Beverage Retail
Country: USA
Current Price: $62.93
Weis Markets, Inc. is engaged principally in the retail sale of food in Pennsylvania and surrounding states. The Company’s retail food stores sell groceries, dairy products, frozen foods, meats, seafood, fresh produce, floral, pharmacy services, deli products, prepared foods, bakery products, beer, and wine, fuel, and general merchandise items, such as health and beauty care and household products. The store product selection includes national, local, and private brands, including natural, gluten-free, and organic varieties. The Company operated over three stores in Delaware, approximately 49 stores in Maryland, over six stores in New Jersey, about nine stores in New York, over 118 stores in Pennsylvania, about nine stores in Virginia, and over three stores in West Virginia, for a total of approximately 197 retail food stores operating under the Weis Markets trade name. The Company owns and operates distribution centers in Milton and Northumberland, Pennsylvania.

Financial Health for Weis Markets, Inc.

Altman Z-Score: 5.63
Financial Health: SAFE

Revenue Analysis for Weis Markets, Inc.

Regressed Revenue Growth: 7.32%
Future Revenue Growth: 7.88%
Based on historical valuations and revenue, the present value for Weis Markets, Inc. is:

• Bearish Case: $62.42
• Bullish Case: $93.98

​
Revenue Growth

Income Analysis for Weis Markets, Inc.

Regressed Net Income Growth: 29.52%
Future Net Income Growth: 39.25%
Based on historical valuations and net income, the present value for Weis Markets, Inc. is:

• Bearish Case: $101.62
• Bullish Case: $188.10

​
Earnings Growth

Free Cash Flow Analysis for Weis Markets, Inc.

Cost of Equity: 6.60%
Weighted Average Cost of Capital: 6.38%
Based on sensitivity analysis, the fair value for Weis Markets, Inc. is:

• Bearish Case: $131.10
• Bullish Case: $200.56

​
Free Cash Flow Growth

Dividend Analysis for Weis Markets, Inc.

Current Yield: 2.16%
Historical Yield: 2.40%
Regressed Dividend Growth: 2.07%
Future Dividend Growth: 10.66%
Based on historical dividends, the fair value for Weis Markets, Inc. is: $80.23
​
Dividend Growth

Final Ratings for Weis Markets, Inc.

• Growth Rating: 5-Star
• Income Rating: 5-Star

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When I was nine, I found the woods.
Now, I know that doesn’t seem too impressive at first.
The thing is, I think I was the only one who could see them.
I toddled over after church on Sunday, still wearing the pink bows in my hair and carefully skipping over any patch of earth that wasn’t covered in grass so I wouldn’t stain my Sunday shoes.
There was a large field near where I lived that my mother deemed safe enough for me to play in with all the other neighborhood kids. It wasn’t a playground by any means, just a vast stretch of land that never sprouted anything worth picking. I was alone that Sunday, walking around the dead field until I could barely make out the wavering smudge of my house in the afternoon heat.
I regret it now, but at the time, I decided to slip under the barbed wire fence and run off, hoping to find something pretty. I wanted a sunflower for my hair.
That’s when I found the woods. I didn’t even realize there was anything out there; I lived in the last house on the block, and from there it just stemmed out into that empty field. No one ever mentioned the woods, not even the adults as a warning not to go in.
Obviously, I went in.
The trees were black and gnarly, with thick knobs and protruding roots so overgrown, they reminded me of bony fingers with too many knuckles. Crisp leaves in all shades of brown littered the floor, and I loved the satisfying crackle underneath my Sunday shoes as I explored.
Looking back, I don’t know what it was about the woods, but I was captivated. I was running through the trees, making tremendous leaps over streams, and just playing like the child I was. It felt like I was in another world when I looked up at the canopy of leaves and branches, sunlight glittering through the green.
It felt like minutes, no more than an hour at most, before I noticed the sky was ripe and orange. The sun was setting already.
I sucked on my teeth before sighing. Sundown meant going home. I made my way toward the direction I came in when a wispy breeze fluttered over my body, lifting the lace ends of my dress and sending my hair flying off my shoulders.
I shuddered, but kept walking.
I made it home just as my mother stepped out on to the porch to yell for me.
“Oh, there you are, Faith. Come insi—where is your bow? Little girl, I told you to change before you went playing in the field in your Sunday clothes!”
I reached into my hair and realized she was right, I was missing one of the ribbons meant to be tied around my plaits.
“I wasn’t in the field, I—“
“Hush now, I don’t care for excuses. Go on inside and I’ll run your bath.” She tsked, shoving me inside with a rough hand on my back.
The next morning, I spoke to Jeremy at the bus stop. He was my neighbor.
“Jeremy, why haven’t you ever shown me the woods?” I asked.
“What woods?”
“The woods past the field. Don’t play stupid.”
“I ain’t playing stupid. I never seen no woods, and I lived here twice as long as you. You’re stupid.”
“I am not, Jeremy! The woods are over there,” I pointed past the field. “And I’ll prove it to you after school.”
“Fine, bighead, let’s see.”
The entire day I was antsy. Finally, we sat together on the bus ride home and I knew I would be proven right.
We dumped our backpacks and lunchboxes on my porch and marched through the field. When we got to the fence, he hesitated.
“My momma says not to go past the fence because then she can’t see me.”
“Oh, you chicken, then?”
“Shut up,” he said. He looked back towards the neighborhood before rolling under the fence. I followed, ducking beneath the wire.
I led the way, the same way as I had taken yesterday.
Only this time, I couldn’t find the woods. We must have walked for ten minutes before Jeremy spoke.
“I don’t know why I believed you. You’re just a liar. I knew there wasn’t no woods.”
“There is too! You don’t know nothing.”
“Wasting my time for this… Loony, you are. I’m going home before my momma starts whining.” He turned around and I watched him until he went under the barbed wire fence again.
Where were the woods? It didn’t make sense.
I felt a cold wind wash over me, prickling at my skin. I rubbed at my arms and looked up.
My bow!
It had become undone and was just a pink ribbon gliding through the air. I chased after it, but random bursts of wind kept it out of my reach. I spun in circles and scuffed my shoes and knees as I hurried, my eyes ignoring the ground.
It finally smacked against a tree, and I realized I was at the woods once again. I grabbed my ribbon and shoved it in my skirt pocket, distrustful eyes scanning my surroundings. I could still see the edge of the field, so I hadn’t gone far, but it didn’t make sense. Why weren’t the woods this easy to find with Jeremy?
I raced inside anyway, gleefully crushing hard leaves under my feet. This time, I started kicking together piles of them in a path, jumping from stack to stack and relishing in the experience.
As I peered past the black trunks of the trees, I realized it was sunset. But that couldn’t be true, school had just ended half an hour ago. I hadn’t even had supper yet.
I backed out of the woods and when I blinked, the sun was back up, shining down brightly on me. I went back inside, examining the stark difference in the sky. When I looked to the left, outside the woods and into the open, it was sunshine. When I looked to the right, into the depths of forest, the sun cascaded yellow and orange through the dark, black trunks, just like a sunset.
I went back every day that week, and every day it was the same. It was always sunset in the woods, no matter if I went in the morning or afternoon. It was strange waking up on Saturday mornings and spending hours watching the sun frozen halfway down the horizon.
After about a month of spending nearly every day in the woods, I heard a laugh.
I think it was a laugh.
The sound was a whisper in the air and I could feel it gusting around me.
“Hello?” I called out.
Silence, just for a beat.
A round of giggles came from behind a nearby tree, but I couldn’t identify which one. It sounded like it was surrounding me. It was a guess, but I assumed it was little girl laughter. I had always wanted girl friends, so a spark of excitement shook through me.
“Hey, come on out!”
She didn’t say anything, but I heard footsteps take off and I bolted after them.
There was no path of shoes in the dirt, no overturned leaves being kicked through, nothing but the faint ghost of a breathless laugh.
“This isn’t funny,” I announced with a deep frown, clutching at my aching side.
The laughter stopped immediately.
I sucked in a deep breath.
My shadow was dark, I noticed. Much darker than it had ever been in the woods. The usually orange sky was fading fast, cold navy overtaking warm citrus colors.
“I’m going home,” I said. I don’t know why I did, I just had to let her know. “Play with me tomorrow.”
“Wait,” a girl’s voice.
I spun in a circle, unceremoniously slipping on some of those crisp leaves. I couldn’t see her.
“What?”
“Wanna see something neat?”
“Who are you,” I asked.
“A girl offering you something one last time. Wanna see something neat or not?”
I stood up and patted my skirt, dusting the dirt off.
“Show me.”
A small hand waved from behind a particularly rotten tree. I grinned and chased after the figure, darkness enveloping any discernible features; she was only a shape running ahead of me. Her voice was youthful and she was no taller than me, and I was not a large child.
We giggled in those little girl laughs as we went further and further in the deep thicket. The sunlight was nearly gone, I could barely make out my own feet as I chased after the girl.
“Where we going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
I groaned.
“Hush, we’re nearly there.”
I rolled my eyes, but obeyed.
“What’s your name?”
“Nearly there now, Faith.”
I slowly stopped myself, fear ebbing its way into my chest for the first time.
As if she felt my pause, she stood as still as the trees, unwavering in the growing winds. Her dress didn’t even flutter with the breeze like my skirt did.
“Why did you stop,” she asked in a strained voice. “Don’tcha wanna see? See the surprise?”
I took a step back, nearly fumbling over a thick root.
“My mother must want me home by now.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“You don’t know my mother.”
“Oh,” she sighed, her head dipping forward, long hair covering her face. “I know a lot more than you, Faith.”
She started laughing as she turned to face me, the soft sound morphing into an unrecognizable cackle.
It was so dark now, I couldn’t see much else but her. Her skin almost glittered, but there wasn’t any moonlight.
“How do you know my name?”
“You told me. You don’t remember?”
I shook my head, and though she wasn’t looking at me, somehow she saw it.
“Faith Brown. You have a bad memory. I told you I know more than you.”
The whistle of sharp gusts of air pierced my ears, her voice barely floating through the sound. My hands were sticky, cold and sticky.
“What’s your name? You know mine.” I asked again.
“You should go on home. Your mommy is really scared right now.” She said it so matter-of-factly, faint but sure.
I hated her voice, I wanted to hit her. I wanted to reach my fists into her long, ugly hair and pull it out of her face so I could spit in it. Never in my life had I ever felt so much vile, abysmal hatred for someone. It frightened me. Most of my thoughts were on my mother, though, so I didn’t pause to reflect on these realizations for too long.
I took off running in the opposite direction, praying I was heading the right way. I was sprinting like the fastest horse on the track, but somehow her laughter was right on my shoulder, cawing loudly inside my brain.
“Bye bye, Faith! Let’s play tomorrow.”
Again, I felt that prickling feeling of disdain. I nearly turned around and chased after her again, just to pummel her.
Instead, I focused on how the clearing was approaching. I ducked my head and let out a shaky breath of relief when I found myself out in the open.
Slowly, tentatively, I peered back at the woods, fully expecting to see her standing there.
It was so dark, I couldn’t see past the first couple of trees. They guarded the entrance, standing like ghouls with long, grotesque branches like bony fingers outstretched to me.
The walk back to the field was brisk; I was on edge, a growing knot weighing in my stomach that I wouldn’t make it home.
I had never been out so late. There wasn’t a cloud above to block moonlight, but even then, the moon was absent. I had no guide home, so I continued to trek in blackness, hoping I would see the streetlights soon.
I wondered if I would see her again—
A crushing grip yanked my shoulder, spinning me around and sending dirt flying as my shoes scraped the ground.
Large, strong hands shook me, and a white light blinded me. I was gone, I was dying in that moment, my soul fled my body.
“Calm down! I need you to stop screaming, honey. Stop, tell me your name.”
I heard a click and the light was much dimmer. I hadn’t realized I screamed at all.
My eyes adjusted, and I noticed the golden glitter of a badge.
“Faith Brown.”
He sighed, genuine relief in the motion.
“Let’s get you home, sweetheart.”
The night passed in a blur. I was holding his hand as we walked through the field. He said several things into the machine on his chest. My street was flashing with red and blue. My mom was smoking a cigarette on the porch. She shouted at me, but I didn’t hear a word until her icy fingers were digging into my arms, clutching me tight against her.
I slept in her bed that night, I think. I didn’t go to school that next Monday. I don’t think I went at all that week.
The next time I felt conscious, grounded back in reality, was when I accidentally pushed the glass of lemonade off the table. Shards went skittering across the kitchen floor, bouncing until they hit the walls.
“Faith!”
“Sorry, mother!” I bent down to start picking up the pieces when my mother grabbed my wrist.
“You dense little girl, don’t touch glass!” She hissed at me before her eyes softened. “Baby girl, it’s dangerous. I’ll clean it up, you — carefully — throw the bag outside. Can you do that?”
I nodded absently.
When my mother wrapped the glass in a towel and secured it in a waste bag, she sent me to the trash cans outside. They were in the backyard.
I hopped down the steps, the feeling of being out of the house already foreign. A breeze nearly made me jump.
Despite the wind being negligible, one of the bins tipped over.
A single brown leaf fell out, gliding through the air and landing right before my feet.
I don’t know how I knew, but it was obvious to me that this lead was from the woods. It fluttered at the ground a bit, the crisp corners pointing past the field, wanting me to follow. It was enticing me, urging me to just obey. I felt a strange pull in my chest, a physical tug that made my shoes scrape against the dirt and inch towards those cursed woods.
I stomped on the leaf, my teeth grinding together as I used my heel to shred it to pieces.
For a while, things seemed to be getting better. The wind didn’t call to me and I stopped having nightmares featuring a black and white figure. The girl. Jeremy even told the older boys to stop teasing me about it all.
I thought it was over.
A month had passed, maybe two. Church had finished and all us neighborhood kids were playing tag in the field. Maybe it was all the others there that made me feel safe enough to go with them.
An older girl from the middle school was it, and I scurried away from her, but I tripped on a long, pointed stick. I skidded to the dirt without an ounce of grace, dust and pebbles digging into my clothes and skin. I picked up the wooden branch and waved it around.
It was like a magnet, zeroing in on one specific direction: directly to the woods. Again, I felt that tug in my bones, my mind blank as I was almost roped in. It felt like my feet weren’t even leaving the ground, just that some unexplainable force was luring me in.
None of the other kids saw me. Or they did and didn’t care. I would rather believe the former.
I blinked.
I was back. I was in there, alone, and the sun was setting fast behind me. Dread coursed through me and I spun around, my grip taut on the stick in my hands. I clutched it to my chest, my heartbeat rising rapidly.
It was getting so dark so fast. It felt as if the blacker it got, the harder it was to breathe. Everything was so, so loud; my ears pounded, my shaky exhales were crashing waves, the rustling trees were windstorms.
The song was excruciating.
I strained my body to focus. The song—this ominous chanting that suddenly began, a crooning chorus of voices was somehow the faintest trace of sound and the most excruciatingly powerful racket possible.
I couldn’t describe it accurately if I tried. The most I could say was that it reminded me of the choir at church, but the emotions it evoked were polar opposites. There was no unified comfort, but an unrelenting hymn, slow and mournful.
With nimble steps, I inched away from the anthem, fearful of the voices stopping at hearing my footsteps.
Bright red lights exploded like fireworks.
I saw them all.
Vaguely, but undeniable. A hoard of people, all just as ghastly white as the first girl, their sinful song louder and closer. Their faces were hidden being long strands of hideous black hair. They all looked the same, a crowd of the same kin.
She stood at the front, closer than all the rest.
The burning in my throat was agonizing, bile threatening to spill out as she lifted her head. Her face, the blankest white I had ever seen, was empty save for two black holes where her eyes should have been, and a carnivorous mouth lined with rows and rows of almost-humanlike teeth.
Her face was flat, no curves or features anywhere but those haunting eyes. They were like craters, dark and empty. Still, I knew they were boring into my soul.
I was petrified. I wanted to run off as fast as I could. I couldn’t do it backwards, but I simply couldn’t look away from the swaying mass of people in front of me. I couldn’t imagine what they would do if I turned around.
I didn’t have time to make a choice on what to do next because she launched into action. She moved like a newborn animal, gangly yet purposeful, and she was heading straight for me.
She couldn’t catch me. That was all I knew.
I bolted, adrenaline carrying me with a strength I’d never have again. I was practically flying through the trees.
They were alive, leaning in and closing the gaps, making it harder for me to dart between them. Their branches scratched and nipped at my face and arms, but I could barely feel it.
“Faith, we need you at the communion!” She screeched behind me, dangerously close.
Her voice was loud, but the song from the crowd was fading. I was getting close to freedom and she knew it.
I heard her pounce and then I was slammed to the ground. Her body was light, but cold enough that where her hands touched me, the skin felt like I was soaking in an ice bath.
I couldn’t breathe, my lungs throbbing inside me. I was beyond afraid, my body acting in autopilot because my mind was mush.
I screamed, a deep, guttural shriek that surprised her. With a swift movement, I stabbed the wooden branch I still held into one of the black craters on her face and she fell back, hissing and howling like a feral creature.
I used the brief moment of distraction to shove the stake in deeper and run. I ran with all my might, the steady pounding in my ears protecting me from whatever curses she screamed after me.
My vision was going dark at the edges, my chest aflame with pricking pain building inside me. I was going down and I knew it, but I could see it then: the edge. With a final burst of speed, I catapulted myself out of the woods and as far as I could get.
I collapsed in the field.
Sometime later, my mother was shaking me to consciousness. I couldn’t move, but I bawled in her arms, scrapes and scratches riddling my body. When they changed me at the hospital, there were deep claw marks on my back.
Within two weeks, we moved. I lost a lot of my childhood. Outside of this period, I can only remember bits and pieces of what should have been joyful times. It took a long time for me to feel safe.
And I did. For a good while, I felt safe. I didn’t think of her or anything that happened for many years, the only reminder my scars on my back and the occasional flash of nightmares.
I was okay.
Until this morning.
My daughter, my darling little girl who gave me hope and a warm feeling of peace just by being near her, was coloring beside me as I finished something on my laptop.
I glanced down to her page and was nine years old again, looking right into the black abyss of two soul-sucking eyes above a sharp, dripping mouth.
“Baby,” I croaked, “baby, who is that?”
“Oh,” my daughter hummed. So blissfully unaware. “She’s a girl I met in the forest yesterday.”
I could feel every painstakingly difficult year of therapy slipping away from me. With a trembling hand, I ripped the page out of her notebook and crumbled it, ignoring her cries of protest.
We live nowhere near a forest. I can hear that song again.

