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[OC] [Text] - [HiH_LLC] 001 - The Big Haul.

2020.02.24 02:28 get_me_awt [OC] [Text] - [HiH_LLC] 001 - The Big Haul.

Human interstellar Hotline, Limited Liability Company

[First] - [Previous] - [TL;DR spoiler] - [Next]
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Greetings Fellow being, here are some informations before we begin.
Welcoming questions, Orthography corrections, constructive criticism and fancypants edition advices.
Readtime: +/-16 min @ 300wpm. 26kchars, 220+Ln. I hope you have a good time.
------

It all began with a grumpy union captain and his dumpster fire of a vessel. The lade thought he was either going to; A) get fired or B) end up vaporized against the station. Steaming Lasagnas and Sauces on Salamis, i had nothing to do with it, neither did 'Rapid Mac Faster' over there, not entirely ...
------
The station was lazily headed for the farthest point on its elongated orbit around the thick ringed gas giant. A few days ago it had a close call near the tightest point, but such are the compromises made on multipurpose platforms. This time too, the gravity generators did their job shielding the station, but got out of nominal and finally, a few gave in. Since then, engineering was rolling low gravity around to ease the strain on the ones remaining up.

Right now it was core block's Shift.

That's where Greg and Fred Decided to relax after their last tug, waiting for the station gears to grind the paperwork, Boring stuff made to squeeze the change outa you. But no matter when you have a fat stack of creds anyways. Like every mammal in this situation, they were discussing what was the following item on the list;
-more intoxication,
-different intoxication,
-Food intoxication,
-some quenching of the 'other' mammalian instincts ...
The place they were relaxing in the back of, would gladly indulge, with whatever the local selection was available for, credits provided.
The glowing neon patterns rippled colored waves, decorating the interior of the establishment, sometimes painting fractals on select portions of the light spectrum. Sadly for the humans, relaxed wiggling rainbows was all that could be seen, mostly tilting towards warm red at the moment. Still relaxing.

Pouring them another round and setting the container aside, Greg nudges Fred and motions towards the Cy-gerdy that strolled over in the bar. He was trying to get on top of an oversized counter stool to order. Not yet used to the inconsistent gravity, the tiny blue alien attempts again, and trips over for compensating.
-"Great, just what i needed ... " the Cy grumbles to himself.
As he finally summits, he internally reviews the last 67 last hours Station;
-"3rd Ring Ores Union job offers expired before i arrived. I docked late, because saving on fuel costs makes for longer travel times, which in turn makes for more flight hours on the propulsion plant. Which leads to earlier maintenance, which leads to more expenses ... " he lamented as he finally rested high enough on the stool to order ...
-" You'd think owning your shuttle would save you the bottom feeding trouble." He finally let out as he rested his front manipulators on the mesmerizing counter.
The UV and IR light patterns were soothing to say the least, he observed, starting to follow them slowly with his sensing organs. The barkeep, used to this, was smiling, thinking about the first time he saw them himself. Every newcomer would appreciate a moment to themselves to delight in the arcs and eddies.

Greg consults with his counterpart, still at their table, eyeing the Cy-gerdy;
- " Bro, u thinkings what I’m thingkins? " he leaves in the air, "ACCOUNTING BOI !" he quietly but excitedly says to his brother.He was almost jumping up and down, hands extended flat near his temples and eyes wide open.
-" Certainly could not hurt to offer the blue one a shot or two and talk about it, now could it Brother?" Fred says with a calm and smooth voice somehow filled with as much excitement. Both knowing how good Cy-gerdy are with bureaucracy.
Quietly but decidedly, both stand from their comfy seats, walk in a well-rehearsed manner towards the Cy-gerdy.Ignoring what looks them to like dim light shades of barely changing pink on the counter, each seat on a stool adjacent to the blue alien's in one elegant motion.

As both place a soft hand on the blue customer's shoulder, he jumps, surprised, and is gently held in place by two assured grasps preventing his fall. Not knowing what to do or say, he clicks a few time and finally manages a timid but slightly frightened;
-"Yes? what is it?"
-"Care for a drink?" Greg starts,
-"And a plate ? On us of course." Fred finishes.
As the two giants slowly let go of him he takes them on the offer.
-"S-sure, whatever you'll be having, but erm... half sized?" he hesitates not wanting to offend, as he gestures to his comparatively small Bulk.
-"So what can i do for you?" he finishes as Fred motions 2 and a half to the barkeep. Greg passes a hand over the tab-com, making it beep in a display of understanding between the two.
-"Well funny you should ask this," Fred picks up. " We might be in Looking for the services of a Cy-Simald of your caliber for at least a few hours, if not a few days, if you're game of course? "
-'Simald' the Tiny blue one recalls for himself, disappointed, 'if only i was this good ... i barely qualify for 'Gerdy', but they don’t know that i gess ... '
Straightening, he opens;
-"You can drop the honorifics, i'm Flag, what are these ...'services' you mention? "
-"Fred here" Greg gestures, " doesn’t like parting with more than he has to."
-"And Greg there," Fred motions, "doesn’t like to fill forms at all ... but let's not get ahead of ourselves here."
As the two humans gently grab the Cy by the shoulders and put him softly on the floor, he thanks them for the spared effort and humiliation. One nods, leading the way to their comfy corner, falling in line, the other motions the barkeep who nods back.
As they sit down Greg starts:
-"So, we got that pile of junk the other day. Hella big haul. Ice, ore with a vein of heavy metals and some scrap grade equipment from the previous attempt." After taking a short satisfying sip from the newly arrived refreshments, he continues;
-"We are now done with this Fat rental and are just killing time until the lease on the vessel expires. Renting the services of a certain colored xeno, would be a good use of this remaining time." Greg then sits back and grabs a bite, so does Flag, still listening, starting to see where this is going.

