It escalated very quickly.
I moved into a 2nd floor apartment and my couch was wider than the stairway. Don't make the same mistake as me!
“She looks like you.”
The old man nodded towards the painting, one of many that adorned the halls of his stately home. It showed a young woman being flayed from the hips down, her skin trailing behind her like a cloak as she carved a path through a crowd of desperate peasants. She looked peaceful, content with basking in the people’s admiration, even as they peeled the skin from her legs with notched blades and scalpels.
“It’s… odd,” was all I managed to say.
Mr Brynshaw smiled like an amused father. I’d expected him to be some trust fund creep after reading about the job, with slicked back hair the colour of straw and teeth too big for his gums. But when I met him, I was surprised to see that he was quiet and dignified, even a little affectionate. Somehow, he was all the scarier for it.
“The artist was very close to my heart,” he said. “I was his patron, but it can be hard for people to get what they want, especially money. I thought I was saving him. He died before the millennium, twisted all out of shape on some hospital bed, begging for more drugs.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said.
“Don’t be,” he replied. “He wrote some remarkable poetry. Revolutionary stuff that would have introduced us to a new age of spiritualism if he hadn’t burned most of it. He also gave me this painting and in doing so, he led me to you.”
“You mean?”
“Jenson brought it to my attention.” He was referring to the strange-looking assistant who’d petitioned me at my door three weeks before. “He was the one who brought your application to me. I took the resemblance between you and the painting as a sign.”
“I thought that you hired me for my experience as a professional—”
“Oh, we have all those types here already. The educated and the qualified,” he said. “But it’s not always about qualifications, or even talent. Sometimes I simply like to give people a chance at getting what they want.”
“Like your artist?” I asked. “He got what he wanted.”
The old man smiled again and this time it wasn’t so fatherly.
“I suppose that’s up to you.”
-
We were expected to wake at 5am and spend the day preparing. Costume fittings. Practice runs. More costume fittings. More practice runs. Hours and hours spent sitting still. Standing still. Posing. Smiling. Crying. Purring. Roaring. Growling. I was sexy, vulnerable, dignified, angry, fierce, quiet, cold, warm, hot… by the end of the first day, just as the sun began to set on the shores of the private island, I was exhausted and ready to col
... keep reading on reddit ➡“[…]. No organization has yet tried to declare responsibility for the abhorrent attack, which has claimed the life at least 12 people, including councilman Rugergio, and injured many more. The investigation is still ongoing, but […],” the newscaster emotionlessly read off the exact same segment that nearly all the news stations in the galaxy had been airing for a week now, with no end in sight.
Rugergio turned away from the telescreen and brought his gaze down to the table before him. These animals could keep looking as much as they wanted, they weren’t going to find anything.
He had made more than sure of that. Everything had been meticulously planned by himself, so no halfwit of the Community had any chance of even coming close to threatening his success.
Even among the great order of the psitaccines, his people were revered for their intelligence. And even among his people, he was among the smartest of them all.
To someone like him, a situation like this would be nothing more than a game.
And now, it was just one more hour, before his ticked to a new, undisturbed life in the outer area would land at this very landing station and take him away, with no one even having a hint of what happened.
Game, set, and match. He had won.
-
The hot air shimmered over the red sand of the small station town, as his boots kicked up clouds of arid dust with every step he took.
He had traversed it multiple times now, taking in the dirty facades of the buildings that probably used to be white, before years of red dust had accumulated in every little crevice and memorizing the network of streets and alleyways that spanned between them.
On his last round through the town, he had made some stops along the way, placing down different gadgets that would be useful later.
Some motion sensors and remote-controlled explosives in the underpass of a big carpark here.
Some gas cartridges in the sewer system there.
A smile crept on his face, as his heart started beating harder in anticipation.
Now, he was leaving the town, climbing up a good-sized hill just outside it, on top of which he had left the main bulk of his equipment behind earlier.
With great care, he opened up the large container and slowly reached inside it. The first thing he took out was a large, electronical headset, which he fastened around the right side of his head, over his ear. A small, half transparent screen flipped out of the device, situating itself before his right eye.
For now, all it did
... keep reading on reddit ➡—
Get to the neighbor's house.