Pictures Show everything that is included with the knife. Every knife has a video.
Yolo takes priority over anything. I'm willing to listen to offers! I am also looking to sell all my knives, not to trade them. I'm hoping to get these all sold!
I'll have these knives shipped out USPS Priority Mail to where they need to go (USA).
Let me know if you have any questions!
Thanks!
Timestamp
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Gavko Thresher

• Specs: S35VN Blade, Titanium Handle (Aqua), 3.6” Blade Length
• Condition: I bought this knife as a collection piece and ended up carrying it once. This knife has never cut, never been sharpened, blade is perfectly centered, 0 blade play. There are a few EXTREMELY small scratches on the scales- I had to use a flashlight to see them and even then I couldn’t tell if it was the finish or a scratch.
• SV: 105

Protech GodFather

• Specs: Maple Burl Inlays, DLC Black Blade, Plain Edge, 154CM Blade Steel, 4” Blade Length
• Condition: This knife has never been used, sharpened, or carried- just collected. The blade snaps out extremely fast. The knife’s DLC has 0 chips or imperfections. On the clip side, the maple burl inlay has a few small marks/scuffs (shown in the video) one is under the clip and two are near the end of the knife. The blade leans a hair towards the show side. There is a VERY small amount of blade play. The knife still feels extremely solid in hand.
• SV:115

Lynch North West Chris Reeve Knives Deep Carry Clip - Model 1

• Specs: This pocket clip is still sealed in the plastic bag it came in. This pocket clip comes with everything- all documents, stickers, pocket clip, etc (see picture). This pocket clip comes with the fade anodization.
• SV: 65

Soque River Knives Lev-R-Lok

• Spec: This knife is from the 80’s made by Soque River Knives (Camillus). Lockback, Stainless Steel Blade.
• Condition: This knife is in great condition for its age. This knife has never been used or carried. There are scratches throughout the blade and on the lock. There is blade play from all directions (still feels pretty solid though). Blade leans towards show side.
• SV:45

CRKT P.E.C.K 10th Anniversary

• Specs: Rainbow Finish, 1.63” Cutting Edge, 2.63” Closed
• Condition: This knife has never been used to cut with, carried, or sharpened. Just a little and not for me. The smallest scratches can be seen on the blade under close inspection with light.
• SV: 20

CRKT Hissatsu Folder

• Specs: Aus-8 Blade Steel
• Condition: Had this knife at about 10 years old. It’s been used and poorly sharpened (didn’t know what I was doing at that time, just loved the knife). There is quite a bit of wear throughout the blade and clip. Action is perfect though.
• SV: 15

CRKT Iraqi Freedom Desert Cruiser

• Specs: 3.75” Hollow Ground Blade, 9” Overall
• Condition: This knife is in perfect condition. Never been used, carried, or sharpened. Very smooth, perfect centering, minimal blade play (I would tighten the pivot but don’t have the bit ATM).
• SV: 30

CRKT Neck P.E.C.K

• Condition: Never used or carried, includes sheath and lanyard. Brand New Condition.
• SV: 15

CRKT Serengeti Hunter

• Condition: This knife is in excellent condition. I’ve never used this knife, carried it, or sharpened it. This knife has been sitting in my collection for a while. There are small scratches throughout the handles (there is a manual in the box that explains how small scratches are normal due to the fact that two small knives are within the knife’s handles. These small knives rub against the handles when taken out and put back in.
• SV: 20

CRKT M16

• Condition: Never used, carried, sharpened. There is lock stick and small blade play (haven’t tightened the pivot). This knife is in brand new condition.
• SV: 30

CRKT M21

• Condition: Brand New In Box- Never sharpened, carried, or used. Extremely smooth, 0 play, well centered. This knife is Brand New In Box.
• SV: 30

Benchmade Bali-Song AFO

• Condition: I’ve had this knife in my collection for a long time. The blade and pouch say Boli-Song, Clip has some small scratches throughout (see video). This knife is in Excellent Condition.
• SV: 110

Benchmade Stryker Auto Police Special 141/250

• Condition: Small amount of blade play, the only sign of wear is a very small white spot towards the pivot of the knife. Blade is centered and action is snappy. Blade steel is 154CMThis knife is Like New In Box.
• SV: 150

Benchmade 7500S Auto Tanto ½ Serrated

• Condition: Blade is centered and I can’t find any signs of wear. The blade has some play in all directions but the blade feels very sturdy in hand. This knife is Brand New In Box.
• SV: 110

Benchmade Tether Pre-Production 814/1000

• Condition:This knife has never been used, carried, or sharpened. This knife is Brand New In Box.
• SV: 75

Benchmade 9700 Auto - Emerson Design

• Condition: This knife is in perfect condition. There are no signs of wear anywhere other than the pocket clip. You can see scratches but nothing has scratched through the black coating. This knife has very very minor up and down play and is well centered for a chisel ground knife. This knife DOES NOT have a box. It does include the plastic pouch as well as the manual. Like New In Box without the Box.
• SV: 80

Microtech Scarab Executive D/E- 09/2012

• Condition: This knife is like new in box. The only sign of wear is on the button. Other than that, this knife has never been used, carried, or sharpened. Just used as a collection piece. The blade steel is S35VN
• SV: 535

Microtech QD Scarab S/E - 07/2004

• Condition: This knife is Brand New In Box. This knife comes with all paperwork and includes goodies, (see picture). This knife has never been used, cut with, or carried. I noticed the button/slide rattles when moved while blade is deployed, but that is how it came to me as I am the first owner (at end of video)
• SV: 535

Microtech Dragonfly 11/2002

• Condition: This knife has only ever been flipped. The only signs of wear are on the bottom where the latch is. This knife is in Like New In Box condition. Blade steel is 14-4CrMo. The outer sliding part of the box is missing (gone while moving). Everything else is included.SV: 275

Microtech Socom Elite Auto Signature Series Bronzed Spear Point - 12/2018

• Condition: This knife is Brand New In Box and has never been used. Perfectly centered as well. M390 Blade Steel.
• SV: 300

Microtech Socom Alpha Fixed Blade - 12/2016

• Condition: Brand New In Box. This knife has an Elmax Blade with Carbon Fiber Handles and Bronzed Hardware. DLC Blade.
• SV: 215

Wings:

• mini love wings
• twas the night before christmas x5
• stained glass rose x3
• snowfall fairy x2
• infernal bat x2
• delicate blue rose
• snow pops x2
• mini electric guardian
• dew drop mist
• winter butterfly
• winter wings 2020 x4
• keeper of light
• crystal ice x3
• sparkly snowflake skater x3
• angel wings

​
Skirts:

• mini skirt x7
• midnight’s strike popstar performance skirt x5
• royal stroll in the garden x2
• ruffle velvet bow mini skirt
• real life mermaid x4
• sparkly party tutu

​
Shoes:

• carol of the elves booties
• adorable lace-up doll boots
• kingly kicks
• huggly snuggly booties x3
• snuggly reindeer slippers x11

​
Accessories:

• christmas window shopping top hat
• crazy in love glasses
• frozen royalty crown x2
• angel halo
• kawaii reaper x5
• droopy elf ears
• peppermint princess sleeves x2
• nomnom frosted donut waist floatie x4
• exquisite emerald ring x5
• studded rose garters
• maracas
• arachnofabulous x5
• dear dollie laced back bow x3
• kitchen accident x5
• exquisite emerald necklace x3
• exquisite emerald earrings x2
• glorious cape
• dear dollie gloves x9
• butterfly pavilion fascinator
• mix matched striped socks x9
• spring horns
• beautiful rose in hand x2
• spring cleaning duster x2
• freshwater pearl necklace x6
• seashell hair clips x3
• sparkly heart hoop earrings
• heart of the ocean necklace
• pumpkin autumn earrings
• dotd aromatic flower crown
• giant teddy bear
• princess starfrost cozy bodice
• bloxy award
• polar bear beret cap
• nine-tails
• royal sword of strength x2
• princely dueling crown
• reindeer crossbody x5
• 2020 party hat x2
• pretty kitty tail x2
• skull crown
• spider friend x2
• warm glittering cloak x8
• sparkly candy cane ears x5
• fuzzy warm frost hat x7
• light-up ornament necklace x5
• winter snowglobe x11
• merry sparkly dress x6
• shy scarf
• abnormally large and very pokey fork
• beasty snow antlers
• rainbow ears x2
• treasure satchel x3
• spring bucket hat x2
• stars and moons pendant x2
• ruffle top hat x3
• warm winter lantern x6
• rainbow pot of gold bag x8
• ice’s ufo x5
• dangly rainbow earrings x5
• over the rainbow sleeves x5
• chocolate lucky coin x4
• bouquet of clovers x5
• lucky bow pin x2
• lucky top hat x4
• lucky bowtie x2
• leprechaun belt x4
• rainbow diamond earrings x4
• four leaf clover ears
• rainbow armlets x2
• hip bag of coins x6
• classic golden chain x3
• lucky headband x8
• nightmare witch hat x2
• 2021 lunar new year: ox
• rainbow candy x3
• whiskers
• bunny bonnet headband
• falling spring blossoms
• icey snowflake earrings x2
• wish upon a star earrings x2
• spring scramble earrings
• fuzzy bracelets
• fashionable round frames x3
• spring queen crown x2
• easter egg boppers x2
• oof head x2
• rainbow visor x3
• easter egg top hat x2
• glowing pumpkin wand x2
• friendship necklace (right) x6
• gone with the wind bow headband x9
• personal snow flurry x11
• crispy air puffy jacket x8
• flower vines arm beauty x7
• stocking bows
• soft plush antlers
• santa hat x4
• santa’s beard
• light-up antlers x2
• classic ghost costume x2
• 2021 party hat x7
• my dollie x2
• candy explosion!!! x3
• spinning web boppers x2
• darling valentina playful puppy ears x7
• bat earrings x3
• supernatural hoop earrings x5
• spider’s masterpiece purse
• nomnom chocolate bar x5
• magical fairy lights x12
• dragon staff x4
• leah’s bubblegum bubble x8
• cheerleader pompoms! x5
• don’t pick me please x7
• jeweled choker necklace x5
• american flag x4
• canadian flag x3
• glittering noel bows x6
• sparkly christmas bells earrings x9
• snowman’s top hat x4
• runaway damsel candleabra x4
• good tidings shawl cape x2
• father christmas’ present bag x3
• iced gingerbread earrings x2
• aurora’s longsword
• elf helper hat
• aurora’s battleaxe
• polar cutie fur leg warmers
• ice prince shawl cape
• dashing through the snow scarf
• midnight’s strike popstar astral hair bow x13
• sewer rat x8
• midnight’s strike popstar constellation bodice x3
• midnight’s strike popstar celestial armlets x11
• midnight’s strike popstar microphone
• popstar microphone
• daisy diva cap

DISCLAIMER: there's no set prices on any of these items, so if you're offering diamonds please name your price!! and I'm open to items/items + diamonds offers though I'm predominantly looking for diamonds ^^ the "x(certain number)" just indicates the quantity of the item I have available for sale at the moment

I recently came across a post about an expat who participated in a night wedding. After reading the accounts I began to do research on my own. Not because I believe in any of that stuff. I'm a magician after all. Illusion is my bread and butter. And I can detect trickery better than most. Which in my line of work has its benefits. But old traditions are the best places to pick up new techniques. Old ways that are new to others that delight and even scare people. Because, if I can make them afraid. Make them look away. For even a second. I can pull off some astounding magic.
My gig at the cruise line was coming to an end as we neared the port of Shanghai. And for my last several shows, where I'd normally start to include my greatest tricks in order to leave a lasting impression. I developed a new act to showcase instead and I called it "The Sneaky Bride", it involved a mannequin in a wedding dress, a beautiful train, veil, flowers on the ground - the whole nine yards some would say. The trick was that the bride would sneak bites as my assistants who are dressed as servers pass by with their trays.
I begin the trick by placing a mannequin center stage for all to see so that they know it's a dummy. I show them there are no holes, and the entire thing is solid. Then we dress it up and set the stage for a wedding. And with a bit of lighting, another assistant switches places with the mannequin and is being fed under the veil. We later changed it to more slight of hand techniques as the assistant complained she wasn't able to chew fast enough as the items of course have to get larger and larger for comedic effect.
At the end we even invited the unmarried men up to the stage and then threw out a fake bouquet, and watched them clamber over each other in good fun to catch it. The act was an instant hit and had the crowd roaring every night. Which was why I decided to take a firsthand look at the original, and see if there were any other staging techniques I could learn from this old tradition.
After some research online, I was able to get a relatively good idea of where it the tradition was still practiced. So I booked the next flight out to begin my quest for a real night wedding.
Upon arrival at my hotel, I asked the concierge for information about the local practice.
"Yes. I know of this one. We practice it often for children who were taken too early."
"But they are all scams?"
The concierge smiled, "In most cases the pouches mean no harm, and they're simply for families who want to provide peace for themselves and to complete a lasting tradition. Sometimes the dowries are quite lucrative as well, and it is the families who are scammed by those who go and collect these ghost wives as concubines. We call it a blue procession for the trail of ghosts the husband leaves behind wherever he goes." He leans in, "But between you and me? They're mostly all scams."
I laughed, and I can't stress this next part enough, tip your concierge! Which I did. "Thank you, and also. Do you know where I could get a good start on finding more information about these ghost dowries? Or even find one of these pouches myself?"
"The temple down this first street to the left, about half a kilometer, would be a good place to start. But finding a pouch is a bit more difficult as they pop up sporadically. However, if traditions are to be believed it is the pouch who chooses the spouse."
I thanked him again and began to make my way through the early morning rush toward the temple. The streets were lined with open markets full of food from local farmers, which were common in the morning in this part of the world. They would disappear before the afternoon and then return again to sell wares at night when it was cooler. It made the city feel as if it were breathing as the locals rose and ebbed outside with day and night.
On my way, I searched the ground and around alleys for loose pouches. But I had no such luck by the time I arrived at the temple. Large red pillars that were thicker than any tree I've personally had the pleasure of meeting held up the high ceiling. Inside, the locals were already starting to disperse as the work hours were amongst us. Which left me nearly alone in this temple at about 8:00 in the morning.
A monk or priest was kneeling on a mat in front of a wooden shrine, throwing pieces of wood in the shape of dumplings on the floor. I waited patiently for him to finish. Taking in the sights and the delicate features of the temple. When he rose I approached him.
"You don't speak English by any chance do you?"
He smiled.
"What about the middle tongue?" I asked in Mandarin.
"Oh," he seemed surprised. "Yes. How may I be of assistance?"
"What were you doing just now?"
He held out his hand and showed me two red wooden pieces that were, with closer inspection, in the shape of moons. "Jiaobei," he told me. "We use these to seek divine guidance."
"How does it work?"
The monk shows me the two sides, one was smooth and flat, the other side rounded. "You ask a question and then throw it on the ground. One block flat and one block round, means yes. Both blocks showing round means no. Or depending on the question. Anger from the Gods. Or crying in sadness as it is commonly known. And finally, both blocks showing flat means laughter. Which could mean a number of things." He hands them to me, "You throw it three times to get a better answer."
"I'm guessing if it's the same all three times, the answer is definitive?"
The monk nodded.
"Am I a good..."
"Ah ah ah, in silence."
I didn't want my first question to be too convoluted or difficult. So I kept it simple and asked if I was a good magician. Then I threw the Jiaobei on the floor. It clattered and rolled on its rounded back, showing two flat sides.
The monk smiled.
"That usually happens the first time anyone tries Jiaobei. But in my experience, it generally means you asked a pure question."
"What happens if I didn't ask a pure question and it came back as angry?"
"The gods will remember it. They will remember you."
"No bad first impression then huh," I whispered under my breath. "Okay. Do I need to throw it two more times or can I ask a different question?"
"You may ask a different question or throw it twice more."
"What is my name?" I threw it on the floor. And to my surprise, as the ends are pointed and difficult to balance, one of the damn things stood tall and erect.
The monk bowed to the pieces. "Truly you have been picked by the gods to be answered. Lijiao or a standing answer like this is uncommonly rare. The gods generally choose to laugh at a nonsensical question. And often get angry if you throw it two more times. And rarely do they ever answer ones asked aloud."
I bent forward, skeptical, though a temple this was, at how the thing worked. In my head I could only think that the switchboard guy was quick on his feet. But looking around I couldn't find any cameras. Though in this day an age, they're made smaller than a fly. So it was difficult to tell. I picked up the pieces, feeling for any sense of magnetism, but there were none.
I asked one last question before I left that day. I asked their gods, would I find the real deal? And I threw it on the ground three times. All three times it came up yes. But for two months I scoured the city, and the country side. And I did chance upon several pouches. Some were obviously scams as I watched each bag carefully before approaching. Especially noticeable are the ones in the city which would be laying on the sidewalk, filled with bills for people passing by. But I observed that if a local went to go pick it up, two or three men from around the corner would come and threaten him to put it back. But if a foreigner picked it up, an old man or woman would come and start calling them son before leading them away.
There were of course others that were genuinely following tradition. I chanced upon several of them and was married several times. But each one was playful almost. And performed by their parents in the day. Leaving me with several small bags of pocket change, a good dinner, as I went on my way.
During one of these fake night weddings I even saw a child playfully munching on a corn cob in the corner under one of the tables as I fed the effigy they constructed of my fake bride. Which was when I think I decided to call it quits. Believing that I'd never find the real deal. Although I did learn a lot as tradition can be translated by me into performance. Which helped me ground 'The Sneaky Bride' act further. All in all, this was time well spent.
My visa was coming to an end and I had mostly been enjoying the sights, the city, and their way of life. When on one the last day, as I was leaving from a faraway eatery that the concierge had recommended, that I saw a red pouch made of silk with a thick yarn around its throat, stuffed full of money. I looked around and didn't see a single person there, nothing except flat farmland and water gullies for miles.
Odd, I thought to myself, as it looked truly abandoned.
For a second I played with the idea of picking it up. Wondering if somehow a relative of the deceased would pop up magically next to me and I could change the world of magic by studying their technique. But I didn't want to spend my few hours chasing ghosts. I wanted to enjoy my time. So I kept walking.
I got back to the city and spent the remainder of my day eating and drinking, meeting new friends at the bar, newfound lads who I invited a hundred times to visit me in Melbourne one day. Who all agreed that if fate ever brought us back together we would drink until the sun rose. So yeah, I was fairly drunk when I got back to my hotel room, and didn't believe what I saw when I opened the door. It was a red pouch sitting on my coffee table.
"Someone's trying to play a trick on me," I mused. "They must have heard me talking at the bar." I circled the table studying the pouch. Any magician worth his smoke, likes a good bag. So there was no doubt to me that this was the same one I saw earlier. Which made me start putting two and two together. "It must be the concierge. He's the one who sent me out that far." I laughed and picked up the bag, even though I knew the rules. I opened it and thumbed through the bills. "It's much more than what I tipped him. Much more." Curious, I wondered what he would have done if I didn't return this to him. It must have been quite a few months worth of wages. I threw the bag up in the air and caught it as if I were juggling before I tossed it on my nightstand. "I'm going to let him sweat for a little bit and pretend I didn't find it tomorrow as I check out," I mused as I went to go take a shower.
I opened the door and felt the words stick to the roof of my mouth as the bag appeared on the counter next to the sink. I shot a glance back to the nightstand and indeed the bag I had just thrown on there was missing.
"This is a good fucking trick. That, or I'm drunker than I thought." I started questioning did I somehow fall asleep beforehand? Or walked into the bathroom and put it there as I mused my little scheme of making the concierge nervous at the lost pouch? Had I somehow in my drunken state done something without realizing it? No. That couldn't be it. I touched my chest to check my heart rate and put my fingers on my face. A bit flushed, but heart rate adequate. I was fine for the most part. Just drunk.
I looked at the pouch on the counter, and peered gingerly into the bathroom as if I've never stepped foot in one, before deciding to grab the bag and close the door. "Okay," I said loudly. "Whoever's doing this. Come on out." Of course no one appeared, not that I expected them to because the credo I lived by is that a good magician never reveals his trick.
"Okay, let's see how good you guys really are," I mused. Going over to my closet and placed the pouch on the shelf. Closing the door. Then I went back to the bathroom and opened the door. It was empty. I checked the nightstand drawer, mpty. I looked all over, and it was still mty. I breathed a sigh and went over to the closet door, "I guess you're just a bag after all." Except when I looked inside. MT.
I stumbled backwards and looked around, glancing at the ceiling corners in case someone had crawled up there. And even looked under the bed. But there was no one else here. I felt my chest tighten as I tried to make sense of what was happening. "Its got to be the walls I reasoned." And so for the next half hour I scoured the entire room with my hands, pushing, pressing, pulling anywhere and everywhere I could. Using all my years of experience to figure out what was going on. But there was nothing.
I couldn't stay in that room another minute so I rushed outside and nearly stepped on it! The bag! It was right at the foot of my doorstep.
My mind tried to wrap around how that was possible, "It's got to be a dupe. They've got more than one bag. I've been had, that has to be it. And the furniture inside, they have secret compartments. God, they really put a lot of effort into this," I laughed. "I have to know how this trick is done." So I opened the pouch and pulled out the note inside.
The notes generally contained their name, their current would-be age (she was 20 this year, older than most), what time they were born (8:07), a picture if they had one (she did), and how old they when they died (5). If the deceased were a bit older, perhaps a tidbit from their family is included about their personality. But most importantly, it always contained their address.
I looked at my watch, it was late and my flight was in the morning but perhaps I could still make it. So I gathered the rest of my things, my luggage, the mannequin for my act, and other bag of tricks in case I needed to go to the airport right after. "Come on," I yelled out loud to my pranksters. "Let's go see what other tricks you have up your sleeve."
I went down to the lobby and had the front desk call me a cab. I looked around for the concierge but he was nowhere to be found. So I left a note for him. And then left.
The cab drove until the city faded away. We were practically on the other side of the island by the time its tires skipped to a stop. I got out and knocked on the giant half circle doors of the address. I noticed that we were deep in the countryside. There were hardly any lights dotting the night.
I knocked several more times before I heard shuffling behind the door. And then it opened. An old man stood in front of me in his drawers.
"What do you want," he asked angrily. "Do you know what time it is?"
"I'm sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour. But," I pulled out the pouch. And his eyes widened up.
"Meju-eh. You're back." He looked at me up and down. "What are you supposed to be," he asked but then shook his head. "No, no. Come in. Come in, please."
"I don't have much time," I told him. "I have to leave in the morning."
"Sit, sit." He ushered me to a chair in the courtyard.
I placed the bag on the table next to it, "I have a flight in the morning, so if we're going to do this. We have to do it now."
Instead of fighting me, he nodded, "Yes. I agree. I don't have much time either. And Meju-eh is older than most ghost brides. The bull demon might not let her through his gets if she gets any older. And then she'll be a husbandless spinster for eternity." He ushered around, "We don't have many living relatives either. So it shouldn't be too troublesome to hurry this along." He called into the house and a young woman came out, "This is my granddaughter. Ah-ahn. Meju-eh's older sister. They were close as children."
Ah-ahn was quite beautiful. I almost couldn't take my eyes off of her.
"Go and start preparations and rouse anyone you can get a hold of. We must have the wedding tonight. Even if it isn't grand as I would like."
"Will we make it in time," I asked. "It's a lot of work for one person. Perhaps I could help?"
The old man nodded, "That's a good idea. But forgive me, I must retire for now. Or else have no energy for the wedding." He turned to his granddaughter, "Fetch me when the preparations are ready." As he left us alone in the courtyard.
"What can I do," I asked her.
"We're going to need flowers for decoration."
I pulled a rose out from behind her ear, "I happen to have a case of these on hand at all times." I put the flower in her hair.
She smiled, "Thank you."
"What else?"
"Um, we already have tables for family gatherings. There should be enough food in the freezers that we can just heat up. I need to call my aunt to come help. And wake up some of the kids. Also...we kind of need a statue of some sort, as a stand-in for my sister."
"Statue? I think I have just the thing."
Hours went by and it was the dead of the night, but watching all the people bustling around the courtyard, the kids in excited whispers, you'd never guess that all of us should have been sleeping. Soon the tables were set, the food was hot, even the decorations were strung, and I had procured my mannequin from my luggage and a few of the menfolk were putting it together inside the main living room.
Several times I found myself laughing and having a good time with the others, although chasing that hen made me look quite ridiculous, and several times I bumped into Ah-ahn and we would talk and exchange a few words. In the beginning she talked mostly about her sister. How she was troublesome as a child. Always hiding things. I told her about the pouch appearing and disappearing in my hotel. And we both had a good laugh. Eventually we talked about ourselves. I learned she wanted to get away from here, "To see the world," she told me. The more we talked the closer we got. I could feel it. Soon we were bumping into each other just to feel our bodies touch. But before anything else transpired the wedding preparations were complete.
The old man was retrieved from his bedroom and everyone gathered outside in the courtyard, looking into the main living room. There was a wooden shrine in the back of the room and the mannequin had been traditionally dressed. From an old box the grandfather retrieved several personal items that belonged to Meju. And I was then asked to enter the living room.
The grandfather said a few words, and then gave us his blessing. Ah-ahn handed me a bowl of sticky rice ball soup. I had been through this process before and knew what to do. I ate one of the pink balls and then went to go feed my new bride.
Now I've traveled with this mannequin for some time. Seen it at a dozen of my own shows. Slept with it in the room. Knew that it was in fact a dummy for all intents and purposes. However, as I started moving my spoon toward it. I swear I saw it's chest rise as if it were breathing.
I couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol ebbing away from earlier or a trick of the light. But even its shoulders looked softer than usual. My hand started shaking as it got closer to her mouth. It was like watching an out of body experience as the spoon inched under her veil. And then the CRUNCH. It scared the fucking shit out of me. I looked around hoping to see some kid in the corner playing a dumb joke. But there were none. And I didn't believe what I was seeing even as the veil started moving as her jaws chewed the sticky material back and forth.
"No way," I shook. "There's just no way." My hand was so close to the veil. "Oh God. Please. I have to know how this is done." I ripped off the veil.
Meju looked very much like her picture. But older. And then older. And older. As if her face was starting to rot away as it contorted. People behind me screamed. The lightbulbs we had strung popped. Kids were running around and the grandfather fell to the floor clutching his heart.
I backed away, the spoon clattering to the ground as I watched the mannequin crick and crack as its arms and legs bent in a tangled mess until it was walking on all fours!
The thing grabbed the bent down to the grandfather and started chewing!
I turned around and saw the other guests were piling out of the courtyard. The tables were upturned and only the dim crescent light of the moon bore down on us. Everyone was screaming trying to get out. I ran and bumped into Ah-ahn. She whirled terrified and then realized it was me. She yelled, "You never! Look at the bride before it's time!"
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know. I thought it was a trick!"
She grabbed her face, her nails leaving streaks behind as she clawed at her skin, "Now she's going to kill every living blood relative. And then you." Ah-ahn laughed manically. "She's going to torture you!"
The people kept pushing around us until we got separated. Her final words still ringing in my ears as I took to the dirt road outside and started running. I ran for nearly a mile before I spotted a cab sitting outside of someone's house. I banged on their door and then begged them to take me to the airport. Throwing at them all the money from the dowry.
When I arrived at the airport I hurried through the TSA. Relieved at the lights and normal looking people. I boarded my flight. Tapping my foot nervously the entire time, staring out the small squarish window as we prepared to take off. The sun was starting to rise as the engine roared. I took one last look at the island as we flew away. Still trying to catch my breath at what I had just caused.
My mind was reeling as I heard two knocking noises, they sounded oddly familiar, and for a second I thought that Meju had finished with her family and had somehow come boarded. But then I realized the noise was coming from my carry-on. I reached inside and pulled out two red shaped crescents that the Monk at the temple had given to me. And I realized that if I ever needed any form of divine guidance this was it.
So right there in the tiny aisle. I asked the gods if I had escaped and threw the Jiaobei.
No.
I asked the gods if I would be safe.
No.
I asked them would Meju kill me.
Both flat.
Both flat.
Both flat.
s