While Fred puts down his glass he picks up where his collaborator left off;
-"I assume you know how the standard lease works for union vessels, correct?" Flag mimicks a nod, then Fred goes on;
-"Thing is; it's a Burger and a half for us to do all the things it takes to reclaim the 'integrity return deposit', but if you're willing to take a look and estimate how much we can get back, the booze plus snacks are on us tonight."
-"On top of that," Greg finishes, "You, get a third of what comes from the 'integrity return deposit', no strings attached, just more cash to pad your pockets."

Nothing better to do while his ship has the 'spare parts' status stuck on it, Flag ponders a moment and quickly recalls the local regulations and contract templates. Unable to see any downside, he slurps a bit of his drink and agrees with the two. Creds are creds and not paying for sustenance is always good. As he does, Fred sends him the contract's files needed to get to work, analyze hidden clauses and potential loopholes.

-"Turbocharged on the maney highwayyyyyyyy Bro !!" Greg chirps over Flag at Fred who raises his glass back at him with a smile.

Flag, already at work observes the class of material they rented, ship's diagram, self-diagnostics history. Multiple inconsistencies show up, unreported thresholds were passed when they flew back to port. Disappointed by the lack of equipment discipline, he concludes Fred and Greg will have to to pay for the five previous crews misdeeds, all of them underreporting damage, and using the ship improperly.

-"This won’t do." Flag says sternly; "Fred, i need access to a complete diagnostic report including Processing, Greg you are on all redundant Support subsystems both need to be processed on external hardware in failsafe mode."
-"Hot Salami and sauce, cobalt here doesn’t waste a beat!" Fred giggles.
-"Turbocharged indeed Brother." Greg mocks lightly as they oblige.

After a short while, Flag speaks again:
-"Fred start listing and categorizing the damage you think YOU caused to the ship and find ways to prove you didn’t cause the rest of them." as he digs Up-to-date regulations, history and data from the company that leased them the ship. In the process, he also retrieves some station news clippings from the crawling Local archive service.

Barely getting into the thick of it, everything shakes a bit and gravity goes into failsafe power level. Making Greg giggle, Flag stiffen and Fred launch in a grumble rant ... Then, the station wide impact alert blargs on, and faces turn to ice, not the good kind.

Greg comments
-"Do you think we'll get refunded for the ship we rented if the station is critically dama--" Red prompts starts flashing on a few patron's compad, including the three of them.
Fred replies annoyed:
-"Not if they're still in one piece and the only thing they lost is the mining and scraps hangar."
-"FUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHH ... " Greg grunts as he Follows Fred who says, leaving in a hurry:
-"Flag, we gota go move the ship out of the impact area, we'll patch you on the ship's comms when we get there, try not to get mushed"
-"Not like i got a choice anyways, damn shuttle is sitting dismantled in maintenance block III..." he replies towards the now running humans.
Hearing this, the Barkeep addresses him:
-"Shuttle Block III is on the other side of the core from the impact vector, you should be good right where you are." calmly polishing yet another glass in low gravity. "Hek, i'll tune on the station info frequency to see what's up" he finishes.
-"i'd watch it" Flag thankfully says moonskipping over.

A panel on the left wall to the barkeep glows dim red for a second and normalizes, showing craft traffic control, flashing tonnages, approach vectors and orbital speeds around the station. One indicator clearly causing the station's alert.

The back of the bar is now mostly empty. All pilots and crews left to fulfill their various roles aboard their respective crafts and Blocks. The cobalt Cy moon-hops on a barstool and observes the screen and its updates, more ships flying out than there would be at rush hour from the +Mining&Scraps Hangar+.
-"+Outbound Traffic Control+ must be in chaos right now." Flag states as his compad gets patched in a voice channel. From it, resounds Fred speaking over Greg's scrambling noises in the background:
-"Flag! what do you have on diagnostics or outbound M&SH ? all we're getting is an ETA Impact on a -Mastodon Class- or above."
Keying the compad channel open, Flag replies back baffled :
-"Doesn’t your ship have proper dis-- " he stops as he realizes that the diagnostic must still be running.
-"On it, standby" he finishes, carefully hurrying back towards their table to get more room than on the uncomfortable counter.
-"Barkeep ! exclusive slave open me this one, bouble." he orders without looking as if it were a drink.
-"Go for it, it's on, i'll tab it up the two." The barkeep replies as he motions the screen near Flag's seat and table. As soon as it's connected to Flag's compad, the screen flashes from red and back to the informative blue display of OTC. Needing more than what is on display, he quickly overlays Inbound, debris and external traffic, sending a query for all grav signals.
-"HMS-143 !" He barks at his compad after verifying the brothers flight indicative on the diagnostic screen.
-"1-4-3 standing by for instructions." Fred flatly replies.
-"Launch diagnostics override on:
-propulsion
-gravitic
-magnetic
-telemetry
-atmo
-power and -manipulation,
-Leave processing alone and report back." Flag manages as he notices the estimated impact time was only a worst case.
Fred and Greg go through the items vocally as they complete them, and Fred reports:
-"Processing is now 'go' as well, what in the Hot Wet Salami did you do for it to finish that fast?"
-"Unnecessary details will wait, safety protocols were not breached." Flag almost cuts in, "I am upgrading -Mastodon class- to -Killer Whale class-. Time to impact is 32 standard minutes.
Cycle all systems down, blackout will take 30shorts and spool-up should take 45 on top."
-"Cycling down." Fred replied matter of factly while Greg makes relieved bored noises in the background.
As everything went dark and quiet in the Hauler-Miner-Salvager-143, It certainly felt longer than 30Short for his occupants, but Flag's ease at the task felt relaxing to the brothers who idly sat there.