Pushing forward down the driveway, I tucked Charlie's necklace into my back pocket. Maybe she dropped it by accident? Doubtful. Regardless, my goal didn't change. Use the neighbor's phone to call Charlie - find out where she is - why she left without telling me. At this point, I was even considering calling the police, but…
…What would I tell them? I let a family of five into my house - I think they put up a painting? Not exactly police priority. Call Charlie first, evaluate from there.
The storm was getting worse too. As I trudged down the road, freezing billows of wind swept through me, into the forest at the end of the street. The trees rattled and swayed in unison. My face stung, teeth chattered, eyes burned. Fun.
Finally, I reached Harpreet and Miguel's place. A forest-green bungalow with a meticulous, snow-covered, Japanese garden out front. I gave three sharp knocks and waited. No answer. But as I reached for the bell, the door swung open, and there stood Harpreet, "Hello?" Her eyes were tired - she wore a house-coat. Wait, what time was it? I checked my wristwatch: 6:58 on a Saturday morning. Yikes.
"…Hey Harpreet, sorry to bother you so early."
She looked at me, a little confused, almost like she didn't know who I was. Fair enough, we'd only met once before, but…
"…It's Eve," I reminded her, "just moved in up the street. We were gonna do a game night together?"
She smiled, "Oh right… Eve," she said. But it almost felt like she still didn't recognize me and was just being polite. That, or my social anxiety was yet again taking the reins.
"Can I use your phone?" I asked, "Mine's dead."
She nodded, "Sure," reached into her pocket, and handed me her cellphone.
"Thanks," I dialed Charlie's number. Three tones rang out. No answer.
I went to dial again, but-
-Charlie called back. Thank God.
"Hello…?" she said. I exhaled relief. Just hearing her voice felt like getting a big warm hug, "Charlie, where are you?"
"Who's this?"
I raised an eyebrow, then remembered I wasn't using my phone, "It's Eve," I said, "my phone's dead, I'm using the neighbors'."
"Oh? Hey Eve… it's kinda loud in here. You'll have to speak up." In the background: barcode scanners beep
... keep reading on reddit ➡So I was walking my dog, she small, she's old, she can't crap very far from home, its ok. Next thing I know, sirens, loud explosion sounds, I hear glass shaking."What the fuck?".
Return home. Now would be a good opportunity to say I live in Israel.See the news. Escalation between Hamas and IDF. I hope it blows over soon, sound serious.
I go back to my computer, and watch pewdiepie play Resident Evil Village.
Fast forward to the evening, all over the news, people talking about seeking shelter, and whatnot. Sirens again, so I follow the instructions on the news, I go out into the stairway, and wait it out.
That was crazy. I open facebook, and see a TON, a MILLION posts about how Israel is the bad guys, and free Palestine. That's... sad, IDK, I don't care. I open discord, because I got a DM, from someone I don't know, but they're in the same server as me, we have in common the same game we used to play.
"Hey, you're Israeli, right?" I raise my eyebrow, "uuh yea, so?".
I wait a little, because he's typing a long message, and when he hits send, I get this wall of text, and its all about how I'm a bad person for colonizing this land, and how my people are killing children. I didn't even answer it, I just blocked him. Bro, I didn't kill no children, and I don't support any death, let alone Palestinian death. Nobody I know wants any Palestinian dead. I just wanna work my ass off, order pizza, watch marvel movies when it comes out in theaters, maybe watch porn, and wait for new games on steam, I don't want nobody dead.
Why is my facebook feed full of people calling Israeli people murderers? Fine, I don't even use facebook that much.
Why does 9GAG have a ton antisemitic memes, suddenly? wtf?
The war predates everyone alive today, and I was born into this country, I didn't take anything from anyone, I have muslim friends, and we get along just fine, we don't mind that.
Israel has gay marriage, and allows people to have whatever religious beliefs. I'm an atheist, I don't care where you pray. Most of the people I know think the same.
Last 3 days were hell, missiles fall everywhere in the country, and we have to be on alert twenty-four hours.