I park my car in the incredibly nice upper-middle class Huntington Beach neighborhood, just down the street from the ‘New Reality’ (editor's note: fake name) sober living I got kicked out of. I take a second to pull myself together while in the darkness. I’m starting to feel very weak, very frazzled. I’ve been awake for at least 60 hours straight now, and I’m well aware of that. It is 1AM. I can’t decide if I should get a hotel or not.
I am so weak. I need to eat. I need water. I need to sleep. My mouth tastes TERRIBLE – like I am decaying from the inside out. I need to shower. I am aware that I have many physical needs that go beyond my need for more drugs.
See how you feel after the next shot, Lonnie.
I text Kace:
Here
I pat my pockets, making sure I have two separate bags: a bag in my left pocket, which has my furanylfentanyl and clean syringes in it, and a bag in my right pocket, which has both their meth and their dilaudid pills in it. I do not want to sell them furanylfentanyl because I don’t want them to die in the sober living house that has already seen 2 overdoses because of it.
I get out of my car and lock it. I walk through the sprawling, meticulous Huntington Beach neighborhood full of spacious and decorous houses, heading towards the sober living, though I stay on the other side of the street. I walk past several houses, with perfect green lawns and perfect landscapes, walking past the sober living. I walk a few houses past it, and then cross the street. When I arrive on the other side of the street, I glance all around me, checking for surveillance.
I double back, heading towards the sober living. I cut into the side yard, heading for the side door that leads into the garage. It is already cracked open, just as we planned. I open the door just enough so that I am able to slide through. I see two phone lights on in the far corner of the big 3-car garage.
“Yo,” I whisper-yell in the direction of the phone lights. One of the lights starts moving in a circular motion, beckoning me closer. I walk up, moving as quietly as I can. It would be terrible if the house manager, Jack, came in here right now.
I pull out their bag of dilaudid and meth. I see a hand with money in it being held out in my direction. I take the money and replace it with their bag of drugs.
“Nice, thanks,” Kace whispers, as I count the money. It's right on. The phone lights move closer to the ground, so I move with them. I see 3 fresh bottles of water on the ground, just like I asked for. I pull out the bag of needles and hand each of them 2 clean needles, putting one on the ground for myself.
“You got the Q-tips,” I whisper, looking towards Kace. His hand is already outstretched, a Q tip in it. I open the water bottle and put the bottle cap on the floor, beginning to prepare my shot of furanylfentanyl as quietly as I can, while they break up their dilaudids. The phones are propped up on the floor, giving me an eerie feeling. I have seen this before.
Déjà vu hits, and something inside me works to flash me back to my horrible half-ounce psilocybin trip. I suppress the embodied, hellish memories and the feelings of absolute terror, doom, and panic by preparing the shot as fast as I can.
“Where are you going after this?” Kace whispers to me, while we all work. I don’t even know the third boy, I only know that his name is Shane, he is white, he came here from the east coast, he’s in his 20s, and that he came to the wrong place if he wants to survive and recover from his addiction.
“I might go get a hotel, depends on how I feel,” I whisper back.
“Well, take a piece of this, mix it in there, that’ll help,” Kace whispers, his hand outstretched with a shard of meth in it. Meth is Kace’s panacea. I hesitate for a second, only because I know that this meth came from Sloan, which means it came from Lucky, which means it is very clean and very, very strong.
A small amount added to my shot of furry would ensure that I could stay awake for a little while longer. Now that I am coming down from the 2-day cocaine binge and haven’t yet slept, I run the risk of passing out at any moment.
“Maybe I should, just to be on the safe side,” I whisper, before involuntarily watching my hand take the small shard of meth and add it to the bottle cap. I take pleasure in the fact that this is fresh water from a clean water bottle, a fresh cotton, a clean bottle cap, and drugs that I sourced myself and am familiar with.
Listen to you, Lonnie. This is your third day in a row, and now that you don’t have cocaine, you’re doing meth? You were chugging cough syrup, you went on a cocaine binge, now you’re doing some goddamn meth? The dirtiest, most disgusting drug on the planet? And you’re selling it to these poor kids, at their sober living? Shame on you.
I shake my head slightly, hoping to shut it up.
I push the limits in my preparation of the dose: adding meth to this shot enables me to add more furanylfentanyl than I normally would, since the meth will keep me awake and therefore alive. I look up from the phone light when I am done, and I am surprised to see somebody else is done prepping and has completed their injection before me.
“Whoa, god damn,” Shane whispers. I chuckle.
“He’s never done a dilaudid before,” Kace whispers. I can hear the smile on Kace’s face, even in the darkness. I don’t smile, for something terrible has happened on this night. Shane’s soul has been infected by another parasite, and I will burn in the deepest level of Hell for being the one that brought it to him.
“Can you light me up?” I ask. One of the phone lights turns towards me. I find a vein quickly and easily, though I am having to rotate injection sites constantly. I cap the needle when it’s done and lean back, putting my hands on the concrete floor of the garage behind me. I count mentally, and barely make it past 3.
Every cell that I consist of alights with the jolting electric euphoria of meth. My chest tightens with power and ecstasy. I feel electric light waves of raw energy emanating from my heart as my heart rate dramatically increases with feelings of excited arousal.
All weakness and negativity have disappeared from my body. I could fight a tiger right now. I should go play basketball right now. I’d be unstoppable. I’d win every game. Nobody else would even have a chance.
“Fuck, I hate meth,” I whisper, overly alert, my heart racing in my ears. Now it feels like the house manager will open the door any second. Police are certainly watching us. My heart races in nonstop anticipation; I can feel my heartbeat in my trembling hands. Only the massive shot of furry I did can prevent the paranoia from causing me to panic. I take solace in the sensations of peace and relaxation that underlie the meth high. My lady, the Opioid - even though She is the cold, robotic Miss Furryfent, She is with me. I have nothing to fear.
“Nobody hates meth,” Kace whispers.
“It’s too good. It makes me feel too powerful. It makes me feel crazy,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Shane whispers, as we watch Kace inject himself. There are a few seconds of silence, all of us waiting for Kace to get his rush.
“Shit, that dilaudid gives you a good rush. I forgot how good it is,” Kace whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, before standing up. I walk to the exit, loath to be physically alone again, even though I feel lonely all the time. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know that this is another place that I am not welcome. The world is shrinking around me by the day. I am wearing out my welcome at the few places I am still allowed to go.
I need to go back to another treatment center, but life feels hopeless. More talk therapy, more 12-step meetings, more jail-rehabs, more vacation-rehabs – none of it has worked for me, and more of the same thing won’t help me. I am so hooked on these drugs; the drugs are a torrent, and every method of treatment is like a two-by-four piece of wood laying in the way. These drugs have my soul. Death is closing in on me.
“Thanks for coming out here. Be safe, brother,” Kace whispers, before closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, which hurts my feelings, even though I don’t blame him for locking me out. I’d lock me out, too.
I step out into a warm summer California night – back into a world that I don’t belong in; back into a world that doesn't want me.
Where are you going to go, Lonnie?
Not here. Anywhere but here. I start walking, and then start jogging across the street. Surprisingly, I feel no pain in my ankles at all. Jogging feels good. I make it across the street, and then keep jogging.
I jog up to my car. I open the door and get in it. I sit for a second. I check in on my body.
I feel amazing. I could run 3 miles right now. I feel great. I should keep moving.
I check in with my stomach. Although I couldn’t be less hungry, I know I need to consume some nutrients, even if they’re just liquid. I've been injecting cocaine continuously; I haven’t eaten a solid meal or slept in days.
I know what to do. I put my drugs and paraphernalia in the center console of my car. I get out of the car with only my phone, wallet, and keys in my pockets. I lock the car, checking it twice so it registers in my meth-addled brain, which is often riddled with unreasonable paranoia, that it is locked, and nobody can steal my drugs.
I start to walk away from my car, then stop mid-step. What if Kace or one of those guys comes looking for my car, knowing that it is full of drugs?
I am frozen with indecision. I notice I am licking my lips with overstimulation and force myself to stop my tongue. My heart is racing. I’m shaking with excitation. My brain is screaming at my body to do something, but I don't know what to do. They will certainly come looking for my car, hungry for more drugs.
You're being ridiculous, Lonnie. Nobody is going to steal your drugs.
I tell my feet to move. They won't move. I feel the urge to scream. I have to get away from here, I have to do something.
I start to jog again. I can get a quick workout in and get my brain to shut up at the same time. I start to jog, doing the old breathing trick I did when I was a kid trying to run the fastest 1-mile time in gym class.
I focus on my breath, to which I apply a specific breathing pattern. In, in, out. I jog, and I breathe. I jog, and then I jog faster, and my breathing sharpens – and then I jog even faster. I jog out of the neighborhood and onto the main road that connects these huge, gorgeous housing developments in Huntington Beach. I jog in the direction of a gas station that I know is just down the street from me.
I jog, and my mind turns to college basketball. I visualize myself playing in my mind, shooting 3-pointers and knowing that they’re in the hoop as soon as they leave my hand. I shoot a few more 3-pointers in my mind before losing myself completely.
The big, bright, lights, the smell of the hardwood, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor and echoing off of every wall. The sound of solitude, and hard work, and everything that is good in life. The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net. Watching the net flip up after a perfect swish. I take myself back to some of my favorite moments playing basketball: back to Frederick, Maryland, where I scored 16 points on an overseas professional in a competitive men’s league game.
Back to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I got invited to try out for the semi-pro ABA team, the Miami Storm.
Back to Atlanta, GA, where I got made fun for doing ball handling drills with a tennis ball and then picked last, only to lead my team to victory several times in a row, scoring almost all of our points, winning in silence.
Showing up day in and day out, scoring and shooting and winning. Even when I was losing, I was getting better, so I was winning.
I press onward, jogging harder. I am going to play college basketball. Nothing is going to stop me. I notice that my shirt, which is drenched in sweat, is sticking to my skin. I peel my shirt off, barely slowing my pace. I glance up and to my right. There is a brown apartment complex. I throw my shirt in one of the bushes, making a mental note to get it out of the bush on my way back, certain that I’ll remember exactly how it landed in the bushes and precisely where it is.
I start to jog again, pretending that I have a basketball. I cross the invisible ball back and forth on the sidewalk, going out of my way to cross bushes up, crossing the imaginary ball hard and then going straight into a spin move. I lose myself in the movements. Thoughts cease, and there is nothing but my instinct telling me which dribble move to pantomime next against invisible defenders.
I stop. Why am I even going to the gas station? I should just get my car, go to 24-hour fitness, and play basketball for real. I turn around and start the journey back the way I came. I continue to run and do fake basketball moves on the shadow people. Finally, I find myself back in the residential neighborhood of Huntington Beach that my car is in.
I look around again. Is this the right neighborhood? Where am I? I walk around, looking for a landmark or something that I recognize.
There was something I was supposed to remember.
That’s right, I have to get to work. I need to find my car.
A white truck pulls up in the street next to me and stops.
That’s right, there’s a white truck coming to pick me up and take me to work! I walk up to the white truck, which has stopped in the middle of the road. Though the windows are tinted, I know that Todd is in this truck, and that he is here to pick me up to take me to Cinepolis for work. I pull on the passenger side door handle of the truck, so I can get in and go to work. The handle slips out of my hand when the door doesn’t pop open. The truck starts to drive away.
Why would Todd do that to me?! I look up at the sky. The sun is coming up? Shit, I’m going to be late for work now! I jog away from the truck. I need to go back to Todd’s house. I jog up to Todd’s house, which is the brown house right down the street. I walk up to the door and twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
Of course, it didn’t open, dumbass. Todd went to work.
I jog away. How am I going to get to work? I jog some more and start to feel sick.
Where am I?
“HEY! You left your stuff, like, way back there!” a random lady yells at me. I look at her, and then around at my surroundings. I don’t know where I am.
“What?” I yell back at her.
“You took your shorts off and left your stuff, like, way back there. I’ve been watching you. I think you should go home!” she yells, from across the street. I reach for my pockets.
I look down at my lower half. I have no shorts on. I am wearing nothing but black Nike compression underpants and basketball shoes. Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt: I have been running around in a state of meth-induced delusion for the entire night, playing with an invisible basketball.
I jog across the street, over to the lady.
“I’m sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night. Do you mind showing me where I left my stuff?” I ask, evaluating the woman. She is in her 40’s or 50’s, with long dark hair and a kind face. She has a small dog with her. He looks like a mutt.
“I figured. I was walking my dog, and saw you take your shorts off. I wanted to stop you when you tried to get in the truck, but I thought maybe you knew them. Then you tried to get in that house. You seemed very confused and out of it. Your pants are back this way,” she says, walking her dog down the sidewalk, back the way I came.
“Thanks,” I say, too embarrassed and ashamed to say much else. The sun is up. I try to walk naturally, like I am wearing pants instead of not wearing pants, which is a difficult thing to do. She leads me several minutes down the sidewalk, to somebody’s front yard. I see my shorts sitting in the grass in somebody’s yard, right by the sidewalk. I grab my shorts and put them on. My wallet and my phone are still in the pockets.
My keys. Shit, where are my keys?
“Do you know where my keys are?” I ask the woman, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.
“No. I saw you take off your shorts here. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if police are on their way,” she says, her eyebrows raised at me knowingly.
“Ok. Well, thanks for your help. I’m going to go. My house is in the neighborhood over there,” I lie, pointing further away from her and walking away. The word “police” forces me into action. I powerwalk until she is out of sight, and then I start to jog again.
Jog faster, Lonnie. Train harder.
No. I have to slow down. I’m becoming psychotic from overexertion, lack of nutrition, sleep deprivation, and methamphetamine. I have no drugs on me. I can slow down.
I force myself to start walking. I become aware, again, of my racing heart. It has been beating like this for days on end. It could easily explode and kill me at any second. Wait, when was the last time I did any opioids? The furanylfentanyl has been making me dopesick within 6 hours. I search my body for opioid effects. There are none.
I’m in the no man’s land between the opioid high and the withdrawal where I actually feel normal. The more I binge, the shorter the breaks become, and I’ve been binging, hard. If I feel normal now, that means I’ll be dopesick any second. I whine out loud. I want to scream up at the sky. My stomach starts to hurt terribly – it feels like it is bleeding.
I am dying.
I open my phone’s GPS and set it to my old sober living.
Shit, I don’t have a car key. I can’t get into my car! I call a locksmith, and then I start to run back towards the ironically named ‘sober living.’
I attempt to cling to reality.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington Beach. I am going to Jack’s sober living, so I can do some fentanyl, so I don’t get dopesick. I did some meth, and I haven’t slept or ate in days, so I might hallucinate. Hallucinations aren’t real.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington beach. I went to Florida for rehab for sniffing oxy, and I started to shoot dope. I came to California to stop shooting dope and picked up a meth habit.
STOP!
My name is Lonnie. The world would be better off if I were dead.
I start to walk. I can’t take this. I need some music. No, playing music would be suspicious. I start to jog again, trying not to think about my racing heart. I should focus on my breathing.
No, I can’t do that. That’s what made me go psychotic.
My name is Lonnie. I am going back to Jack’s sober living…