Right as the compad hit 30Shorts, Flag keyed open the channel again and announced:
-"Spool up sequence beginning, you should get functionality back.
°All systems reporting in.
°Safety margins Nominal.
°40 shorts to spool end.
°30 and three quarters Standard to impact.
°HMS-143 Estimated sustained thrust is within..." A short gasp interrupts his train of thought,
"HOW do you get a -BLUE WHALE- range out of an HMS ship !?" he incredulously asks as he triple checks the projected information in front of him.

-"Greg is a speed junkie." Fred blames, chuckling lightly.
-"Might'a slapped a couple things here and there." The offending party replies smugly, "I integrated them properly so u dun got nuffin to worry about Flag."
Accepting the revelation, Flag simply keeps going down the list of spool up diagnostics results and reads them as the brothers confirm them from their side of the compad.Finally he states:
-"Preflight checks report safety nominal for unclamping, i submitted a request for you during cycle down, should be loaded, that was all i could do from the bar. Outbound stands at 30% traffic, going down, have a nice flight."

-"Thanks flag !" The brothers replied in unison.

Keying out the channel, "That was booooooooooooooring~!" Greg exhales, "i was thinking danger close, with a couple scars to show off for it, not 'Gramma's B17' levels of slugfest..."
-"I'd rather this, than a repeat of the -Liquid Mixed Gas Hauler- from last year," Fred Punctuates, "Mister 'Speed Junkie'."
-"Dude, how many times do i need to tell you? The title is 'Speedy Mac Speedster', i had to hustle for that one you know..." Greg complains looking disappointed.
-"Sure, what she said..." Fred finishes, "We've been cleared for unclamping and moving out." as they manoeuver towards the exit of the hangar, following a safe flight vector lane out.

A while later, Greg chirps from behind Fred.
-"Oh hey look we got OTC overlay and a bunch of other stuff now, Flag musta dunit. Pretty slick of him. "
-"It is, but i don’t like the way you just said this." Fred slowly replies as he turns just as slow.
-"What-if? weeee-" Greg doesn’t have time to finish.
-"DUCK ON SALAMI, NOT AGAIN GREG!" Fred abruptly interrupts, knowing where his counterpart was going. Of course he was going to...
-"Buuut-but-but-the caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassshhhhh mommy !!" Greg says in a pleading voice, while frictioning his pointies and middles against their respective thumbs on each hand, slowly bringing them up in between the two pairs of their eyes. "Pweeeeaaasssseeee beeg brooooo??" He was now puppy eyeing...

Fred grunts :
-"You're buying, whatever's the outcome, Get Flag on the line." operating more knobs and controls, then checking auxiliary subsystems.

-"Awwww yiiiisss baybee, here wheee goes!" Greg body dances as well as one can while strapped to a G-chair.
-"Saaaaayyyy Flag? you don’t happen to have some free time on your hands, by any chance?" Greg innocently chimes in on Flag's compad.
Flag replying promptly;
-"Still at the bar, and the gravity is still milks up. Something wrong? And why are you deviating from the planed exit flight path ?" inquiring further as he munches on something.
Greg keys up;
-"Weeell you see, i was thinking that while bowling is nice and all, one unit of a bigger stack of cash might fare better than say a hole and a field of debris in my near vicinity ... And Seeing how Fred gave me the ok finger, i'd need you to do some swiping here and there." he finishes, wiggling left and right, still strapped to his red white and green personalized G-seat.
-"What? i'm not a janitor and where would you want me to swipe anyways?" Flag asks confused.
-"Oh it wont be long i promise, do you know how to project a blast cone? maybe sayyyy starting 10 standard minutes from current vector towards the bay we came from?" Greg hypothesizes lightly.
-"You need me to clear an area for a ship to impact cleanly on a doo ... WHAT!?" Flag stands at his table in a miniature display of outrage at the prospect of what Greg is suggesting.
"This is neither standard nor acceptable, even if it was Possible. You'd Need at least-"Flag begins before being cut short.
-"15 straight standard minutes at full capacity ?" Greg completes with a smile clearly audible on his face, "Of course that's if you're a 'B17 grammy-pants' i bet we can do ...11point5? "He asks to the other passenger, prompting yet another middle finger of agreement in return.
-"I'm along for the ride and disagree on principle, but you're buying ANYWAYS so i'll cooperate." Fred confirms.