But know what? Let's depart from my point of view, the news on our end explains what happens with the Gaza conflict, they show that the IDF warns civilians in Gaza exactly where the next airstrike will happen, they target warehouses with missiles and weapons. They target Hamas lead
... keep reading on reddit ➡TL;DR A man recorded the following videos in 1993 on 8mm videotape. This could be cgi, I guess, but his reactions and the surrounding videos seem legitimate to me. The videos:
video of helicopter shot at the same time for reference
The Story
http://brumac.mysite.com/Acceleration/ACCELERATION.htm Martin Allen (pseudonym) first saw the UFO at about 1:30 PM on March 24, 1993. It was traveling north to south past his house on Pensacola Beach. He thought it was a "fat, round-looking cruise missile" from Eglin Air Force Base10, 11." A few minutes later he saw another (or the same) one and this time he realized that it wasn't a cruise missile. It was "crown shaped with a bottom layer". Since he had now seen it twice coming from the same direction he decided to try to videotape it if it flew past again. He set up his 8 mm videocamera (Sony CCD M8; fixed focus; 29° field of view) on his deck and pointed it in the direction which the "missile" had gone and left the camera running. The camera ran for two hours, the duration of the videotape, When he reviewed the video he saw only some helicopters flying along the beach. The next day he set the camera up again and "I went into the house and went to the bathroom. When I started to return to work - about 1:30 - I saw the UFO moving fast from the east. The video camera caught it."10 The witness next saw the crown shaped UFO hovering southeast (about 160° azimuth, 40° elevation) of his house on March 31, 1993 at about 2:00 PM. He ran to get his videocamera and three batteries (he didn't know which one was charged). He placed the camera on the railing of his deck to steady it and turned it on. The UFO was motionless. In the video one sees the tops of hazy clouds moving from right to left, whereas the UFO image stays near the center of the field of view. The first battery ran out after about 40 seconds and he quickly replaced it, but the second battery was dead. He replaced that with the third battery and videotaped the UFO for another 9 seconds or so at which time it suddenly zipped away so fast that the witness could barely see it go. He was startled and uttered an expl
... keep reading on reddit ➡- Ten years Gone -- yes, its actually all time favorite. The anguish, the intensity, the guitars, just stunning work!
- In The Light -- sounds like it could have been written by J.S. Bach! The keyboards, the guitars are perfect
- The Rain Song - so moving and wistful, so romantic
- Over The Hills and Far Away - ultimate rocker. The build up and then the peak is just glorious
- No Quarter - I love the song, in the studio and also live. I'd have to say that of all live LZ works, (and I've heard tons of stuff) that its my favorite song to hear live.
Now... I do love a great many other LZ songs. And yes, I adore Stairway, Rock & Roll, and about 50 other tracks. LZII is a masterpiece. Heck they have 6 or 7 albums that are masterpieces! But those (above) are my top 5. Love to hear reactions and comments. Love this sub!
I woke up in a cold sweat—that familiar feeling of dread seeping along my spine. My mouth felt dry as a leather glove. My head like a wrung sponge. I realized it was the sound of my receiver that was pulling me up out of the dark depths of my mind and away from Adara’s warm body draped against me.
I reached over grabbed it, looked at the screen and yawned. It was Eia calling. I silenced it, shaking my head, then tossed it on the nightstand. I turned over, sliding my arm around Adara and kissing her neck.
“Business?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper.
“Not anymore,” I said, sliding my hand along her hips and breasts like a rogue wave crawling up sandy shores, feeling the smooth and warm crimson skin.
She bit her lip, sighing, shifting her body closer to me.
The light on my receiver lit the room in its otherworldly aura.
Eia was calling again.
I wanted to ignore it. Every instinct was telling me to ignore the call. Yet, I turned over, pulling the sheets off me, feeling the cold night air wash over my naked body.
Adara sighed again, shook out her hair, squeezed her pillow close to her chest, then went back to sleep.
I grabbed the receiver and walked to the window, looking down on the lights of Nero. The storm had passed, but the towers still wetly glistened.
“Hello, Mrs. Citali,” I said, watching the neon strips of traffic spread out in staggered lines between the towers.
There was silence on the line for a few seconds, then I heard slight breathing. “Hello, John. I’m … I’m so glad that you picked up.”
“What is you want, Mrs. Citali?”
There was silence again. I turned and looked at Adara lying in the bed, the contours of her figure impressed in the soft sheets like the mold of an angel. My feet were cold on the hard, concrete surface of her apartment.