Hello, kpopthoughts! Originally this was posted in twice but one of my friends said I should crosspost it here — so here this album review is.
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Intro

To preface the review, I just need to say that this is going to be a very long read. Going through it myself for the fun of it takes around 30 minutes — it's almost 7k words, including lyrical references. So for the best experience, listen to the album beforehand to understand what the hell I was thinking when I wrote this, play the album while reading, and set a good amount of time aside.
And yes, this is 9 months late 😭 I'm not sorry — when I find an album review online it's always around a paragraph per song or even shorter. It makes sense from a journalistic perspective, but I want to do this album justice, hence taking 7 months to write out all my thoughts.
This shit is comprehensive and definitely overanalyzed, especially in Talk that Talk and Trouble. Each song review will compose of my commentary, noting the details I noticed through months of listening, then a conclusion. Also, mild swearing warning, I like implementing a touch of "French" when I'm very emotional about something. Anyway, onto the review!
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Between 1&2 💞

Album Review
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TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT
TELL ME WHAT YOU NEED
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Talk that Talk 🎙

Producers by collapsedone and MRCH
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One of the most perfect TWICE songs.
I think this is one of TWICE’s best-sounding title tracks. Warm modulated synths, a thrumming bass line, distant bells, shimmering synths — the purpose of this song is to be fun and my god is it excellent at it, like, Sana and Chaeyoung are saying knock-knock-knock and beep-beep-beep as if they’re some kind of car. So much fun.
Further along in the verse, Dahyun’s voice sounds so full and smooth with that layered harmony. Tzuyu coming with the Yes or Yes, Push & Pull, and 1 to 10 references — these are 5 years of song references. And Jeongyeon closes the pre-chorus accompanied by a rising synth to drop into chorus one. Jeongyeon slays pre-choruses.
The drums accelerate, the synths start blasting, and Jihyo opens to that party of a chorus with her godly vocals,
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Tell me what you want
Tell me what you need
A to Z da malhaebwa
But shijageun ireoke have
Talk that Talk ttak han madi
Talk that Talk L-O-V-E
deullyeojweo ooh
Now now now now now yeah~

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During Sana's Talk that Talk~ lines there’s this gentle ascending synth bell that rings with the descending melody and it sounds absolutely gorgeous. And the choreography during that part of the chorus is so so so so fun: the talking hands bit, spelling L-O-V-E, concluding with the deullyeojweo ooh! Oh my Jihyo the deullyeojweo ooh…
Have I mentioned this song is fun?
Speeding through verse 2; Chaeyoung’s part with the cat ears popping in the music video is adorable; Momo her stretching her arms out looks so damn cool; and Dahyun with her replay part sounds so lovely — although I think it sonically sounds a touch random, it makes sense thematically.
And now for this pre-chorus. Mina and Jihyo leading into it sound great BUT JEONGYEON… Now, she is my ult bias, and this pre-chorus sounds almost identical to the first one, but the way she holds that final note, inflecting and holding that now~ for one more beat before the chorus drops sounds so perfect — the song teeters on a cliff edge. Jeongyeon slays pre-choruses.
Dropping into the second chorus and man the way Nayeon delivers it just hits different. She has this indescribable “pop” voice (I promise this wasn't on purpose) that shouts out loud that this is THE chorus. This is especially apparent in how both lead their choruses where Jihyo starts at 120% power while Nayeon waits until [Tell me] WHAT YOU WANT to full-send it. The production also helps with this effect, cutting out during what you to emphasize Nayeon's voice before crashing back down, double the pause at Jihyo's intro.
Another deullyeojweo ooh! Nayeon travels to Narnia, and Mina the engineer strikes again in this heavenly, underwater-esque bridge,
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The simple words “I love you”
That’s all I wanna hear
Without hesitation, I’ll go up to you
I’ll make it simple
And just tell you I love you

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The word “love” is said for the first time in the song. There’s a funky keyboard instrument behind Chaeyoung’s part. Jihyo, Chaeyoung, and Nayeon take the initiative in their lyrics, professing their love before closing the bridge.
And now for the pièce-de-résistance: this final double chorus is exceptional — 40 seconds of crack-laced euphoria; Jihyo switches up the chorus and the choreo, Dahyun chimes in with her fluttery Talk that Talk, Momo comes out of nowhere with oh yeah it sounds so good! — you’re damn right it does, and this is where the song SOARS.
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han beon deo~ haejweo
geurae banggeum geu mal~

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Nayeon outright shouts Tell me what you need and then Jeongyeon sings the above lines in such an ethereal, warm way where the first line ascends while the second descends, causing a lull in the song before the finale with Tzuyu and Nayeon, finishing off the song with the final deullyeojweo ooh!
What a party. What a song.
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THE GOOD

• The synths of all time
• The chimes during Talk-that-talk~
• Jeongyeon’s pre-chorus going into Nayeon’s chorus
• Rich harmonies and fun ad-libs
• The entirety of that magical final chorus and outro

Needs Work

• The opening hook (Tell me what you want) and accompanying choreography could be “catchier”

Core Memory

• Singing (and dancing) my heart out when this song played at a K-pop club

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Lyrics and theme-wise, if this were to have been TWICE’s last comeback, they’ve once again built upon the theme they've been doing since debut: a Bildungsroman, a coming-of-age story.
This song’s chorus is honest yet simple; it asks the listener, in this case, the other half of the relationship, to be more upfront and open with their love (never be scared of love), that before the relationship can continue and flourish, there has to be a foundation and commitment of love between each other.
TWICE debuted with a song about making your crush go ooh ahh. Years later, they started pondering What is Love? and imagining their crush responding with Yes when asking them out — and now concluding with the phrase Talk that Talk, [Talk that] L-O-V-E, being upfront with the relationship, wishing their partner to also be happy, to commit to them, to feel the love that they want to impart on them. From gawking like ooh-ahh to talking out your shared love like adults — to having a true relationship between (one and) two.
And can I just say before finishing off Talk that Talk's review that this is such a fun and repeatable song with many little intricacies hidden in the nonet’s vocals and the song's production. This is the third draft I’m writing about Talk that Talk and its original word count pretty much quadrupled.
Harkening back to TWICE’s roots by combining mature thinking with youthful character, an incredible ending to look forward to, and just simply being a club-banger that’s easy to listen to, TTT is an easy 10/10.
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WATCH ME GO WATCH ME GO
RULE THE WORLD
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Queen of Hearts 👑

Produced by LDN Noise
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If there was one B-side to promote in a live clip, this was a solid choice.
Helmed by LDN Noise going headlong into the Western boy-group rock-band aesthetic, Queen of Hearts is a boom-boom-clap song through and through. The drums are very prominent throughout the song, only giving room to riffs of electric guitar in the chorus to drive and continue the momentum of the music.
And speaking of the chorus, vocal line each got a chorus to flex and they did not fuck around,
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You ain’t ready for it
Watch me go~ watch me go~
Rule the world
Know you never doubted baby
I’mma go run the whole universe~

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Cymbals crashing, drums booming, and 3MIX belting all just so sound so good.
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Baby I was born to rule~~
Yeah I’m the Queen, I’m the Queen
And it’s all because of you~~
That I’m the Queen of Hearts

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These long, held-out notes performed by Jihyo and Nayeon are simply exquisite. Along with the shredding guitar, the drum set coming in full, and the interludes by Dahyun, Momo, and Chaeyoung, this is the part of the song that always, always, gives me goosebumps — it sounds so visceral, so energetic, so fun, so triumphant. Boom-boom-clap songs can be hit or miss with people, but there's no denying the payoff from the first part of the chorus to the second part is worth the wait.
The theme of the song so far has been kind of spread around the song. The chorus alludes to it with the line And it’s all because of you. But Mina shows more sides of it in the second verse, especially with the phrase,
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And now that I’m surrounded by all my girls
We be shining bright like diamonds and pearls

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It sounds really lovely — in a very cheesy and affectionate kind of way, as it rightfully should — the song is about the girls and their fans. But the bridge is where the song indeed shows its colours
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Screaming out my name
See it in the stage lights
Feel so lucky just to have ya
Cause I know deep down I was meant for something bigger! Greater!
I know you’re seeing what I see
Yeah I’ll be everything you need
I know I’m gonna walk the walk
And talk the talk to be~ [the Queen of Hearts]

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This is a song CONCEIVED TO BE PERFORMED FOR THE FANS. It’s meant to be loud. It’s meant to be unapologetic. It’s meant to be sappy. And it’s all the more wonderful for it.
This is the TWICEiest shit ever.
Like Talk that Talk, Queen of Hearts also has a killer closer. The production already started to grow from the bridge, but now the guitarist finally went Super Saiyan and instead of supporting the drums, they both take the centre stage in tandem.
Then finally, the closing moments of the song even manage to squeeze in some more sappiness.
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So thank you for the memories
You’re all the ones who made me~
So thank you for the memories
That I’m the Queen of Hearts

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I still can’t believe that this banger is a FAN SONG out of all things. Truly, the TWICEiest shit ever.
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THE GOOD

• Adorable fucking lyrics
• Unrelenting, roaring chorus
• English and vocal flex
• Intoxicating guitar riffs

Needs Work

• Chaeyoung rapping in English in their Korean songs somehow slaps harder than her English rapping in their English songs, nonetheless, in QoH, it fits with the sound of the song

Core Memory

• Walking home from a K-pop festival with this song playing, felt like a Queen of Hearts

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I love these types of rock songs with how grunge and head-bang-able they are, there is just a certain nostalgic and cheesy quality to them that feels so cozy. I don’t love putting them on repeat, because in this case, I do believe there is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Perhaps more shredding, maybe a guitar solo to rock out to, or an accompaniment(!) of ad-libs from 3MIX to support Jihyo’s final chorus? A ONCE can dream of a truly bombastic rock song from TWICE. But then again that distracts from the core of what this song is: a fan song disguised as a rock song.
Queen of Hearts has so much sweetness in its lyrics and message that it's overflowing. The drums, guitar, and vocals can be as loud and intricate as they can, but the theme of this song is what makes it special from TWICE’s other rock songs — it’s a 9/10 for me.
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I WANNA WANNA WANNA
TAKE YOU TO THE BASICS
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Basics 🌈

Lyrics by Chaeyoung
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Quite possibly the jammiest (pun intended) song of the album.
A song written by the Strawberry Princess herself — an event similar in frequency to other artists' releases with her last song being 2020’s silky Handle It — Basics first starts with an understated and dreamy delivery. After the first stanza, however, a bouncy Miami bass line emerges, revealing the true nature of the song: this is a classic summer bop! Especially in the first rap,
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dareun aedeulgwaneun dalla
Ain’t beggin’ for love
nappeun geon anijana ige naraseo
eodiro twilji molla
Like rainbow bubble gum
geureoni nal kkwak butjabadweo

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Syllables are pronounced in a relaxed nature, bars often starting with an "ah" sound, flirty lines in English — this rap features a production full of pop with R&B flourishes and, in my opinion, this is Chaeyoung’s bag. Also, the line rainbow bubblegum is so adorable and so Chaeyoung.
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I wanna wanna wanna take it to the Basics
da weonhae weonhae weonhae? seodureuji ma Baby
ppeonhae ppeonhae malhae mweohae da al tende
Ah yeah ah yeah ah yeah ah yeah

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That chorus is pure pop with a Miami bass backing; you better be bopping your head to the melody, if not booty poppin' to the bassline. Chaeyoung loves rhyming in the first half of the chorus to enhance its catchiness and it's damn incredible: wanna, weonhae, and ppeonhae all create these imperfect rhymes that continue momentum without feeling repetitive.
After the very Boy With Luv-sounding ah yeah ah yeah, ah yeah ah yeah comes an 8-bar split half and half between Chaeyoung and Momo. Coming from the chorus, the production completely cuts out for the first 2 bars. This adds tension; the song yearns to have that bass beat thumping again and all we have in the audio space in those 2 bars is Chaeyoung spittin' and she delivered.
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taneun deut tteugeoun samak wie
yeppeuge pieonan jangmi gata
joshimseure naege dagaol ttae
nado moreuge jjilleobeoril tende

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Translating to:
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Above the hot, burning desert
It’s like a rose that bloomed beautifully
When you come to me slowly
I will prick you unconsciously

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The rap feels slick, effortless, and confident. Her diction remains sharp when enunciating each syllable but she doesn’t let the flow of her rap waver or build as her 4 bars go by, it’s just smooth consistency throughout. Even the lyrics possess an aura of laid-back collectedness that is just so her. The things Chaeyoung can do when given her pen.
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THE GOOD

• That sweet summer vibe of a chorus
• The spaceship post-chorus is killer
• Chaeyoung devoured this song
• Sure-footed, confident lyrics

Needs Work

• Perhaps an alteration of that ah yeah ah yeah line
• The way Jihyo did her pre-chorus line is good, but Mina’s is great

Core Memory

• After donating my hair, walking down the rainbow-coloured areas of downtown Toronto with this song playing was very… fitting

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This song is summer bliss distilled into 2:56. It’s dreamy, the raps are satisfying, and the ending is charming. I will say that although the second half of the song adds the stunning spaceship post-choruses and a floaty bridge with an incredible drumbeat drop into the final chorus, the raps of the song make it feel a bit front-loaded. And in an album stacked with awesome finishers, it feels more apparent.
With that said, it’s an 8/10 bop for me. This song is so easy to put on and it feels exactly what Chaeyoung would make if given the reins to produce a pop song all on her own. The lyrics are nonchalant but full of conviction, the wordplay is intricate, and the production playful but not too bombastic — it's just a nice vibe. Songs like Basics are the standard for good, simple, repeatable pop music and I’m happy that Chaeyoung got to test her pen in this genre.
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BABY WE’RE IN
TROUBLE TROUBLE
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Trouble 💃

Lyrics, vocal direction, and background vocals by Jihyo
Produced by Jihyo and earattack
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One of the most enjoyable songs I’ve heard in a while.
There is an underlying tension within the first 4 bars of the song, Jihyo and Nayeon confidently open it to a nondescript array of synths and then the stanza ends, Momo announces Let’s go, the beat drops and it hits you: this is a club song.
Dahyun's relaxed delivery contrasting with Jeongyeon's staccato flow, the wobbly synth beat mixed with a sprinkle of house piano, Sana dramatically slowing down the song only for Tzuyu to build it back up until the chorus drops,
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• Nayeon opens it using a breathy tone, with vocal chops serving as harmonies
• The blooming of the house piano takes centre stage and the song ascends into euphoria
• A random drum roll capped off by a cymbal crash
• Jeongyeon’s growling pronunciation of the word Trouble
• Chaeyoung slyly admitting I like this Trouble
• The entirety of Tzuyu’s tro~oh~oh~ouble yeah~
• Sana using her deep voice for the na~na~na~na
• Jihyo leading the vocals during the synchronized T W I C E chant

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This chorus is perfect. Toronto’s residential market needs this song injected into its veins because god damn this song has SO much house in it. And then, ANOTHER KILLING PART: this rap fucking slaps.
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gamchweo bwatja geugeon Fake
ppajin hamjeongeun Sweet cake

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During the first 2 bars, Chaeyoung is keeping it calm because that trip of a chorus just ended and the song needs a breather, but I don't think anyone expected her to SNAP this hard afterwards:
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You cannot resist this
Cannot miss this, such a bliss
Ima put it down down
Oh yeah, better kiss kiss

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Below is the structure of her this portion of the rap, I’m not that well versed in this technical aspect of music theory but I digress, this is all in the span of around 5 seconds where it’s:
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Triplet-triplet
Quadruplet-triplet
Quadruplet-doublet
Doublet-quadruplet

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Now, 25/5 = 5 syllables per second isn’t groundbreaking, but goddamn it these 2 bars sound so nice — if there is one part in this album that I always repeat, it’s this. The addition of that first quadruplet for cannot miss this in the midst of the triplets sticks out and accelerates the flow of the rap while the following doublets and quadruplets destabilize and slow the rap down as the verse closes. And can I just point out:
THE MAIN VOCALIST WROTE, DIRECTED, AND COMPOSED THIS SONG ‼
Chaeyoung of course delivered the fuck out of her verse but THIS is what you get when you have a member not only write the words they’re saying but also the melody and flow with which they sing it, when that member knows the others so well that when they write a song they know how to make the group exceed. This is what you get when the artists you stan love doing artist shit.
And. AND. That's not all — with how much I mentioned I love a good outro to close a song, this outro slaps as well:
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Woo wee woo wee woo
I like this Trouble be-be
Woo wee woo wee woo
I like this Trouble bay-be
Woo wee woo wee woo
I like this Trouble bay-beh
Woo wee woo wee woo
I like this Trou-ble

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Like, come on, Nayeon’s imitating a police siren for crying out loud. And this is all after her ad-libs in the final post-chorus; after the pianist going full tilt and playing that piano as if it was their last chance to ever play; after that final T W I C E chant by all the members come these blissful 20 seconds at the very end. What a song.
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THE GOOD

• The theme of relishing in an uncontrolled love
• Sana and Mina’s melody in the pre-chorus
• Whole neighbourhoods full of house
• You cannot resist this, cannot miss this, such a bliss
• Wees and woos

Needs Work

• Mina’s line of falling down, falling down, falling down low in verse 2 feels a bit too abrupt of a change

Core Memory

• While writing Trouble's review I had this song on repeat for my whole subway commute and I must've been so distracting, just head-bopping and being so invested in my enjoyment

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Need I say more, easy 9/10. The only reason I place Talk that Talk above Trouble is because of what that song represents but besides that, this is one of the best “international” sounds they’ve put out. Actually, I haven’t listened to Eyes wide open in a while but this song is up there with one of the most sonically pleasing pieces of work they’ve done.
Clubbing TWICE has always been a thing since TT was birthed in 2016, and has been a staple of their discography since 2019’s Fancy You and Feel Special mini albums, but Trouble unapologetically dives into and fits the house genre so well you’d think that this is TWICE’s bread and butter sound.
Trouble is Jihyo’s magnum opus. What a song.
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BRAVE BRAVE BRAVE
FOR YOU
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Brave 💖

Produced by Slow Rabbit
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I first thought this was just a good song, then I read the lyrics.
Gentle guitar plucks, shimmering synths, a distant keyboard in the right ear, in the left a glockenspiel, the melodic oohs from the members — this song is PRETTY.
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The night that was unusually dark
Above this terrifying world, felt so lonely
The world has grown in the time of wandering
So hard to breathe

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Mina and Chaeyoung open the song with how they feel lonely, that it's hard to breathe and now suddenly the song feels bittersweet — I was not expecting the song to become this emotional. Brave describes a situation where the singer is in a darker place in life and it isn't until another person gives them hope by calling them Brave that they find the drive to keep going.
Once the chorus hits, the melodies pick up, more guitars get added — there’s even an electric guitar hidden in the mix somewhere, and the song drops the emotional front to reveal a mid-tempo pop song to dance to while crying in the club. The song as a whole still carries this melancholy feeling, but now with the added support of the chorus, acting as a light amongst the gloom.
Continuing on in the second verse there's this gorgeous, well-placed break in the song that just lets it settle after that chorus. Only a seasoned producer would risk this much empty space in a song and Slow Rabbit went to fill those shoes.
Back to the chorus, I'll take this moment to once again commend Slow Rabbit with the mixing of the song, because 4MIX undoubtedly sounds good in the chorus, and the interludes from Dahyun, Chaeyoung, and Mina also sound really good, but the clear highlight of the choruses are these lines:
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Oh na na na neon nal naige hae
On and on and on
Brave Brave Brave for ya
Oh na na na neon nal sum shwige hae
On and on and on oh trust me babe