Flag cannot believe what he's hearing, but he sits down and starts listing as the barkeep glances at him.
-"°Get Mid-range comms focused on the target,
°Propulsion running at 114% nominal,
°Spool up gravitic 5 standards out,
°Begin charge for magnetic capacitors,
°Initiate logging telemetry through the decelerating cone,
°vacuum pump all non-crew compartments then purge,
°Power should be fine,
°Manipulation reported green to operate,
°Processing will be working overtime." He Finishes. The checklist confirmed, Flag contacts Traffic control announcing flatly over the now open channel :
-"HMS-143 for -Global Traffic Control- ...declaring interception maneuvers on Mastodon Class- threat. Confirming Blue whale towing capability. "
'Fat chance that'll fly.' He thinks waiting for GTC.

Not missing a beat the controller replies:
-"GTC for HMS-143, flight path confirmed and ballistic cone green for ignition in 11 standard. Magnetic and Solar reports clear. Crew manifest received. We'll have either names on the urn's plates, or booze at the bar." The composed traffic agent offers.
-"HMS-143 acknowledged." Flag manages.
-"Pick up your jaw Flaggy-boi i can hear it drag!" Greg booms on the compad. "We'll be on our way back in a bit more than half an hour, if you could prep the forms for us, that'd be turbo-compressed !"
Not being too happy yet, Fred mumbles:
-"Salami on salad with sauce ... i swear Greg, don't scorch the blast doors this time."
-"It was just the one time !!!" Greg defends.
-"It's aaalllways the one time." Fred replies without conviction.

Flag doesn't know what to think from where he is and the barkeep persists on eyeing him. Unable to do anything else, the blue alien starts pulling the forms for what the two humans are about to do, wondering why GTC would even Let it happen.
---
-" 'Greg and Fred Remote', how may we be of service in this splendid evening !? " A grinning Greg on the compad announces over the midrange comms. "Today's specials include, not being dead, mild shaking, not being vaporized to bits at cruise speed against a station hangar, aaaaaand ! one unit of a lot of money changing hands, i recommend it !" Greg finishes.

An angry voice barks back :
-"Stop wobbling around and get us out of here! This cargo ship is too fat for you and i don’t care about the contents,Third Union can put it up it's quantum tunnel while i watch." The animal continues on; "First they remove the FTL, then the warp drive, and now the emergency grav beam on the station breaks when it tries to slow us down. I should have left when they started cutting the jump fuel with lighter isotopes." The captain finally closes.
In a smug giggling voice the reply comes:
-"I'm afraid Greg is unavailable at the moment to take your complaint, please leave a message after your ship has been slowed down and the payment wired." -Obviously Greg- continues on; " Please lock your five point seatbelts and prepare for clamping followed by deceleration."

Picking up, the captain seethes "Is GTC even Aware of this flaming dumpster maneuver !? I'll have your skin, pup!!" The angry one then states.

-"I recommend Peeled Salami, salad and sauce, along with diced cheese when you'll be reporting to Global Flight control for regulations. Naturally we'll have filled the required forms by then, Thanks for using 'Greg and Fred remote' services!" Fred finished before closing the channel.
-"BRO, SA-VAGE !!!!" Greg says holding his hand out to Fred, who promptly high fives him, replying :
-"Lasagna levels of savage, but totally worth it. Now get to it before we end flat as a pancake."
-"HEK, YEA!! Bro this is eeeepic!" Greg Dances again, like a little kid strapped on his G-seat. As he punches the button to launch the preprogrammed deceleration sequence, the two hunks of rusting metal start to whine, roar and creak.
Flag comments over the speaker, above the horrible noises:
-"Systems nominal, propulsion impeller temperatures rising, estimated failure : thirteen standard three quarters, magnetic and manipulation 105% holding, Processing, capacitors and power temps rising within margins, towed load above estimations, waiting on processing for corrections..."

---
As the two Humans stroll back in the bar, moon-hoping in the low gravity, the PA system emits a short warning. Whatever was mid-air at that time, goes back towards the ground faster than it left it, including but not limited to the humans.
-"That might have hurt a bit." Flag Giggles to himself, the brothers overhearing.
-"Just pour us one, will you flag?" Greg laughs as he walks over to the table they left after the impact alarm; "The rest of the night is on Global Traffic’s Tab, so we're getting impacted ANYWAYS!" he continues as he bottoms his glass up.
Flag and Fred following suit. The bartender long used to the humans, pours out their favorite drinks and opens a box of human salted 'treats' as they call them.