The walls were bare for the most part. A small stairway protruding from the wall led up to a mezzanine where there was a chair and a matching bookshelf made out of some exotic wood that I wasn’t familiar with.
Next to me, near the window, was an easel with a half-finished painting of the city landscape. Although it was absolutely the same scene that displayed itself out the window I was looking through, the painting was of Nero during the day. The colors were brig
... keep reading on reddit ➡“Your job is to sell, sell, sell,” said my new supervisor, leading me across the showroom of [redacted].
“Think you can handle that,” he turned around and looked at my plastic name tag, “Danny?”
I gave a thumbs up.
“Good,” he snapped, then continued walking.
We were on the ground floor sandwiched between two long rows of beds. It was only 9.20 AM but the store was already a beehive of activity.
He spoke over his shoulder as I followed him up a metal stairway, one step behind. “Sell as many mattresses as you can. That’s where the profits are. If the customer”—chirp—"isn’t biting, offer discounts. If that doesn’t work, throw in some new sheets or an extra pillow.” Chirp.
I wanted to say something about the weird ‘chirp’ sound he kept making but held my tongue. We reached the first floor, where mattresses lay stacked on top of one another like playing cards.
“There are no breaks, you get forty-five minutes for lunch—be back on time,” chirp, “don’t call in sick, don’t screw around, don’t say anything rude in front of a customer, and remember your bonus depends on how many mattresses you sell, nothing else counts.”
He paused. “Am I going too fast for you?”
“Nope, I got it,” I said confidently.
“The storeroom is through there,” he gestured towards a set of double doors marked ‘warehouse staff ONLY beyond this point’. “Do NOT go back there for any reason. Ever. I catch you in there, you’re gone. You need something from the back, come find me.” Chirp. “You’re paid to stand out here and sell. Understand?”
I nodded.
“Probation lasts six months. If at any point during that time you aren’t hitting your sales targets—which you probably won’t—you’re gone.”
Chirp. “Got a problem with that?”
I bit my bottom lip and shook my head.
“Good. Any questions?”
“Nope.”
As he ticked a bunch of boxes on his clipboard, I couldn’t help thinking he was one of the weirdest-looking people I’d ever met. He was bald and pale, with bulbous eyes and narrow lips.
“Okay, your training is finished. Go sell some fucking mattresses.” With that, he pulled out a key card, held it up to a panel alongside the doors, then disappeared.
At the front side of the building, a wall of plate glass overlooked a parking lot. Tucked away in the far corner was my piece-of-shit car. If I hadn't needed the money so badly, I might have already handed over my nametag and told my asshole supervisor to shove it up his ass.
On the ground floor, my new coworkers scrambled around trying to make
... keep reading on reddit ➡The battle, like all of them, was a blur. Bloody, beautiful, and far too short.
Only after it was over, and the beating of her heart slowed to that painful, aching emptiness, did she realize she had left the scribe behind.
She found him sitting in the broken remains of one of the villager’s houses. Not hiding. Just sitting on an old bamboo mat, like he was a guest waiting quietly for his host. The house was sagging on one side, and the thatched roof had collapsed almost completely so that the floor was flooded with rainwater, rushing to the hole where the wall had once been.
There was a body in front of him, a local woman. Rain pattering on her farming rags. She was laying on her side, and it almost looked like she was asleep with the way her mouth was hanging open, revealing that black palate. Her tail, almost as long as her body, flopped against the wall of the ruined stilt house.
“I was trying to talk to her,” the scribe said. “I was trying to tell her to surrender. She ran at me with a knife. Someone shot her.” He shook his head, swallowing some emotion that threatened to spill out of him.
The rain rattled heavily on the wooden floor.
“I thought I could help her,” the scribe said. “I thought she was a farmer.”
“She was.”
The local’s arms were curled over her chest. Even in death, she clutched something in her claws.
Agra bent down to pry it loose. A humanoid figurine, short and round, with closed eyes, carved out of a single transparent stone. Amber or red quartz, or something like it. All its features were worn smooth from years of touch, which only made the luster inside the stone shine all the brighter.
She gave the figurine to the scribe. He was mesmerized, not by the stone’s simple beauty, but by the fact that someone - an alien, a person - had made this. And now, that someone was dead.
For the glory of the Empire.