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Momo, Sana, and Tzuyu form this beautiful, surprisingly catchy, second half of the chorus accompanied by a guitar drop. It should not turn out this well with how conflicting the "na"s are with the guitar melody but it creates this gentle bopping ebb and flow that feels so lush and mellow.
Diving into the bridge reveals that the listener of the song is revealed not only capable of supporting the singer through direct words but also through their thoughts and dreams. As can be discerned, this can be a song interpreted to be about ONCEs, about how they push TWICE to be their best selves despite the breathless hardships they face. It's a very sweet and touching song.
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THE GOOD

• Special lyrics
• Pleasant sound to vibe out to
• That gentle break after the first chorus
• 3MIX poppin' off at the end
• Just very pretty vocals throughout

Needs Work

• Potentially hard to comprehend without translating the Korean lyrics

Core Memory

• Form of Therapy’s life motto revolves around the word “brave” — I don’t know where I got that from, but I remembered it right before watching his album reaction (yes, this is very random)

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I’m actually spoiled with the TWICE members’ easy-to-understand songwriting that when a song like this pops up where it's not written by a member and the thematic bits are mostly in Korean, I tend to put it aside in favour of the other songs on the album. And, especially for a song focusing on a theme like this where the English phrases don’t do the Korean lyrics enough justice, it does place a bit of a barrier on the listening experience, dropping it down to a 7/10 from an 8/10.
With that anecdote out of the way, this song is just such a vibe, man. I know that sounds super hippy to say but Brave is so mellow and smooth that I can’t help but sway a little when that chorus hits. And then I remember what the lyrics say and I tear up a bit on the inside. This song is so pure, raw, and full of heart — we need more songs like these where they just reminisce about life while putting up an upbeat front. Don't mind me just crying while dancing the night away.
With that said, this isn't the first time this theme has been sung by TWICE either, they've long trodden this path of supportive, confiding, up-lifting songs with Young & Wild, Rainbow, Queen, Go Hard, Depend on You, even this album's Queen of Hearts, and, of course, Feel Special. Brave just adds another on top of an already stacked lineup, unique with its mellow somberness.
Also now feels like a good time to get into my rating system:

• 7/10s are songs are ones that are simply good throughout or great songs with apparent flaws
• 8/10s are great songs with distinct killing parts
• 9/10s are borderline perfect songs where I sometimes can't comprehend how great they are
• And 10/10s are the best of an artist's discography, songs that encapsulate their ethos perfectly or expand upon them in a meaningful way

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I SEE THE LIES
ON THE TIP OF YOUR TONGUE
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Gone 💨

Lyrics by Dahyun
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Who the fuck pissed off Dubu this time??
It’s getting quite rare to see TWICE pull off brand new sounds because, with now 190 original songs under their belt as of this review, they’ve done so many genres and sub-genres varying from hyper pop, to bossa nova, to whatever 2020’s Go Hard is. So it’s surprising to see they’ve still got tricks up their sleeves and Gone is one of them.
The song starts with strings swinging back and forth and vocal chops dancing from ear to ear, teasing what’s yet to come. Jihyo enters the song with a whisper and the song sets its pace. A stagnant drum pad moves the song along and typical song progression would have Mina continue the build, but — it doesn’t. The song simmers, adding a hint of high hat to the pot. And then Sana and Tzuyu come on and surely the buildup must boil over right?
Silence, until…
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I see the LIES on the top of your tongue

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The strings emerge again on full blast, the simmer rolls to a boil, and the anger of the song is revealed,
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All the fate I had towards you
Fades like a fog, Gone, Gone
Your flipping mind of doing this and that
I’m tired of it, it’s meaningless
In the beginning, it was hard to believe
With that, hatred increases

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The singer is so scorned and burned from this relationship that they reminisce about all the effort they’ve put in since the beginning, but their “partner” is so unconcerned that they’ve just about had enough of the relationship altogether.
This has been Dahyun’s thing since 2020’s Bring It Back, 2021’s Cruel, 2022’s That’s all I’m saying, and even 2023's Don't Blame It On Me — emotionally charged breakup songs that make you feel as if she’s survived through a dozen bad relationships. Dispatch, do try to do your job better.
Another highlight of the song is the post-chorus going into the bridge. This segment reiterates the structure from the first post-chorus — a barrage of drums supported by the rhythmic strumming of a bass guitar along with a consistent synth filling out the soundscape. But this time, it’s Dahyun and Chaeyoung on the rap:
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I can’t stand it anymore
My patience, invisible
I can’t find it, it’s all Gone
Even if I try to turn back, it’s too late
There’s no use anymore
It has left, it’s long Gone
You, with flipping mind, you are out
I know that you know what I’m talking about
Nothing you could say that could turn this around
I’m Gone

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Building upon the disrespected theme of the song, Dahyun notes that she’s finally had enough with Chaeyoung adding that there’s no point salvaging what love was once there. Momo and Dahyun round it off by telling the listener that there’s no point trying to reason with them or playing naive, they fucked up and there’s no coming back.
Can I just say, it's a bit of a shame that Chaeyoung’s rapping popped off in this album while Dahyun only has this one verse that she shares with Chaeyoung, but it just sounds so good how Dahyun eases in after the chorus with her light rapping tone transitioning into her singing. She even holds the Gone in a little crescendo for some added pizzazz.
And, there’s no way I’m not going to talk about Momo’s vocals in this bridge. Damned if she only got 1 line to use it in, her lower register is incredible. She sounds so smooth singing in this tone. All of TWICE do in particular and there is nary a weak vocal performance in this album.
To close the song off, a wash of synths gets to have their shine in the spotlight, showered with Nayeon’s belting, signifying the dramatic and drawn-out conclusion of this partnership.
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THE GOOD

• They’ve still got their surprises
• Thundering chorus
• 2nd rap and bridge combo
• A bitter, crumbling relationship theme

Needs Work

• I’m not a huge fan of the mixing during the first post-chorus, where Momo's vocals were fighting with the production, which is disappointing because Momo is capable of an insane flow
• The post-chorus in general, specifically the first one, can be a bit tiring on repeat listens

Core Memory

• Actually, I think this song sounds like a mix between GOT7's Not By The Moon, BLACKPINK’s Love To Hate Me, and Dahyun’s Bring It Back. I don’t know where I got this thought came from, but it stuck

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Going back to that point about the first post-chorus as a whole; songs that have the production continue unchanged into the post-chorus/2nd verse are very hit or miss for me — see TWICE's Don't Call Me Again for an overbearing example. The post-chorus going into the bridge contrasts Dahyun’s light tone nicely with the hard-hitting production, continuing the energy until it slowly fades into silence at the end of the bridge.
Back to the song as a whole, as much as TWICE has been experimenting with their sound for the past 4 years now, I’m happy they’re still finding new ways to explore what they’re capable of. And for that alone, even though I’m not a big fan of songs like these where they rely on sounding “big”, Dahyun’s lyricism and the thrill I receive every time I indulge myself in this song elevates it to an 8/10. Keep on breaking hearts, Dubu.
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INVINCIBLE
SUPERHEROES
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When We Were Kids 🧸

Lyrics by Dahyun
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Press play to reminisce, pull up lyrics to cry.
This song is so beautiful. I’m totally not writing this song review, crying on the bus reminiscing about my childhood, while just having turned 21. I don’t know if these are happy or sad tears but this song is so beautiful either way.
Warm synths, muted piano, a gentle high hat, the younger members starting off the song — this has to be up there for one of the softest TWICE songs ever. And as it should, it’s one of the TWICEiest songs ever. And then Nayeon comes in:
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Invincible superheroes, we wanted to be adults
To the higher, clearer world

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The chords start swelling, the high hat keeps pace, and the harmonies pour in.
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Remember When We Were Kids
When We Were Kids, we didn’t know
If we could go back
I will love it even more
Remember When We Were Kids

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Jihyo takes up the second half of the chorus as it drops, trading the strings for an almost R&B synth production — if choir R&B takes off, this song started it. The song relishes in this cacophony of warm sounds until returning to its sparse and peaceful verses.
This time, the hints of piano are louder, little twinkling synths begin to shimmer, the drum buildup comes and Jeongyeon drives the song straight into the chorus. No time for the strings to build like in Nayeon’s — this song loves its chorus so much.
And I'll just take this time to appreciate the amount and range of Jeongyeon vocals in this album. Her voice is so textured, stable, and projected — but also more tender and soft compared to the more pronounced tones of Nayeon and Jihyo.
The bridge comes in, repeating the phrase:
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I wish that I could meet
Could meet the younger me

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Giving the song time to rest, before building back up to the last chorus — this time led by Jihyo, completing the 3MIX trifecta. And interestingly enough, Chaeyoung follows up in the second half of the chorus, rather than another member of the vocal line. She really did pop off in this album.
As the last chorus begins to close, the percussion at its strongest, the harmonies on blast, the background vocals cranked up to their Sunday best, is the song going to end? Of course not! This is an album full of banger endings as if the songs don’t want to end, and When We Were Kids being the album closer very much indulges in that feeling.
After a brief refrain, accented by Nayeon’s high note with a touch of vibrato, the song almost dives back into a fourth chorus. Nayeon and Jeongyeon harmonize — a rare and heavenly moment. And the song repeats the bridge, reiterating that they want to meet their younger selves, this time with the lush chorus production before closing with silence, a few piano notes, and Tzuyu singing the last line of the song:
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Oh, we were kids

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Reflection, acceptance, hope. What a song.
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THE GOOD

• Heavenly vocals throughout
• Relatable, heartfelt lyrics
• Euphoric chorus
• Great closer to the album

Needs Work

• Refrain after the last chorus, Back When We Were Kids, could’ve been executed better

Core Memory

• For an album titled Between 1&2, I don’t think anything hits harder than finishing the song reviews, with this song in particular, during your 21st birthday

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I wrote the first part of this review in November 2022. Then university, life, and other things got in the way of my headspace for me to feel confident about wrapping all of this up. In a way, I felt like I just didn’t want this review to end because of the joy that writing gives me — I didn’t want the happiness to end. And then it hit me, after watching a YouTuber rank animated movies and them placing Spirited Away at the top and explaining 'why' reminded me of just how important growing up is, and by extension this song.
This theme is important for both the rookie TWICE members in 2015 and the teenagers who would follow their journey and grow up with them, facing life’s obstacles along the way. Hardships that used to only involve family, crushes, and social media, evolve into work, commitments and all the struggles that adult life brings. Being a kid and enjoying the simple things in life is one of the most sought-after moments we want to relive because we took growing up for granted. The only thing we can do now is look back on ourselves with fondness and rose-tinted lenses.
TWICE’s original meaning was to resonate with people through their senses and their hearts. That was during their debut, and I think it still holds up today. In my opinion, touching people through their emotions is what TWICE does best and makes them one of K-pop’s all-time greats. It was never about having the best numbers — it was about being the best idols. And to think that this journey of maturation and growth would occur from 2015 all the way to this song, being a fitting nod to TWICE’s 7th anniversary, I don’t think anyone at the company nor the group would ever imagine that they would get this far. It’s these nine women or none — 9/10.
This song honestly deserves a 10/10 with how much I noticed other people reminiscing their childhoods after I heard this song, it is such a widely-relatable message, but I am determined to limit myself to one 10/10 song per album and if I were to pick between TTT and WWWK, I'd give it to the one's that's more repeatable — Talk that Talk just has this electric energy about it.
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Epilogue

And finally here is the end. If you made it in one sitting then I commend you, because I could not write this mess in one sitting. As alluded to, I started writing this album review sometime in October, after a series of edits the first draft was finished in March, and now here's the final draft in June.
I love this album. It got me through some important parts of my life, both good and bad, and it's just a wonderful listen throughout. Reliving this album again before finally completing the review has been an exciting journey. Brave hit me harder this time, after being overshadowed by the other gems of this album, and WWWK finally got me to tear up and not just be emotionally satisfied.
I feel like there's something for everyone on this album. From the exhilarating thrills of TTT to the anthemic euphoria of QoH, the clubbing dichotomy of Trouble and Brave to the blissful glee of Basics, and the sweet reminiscence of WWWK to the thundering anger that is Gone. Like Eyes wide open, I liken Between 1&2 to a pop music taste platter — there's such an eclectic mix of pop music in this album that there's bound to be a song that someone will love, like, and dislike.
Is this album perfect? I don't think so, but it's close — it was certainly my 2022 AOTY. Was this review biased? Absolutely. I've been a fan since 2019 and with the themes in this album, I also feel like it was biased towards me as a ONCE. And how would I rank the album in TWICE's catalogue? It's honestly at the top, at least with EPs — I also felt that way towards Feel Special but then this album was birthed so I'm excited for TWICE's future.
Ready To Be was also a stunning album and Eyes wide open frankly also deserved the spotlight that Formula of Love received so I might hit those next but no promises; this album took long enough to bake.
As for the performances, I've only seen Twitter clips (no fancams to not spoil myself) and I am SO EXCITED to finally see them in July. QoH was as glorious as expected, Brave was a delightful surprise, and WWWK, while not being the concert closer everyone expected it to be, paired up nicely with Crazy Stupid Love. And of course the bombastic addition of the dance break to TTT. But, this is not a concert review, and here is where this album review ends.
Feel free to comment with any thoughts regarding the album, other TWICE albums, and any suggestions for my writing in general. Congrats again on making it this far!
God, I love this album.

WestJet recently sent me an email regarding a delayed bag incidental repayment. I want to verify with others here that they use hyperwallet to send money before inputting my personal info. I wish they'd send a cheque or something instead, as I've never heard of Hyperwallet and am wary of inputting any banking info. Thanks for any help on this friends