---

Greg wakes up in a panic, raging headache, disoriented but weirdly satisfied. No memory from anything past last morning when he ate after waking up in the station's core Food shop.
-"This is not normal, why can’t i move!? " He thinks as he struggles against the heat and restraints, finally he stumbles and takes a breath of fresh air and shrugs off whatever restrains him with maximal prejudice. Everything is black and gravity is standard.
A blurry light can be seen in some direction so he moves towards it and knocks over something that makes more noise than a wild animal whose tail has been walked on. Carefully he keeps going, forelimbs pointed forward and finds a doorknob and the door along with it, but it's wrong it's ...sideways ? He pulls and tugs until the door is out of the way, more unbearable noise ensuing. Finally he gets closes in the light source, it's Fred laying on a couch looking at a compad, facing a table with stacks upon stacks of printed paper on it . A weird short blue alien sitting there, staring.
-"Oh holly dragsters, what's going on in here!?" he manages to think before the room explodes with blinding light.
-"Bruh u ready or wut?" resounds through the room, startled he jumps aside still blinded by the light and stumbles on yet another nondesctipt item, "Watch the glass man" Fred says.
-"You look more shore floated than you were the first time you tried it Greg." the now sitting human offers.

Light not blinding anymore, Greg now focuses,
-"Bruh, you look like you sniffed a trail of sink powder from the Marianna’s double crack. How are these stacks of paper even here?"
-"I know the double crack of many things," Fred points a thumb at himself, "and Marianna’s bottom is one of them!" he finishes proudly.

Flag patiently sitting at the table, wonders if he is better off now than he was yesterday.

As soon as Fred turned the room's small screen on, he pokes Greg repeatedly pointing at the broadcast clip showing them, unboarding the rented ship. Right after the short hero pose, security camera still frames, of two individual running disrobed through the station, take all the pride from under them. Additional text information on the previous day's event scroll at the bottom;

-"Coming back from the ring, the -Killer Whale class- hauler owned by -3rd Ring Ores Union- suffered severe lack of maintenance. As it initiated decelerating procedures, prior to docking, multiple degraded fuel ducts ruptured rendering most main engines unusable. Normally, emergency gravity projectors would slow the vessel down, however our recent brush with the planet's atmosphere damaged them. The 'Greg and Fred Remote' vessel 'HMS-143' completed an asteroid decelerating procedure on the ship before docking it and avoiding loss of life and station hangars. -3rd Ring Ores Union- shouldered the costs. Pushing its already strained finances into bankruptcy. Most of the assets will be repossessed by the station's administration, or publicly auctioned off."

As the next infoclip flashes on the screen Fred starts snoring again and Greg opens a door on the small hab's wall to grab food pellets.
Plopping down the chair to Flag's left, he squints at the sheets stacks, all of them neatly clipped together above clean open folders. His hand searching for the bottom of the box brings back pastel colored rainbow pellets to his mouth as he asks uninterested:
-"So; what's with all the dead trees shorty?" and shakes the box's open end towards Flag, who retrieves a few for himself, after what he closes the nearest folder for the now munching and crunching human to see. It reads :
-"Greg & Fred remote - Hauling, Mining, Salvaging."
-"3rd Ring Ores Union, Logistics sub-unit takeover agreement."

As he does so, Flag intones professionally :
-"Congratulations on your most recent acquisition sir."
submitted by get_me_awt to HFY [link] [comments]


2020.02.23 13:06 MilkbottleF Marianne Hauser - Heartlands Beat

Published in The Collected Short Fiction of Marianne Hauser (FC2, 2004):

I

Last night, the night of the prom, Johnny J. Upjohn, Jr., senior at Daniel Boone High School of near-by Athens, was found hanging dead from the rafters of his parental two-car garage, his progenitors having left early in their late model Buick, while the station wagon of the same make was at the body shop for repair of a bent fender incurred by Mrs. Upjohn's involuntary distraction upon the sight of two stray dogs copulating by the fire hydrant in front of her church. May I seize the occasion to warn our readers again that the steady influx of strays throughout the region constitutes a most serious menace to traffic and health.
(News item from THE BUGLE, Munich, Missouri, by Dr. O. D. Biggerstaff, professor emeritus)

II

.... holy bee jee--the Upjohn kid! Who'd ever . . . wouldn'ta heard about it that fast if the wife hadn't driven over to Munich to visit with her Pop in the old folks home and pick up THE BUGLE free on her way out through the leisure room--leisure, my ass, place is filthier than a sow's belly. Was found hangin? That don't tell me much. Was it murder or did he do himself in? Now if the ATHENS MESSENGER was still runnin or whatever the press says before it goes bust, we'd have specifics tho I dare say that bit about uppiryup Mrs. Upjohn bending a fender cause of some fuckin dogs. ... I reckon she's got to get her jollies from somewhere. No. Couldn't be murder. Never heard of anyone lynchin a white kid. . . . Sure, we have our share of crime even if it don't show in the courthouse statistics. I fairly recall the one early in spring, Greg's sweetie, short, skinny girl, he knocked her up and musta got cold feet. Bashed her brains in, I'd guess, and stuffed her into an oil drum before rigor mortal set in. Yep, Greg he played it cool, went to work at his bro's filling station right under the sheriff's nose, filled up the patrol car and checked the oil. Sheriff oughta have his head checked, holy beejeezuz, he asks Greg did he split with his girl, she hasn't been seen around town, and Greg says calm as calm can be she's on vacation, swimmin. She sure was, in the oil drum on Doc Cochran's pond. Musta been late summer before the doc's missus took note of the stink. By then the drum had rusted and cracked and it didn't take no Perry Mason to put two and two together. But by then Greg had skipped town. . . .
Holy loving ), where did the wife hide my bourbon? A ha, on the backporch, and she drunk as a skunk, noddin in the wore-out rockin chair like her senile pop, and she only 47, could be her change of life, some act queer. . . . Yuck! Spit! This ain't my bourbon. Betcha she laid in a fair supply for herself. So that's why she takes all them trips to Munich--her pop's carin daughter, my foot and fanny. Polished off my bourbon and poured rotgut into the empty. And this is a dry county by law, what a laugh. Even the teen-agers booze it up. I heard them drive by past midnight after the prom, smashed out of their motherlovin skulls, honkin their horns car after car like a motorcade for the president on TV. This town ain't what it used to be. Drunk kids behind the wheel.... Makes a body wonder
If Johnny J. hadn't hunged himself he mighta been at the prom with the gang and dead in a car crash. As a firm believer in pre-test-anation ....
(Rumblings of an aging Athenian, anon)