“Why do they fight us?” the scribe asked. “Don’t they know we’re trying to help them? Don’t they know how many others we’ve helped...”
Agra’s voice was more dull than bitter. “How many is that?”
But the scribe, transfixed by the local’s figurine, didn’t seem to hear her.
The squelching of boots made its way around the house. A cyran soldier shielded his eyes, squinting up at the broken house through the rain. When he sa
... keep reading on reddit ➡I am a Queen’s student living in a student-occupied apartment building in the downtown area. Around 10:30pm, it was quite obvious that my upstairs neighbours were having a loud party with a lot more than the 5 living in the apartment... especially judging by the stampede that went up our shared stairway. They aren’t even attempting to be low key about it.
Naturally, this would be pretty irritating during “normal times” as it is exam season, but we’re in a stay at home order! As someone planning to move back home next week, I do not want to jeopardize that by a building outbreak.
After deliberating with my housemates, we decided to call the non-emergent police number and explained the situation. The officers arrived soon after. We heard the officers confront them very briefly and then exit the building. We saw ONE student leave the building afterwards. The party continued. That’s it?! A slap on the wrist?? I write this while nearing 2am & hearing Pitbull vibrate my bedroom walls.
THIS is one of the major reasons Queen’s students don’t follow the rules (other than their blatant disrespect for others) - the rules are not enforced! It’s one thing to be pigeonholed by locals as an irresponsible student refusing to follow covid guidelines, it’s another to have them live right above you.
To my neighbours: I get that everyone is exhausted by the wishy-washy lockdown rules. As am I. But is celebrating your birthday while endangering others really worth it? Please do better.
##Wiki/Chapter list = First Chapter = Previous = Next
Jasmine swiped through one video after another, funny accidents, pranks gone wrong, hardcore parkour, and the aliens were mesmerised. She’d never heard either of them laugh so hard before. Rynard sounded like a lion with a bad cough and Xant’s was closer to a crocodile’s snicker, so it wasn’t something she would have instantly recognised as laughter in the first place.
“This! Now this is entertainment!” Rynard exclaimed, thumping his tail on the deck repeatedly.
“Oh I concur!” Xant agreed, closing his mouth to nod. “This is truly a masterwork of comedy!”
“You know it’s funny, back on earth slapstick is usually seen as ‘low-brow’. I didn’t think it would be your taste, Xant,” Jasmine mentioned, scrolling through her gallery looking for more videos for them to watch. Xant stood back and smiled.
“Ah, on the contrary, Jasmine. While words and cultural tics may be more the intellectual’s field, as a Zenthi, physical comedy gets the bigger laugh.”
Jasmine nodded her head as it dawned on her. Xant’s race was psychic, and while she had seen a few bits of writing here and there, most of the GC tech seemed to work on voice commands or Freq Pulses. The written word was nowhere near as prevalent as it was back on Earth. It made sense. The translator worked on thoughts, not ‘words’. Even some of the concepts she had learned about were probably only translated to the closest ‘human equivalent’.
But you didn’t really need to translate a precisely timed shot to the nuts.
She selected another video and popped it on the screen, and the two aliens did not laugh. Jasmine tilted the screen to see what was up, the video was of a man not using the leg press for its intended purpose.
“He’s doing it wrong,” Jasmine explained while chuckling. “The way he’s doing it, he’ll over-extend his legs and they may snap, he’s not working the muscles at all!”
“‘Working’ the legs?” Rynard asked, which really threw Jasmine off.
“Yeah? So the muscles don’t atrophy?” she continued, but she was met with blank stares. “Don’t you train to keep in peak physical condition?”
“No, we train to keep our instincts and skills up.” Rynard crunched his fists, flexing his chest. “Our bo
... keep reading on reddit ➡*This case has been discussed before, I put together information I found and did a more comprehensive documentation. I also did a video to document this case, have a look if you are interested: https://youtu.be/bwwsOTVtUqA
Background
The case took place in 2000. Despite offering the highest reward of 20 million yen in Japan history, no useful info had been obtained to solve the notorious Setagaya family murder.
Setagaya is a special ward in Tokyo. It is also the name of a neighborhood and administrative district within the ward. Setagaya has the largest population and second largest area of Tokyo's special wards.