Hey all, it’s me Frank Jones again. I wrote that post a while ago about why you shouldn’t be a paranormal investigator and a lot of you liked it. Since settling into my hideaway in the mountains, life has become quiet and I thought about checking in. The plague hit us like nothing and now that everyone is wanting to travel again, I thought to say hi. I want to say thanks to all of you who commented and gave me those weird pointy thingies this social media does. Some of you even figured out my post office box address and sent me letters. I appreciate it (and don’t do it again).
The common strain among your posts was wanting to know if I had ever encountered other things as an auditor. Of course I have but I have been reluctant to tell you because I don’t want to shine some sort of light on all of it or make it sound like some romantic adventure. It’s “pissing yourself” fear all wrapped up in a waking nightmare with a side of gory terror. I am one of the few who actually made it to retirement…if that’s what you could call this life I’m living now.
But, I have nothing else to do really. Carl only visits once in a while when he’s passing through and I cannot risk any other sort of company knowing I’ve pissed off a lot of people…and things. So, I’m back on this internet board and sharing. So many are curious, I thought maybe another story can scare you all straight. This was the first time complacency almost got me and another killed.
This story takes place somewhere in the 90s in a small New England town. It was one of those places nestled along the banks of a serene river, historic brick buildings line the winding streets, their facades adorned with weathered signs that hint at the town's seafaring heritage. A place where everything smelled like either the ocean or decaying fish. I’m not going to specifically name the town to protect the young lady that may still be living there but in the heart of the town, there’s a renowned drawbridge which stands as a testament to the place’s affinity for water. Its ancient mechanisms creak and groan when allowing vessels to pass through the calm waterway. It also had some of the best outdoor markets I had a chance to stop and check out.
I didn’t pass through this part of the country that often as my boss preferred me to do the long hauls across the country but there was a dead haul nobody wanted.I took it cause I wanted a change of scenery. I was already working as an auditor and part of a loose alliance of others who investigated and dealt with any weird things. I actually had a few monsters under my belt. I honestly had the foolhardy idea that I could handle anything out there. God, I was an idiot.
The supernatural never crossed my mind until that evening, stopping to fuel up my red 1992 Peterbilt 379 and paying for the gas with the attendant and restocking up on those beef jerky sticks and coffee.
That was when I noticed her. She was a young woman about in her mid 30s looking like one of the corporate types with the short hair cut and business suit. I would have not paid her any mind if it wasn’t for the touch of apprehension on her face as she talked on one of those new fangled bright yellow Nokia cellphones. Soft strands of chestnut hair framed her face, their gentle sway moving as she glanced around while talking on the phone. As I observed her, I couldn't help but notice the way her fingers trembled slightly, when trying to get money out of her pocket. I’ve seen that type of fear before. So, like a creep, I eavesdropped on her call.
“Yes, it happened again,” she had said as the nickels finally made it to the counter to pay for her snacks. “I could have sworn there was something outside the window near the edge of the forest….no, of course the security cameras didn’t pick up anything. They’re cheap. Ronald was a skinflint when it came to things like this. Hope he’s rotting in hell wherever he is.”
My mind began to drift away, more annoyed I couldn’t get a move on it. It sounded like a problem for the police and if anything, I was gonna tell her that. It was what she said next that made me stop and brought back the reality of the world.
“Yeah. like nine or ten feet tall. I’m thinking kids are playing around with scarecrows or something. Won’t come from the edge of the forest and when I check, I can see foot impressions and stuff. I already put in a call to the cops. They found nothing.“
“Did it sway a bit and its eyes seem to glint like a cats or owl?” I asked without thinking.
The look I got from both her and the gas attendant made me realize what I had done. Well, too late now.
“I’ll call you back,” she said quickly, eyeing me as she hung up the phone and slipped it back into her purse.
“You need me to walk you to your car, ma’am?” the attendant asked, staring at me.
Of course, I forgot that The Truck Stop Killer had only been arrested a few years before.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she said, quickly gathering her stuff and making for the door. I slapped the one hundred and seventy bucks on the counter to pay for my diesel guzzler ignoring the change and followed her out but making sure to not move in a way that caused the teenager in the station to call the cops.
“Ma’am,” I called out to her and she turned to me while hurrying up her pace.
“I’ve got pepper spray. Stay away from me.”
“The thing in the woods. You could have sworn you smelled fresh dirt like mulch and it seemed to sway back and forth like it could not keep its balance.” I threw it out there in desperation.
She froze and turned to look at me. Eying me up and down as I kept my distance and angled to head towards my truck.
“How do you know?”
“I…uh…dealt with something like that before. On a job in Canada.”
“Who are you?” she asked, looking at my faded shirt and company logo. “A trucker?”
“I moonlight as a problem solver. Like an auditor of sorts.”
“Who is it?” she demanded, eyes still affixed to me and hand in her purse.
“Better question is ‘what is it?’,” I answered.
I have learned to pick up on the contempt and disbelief from people who hadn’t seen what I have. I was already being dismissed as a whack job.
“You have tracks on your porch you have written off as animals, especially if you own a dog. If you did own a dog, it’s missing. Cops told you it ran away. You got a garden?”
“Yes,” the certainty had started to leave her voice. “A walled garden.”
“And anytime you’re in there, you feel like you’re being watched.”
At that, her hand came out of her purse empty and she approached me with the fear I had seen in her eyes now on her face.
“How did you know?”
“I’d rather not explain out here,” I said sheepishly running my hand through my sandy brown hair that only started getting flecks of gray. “But you got a…pest problem.”
“And you can do something about it? I’ve had exterminators, cops, nature lovers…even a priest.”
“None of those won’t do you any good and I don’t want to scare ya but it’s more active which is not a good sign.”
For a few moments, I could see the indecision in her eyes. The desperate want to dismiss me as a lunatic but whatever she had heard or seen won over.
“Fine. You can follow me to the house.”
“Mind if I hitch a ride?”
The woman started but then looked at my truck. “Promise. I mean you no harm. I really think you’re in danger.”
That was when I found her name was Isabelle Walker.
We left my truck in long-term parking after she told the attendant that I was a long lost relative and that’s why the change of demeanor. I don’t know if he believed her but at that point, I don’t think he cared. I left my truck with its metallic frame standing tall and proud amidst the rows of other vehicles.
I did not realize how desperate this woman was until we got going on the road. I had loaded myself in the passenger seat after pulling out my military backpack from the war which I also used for my auditing services and tried to look as harmless as a man of my stature could.
For the first fifteen minutes of the drive, her focus was on the lonely road, those beautiful eyes darting to me anytime I shifted my weight. I didn’t want to scare her so it was her that spoke first.
“What is it?”
“I really don’t know but the people in my profession call it a Bone Walker.”
The nose crinkled in disbelief.
“Halloween is not for a few more months, Mister…”
“Jones. Frank Jones.”
The James Bond reference caused her to snort in amusement.
“I don’t know what to tell ya, ma’am, except I’ve dealt with some pretty scary things out there. Normally I’m never this forward as most people try to call the cops on me or dismiss me as a lunatic. I mean, I could be a lunatic but I know what I’ve seen.”
“And that is…?”
“You know. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. They’re real. They’re not common but real nevertheless.”
“Really?”
There was still the disbelief in Isabelle’s voice but I grew to ignore things like this.
“Sure. I mean, think of all the things you experienced and be open to alternate answers.”
Isabelle was quiet for a few minutes and then sighed. “Either you are telling the truth or you're the biggest liar and I’m a fool that’s not going to live through this night.”
“I promise,” I tried to reassure her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
After a few more minutes and off the main highway, we approached her home. The large house stood resolute amidst the dense, ancient forest, its weathered exterior a testament to the passing of time. It was a grand structure, its imposing presence commanding attention. The sprawling estate exuded an air of mystery and faded grandeur, as if it held stories whispered through generations.
As we pulled in, the main house loomed before me, its facade adorned with intricate woodwork and worn stone. Ivy crept along the walls, weaving an emerald tapestry that hinted at the passage of years. The windows, framed by elegant yet slightly cracked panes, stared out into the world with a mixture of curiosity and melancholy.
To the side, a large shed stood detached from the main house, its weathered boards echoing tales of forgotten tools and lost endeavors. The wooden structure sagged under the weight of time, its roof covered in a patchwork quilt of moss. Inside, shadows danced amidst remnants of a bygone era, rusty equipment and dusty shelves attesting to the once-bustling activity that had long since ceased.
Not far from the shed, a family cemetery nestled amongst the ancient trees. Tombstones, adorned with intricate carvings and weathered inscriptions, dotted the landscape. The hallowed ground exuded a solemn tranquility, as if time stood still in reverence for those who rested eternally in its embrace. Wisps of fog clung to the grassy knolls, lending an ethereal quality to the sacred space.
At the far end of the property, an old walled garden stood as a testament to the house's former splendor. Once vibrant and lush, the garden now appeared overgrown and untamed. Stone paths meandered through a sea of tangled foliage, leading to hidden nooks and forgotten corners. Dilapidated stone benches, adorned with intricate carvings, sat scattered throughout the garden, silent witnesses to a time when laughter and conversation filled the air.
As I stood amidst the silence of the forest, the house, shed, cemetery, and walled garden formed a tapestry of history and mystery. They were a testament to the ebb and flow of life, the remnants of a bygone era that clung to the present. Within their weathered walls, secrets whispered and memories danced, waiting to be discovered by those who dared to venture into their enigmatic embrace.
“Great place to be haunted, huh?” she said with sarcasm. “My ex left it to me in the divorce. Was only going to be here long enough to sell it but no one wants it and my job wants me to move to this state anyway.”
“Where are you originally from?”
“California.”
“So, this is definitely a change of scenery for you,”
Isabelle only hummed back at me as she fumbled for her keys in the dying light of evening. I pulled my backpack closer to me as my eyes scanned the treeline where the shadows had begun to deepen. Nothing stood out against the silhouettes of ancient trees which was a good sign. I wasn’t too late.
Stepping through the weathered front door, I entered the interior of the old house, greeted by a mix of nostalgia and faded elegance. The air carried a hint of mustiness, a reminder of the countless years the house had to have witnessed. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows, I could make out the clash between old decor and the modern furniture Isabelle had bought.
The foyer, adorned with a worn, threadbare rug. The walls, once adorned with portraits and intricate wallpaper, now bore the markings of time's passage. The wooden banister of the grand staircase, polished with use, creaked softly under my touch as we made our way towards the living room.
Moving further into the house, I found myself in a spacious living room. Large, ornate windows which would have allowed slivers of daylight to filter through the heavy velvet curtains. The walls were adorned with faded wallpaper. An aged fireplace, its stone mantle adorned with trinkets and old photographs, served as the heart of the room.
“You want some coffee?” Isabelle asked, throwing her keys on to the coffee table. I sat down on her couch and dropped my backpack on it with a clunk.
“Sure.”
“Sugar?”
“A lot.”
The kitchen light clicked on and I heard her moving about setting up the coffee pot. The adrenalin was now pumping through me as my mind raced. I’m not going to go into a lot of detail on what a Bone Walker is but it’s a creature that usually haunts the western coast. It being so far out east was strange. I pulled out my old gun bag and unrolled it. My Stevens Model 520-30 “Trench” shotgun was the first thing I reached for as I popped open the internal pouch holding he high flash shells I was glad I packed. It was the startled sound from Isabelle that made me quickly look up.
She stood there with my coffee, eyes locked on the shotgun in my hand. I slowly held up one of the cartridges I was planning to load.
“Flash powder shotgun shells. No load. Just makes a loud noise and a bright white light. What we’re facing lives in the shadows and hates light…normally,” I had heard stories that they could strike in the day but it was extremely rare. She didn’t need to know that.
“Oh,” was her quiet response. “Do…do I need a gun?”
“You know how to use one?”
“No.”
“Then it’ll do more harm than good. You got any flashlights?”
Isabelle nodded mutely, the gravity of the situation sinking in at the array of weapons and items in my pack laid out in front of her.
“Go get them.”
While she was gone, I quickly unloaded the silver bullets out of my Makarov pistol (a gift from a Viet Cong officer and a story for another time) and placed normal 9mm rounds in the clip. I had it holstered under my jacket with the two back up clips when she returned with three cheap flashlights.
“One in your hand and one in your pocket.”
“Why?”
“In case you drop the one you are holding.”
The woman obeyed silently.
As night fell quickly around us, I slung my shotgun over my shoulder and with Isabelle close, we made our way upstairs. There were tell tale signs I needed to check as the only advantage I had over this thing was the fact it stuck to a pattern. If it was at the stage I thought it was, there would be signs.
“Which room is yours?” I asked.
Isabelle pointed to a door down the hallway across from a large window. Approaching it, I quickly shined my flashlight at the mahogany door frame. It was the glint that caught my eye. Deep gouges in the wood.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Claw marks,” I responded. There was no use sugar coating anything now.
“This thing was in my house?” Isabelle said horrified.
“For the last few weeks now,” I said, my nose picking up the faint odor of dirt and mud.
“Why didn’t it attack me then?”
“It wasn’t time.”
“What?”
Talking was going to be the only thing to keep her focused. I had felt the world shift a bit as night fell and I needed her not to panic.
“Bone Walkers are ritualistic creatures. They are very choosy over their prey. It can take a month or two before they move in. That’s why they are so hard to catch.”
“Criteria? Like what?”
“We don’t know.”
That was the honest truth. The only reason we knew their existence and patterns was thanks to blind luck and people surviving their encounters. I showed my light around looking for other signs. Discolored stains in the corners where shadows would naturally form, healthy moss and mold that shouldn’t be there. I found a patch around her bed. She did not notice and I did not want to tell her that it probably stood over her through the night watching her sleep. The sooner I buried this thing, the better.
“Frank!”
There was a trill of terror in Isabelle’s voice and I immediately looked to where she was. The woman was standing by her bedroom window staring out at something. I quickly moved and spotted what she saw. In the forest, at the edge of the shadow cast by the moonlight was an almost, imperceptible form. It stood nine feet, hunched over like a broken scarecrow, its owl like eyes staring back at us.
“Shit,” I muttered. Thank god we had turned on the lights as we went.
It was the flash of light and the crack of thunder that heralded the arrival of the storm. The lights of this old houses flickered which caused my belly to flop a few times. My brain was on fire as I glanced back from the lightbulb to where the creature was and found it had vanished.
“Where did it go?”
I did not have time to explain as another crack of lightning caused the lights to dim. I grabbed Isabelle roughly by the arm and yanked her back down the hallway towards the living room where I had left my stuff. We barely made it to the living room when the lights dimmed low. I grasped the glow sticks out of the bag, cracked a handful and scattered them about, their bright yellow light beginning to glow. The power then went out bathing us only in the eerie glow of the emergency lighting.
As we waited in breathless anticipation, the storm struck, its wrath manifesting in torrential rain. The mansion seemed to respond, succumbing to a power outage that plunged us into an abyss of blackness only moments before.
A trill of terror coursed through me. I knew this Bone Walker thrived in darkness, using it as a cloak to conceal its malevolence. We auditors were not sure if it actually teleported or it preferred to move in pitch darkness. I just knew that the black was our biggest threat.
For a few moments, we could only hear the ragged breathing of the two of us being drowned out by the pounding rain against shingle and glass. Isabelle had wound her hand into my jacket pocket and was gripping it tightly, I could feel her shaking with terror. I kept my shotgun gripped tightly in my hand listening for the tell tale sound of its arrival.
It was the movement out of the corner of my eye and the fact her grip got tighter on my jacket. I swiftly turned on my high-powered flashlight as I spun around and the brilliant beam pierced the obscure corner of the room. No matter what I had read or seen before did not prepare me for what I saw.
It stood there in the corner, its eight foot height engulfing that section of the house. My eyes strained as it appeared the thing was struggling to stay in focus. Its arms were too long for its body, spindly and almost to the floor while the legs appeared backwards giving it a strange forward leaning look. It wore a hunter’s long coat and trousers but through the rips and tears I could make out something squirming and moving underneath. The air filled with the stench of decaying plants and diseased vegetation. Its face was covered with what looked like the remnants of a cheap bandanna but its owl-like eyes gleaned back with malevolence.
Isabelle whimpered, her fear palpable in the room and the Bone Walker lunged toward us. Even though my fear was ripping through me like an unstoppable train, I had the sense to pull the trigger of my shotgun aimed in its direction. The flash and resounding roar painted the entire room in a brilliant black and white shadow causing every corner and edge to appear thick and vivid. The creature screamed and fell to the side into the shadow not illuminated by the weapon’s fire.
Isabelle had thrown herself on the couch and was huddled there, trembling with terror, while I moved quickly to crack a few more glow sticks and toss them into the dark corners of the room. In one, I saw its foot recoil back into the kitchen where it was darker than night itself. This was quicker than I had anticipated. The plans I had been formulating on the drive were no longer viable. I wanted to lure it to where I controlled the battlefield but that was not an option anymore. This had become a cat and mouse game and I knew this was with a predator I could not even hope to understand and had years to hone.
Out of the kitchen again this thing charged forward, relentless in its pursuit, it was trying to find a way around my light barrier which only appeared to slow it down. With shaking hands, I fired several more rounds, each blast forcing the creature to retreat and the girl to scream in terror. As soon as it retreated to a dark part of the house, I turned to where the woman of the house had been. To my horror, Isabelle's fear had gotten the best of her. In that moment of panic, she darted from the safety of the light, towards the hallway and the door outside.
“Isabelle! Stop!” I yelled trying to command her back with my voice but I doubted she heard me. Between the abject horror and the relentless rain, she was going to take her chance. A chance I knew she did not have.
I only took a step when I sensed it. The musty smell of an organic landfill overwhelmed me as the form silently darted past me, its long arm clobbering me up the side of the head. The world spun as pain burst through my brain. I felt the world tilt and fall heavily to the ground, flashlight and shotgun falling away.
As I slipped in and out of consciousness, I knew I was a sitting duck for this thing. There was no way for me to stop it from ripping me to shreds like some of the corpses I had seen. As I blinked, I came to my senses and realized I was alone. How long I had actually been on the ground, I did not know.
I sat up, my head pounding and I could see the door hanging open, the wind slamming the door on its hinges and the rain soaking the hallway floor. Struggling, I found my flashlight and gun and pulled myself together.
There was a slim chance that Isabelle was still alive. I had to think. Where would it go? I ran all the stories I could think of and then it hit me. The garden. The walled garden.
I charged into the rain-soaked night. I sprinted toward the enclosed garden at the edge of the property. As I grew closer, I saw that the rusted door was open and hope flickered in my soul. As I came to a stop, I brought my flashlight up again with my shotgun and saw it.
This creature stood there in the middle of the overgrown garden, its massive clawed hand wrapped around Isabelle’s chest and holding her up. Out from under its bandanna mask, putrid vines had appeared and led up to Isabelle’s face where they were forcing their way down her throat and up her nose. I could see the wide terror in her eyes as vines were snaking their way around her waist and I did not want to think about what they were planning to do.
I brought up the shotgun again and fired. Knowing that I had distance, the flash of light caught the creature by surprise. It shrieked as it fell back. Trying desperately not to release its prey. I did not hesitate to grab the machete at my side and hack at its arm until Isabelle fell down free of it.
It’s claw swiped at me striking me on the leg and easily tearing through my pants leaving bloody lacerations but I put the weapon point blank and fired another round. I do not know if it was the flash, the combination of the creature, or that the almighty above was looking out for me, but the creature caught ablaze from the spark.
It fell back swinging wildly as the fire spread unnaturally fast catching the plants around it on fire. Within a matter of seconds, the walled garden had become ablaze with the bone walker in the center. As I ripped the vines out of Isabelle’s mouth and dragged her towards the door, I looked up to see those owl-like eyes looking at me with such abject hatred that the look stick with me today.
I honestly don’t know how we survived. I had helped Isabelle to her porch and we both passed out against our will from the sheer terror and exhaustion. We were awoken by the sound of a siren. The lights had come back on sometime in our sleep and the rain had drifted off to a comforting drizzle. The fire was still raging in the garden but contained by the ancient walls. At least two fire trucks, an ambulance and cops were flying up the private road towards us.
This entire hunt had been ill-planned and stupid. I knew it. As the cops approached with their hand on their pistols, I knew that I had allowed my own ego to get in the way. I should have taken Isabelle somewhere else until I had done a proper reconnaissance. I shouldn’t have taken her home where it was waiting. And now, the cops were looking at two thoroughly soaked humans, one a trucker with a wound and a gun and a young lady in distress. I was pretty sure I was going to go to jail.
“Isabelle?” One of the cops and his voice caused her to sit up, relief washing over her.
“Derek!” she wailed. “We were attacked! In the garden!”
Another two cops that had arrived had taken off in that direction while Derek helped the girl up and took her towards the ambulance. The other cop with a comically large mustache looked at me with keen eyes, his hand still on his pistol, sergeant stripes glowing in the light.
“Attacked?”
“Yeah,” I said, sitting up slowly and keeping my hand away from the shotgun and trying not to show the one under my jacket. “Someone came after Mrs. Walker. They were in the garden.”
The cop watched me closely but there seemed to be a recognition in his eyes.
“You by any chance Frank Jones?”
My heart jumped and I must have looked startled as the cop’s face broke into a smile. To my relief, his hand fell away from his holstered sidearm.
“I’ll take that for a yes. My guess is you don’t remember me. Clay Wilson. Santa Fe PD, about six years ago. You helped my partner with a...problem. Nellie Nelson?”
I knew the name but the face escaped me.
“She told me you helped her audit a police union building.”
“Ah, yes,” I said, remembering dealing with the wraith and the twinge in my right arm from it’s bite.
The cop looked towards the fire that was slowly being put out by the fire fighters.
“Any chance this will be one of your audits?”
“Yeah.”
He seemed to think for a few minutes and then nodded.
“Then I think you need to grab that shotgun of yours and hitch a ride with me before too many people ask questions. Whatcha think?”
I nodded. I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. I collected my stuff quickly from the living room and made my way back out where he was waiting. As I limped with the cop to his car, I looked towards Isabelle who was being held by the other. She gave me a look of thankfulness as the cop looked at his partner with confusion.
“Her brother’s got her,” Clay said, opening the back door for me. I was not gonna argue or fight. If he took me to jail or not.
And that was it. My leg was not as bad off as I thought and wrapped it in the back of the police car. Clay only asked where I wanted to go and he took me back to my truck. With that time, I was back on the road with that small town in the rear view mirror.
I never did find out what happened to Isabelle after that, if another creature came looking for her or if she had a chance to live in peace. I just knew that we both barely made it out alive and that was due to my own stupidity. I was furious with myself for weeks after that and told myself I wouldn’t put another person in jeopardy like that again. At least, despite my idiocy, another life was saved and another monster was put in the ground...I hoped. I never did find out if they found a body.