III

WELCOME STRANGER STAY A WHILE as it reads on the reflective sign when you enter our little town. For ours is a friendly, crime free community, pop. 7000 give a little or take. Among our major facilities we boost 14 Protestant churches of varied stripe, 2 supermarkets, 4 funeral parlors, a hardware store which offers farm and recreational equipment like guns and a shoe factory. A motion picture theater and bowling alley connects with the rollerskating ring under one ownership meaning one leads to the next or vice verse on separate tickets.
To the west a radar station aglow in the sunset holds virgil over the securities of our nation and the SHAMROCK MOTEL sits inbetween. Nature lovers may stroll past the landscaped Cochran grounds and admire through the picket fence the specious lily pond which is the doctor's personal bride in his retirement. Although his property is closed to strangers because of old age, 3 other lovely homes admit visitors Sundays 4:30 pm to 5. The pogrom was instigated by the civic minded Mrs. Upjohn, collector of antics and wife of the well renounced realtor. Their son, Johnny J., jr. will pass refreshments upon request at a small fee.
Last but not least the abandoned strip mines form a range of quaint hills to endow the flat landscape with elevation. Whereas the world famous twin arches of a McDonald Hamburger Drive-In rise proud against the eastern horison.
(WHYILOVE ATHENS: JuniorHigh composition submitted by Cochran's grandniece and copied verbatim incl. errata from leaflet found in doc's trash.
N. B. Composition was graded E for excellence.)

IV

. . . and tho this letter is bound to shake you up bad in the faraway desert your pa and me can't keep the truth from you as you and Johnny was friends. Its painful to see a loved one pass on and we share your loss. Remember Slim, we werent too happy when you dropped out of Daniel Boone and enlisted in the marines. Your pa thought you should first finish highschool and me I was against it on account of my passifistic belief. But Johnny's ma cheered you on at the family church picnic, she said her Johnny would soon be a marine too. Poor Johnny, I ran into him at the drugstore a day before he did this terrible thing to himself. I thought he looked down and pale ....
I had to stop and put the potato salad into the fridge. Its your favorite recepe and I wish you'd share it with us. I hope the army feeds you good. I wish you was home I have no taste for soldiering and I tried hard to change your mind like your pa. I heard in the store Johnny's pa was against it too, he had plans for Johnny in real-estate thats the reason, not because he is a passifist like me. He marches with the WW 2 veterans. I dont want to be spiteful but Mr. Upjohn never fought in no war. Me had a desk job in Washington DC. Like your pa says money writes its own ticket. I dont begrudge him nothing but why Mrs. Upjohn kept pushing Johnny to sign up is beyond me when her own brother the marine captain fell in Korea.
You know Slim it does give me pause. Why do civilians die and soldiers fall? A thousand shall fall even in the bible. Dear Slim, the world is strange and getting evermore strange like the weather. Hereabouts it has been a hot summer but elsewhere there is floods and devastation. But I reckon you like to hear about your pa. Hed take time to write you if he wasnt busy trying to keep the store going. Many of the small farmers used to buy from us are in bad shape. Their lands been foreclosed they been buying on credit and cant pay us back. Your pa has pity but no more credit. Its his opinion Uncle Sam got them into the mess so let him pull them out. Its always the little guy gets the beating and if the army reads your mail tellem your ma got weak in the head from sunstroke. Im sorry son I got myself worked up. But times are tougher than when you left and the only merchandize that moves real fast is guns. Outa towners buy them and even youngsters its a sign of worse to come but your pa says a guys gotta eat. When will they let you leave the desert for home? Dear Slim, I feel sick about your buddy but death dont asks death takes. Folks call suicide a sin but I call war the worst sin. I would sleep better if you had a safe job like Mr. Upjohn. Dont take no chances life is precious. Pa says hello we miss you bad.
Love from your ma.
(Last page of letter by hardware store owner's wife to son Slim and returned to sender special delivery as addressee had already met instant, fragmented death)