In 2000, in Setagaya city, Kami-Soshigaya, Sanchomu. There was a double storey townhouse, owned by Mikio Miyazawa (44 years old). He worked in a foreign-affiliated company and was developing corporate identity for major corporations.
The wife Yasuko (41 years old) gave private tuition for primary school students at home. They had a daughter Niina (8 years old) and a son Rei (6 years old). Residing next to them was Yasuko’s mother and elder sister. The elder sister married a foreigner and later moved out.
Yasuko then turned her mother’s ground floor to a private tuition centre; while their own ground level was solely for the husband’s use.
The 2 units seemed connected from outside, but they were actually 2 separate units.
The Miyazawa family had been living here since June 1990. Their 2 children were born while staying here.
Miyazawa’s life was nothing but blissful, until the entire family was brutally murdered.
December 31 2000：Tokyo. Setagaya
December 31 2000 was a Sunday. 10 in the morning, Yasuko’s mother felt something was off, as Yasuko was supposed to send the 2 children over for her care. Half an hour later, the mother called Yasuko twice but nobody picked up.
By now, the mother decided to go over and take a look. At around 10:50am, she pressed the bell but nobody answered. The door was locked. The family car was parked in the garage, so she figured they must be at home. Using the spare key, she opened the door and went in.
The house was dark, the air was choked with an odious smell. The mother quickly switched on the light and saw a person collapse at the staircase landing. That was his son-in-law Mikio.
He was drenched in blood. Startled by this bloody scene, the mother hurried to the 2nd floor to find her daughter. Her daughter Yasuko collapsed on the 2nd floo
... keep reading on reddit ➡The funeral director was asking us what we think Mum should wear in her casket.
Mum always loved to wear sarongs (fabric wraps that go around the torso and drape downward a bit like a long skirt would), so my uncle suggested that she wear a sarong in there.
The funeral director looked a bit confused, as did some of our family members, to which my uncle added:
"What's sarong with that?"
I started laughing like an idiot. He was proud of it too. The funeral director was rather shocked. We assured her, and our more proper relatives, that Mum would've absolutely loved the joke (which is very true).
His delivery was perfect. I'll never forget the risk he took. We sometimes recall the moment as a way help cushion the blows of the grieving process.
--Edit-- I appreciate the condolences. I'm doing well and the worst is behind me and my family. But thanks :)
--Edit-- Massive thanks for all the awards and kind words. And the puns! Love 'em.
My mother was a single parent with six very well-behaved children, five girls, and one boy and my name is Brandy and I was the youngest and very small for my age.
We were all opened up to the paranormal at an early age.
This took place in Hollywood California in the late ’60s
Mom knew her kids were all different and she was very supportive. She would just tell us not to go around telling people because they would think our family was crazy. Looking back at life with my mother I kind of tend to agree on so many levels.
Something she always said stuck with me, “People don’t like what they can’t understand.”
At the time we were renting a downstairs duplex on Alexandria St. in Hollywood, California across the street from this mean old lady. She lived in the back of this house with her windows blacked out and would scream at the kids walking or riding their bikes by. She even popped our balls if they landed in her driveway and then she would laugh. I tried to be her friend because I loved everybody but she had an evil soul.
One day our mother sat us down and told us that the owner was getting a divorce so she and her kids wanted to move back to our place so we had to move. Mom knew that it was going to be hard financially to come up with the money for the move but she asked us to have faith in her, so we did.
Mom worked three jobs and worked mostly day hours, so the only time she could go looking at rentals was at night. All six of us would pile into this big yellow wood panel station wagon with a suicide seat in the back and off we would go, the adventure began into the night.
Most of the time some of the doors to the rentals were unlocked, (The 60s) all of us were armed with flashlights but we had to be very quiet. The scariest times for me was when the doors were locked so “me being the smallest” my brother would help me into an open window in the dark so I could run to the door and open it for them.
Now that I’m writing this I believe that was breaking and entering.
My brother and I were very sensitive so If there was a house that made any one of us uncomfortable mama would scratch it off her list and move on. It was hard to find a house that fit all of us, especially anything my mother could afford.
One day I came home from school and was surprised to see all of our stuff was being moved to the house directly across the street where a mean old lady lived in the back.
I finally found my mother and asked her what was going on, she told me that sh
... keep reading on reddit ➡