Pictures: https://imgur.com/a/N0mVRrV
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Now that the Tish saga is done, it's time to move on to our landlord's retribution. This is a long one because I don't want to divide the story. TL;DR at the end.
Hubby and I lived in this apartment complex from 2016-2019. Until 2018, the apartment next to Tish's was rented by a Dominican couple who (apart from the Colosseum they erected in their living room every weekend for televised boxing matches) were very nice. So, Hubby and I were kind of bummed when the couple decided that they'd had enough of our complex. They came home one day to find at their doorstep a big-ass rat the size of a cat snacking merrily on some KFC bones that had dropped from Tish's garbage can. I would also argue that the couple probably found it hard to sleep with Tish's headboard slapping against their bedroom wall all weekend long (cue Vybez Kartel & Spice).
We were further disappointed when we realized they were being replaced by a mother and her two daughters. It's not that I don't like kids. I just that Jay wasn't exactly a model for confidence.
The family was quiet and timid, but it was clear they had problems. Big problems. According to what Tina would tell me in "casual" conversations in the laundry room, she had once sat upon her parents’ very high pedestal and - by her own account - had been violently shoved from that pedestal when she found herself pregnant with her first daughter. She'd tried to climb another very high pedestal and managed to stay there long enough to marry and have her second child, but "the cheating dog" had kicked Tina from the apex of prosperity to the pits of impoverishment once more. Heavy shit for laundry room talk.
But, it was hard to sympathize with Tina. The girls, unfortunately, seemed to understand all too well that they were Tina’s “burden”. The teenager (Mel) was ferrety and surly - which some would say is normal for a 15yo - but do 15yos spank their own sisters? Not fight - spank. As a parent would. And the 8yo, while sweet, tore through boundaries like acrylic nails through cheap toilet paper.
Tish immediately hated Tina because there was only enough room in this complex for one shit show at a time. Every time I saw Tish and Tina pass one another around the complex, the air would grow cold and the birds would flee to the West.
But, Tish and Jay left not long after Tina and her girls moved in. If y’all are looking for the catfight of the century, I am so sorry, but I must disappoint you. Jay's father returned from graduate school and got primary custody of Jay. That meant Tish was no longer entitled to child support, and she couldn't afford the apartment anymore. Hubby and I sacrificed a goat to the Most High in gratitude.
But then a few weeks after Tish and Jay left, Hubby and I noticed strange noises coming from the apartment upstairs. It should have been empty, but we heard chairs dragging against the floor at all hours of the evening. I called our landlord and asked if anyone had moved in, but she told us, "No."
"But there is someone upstairs," I told her. She dismissed me. Said there was no one up there.
Then why, only a few nights after that, was the security gate to Tish's old apartment open? And why were the lights on?
I called our landlord, but our landlord told me to take it easy, which was nice speak for "Leave me alone, you paranoid dumbfuck.”
Well, Hubby was sure some hobo was shacking up in Tish’s old apartment, which was highly likely considering where we lived. Our former apartment complex rests within one of the only remaining residential nooks in a fast-growing bacchanal city. On the street to the north is a string of touristy restaurants. On the street to the south is the sleaziest bar in five miles, and on the street to the right was a brothel masquerading as an AirBnB. It never once crossed my mind that the girls in 6-inch heels, batty riders, and lashes out to Wednesday walking up and down the road at 1:00 a.m. might were “working”…
Anyway, Hubby decided to go check on the apartment upstairs, and lo - the security gate and front door were both unlocked. Hubby figured Tish or our landlord must have left the doors open by accident, which allowed whoever the hell it was dragging chairs over our heads to enter the vacant apartment. I passed this knowledge on to our landlord, who assured me that she’d send a locksmith to change the locks.
It was an evening after the locksmith changed the locks that Hubby and I came home late to find ourselves face-to-face with the intruder upstairs. At the door to Tish’s old apartment was Mel. With her was a man who, though young, was clearly older than Mel, picking at the security gate lock.
When Mel saw us, she jumped so high she nearly took down some shingles from the roof. The young man, however, bid us a very cordial good evening. Then, he finished picking the locks to the doors and entered the apartment. Yes, my dear people. Mel had broken into the apartment upstairs and set up camp.
You better believe I called my landlord and told her about what we’d just seen. She was shocked. Was I sure that’s who I’d seen breaking into the apartment? Mel was such a mannerly, mature young woman. It must have been someone else! I guess I wasn't just a paranoid dumbfuck, but a blind one as well.
Anyway, a few days later, Mel and Tina started moving furniture into Tina’s apartment. They didn't say anything to us when they saw us. I wondered if I was the bad guy, but Hubby said no: I should call our landlord and report.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I told Tina that Mel could camp out there for a while."
What?
Well, friends, what happened was that our landlord called Tina to confront her about Mel breaking into the apartment. But then Tina told our landlord about her recent fall from grace and then lamented about the horrors of parenting a teenager all alone in a one-bedroom apartment. She cried so much that our landlord decided to make a deal. For $200 a month, Tina could rent the empty apartment for Mel under the condition that when a new tenant was found Mel would move out.
Okay, fine, I thought. If that's how you want to run your apartments, that's up to you. I'll stay out of your business next time.
And that's just what I did when I came home from work one day to find an American couple dressed in bathing suits trying to open the gate to the complex.
And I continued to do so the week after that when Hubby saw Mel cleaning the apartment while three Australian ladies grilled by the complex pool.
But, one night when a hooker knocked on our door, I'd had enough.
At first, I tried to give Tina and Mel the benefit of the doubt. Maybe this was something they had worked out with the landlord. Maybe this was actually the landlord playing her hand at AirBnB. So, I worded my texts carefully. Asked our landlord if she'd found a new tenant, since we'd seen some new people in the complex. If she'd been trying out short-term renting since so we noticed so many tourists roaming the complex. If she knew that there were strange people coming in and out every week. No reply.
Turns out we weren't the only tenants concerned - and ignored. Two of our other neighbors had also tried to contact our landlord to tell her about the strange tourists hanging bathing suits all over the fences and ordering "fair" company in the apartment above us. Our landlord, however, never responded to any of us. Didn't even blue tick.
By the time frat boys started renting the apartment, Hubby and I had had enough. We found a new apartment and gave notice. Oddly enough, our landlord got that message as soon as I sent it. She didn't bother asking us why we were moving out, and I didn't push the matter. I didn't even make a fuss when she didn't give us our security deposit back. In my city, it's rare you get that back anyhow.
But then a month later, I got a call from our old landlord. She said she'd assessed the apartment and found no damages, so she had our security deposit ready for us. I mean, money is money, and that was our money, so Hubby and I set a date to meet the landlord at the old place.
Our landlord was oddly chatty when we arrived. At first, we thought she was just excited because she was finally giving the complex a much-needed facelift. But then she started talking about Tina.
[Dramatization below]
Landlord: "Do you remember Tina?"
Hubby looks at me. I look at Hubby. “Of course."
Landlord: "Well, she doesn't live here anymore."
Crickets.
Landlord: "I evicted her."
Quizzical eyebrows.
Landlord: "You won't believe what she was doing."
Side eye-side eye.
Landlord: "Well, she was running an AirBnB! In the apartment right above you!"
Pikachu gasp: "No!"
Apparently, after we left, the landlord came to assess our apartment. When she entered the complex, who did she happen to run into?
A British couple in their bathing suits.
They asked her if she knew where the beach was, and the landlord gave them the directions in exchange for a glimpse at the AirBnB listing they'd contracted.
There it was - Tish's old apartment rented out at $800 a week!!! Take away the $200 a month Tina had arranged to rent the apartment, that was a $3000 profit!
The landlord confronted Tina, and as Tina packed her bags under the close supervision of a police officer, Tina railed on and on about how our landlord was being so cruel to a single mother. How could a fellow woman deny Tina the right to make a living for her girls? No one was using the apartment anyway! She'd sue, she sue for squatter's rights! She was a single mother!!!
So ends the Tina tale, but we have some extra credits. Our landlord realized how lucrative the AirBnB business could be, so she evicted all of the tenants and renovated the complex to open it up for short-term renting. That all came to an end when a 17yo boy drowned in the pool and the family sued the landlord for negligence.
All's well that end's well, eh?
TL;DR: Neighbor breaks into an empty apartment, manages to weasel the landlord into renting it to her for $200/month, and then sublets it on AirBnB for $800 a week!