V

Oh, Johnny, why did you leave me, abandoned, lost: a rudderless craft on a stormtossed ocean! I am seated in your room, at the Early American desk I chose for you, and the pen between my fingers bears your teeth marks. Johnny, my only beloved son--gone. My hand is trembling. For as I gaze at the wall, I discern your cherished features in your uncle's: the hand-tinted portrait photograph of my fallen brother Gerry--may his soul rest with yours in peace. There he hangs in his gilt frame surrounded by small paper flags you put up with my help when you were but a toddler in rompers. How he resembles you, your Uncle Gerry, fallen hero in an unmarked grave; gone, gone and yet immortalized in the memory of your face. I recognize you in his steel blue eyes and manly chin. His uniform, the rows of combat ribbons on his virile chest could have been yours if only you .... [end of sentence illegible, smeared by tears or inadequate eraser]
I must learn to gain control of my emotions. Only this dear diary knows the insults I must suffer from your father. And oh! how he made me suffer when he broke into one of his rages upon your revelation at table that you would, upon high school graduation, sign up with the marines. "How dare you act against my wishes!" he shouted. But you, composed and smiling, hummed the sacred hymn is of the U.S. Marines. FROM THE HALLS OF MONTEZUMA. It was a patriotic gesture of defiance and I stood up for you. I always have. "I gave you a son so he would fight for his country, and not to sell real estate." Those were the words which caused your father's wrath to turn against my beloved brother, and berate television for showing too many army commercials.
Would he rather see them replaced by more dirty sex, I ventured, a remark he found it wisest to ignore as I had, behind the filing cases in his office, discovered .... [end of sentence crossed out with indelible ink]
Johnny, I pray to the merciful Lord in Heaven that you never stooped to your father's level and perused those vile publications while you abused yourself on the floor in front of the Console Television set I bought you for your very own last Christmas. Forgive me, dear, if nagging doubts remain. For instance: why did you lock yourself in--too frequently, I may add. One night as I passed your door, I heard the moans of carnal lust and a phrase replete with four letter words I blush to recall. I fled, having placed the voice by its vulgarity and deplorable grammar as Mary-Sue May's; she who had the temerity--outside Pete's Candyland--to present herself to me as your "steady date": a term as odious to our social class as were her skin-tight shorts and halter. Very well. Your father may judge me a snob, jealous as he indubitably is, of my Philadelphia background and education. However, I hardly consider it snobbish to question the propriety of an Upjohn keeping company with a half-naked waitress at a greasy spoon diner: that much I pointed out to you in this room. Your flippant response--would I accept her if she gunned for a job at McDonald's Hamburger Drive-in--wounded me deeply.
Johnny, you have wounded me on other occasions. But you are forgiven. You yourself have closed the case and I have, by mail, in a plain brown wrapper, returned the picture you kept on your desk: a distasteful snapshot of your waitress in a bikini which leaves nothing to be guessed. Youth may confuse lust with love. Had you but lived, you would have dropped her. Had you but lived .... I shall never cease asking you why you ended your young life. In time I could have convinced your father that your place was with the marines. Too late .... Oh, Johnny, how could you do this to your country? How could you do this to me!
(From the diary of Mathilda Upjohn)

VI

If it wasn't for the fact Upjohn junior hunged himself, they'd itch to hang a second murder rap on Greg. Wouldn't the D A. drool over that juicy morsel .... Trouble is there ain't a chance his boys will catch him. Them plainclothes men makin like tourists, stoppin for gas and all the while pumpin me for info. Assholes, I don't snitch on my own bro and anyhow he don't tell me where he hides out. Hell, they can't prove he done it. Anybody coulda killed the girl. Doc Cochran coulda--why don't they grill him? 'Twas on his pond on his property they found what little was left of her in the oil drum. Maybe he tried to abort her and goofed. Doctors: I don't trust em. Wouldn't surprise me if he was the one got her big to start with. In my book Greg's clean and they either show me otherwise or let me be. This is Missoura, the show-nie or-shut-up state.
Somethin wheelin down the road--a rig? Nope. Nothin. Sun fools ya. Heat wave melts your thinkin power. Could be the heat did it to Upjohn Junior. Guy musta been outa his cotton pickin mind to string himself up when he had a rich daddy ana career in real estate laid out for him.
Suicide--it has a mean ring. Last one I remember was the drycleaner's. Socky, tho his real name was Socrates which he said was common in Greece like our Jim or Joe. His folks came from there so their kids would have a better life and--BANG! He shoots himself dead. I was goin on 15 and I was shocked like the rest. Socky'd been such a normal, neighborly guy. Talked good English too and looked like one of us, only darker. He built his business from scratch and worked long hours, he and his wife and a brother, they all worked in the store but never complained or acted foreign. He had himself converted over TV to a born-again Christian, tho he was born an Orthodox like all Greeks or Jews. Always had a smile for his customers and Crackerjacks for the kids. So why would he sneak into the SHAMROCK MOTEL and shoot himself through the mouth? We was thunderstruck and he was the only drycleaner. Teacher told the class 'bout another Greek suicide, Socrates too by name, but into philosophy. I asked what year, but she had to look that one up in the book. Teachers! They don't know from nothin. Anyways it's ancient history when the Romans skewered themselves on their sword for the sheer helluvit. But Socky, he ain't history, and when he did it at the SHAMROCK none of us could puzzle it out until Greg clued us in. He had him down as a psycho even before the blow-out. Maybe them fumes from the cleaning fluids was slowly eatin into his brain which made him behave queer like his takin long walks rain or shine. Greg offered him a ride at least twice but Socky waved him off with that big smile and said it gave him pleasure to walk for miles. Once he walked as far as Munich! And not for his health!
What canya say about a character like that? Greg hit the nail on the head like he always does when he claimed the Greek was a psycho, walkin his shoeleather thin when he coulda been ridin in his own Chevy ....
Now when it comes to Upjohn Junior, I hardly never saw him use his feet 'cept when he'd scurry back and forth across the highway, darin some oncomin vehicle to hit him or stop. Sure had the guts they need in the marine corps. But did he have the smarts? His dad woulda liked him to go into real estate, like Mrs. Upjohn said when I checked her tires. Wonder why she looked so angry then .... Hey! There comes a load! Oh, no dice. Already zipped past, over the speed limit too .... SHIT ASS!
(Gas station operators musings as he leans by Coca-Cola machine in shade of deceased elm, waiting for clientele.)