Welcome to Camp Redwood! The feel-good camp for ALL AGES.
We toast marshmallows around the fire, tell spooky ghost stories, and hide in random secret military bunkers under the campgrounds! Because SOMETHING IS HERE WITH US.
Camp Redwood is the PERFECT PLACE for a summer getaway where we start EVERY DAY with a CAMP REDWOOD SMILE. Where our counselors disappear every five minutes, and our campers disembowel us for funsies! Did I forget to mention our littles aren’t actually eight years old, but fully grown adults?
We hope you enjoy your fucking stay!
We are also not responsible for any counselors revealing they are not who they said they are—and not who they appear to be.
...
So. There’s a LOT to tell you and not a lot of time to tell it.
Right now, I suppose you could say we are under lockdown—if that is the word. I want to go over the last several days to get you up to date. That’s all I can do right now. I can hope and pray the thing with Teddy’s voice does not get in here, and once again cry out for help—that I know is not coming. Not from the authorities, at least. But hey, if any of you fancy coming to rescue us, we’re in the middle of the Canadian wilderness. The closest rest-stop is maybe three fucking hours away. So have fun. Has it really almost been a week since I posted? Well, we’re still here!
And surprise, surprise, help is not coming. So, please excuse the salt. I am seventeen years old and I have been abandoned by the adults who were supposed to be looking after us.
Who were supposed to act under protocol if something like this happened. I know they were waiting for it—there are specific fucking guidelines on an emergency evacuation for counselors if this ever happened. But then the little shits took over before we could do anything. I guess I’ll start by letting you know that there are two of us left. (three, if we count Rowan, but I’m not). What I thought was going to be a quiet summer getaway with kids my age has turned into a nightmare.
For one, we have been cornered inside the head counselor’s underground secret bunker. If you want to know why she has a secret military bunker, I guess you should keep reading.
Because shit gets weirder than animal crackers having the power to turn adults into kids, and vice versa. When I made my first post, I thought that was it for us. I thought for sure there must have been a self-destruct somewhere—which meant whoever was running this camp was waiting for something like this. I was sure we were going to die, so after making the post, I have to admit with ya’ll—I just slept. I curled up, tried to ignore Harry and Carmel calling our names through childish laugher, and went to sleep with the thought in my head that I was completely at peace with what I had done with my life.
Sure, I was young. Seventeen years old is too young to be ripped apart by littles who are in fact grown adults. But as I was falling into slumber and allowing myself to fall, with my head resting in my lap, my head turned towards a separate pile of files on the other side of the room—I realized I really wanted to know how this was possible. There was so much I needed to know. Why did eight-year-old Eleanor Summers have a file where here birthday dated back to 1979? Why had supposedly innocent sugary snacks turned our adorable littles into mini psychopaths?
These kids were not kids, somehow. But how? How was that even possible? Could it be that the files were wrong?
1979 was definitely 45.
But Eleanor Summers couldn’t be 45 years old. I knew what 45 looked like. I knew that they thought like. They spent half of their time on Facebook laughing at outdated memes, and the other half… I don’t know, working? They have job’s! They’re happily married with kids, maybe soon grandkids! That was not Eleanor Summers. Because Eleanor Summers was most definitely eight years old. I had played several rounds of teddy-bears picnic, and spent hours reassuring her that Harry's ghost stories were in fact not real, enough times for me to know that this little kid was little—and a kid.
But something was bothering me. More than the secret military bunker, and magic age-regressing animal crackers. When I first signed up to Camp Redwood, one of the tag-lines to gain attraction had been, “Solve mysteries in the woods in the dead of night, with nothing but a flashlight and your fellow campers!” I had no idea I would be solving this thing on my own, trapped inside a bunker.
“What are you doing?” Rowan, who was still looking through Allison’s dinosaur laptop, turned to me with half lidded eyes, when I slowly got to my feet, careful not to make too much noise, and crept over to the pile of separate files which seemed to be crumbling apart from age. He kept his voice low, but it sounded almost like a whine. He could have been scared, but from the way he was sitting, cross-legged with a frowny face, I figured something must have been going on with him. The guy looked tired. More tired than normal.
The bags under his eyes were practically shadowing his face, and were an odd contrast to unusually ashy colored cheeks and slightly dilated eyes. Still though, Rowan refused to look vulnerable. I caught glimpse of Harry’s raybans sitting on his head, pinning back thick dark brown curls from falling in front of sleepy eyes. Maybe he was finally losing his cool and breaking out of the well-constructed façade he had been hiding behind since Teddy disappeared.
We had just narrowly escaped a crowd of psycho littles high on age-regressing sugary snacks who were doing who-the-fuck knows to the other counselors who had been captured, so I didn’t blame him looking like that. I guess he couldn’t look me in the eye, because in Rowan’s mind, he was the reason why this happened. He was the leader, and the camp had fallen to psychopathic little eight year olds who had taken half of the counselors hostage, and the other half—most likely taken apart in the physical sense, after what we had witnessed in Cassie’s cabin. Still though, it wasn’t Rowan’s fault. He could sit there and pull a face all he wanted, it’s not like I was going to blow up at him for getting us stuck down here. He actually saved us.
And trapped us, judging from the footsteps upstairs, Carmel and Harry still bouncing around looking for us.
It was a game in their heads. The little’s thought it was cat and mouse. Harry and Carmel were the oblivious cats prowling, while we were the mice, hoping to fucking GOD we weren’t caught and eaten. Ignoring Rowan, I glimpsed what looked like a box full of DVD’S—all of which were labelled with dates and names. I saw familiar ones, my heart racing into my throat. Phoebe. Eli. Cassandra.
Each DVD had one of the kid’s names scribbled on the front, as well as a date.
I found Eleanor’s right at the back of the box.
Eleanor Summers.
08/05/2021. (PM)
Before I could hesitate and think what I was doing, I slid the DVD into the portable player attached to the MacBook. Rowan, to my surprise, didn’t move. But he did make an acknowledging noise when the screen flickered to what looked like video footage. Peering at the screen, I found myself staring at a small white room. There was no door. Only a wooden desk and a chair, and sitting on it was a middle aged woman with dark blonde curls tied into a strict ponytail. She was wearing what looked like a prison jumpsuit.
Her eyes were eerily glued to the camera, unblinking. Her wrists were cuffed in front of her. Though from the look on her face, she saw the restraints as a game. Her eyes lit up with intrigue and I could practically see the cogs in her mind starting to turn as she struggled with them.
As soon as I saw this woman, I felt all of my nerve endings set alight. I wanted to turn the screen off, or look away. But once I was looking at the screen, I couldn’t bring myself to tear my eyes away. “Let’s try this again.” There was a woman offscreen. She sounded young. Too young to be in that kind of authority. I figured there was no way teenagers were being hired as special ops agents, but I guessed I was wrong. She cleared her throat. “It is 4:35 exactly. August 5th 2021. My name is Agent Lemrac,” she stated. “I am asking once again for you to comply with us. As I have said several times, the court are willing to lessen your sentence if you plead guilty with insanity.”
The woman surprised me with a snorting laugh. She seemed to come alive, leaning forward with animated features, her brow reaching her hairline. She was acting like a child, bouncing up and down in the seat, her lips stretching into a wider grin. “What did you just say?”
There was a pause. I could tell the woman was intentionally antagonising the interviewer.
“It means you have been legally declared insane,” the interviewer stumbled over her words slightly. “Mrs Summers, it would be in your best interest to work with us to lessen your current sentence which at the moment is standing at,” the sounds of shuffling paper crackled through the speakers. The interviewer cleared her throat again rustling paper. “Thirty six years. Without parole.”
The woman didn’t speak, only continued to smile—and the interviewer delved further into the sentence. “If you do in fact plead guilty with declared insanity, you will be sentenced to a program which is in the process of supporting and rehabilitating people with your…” she caught herself for a moment. I could tell this interviewer had a biased opinion and it was definitely showing through her interviewing style. I could hear the rapid intakes of her breath as she hurried through what seemed to be a script she was reading from. “Conditions.” She finished. “The Redwood program aims to help people exactly like you.”
Redwood? I thought.
Like… Camp Redwood?
Rowan whistled behind me. I guess I could call that a reaction. The guy was probably still in shock after seeing Café de Teddy splattered all over little Cassie’s cabin floor. I should have known those little bitches weren’t playing Operation for eight hours straight. Turning my attention from Rowan and back to the screen, the woman in the jumpsuit appeared to have changed tactics. Her expression twisted into nonchalance. She leaned back in her chair. “I am not pleading insane because I am not insane.”
“Mrs Summers—”
The woman cut her off. “I am not crazy.” She raised her hands “I am doing what needs to be done.” She leaned forward. “Humanity suffers in the skin. We age and die— and how is that fair? What if we want to see the next millennium? And the next two millennia after that? Why should our bodies dictate our lifespan? Why should we sit here and wait to rot and wither and die when we have the intelligence and mindset to do it? If nobody else is willing to throw ethics aside to take a step forwards in human evolution, I should do it myself.” She folded her arms across her chest, again, like a child. “I did what was to be done.”
“Dr. Summers.” The interviewer’s tone grew stiff. “You and your colleagues conducted illegal and unethical procedures on your family and friends—as well as four other victims.”
The woman inclined her head. “You have a daughter, am I correct? I have a son.”
“A child you killed, Dr Summers.” The interviewer retorted in a hiss which was definitely expressing emotion. She ignored the mention of her daughter, but I could tell it had rattled her to her core. Her voice had cracked. This case was close to her.
That was obvious. Without seeing the interviewer herself, I could sense how uncomfortable she was, shuffling in the chair. Every so often I would hear the sound of her rubbing her hands on her knees and tapping her shoe against the chair leg. She oozed anxiety, not just from her tone of voice, but the way the frame seemed to move with her. “Dr. Summers, you used your son in your research, along with several of his friends. This was not science.” Her voice shook. I heard her sharp inhale. Unprofessional, but very human. Instead of staying stoic and keeping to script, this agent was cracking apart. “It was murder.”
“Agent Lemrac, concentrate on the interview only.” An official voice crackled through what sounded like an intercom on screen.
“Got it.” She spoke through her teeth.
The woman was finding wounds and pressing on them. She was scanning the interviewer for vulnerabilities and preying on every insecurity. She leaned back speaking through a sigh. “Without my son’s sacrifice we wouldn’t have created an answer to death. To growing old and dying, and leaving loved ones behind.” Her voice softened into a murmur, but I didn’t trust it.
After identifying the shattering pieces of this interviewer which were very clear visible in her view, the woman was taking advantage.
“Agent Lemrac, you have a daughter. Am I correct in saying her name is Mari?
“That… that is not relevant.”
“Glioblastoma.” Dr. Summers lips curved into a sickening smile hidden behind mocking sympathy. “A sickness of the brain--which, unfortunately, I cannot fix. If your daughter’s brain was in my hands, I would try. However, not even a brand new body would help her. One which would never age or grow sick. And for that, I am deeply, deeply sorry.” She reached her cuffed hands forwards. “My condolences, Agent Lemrac. Honestly. I have to hand it to you. You are incredibly brave for coming here today and talking to me while abandoning your sick child.” She shook her head.
“Your daughter is dying of an incurable illness, suffering inside fragile skin which will break and fall apart and be unable to keep her standing for much longer. While my son will live on forever. He will see every millennia, a planet which will crumble and build itself back together. And maybe the end of the universe itself.” There was a twitch in her expression and a glitter in her eye I did not recognise. Insanity.
She was fucking insane. I was seeing the pure of it, the depraved and disgusting gleam in eyes empty of remorse and regret. This woman did not care what she had done. I could tell from the look on her face. If she had the chance, she would do this again.
But there was no way they were trying to say her cruelty and complete disregard for her son’s life was due to insanity.
“You are sick, Dr. Summers.” The interviewer said after a moment of gathering herself.
The woman shook her head with a chuckle. “I told you. I am not sick--”
“Sick in the head!” The interviewer’s voice exploded through the speakers in a shriek—a terrified cry she had been trying to hold in. I finally saw her—or at least the back of her. She was a young woman with light blonde hair falling loose on her shoulders. She was trembling. Slamming her hands down on the table, she screamed at the orange jumpsuit woman.
“You are psychologically fucked in the head! You psycho bitch! That is my sister!” She spoke through strangled sobs rattling her whole body. “Mari is my little sister. She is not my child.”
Her breaths were strangled and harboured. I noticed figures looming in the background, but she was continuing. “You killed your own fucking son,” she spat. “You are not legally insane, you are sick!” she shrieked. “You planned and put this together! You sit there and you talk about your son like he’s a… like he’s a tool! You deserve to rot. Do you hear me?” I noticed the orange jumpsuit woman was still smiling, satisfied with the interview’s reaction. Her words were spoken in a vicious poison as she leaned forward and spat directly in orange jumpsuit’s face.
“Agent Lemrac!” Whoever her superiors were—were panicking. “I told you not to turn it off. I knew this was going to happen. Can we stop the demonstration, please? Human emotions present inside an Aceville soldier are too powerful—"
Voices were murmuring in the background, and Agent Lemrac raised her hands. “I want to stop.” She choked out, her hands trembling. She spoke like she still had control over the situation and wasn’t being apprehended. “I want to stop. Do you hear me?” The interviewer was crying, I realized. “Stop the recording! I can’t do this. Oh god, I think I’m going to be sick—”
When the footage ended in a burst of static, I found myself backing away, something slimy creeping its way up my throat.
The woman in the orange jumpsuit who had murdered her son and countless others in what sounded like an attempt at playing god, was Eleanor Summers. I thought back to Teddy’s corpse, and the surgical precision of every organ’s removal. The young interviewer had mentioned colleagues of Eleanor.
Was it possible that Camp Redwood was in fact nothing more than a rehabilitation camp for murderous criminals? There was a loud bang from above, and I was torn from my thoughts.
I turned to Rowan, who had been unusually quiet. And I realized why, when I twisted around to find him three inches from my face, his laboured breath tickling my cheek.
The boy jumped back with a chuckle—like me noticing him was some kind of game, before diving back into the chair. I did notice something odd, as my thoughts spiralled. Rowan couldn’t sit still. Slumped in the leather spinning chair, he fingers tapped a rhythm on the armrests while his feet jumped up and down. In the dim light of the bunker, I glimpsed a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and the flesh of his neck. He looked to be… feverish—and now that I was looking at him properly, all of my attention on the boy, I noticed small things which seemed… off about him.
For one, he wasn’t coming up with a plan. Rowan always had a plan. Even if he wasn’t completely sure of it, or was completely winging it. This time though, he was strangely quiet. I found my voice when he stuck out his tongue at me. “What are you looking at?”
“Rowan.” I spoke softly, careful not to garner attention from above us where Harry and Carmel were still clamouring around, playing games. “Are you… feeling okay?” I asked, when he turned back to the laptop, manically biting his fingernails.
“I dunnnooooo, Josie! Am I feeeeeeling okaaaaaayyyyy?” He surprised me with an uncharacteristic laugh.
But I did know it.
I knew it from earlier when he reacted to Allison’s bunker and I had been too freaked out to realize that I was dragging along the enemy with me.
Because the fucking idiot had consumed animal crackers. I had seen him for myself earlier, pouring a pack into his mouth for a snack. Which meant either the ‘kids’ had intentionally dosed him with mind altering sugary snacks, or the more likely, he could not resist those preservatives which was the equivalent of caffeine. It’s not like I could blame him when he harboured the weight of an entire camp, but come on, did he really have to sacrifice his own fucking mind to keep himself awake?
Rowan wasn’t just biting. His nails. He was gnawing. Which he previously thought was a filthy habit. He had yelled at a camper for chewing on her nails a few days earlier.
Now that I was noticing it, I couldn’t… stop noticing it. The boy’s whole demeanour had changed; the way he was sinking into the chair, instead of sitting up straight like usual—- I used to call it having a stick up his ass. The boy started typing on the laptop, ignoring me. But when I watched the pattern of his fingers, he was just typing gibberish. Footsteps pounded above us, Harry and Carmel acting as the kid’s’ brainwashed foot-soldiers. Or, more likely somehow, if the animal crackers had caused the littles, or I guess, the fully grown forty year old criminals, to relapse in age-- then maybe it was possible for the same thing to happen to us. To Rowan.
I could feel myself starting to back away, but there was nowhere to run. I just slammed into a cupboard. My gaze flicked to Rowan again, who was tapping a beat on the laptop tracking pad, swaying back and forth, his eyes elsewhere before his gaze found mine. “Marcoooooo!” Harry shouted from above, giggling with Carmel.
I had to guess their mental age had to be at least 8-10 years old. Which meant I wasn’t just dealing with a camp full of forty-year-old psycho’s, I was also dealing with mentally relapsed counselors acting like toddlers.
Rowan seemed to jolt in the chair, twisting his head around, his eyes suddenly incredibly childlike and playful, and very Un-Rowan, were finding the ceiling, his mouth stretching into a smile, like he was seeing butterflies. His eyes flashed to me, and I caught a twitch in his lip. I knew that look. It was the look on my seven year old sister, who knew mom was mad at me, and wanted to make it even worse.
His cheeks were starting to blossom scarlet from what must have been the overwhelming urge to laugh. Rowan pressed his lips together and held in a breath like a hamster, and the asshole was fucking with me. Waiting for me to beat him to it by accident. Kids were fucking ruthless, but there was something terrifying about an 18 year old with a little kid’s mind.
I lifted my index to my lips, miming for him not to even try, but the boy just mimicked me, bugging out his eyes and pressing his finger to his grinning mouth. “Don’t you fucking dare.” I managed to whisper. The boy was definitely playing his own game, moving in twitching movements, baiting me. When he cupped his mouth, I almost let out a cry, but then he dropped his arms with a giggle, as if to say, “I’m just kidding!”
Slowly, I turned around, grabbed the salt I’d found in Allison’s cupboard, and a flat can of soda. Without making too much movement, I poured a handful of salt into the can. But Rowan seemed to know exactly what I was doing. Because in the time it was taking me to advance towards him with the can of salty soda, one arm shakily ready to grab hold of him, and put him into a headlock, he was cupping his mouth, all logic and everything adult, everything he had been as our leader, igniting in playful eyes, leaving me the last one standing.
“Pollloooooo!”
By the time Rowan had managed to reveal our hiding place in a spluttered laugh, I had hold of the squirming boy, one arm wrapped around his neck, my other forcing the can of soda into his mouth. I had definitely miscalculated his strength. During camp Redwood activities, he was always the last one to come back from the trail, holding his knees and panting. I figured he was unfit. However, I was wrong. Underneath his shirt, the guy had some serious muscles.
It was like attacking a brick wall. However, Rowan was mentally a kid. So, I had my intelligence and logic on my side. When it became obvious I wasn’t going to get anywhere with brute strength, I resorted to tickling him, which made him squirm, squeaking out a laugh. When he opened his mouth to yell at me to stop, I took my chance, thrusting the can into his lips and holding his nose so he swallowed it down.
“No!” His laughter turned into muffled yelling, as he batted his fists at my chest. “No, no, no! Get off, get off!”
His body convulsed as the salt did its job, causing the boy to lurch to his knees and choke up forbidden animal crackers in a gooish sludge which turned my stomach. By the time Rowan seemed half himself and half not, still kneeling, his head pressed against the floor, Harry was poking his head through the door with a goonish grin. “Found you!” He giggled, before forcing the door open, allowing Carmel and Callen, freshly caught and mentally turned into littles, to advance down the stairs with equally terrifying grins. There was something wrong with Harry’s face, and I only realized it when the guy himself was hauling me from the bunker, Carmel dragging a barely responsive Rowan. There was nothing in Harry’s expression, only blind childish excitement at winning the game. When he dragged me out of Allison’s cabin and threw me to the ground, I realized he too had insane strength I had not been expecting. But that thought quickly retracted when I was seeing his face in the light of a crescent moon lighting up the sky an eerie glow. Harry’s cheeks were puffy and swollen, his right eye way bigger than it should have been.
When he spoke, his voice was more of a lisp. This was something far more realistic than magical animal crackers fucking with his brain.
“He needs help!” I managed to choke out when Carmel wrapped jump-rope around my wrists. Next to me, Rowan was refusing to get up, still choking up salty soda, groaning into his hands. Every time Callen tried to restrain him, he hissed out like an animal.
“Do you hear me?!” I struggled violently. “Harry needs—”
BANG.
Is what it felt like. The feeling of something—what felt and sounded like a toy car—colliding with my temples, sent me onto the ground, my head spinning itself off of its axis. I remember lying on my back and frowning at the moon which almost looked like it was getting closer to me, blurring into a white ball of light—before reality sunk in, and it was in fact Carmel’s converse coming down to finish me off. I didn’t stay knocked out for long. But I did dream.
I think you can call it a dream? I was lying in bed at home; my room drowned in the dark. I was cosy, curled up in my blankets, when a clammy hand slammed over my mouth, rousing me from slumber. There were two figures in my room. They didn’t have faces. They just existed as shadows, silhouettes. Before one of them raised something above their head, and… impact.
It was the same impact as the toy car hitting me, snapping me back to that night. It wasn’t a dream. Because I remembered his clammy fingers over my mouth, and his hisses for me to shut up as he dragged me from my room.
My parents stood in front of me with expressions of sympathy. Basked in warm light, my mom and dad looked almost otherworldly. “For the best.” Was what they mouthed when my own phantom screams slammed into me. I asked them why, and they didn’t reply, allowing him to pull me further and further from what I knew, from my life as I knew it. But.. that couldn’t be real. I had memories of getting on the bus to camp Redwood. I could recall the whole journey. So, why… why was my tangled mind saying otherwise?
When I gathered myself, the first thing I realized was I was sitting down. I was outside, cool night air grazing my bare arms. There was something attached to me, jerking violently, And it took me several disorienting blinks to understand that I was tied back to back with Rowan. My head pounded, and something wet and warm dripped down my temple. Great. I could add head injury to the long list of things to worry about.
“Let me go you little fucking witch.”
Rowan was back to himself, though from the muffled hissing and the sound of choking—I had to guess he was being force-fed animal crackers.
“Let me—mpphmmm. little…. fucking… mphmmphhmhppmm!”
“Rowan.” I managed to get out in a croak. Through flickering eyes, I caught glimpse of a familiar figure dancing around us. Shivers rocketed down my spine, and I wrenched at the jump-rope restraints, but they did a surprisingly job of restraining my arms behind my back.
Eleanor was with Rowan, while Eli was knelt in front of me. Looking at him, the boy had definitely aged in the face—and I couldn’t help wondering what exactly he had done as a forty something year old to be sent to this place.
“Josie!” Rowan responded in a wail. “Josie. Wake the FUCK up.”
“Stop swearing.”
Eleanor spoke with the cold tone of her actual age.
“Oh, yeah?” Rowan spluttered. “Fuck you.” The boy’s laugh was still rough from almost vomiting his insides out from too much salt intake. “I’m sorry, you were a fucking boomer all along?!” He wriggled in the restraints, lunging forwards, which sent me backwards.
“Stop swearing, Rowan.” Was all the girl responded with calmly.
“Like I’m going to listen to you!” He sneered. “Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking fuck!” What are you going to do, huh? Bite me with your false teeth?” The sound of saliva hitting skin made me wince. He was pissed. I had no doubt his completely rational anger was going to get us killed. Rowan was also somehow getting mixed up between forty and eighty. Though he was unwillingly snacking on mind bending sugary goodness.
“Fudge, Rowan.” Eleanor spoke in a giggle.
“What?!”
“Say fudge. Not fuck.”
“No.”
His hiss of pain caught me off guard. I don’t know what she was doing to him, but it was hurting him.
“You fudging fudge! I’m going to fudging kill you when I get out of these fudging ropes—“ his manic cursing became a muffled yell.
“Say fudge,” Eleanor hummed, followed by his hiss when the palm of her hand skinned his cheek. “Fuck is a bad word. You even said so yourself and you’re my favourite counselor.”
He heaved out a breath.
“You fudge,” Rowan spat. “When I get out of this, I am going to fudging kill you, you fudging—” His manic ranting morphed, once again, into muffled yelling, after another fistful of animal crackers were forced into his mouth. When I risked twisting around, I could see his rebellion slowly starting to simmer out as he relaxed slightly. I wanted to yell at him to keep a clear head before cold fingers were dipping under my chin and forcing my head around where I found myself face to face with Eli.
“I like you, Josie,” he said, before untying me and pulling me to my feet. Now at the age of nine or ten, he was a lot stronger. When I tried to pull away, the cruel blade of a knife grazed my gut. I caught his grin. “But we don’t need you.” Eli pointed to Rowan.
“We just want them.”
I followed his pointer finger which went from Rowan to Harry and Carmel, who were just standing there like fucking idiots, probably awaiting the next game. Harry’s face was getting redder. It looked like he was suffocating, and yet his grin was growing wider and wider, splitting his lips apart. “Rowan Atlas.” Eleanor said, dragging him to his feet. Something was stapled to his forehead head, which caused him to howl in pain, hissing another strangled line of “Fudge”. but I couldn’t read what it was.
“Camp leader. Intelligent, and problem solving skills.”
“Harry Carlisle.” Eli nodded his head with a smile. “Quick thinker. Strong minded.”
“Carmel Locke.” Cassie spoke behind me. She had her arms folded, a wry smile on her lips. “Smarter than she makes out—- an independent learner, and can work well under pressure.”
Looking at these kids, I felt sick to my stomach. They were planning something—and had the intelligence of renowned scientists, which was what I gathered from the footage on the MacBook. “What?” was all I could hiss out, as Eli prodded the blade of the knife into my back, ushering me to walk. “What are you talking about?”
“Duh.” He spoke in a more tweeny giggle. “Like I said, Miss Josie. You’re my favorite counselor but we don’t need you, so I’m going to use you for parts.” He laughed when a shiver spiderwebbed down my spine. “See! I told you I was going to show you my collection!”
“But… what do you need them for?”
Eli pressed his index finger to his lips with a laugh before forcing me to face forwards. “That’s a secret!”
When I didn’t, or couldn’t move, he shoved me into a stumbling power-walk, and I managed to turn my head quickly, making feverish eye contact with Rowan.
“Rowan.” I said calmly through the gutter in my throat. “Get…. Get help.”
If I was going to die, I needed him to get a hold of himself and somehow alert the outside world what was going on.
“From whom, Josie?!” He wailed back—and as I was dragged away, I could once again sense the childish undertones in his voice.
I had no choice but to obey Eli’s orders. If I didn’t want a knife in my back. He took me to the main lunch cabin, which, when I set foot inside, almost sent me to my knees.
Something lurched inside me, and I was screaming with no voice, staggering backwards, only to be shoved onto my face. In front of me was what had been the lunch hall, fully converted into the beginning of a laboratory.
What had been cafeteria tables were fashioned into makeshift gurney’s and beds, and I was looking at all of the missing counselors. Yuri and Noah had been skinned completely, their faces laid out on a makeshift surgical table. Joey had been ripped open, his heart and brain removed, a glittering metallic substance creeping its way across his forehead. It was then when I remembered Eleanor Summers words.
She wanted to prevent death and preserve the human mind. Looking at what was in front of me, this was the start of it. There was equipment I had never seen before. Lily’s body was empty, carved out completely, tubes forced inside her. When I glimpsed her fingers move and begin to ball into a fist, I saw red. I saw fucking red. The exit was so close and yet Eli, fucking Eli, wielded his knife. I think that is when part of me gave up. My brain just stopped. It short circuited. Seeing my friends murdered and yet somehow being kept alive through playing god, my body slumped to the ground. I was numb. Completely numb.
I’m not sure what would have happened if those bloody saws and instruments which had been used on my friends were used on me too.
Luckily, that did not happen. Before Eli could get his slimy hands on me, he crumpled to the ground in an almost cartoon-like fashion, and standing over me was Harry. Who was looking better. When he grasped hold of me and helped me up, I only had one word. “Out.” And he was nodding, his eyes glistening as he drunk in our friends’ fate.
“How?” I managed to sputter out, when we made it out of the cabin, ducking behind a tree. Harry turned to me, motioning for me to shut up. There was a group of now ten to eleven year olds already running around, searching for what I guessed was him.
“I’m allergic to peanut butter,” Harry murmured, his grasp tightening on my wrist as he led me across the camp, the two of us stumbling.
“What, and you just magically healed?”
He didn’t respond to that, which bothered me.
“The bunker is our best shot,” I hissed out. “I think we can get in contact with someone down there.” I paused, unable to stop myself. “What makes you so important?”
“Dunno. Maybe I’m their favorite.”
When we found Allison’s cabin, which was more of a safehouse (an exposed safehouse) I found Rowan sitting on the wooden porch with his legs swinging over the side. “Rowan!” Harry groaned. I found it hard to believe their roles had been switched. Now he was the one yelling at the camp-leader. “I told you to stay inside!”
He ushered the boy inside, before barricading the door with some hefty looking equipment. I could tell from the grin on his face that our so-called leader was once again no longer himself.
I had to bite back a groan. “You’re kidding.” I said, pointing to Rowan, who buried his head in his knees and blew a raspberry. “Does he look and act like our leader right now?!”
“It’s Rowan, Josie.”
“He’s a liability.”
“He’s our friend! Wouldn’t Rowan do the same?”
Yes, he would. But. He would also realize we’re lost causes.
“Gag him with something.” I said. “If he makes any more noise, we’re dumping him.”
“He’s a kid!”
“Just the mind of one.”
I don’t know how animal crackers worked, but his age seemed to be progressively younger. This time he just sat with wide eyes watching us.
Harry almost tore apart the place looking for means of communication, before an old fashioned ringing sound made me jump.
“What was that?” Harry turned to me with his lip curled.
“How am I supposed to know?!” I hissed. “Keep looking!” But when I ducked under the table, my hands crawled under the desk, finding a wire—and attached to that, an ancient looking phone which looked straight out of a 1940’s movie, a bright green rotary phone.
Hesitantly, I answered it, lifting the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Did you awaken the subjects, Agent Salta?"
The voice on the other end was a woman, an oldish sounding woman with the tinge of a British accent.
“What?” I shot a look at Harry before shaking my head. “No. My name is Josie Greenfield. We’re at Camp Redwood, and we need help.”
The woman paused.
“Where is Agent Salta?” She cleared her throat. “This line is reserved for communication with agents only.”
“I don’t know who the fuck you’re talking about!" I squeaked out. “My name is Josie, and whatever is happening here, we need help!”
“Josie. Did you awaken the subjects?”
I paused after a moment, shooting Harry a look when he tried to take the phone off of me. “Yes.”
“And… are our agents unavailable?”
“I don’t understand.”
“When a health and safety breach is activated, our agents are awakened to deal with the Project Spearhead subjects if they were to ever go rogue, or become conscious enough to think. Josie, can you tell me what is in front of you? Describe it to me.”
I held my breath. Next to the hidden phone under the desk was what looked like mismatched wires, all of which had been severed. I lowered myself slowly, poking at mess. “Wires. I see… cut up wires.” I whispered. “Does this mean they know about you?”
She hummed. “Ah…That makes sense. The only way to activate our sleeper handlers would be to send out the signal. You appear to have been sabotaged. Unless activated manually, our agents cannot help you. I am sorry. They are your problem now.” The woman paused.
“If I were you, I would hope and pray they have not sabotaged the self-destruct. If you find that, then you may be able to save yourselves and find peace.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you for your service, Josie Greenfield.”
“Wait.” I managed to get out. “Wait, no! You can’t just… you can’t leave us! We need help!”
I found myself yelling at nothing when the phone went dead. The dull tone of the dead ringtone was clanging in my ears before footsteps from up above. “Fuck this.” Harry picked up a lead pipe. “They’re still little kids, right? I mean, their head must still be partly kids—- so let’s fucking beat their heads in.”
He noticed something, then, starting forwards towards the mess of files I had left earlier. Harry knelt on the ground and picked up Eli’s file, his eyes wide. But he wasn’t staring at the dates confirming the little boy’s age.
Instead, Harry pointed at the bottom of the file. “I don’t want to freak you out, Josie,” he whispered. Initially, I didn’t know what he was trying to show before I glimpsed notes scrawled at the bottom of the file, followed by a signature. “But I’m pretty sure that is my fucking writing.”
Harry was right.
I pulled the paperwork off of him, flicking through each file before turning my eyes to him. “Who the fuck are you?”
A clanging sound from above broke the tension, and whatever Harry was about to reply with was strangled in his throat. He slammed a hand over his mouth.
“Guys?”
The voice twisted me up inside, threatening to release a shriek from my mouth I had managed to clamp shut.
Teddy.
“Are you down here?” His voice was strained, and had an odd tone to it. “I can’t… I can’t see you.”
…
Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?! It’s been a blur of a week. We’ve managed to stay down here, surviving off of Allison’s rations. Rowan isn’t getting any better. He seems to have stopped mentally de-ageing at the age of maybe six. Harry has spent the last few days trying to get in contact with anyone, but it’s like they are IGNORING US.
I’ve been looking through everything I can find on Project Spearhead, but nothing points to Harry being involved. So. How is his signature all over the files? How is it possible that two friends I thought I knew several days ago, are now complete strangers?
Teddy keeps coming back.
He’s crying out to us.
I think he’s… in pain.
My god, I can’t stand this anymore. Please. CAMP REDWOOD NEEDS HELP.

DMZ player since day 0, tried squad fill first week before I decided I enjoyed playing solo better since it was frustrating spawning with randoms. Sure, I've squad up with teams in games on the fly but always go in solo. Last week I was thinking about turning squad fill on again for a round or two to see how it is these days. So a couple days ago I turn it on going into the deployment equipped with comms vest, advanced UAV, scavenger bag, self-revive, revive pistol, and my favorite Hemlock I call 'Loose Lips'.
I spawn with two players who both have one-plate vests, one of them has a mic and isn't using it, and the other has no mic at all. Spawn in on the small island west of Al Bagra and both teammates go off in two different directions, one swimming north towards Sarrif Bay and the other swimming west towards the lighthouse. I warn them that Sarrif can have lots of bots using my mic thinking maybe they'd hear me and be careful. Player going north hits the shore and immediately goes down in the water. I jump on a nearby jetski and zoom over to him taking the bots out and reviving him from Davey Jones' locker. Soon as he's revived, other teammate goes down fast in front of the lighthouse building. Jump on the jetski once again and take down all the homicidal bots before reviving him and notice the first player that went down has now joined us and seems to need reminding to plate up.
We head over towards the resort and I'm looking for them a two-plate vest or something when the comms vest alerts me to nearby operators. Within two seconds after that alert, teammate gets completely obliterated giving me an idea where the operators are but since he didn't have a mic no clue how many. I climb to the roof and take cover to pop the advanced UAV and see two operators running around below me. I scan vicinity with spotter's scope on thermal for any stragglers waiting to snipe and it looks clear. I move to a position on the roof above where my teammates body is laying looking for operators or an opportunity to revive him. Not sure what other teammate is doing at this time. Parachute down and take cover inside the building hearing footsteps running around me so I wait for a window to attack staying quiet. Enemy operator runs in the room I'm in and gets hemlocked into oblivion. I'm not hearing any enemy prox chat so I run up some nearby stairs waiting for his teammates to try to revive him from an elevated position. I didn't wait very long until one ran into the room towards his buddies body so I jumped down to ground level and start shooting him only to suddenly be flanked by his other still living teammate. So it comes down to the mute random teammate I almost saved from drowning just a minute ago with his one-plate vest to take out this enemy operator and revive us. I watch his helmet cam as he frantically searches for the enemy and steps from behind cover towards my body. He gets to the entrance to the room my dead body is in and just gets obliterated and my squads eliminated within less then five minutes of starting.
I've went back to solo only after that but honestly, I'd give squad fill another shot for the hell of it. I like to help players and get missions done and really enjoyed all the times I've joined squads mid-game. Hopefully I get teamed with some better squads. Maybe I'll see you in Al Mazrah!