VII

She's been shooting her mouth off, telling everybody and his aunt I drove our boy to his death because I refused him permission to join the marines. What crap! She knows he got what he wanted if he really wanted it. She babied him and made me out a selfish villain when the shoe is on the other foot. Certainly it was a foregone conclusion he'd go into business with me, just as I went in with my dad. But what the hell, I don't give a hoot about tradition, and if the kid had other plans for a career he was at liberty to choose. But the woman never gave him a choice, she started brainwashing him in the playpen. The balderdash she fed him about her brother, christ almighty, I used to wonder what sort of hankypanky was going on between the two of them. Even asked her quite a whiles back after we'd made it in bed. Her answer: John, you have a filthy mind. Maybe so. I couldn't care less. If there's something she wants to confess, she can go tell the preacher. She's always looking for him when she isn't looking for Johnny. Or was ....
Suicide. The moment I saw him .... I'll never get over the blow, though for her of course it's something new to hang on me .... I wish I could sleep .... Impossible. Two aspirins and nearly a pint of whisky and I still can't get some shut-eye .... What riles me is her bad-mouthing me. She's hurting my image which means she'll hurt the business. I warned her--to no avail. "Don't you ever speak to me again," she said and stalked off. Stalked off too a month or so ago when I did all I could to explain I wasn't against the marines. They were fine boys, the country needed them, but it didn't need our Johnny. There was thousands of unemployed col ored boys for the job. Christ, couldn't she get it through her thick skull that I was simply aiming to protect the kid? I didn't force his hand. Sure I lost my temper when he proclaimed loud and clear he'd follow in his Uncle Gerry's footsteps. Was he ready to follow Uncle Gerry into the grave? That's the one time I yelled at him. But she has probably forgotten. When it comes to forgetting, the lady has a most convenient memory .... But he died anyway, and not a hero's death like her Gerry. I'm as American as the next fellow. I love my country and if this was war, I wouldn't allow my son to shirk his duty though I'd sure as hell use my Washington connections to get him a safe job like I did for myself. And if my highfalutin wife imagines I'm unethical or aiding the commies, that's her problem. I'm a pragmatist. Look out for yourself and your family. That's rule number one and if that ain't the American way, what is? It sure ain't the Russian way. I'm for a strong army, but I won't take it lying down if they ship my son off to a place I never heard of. Thanks, but no sale. I draw the line between patriotism and good sense. And a second line between my family and my public image. These days you have to know the ropes and shelters to make business pay. Yes, siree, I wave the flag with the Legionnaires and try to stay awake Sundays in church with Mathilda. But when it comes to playing Russian roulette with my son's life, I put my foot down ....
Too bad I can't express my emotions like she does .... She's right when she complains I don't communicate. I don't have it in me. Maybe if I had opened up more with johnny, shown just how much he meant to me .... It's odd, we almost acted like we were strangers, Johnny and me. We never hugged. I can't remember the last time we even shook hands ....
(Night thoughts of Upjohn Senior fighting insomnia as he lies on the innerspring mattress of a king-sized bed, a foot removed from his sleeping wife)

VIII

.... now dreaming now wide awake in the wet summer night heat off and on to the same beat
johnny j johnny j
.... dreaming up johnny laid out in his guitar or coffin on & off .... .... the big wet stain washing over cement i squeeze my eyes shut but the puppet swings through the dream washes away the dream dark wet odor of fresh squeezed semen .... pray for .... oblivion
christ where's the fire slow down john
down .... johnny is still at the prom titty-belly-rubbing at the prom
johnny j & cheap trick may bottom bouncing
easy john
too sudden braking in gravel driveway will gravel-spray silver-new Buick
CRUNCH
.... garage door wide open .... garage lights too white .... john dim your lights .... am going blind a dream johnny dangling back & forth in the windshield in his boyscout
uniform
a puppet dream .... wet percale-cotton-fitted-no-iron-sheet sticks to my skin sticky rosebud patterns match wilted wallpaper roses the heat.... wet puppet dance beating inside my throat.... air conditioner broken .. .. .... a broken heart
red heart on johnny's valentine from where
.... .STOMP OUT MEMORIES SQUASH THEM LIKE COCKROACHES
COCKS
take eyes off the wet stain .... bite teeth, into imported gooscdown pillow block banshee scream .... .... back & forth
death puppet dance in the windshield he stole my clothesline learned rope tricks tricky noose knots from fairy scout master ....
... trick or treat.... eyes riveted on private puppet parts cross-stitched crotch .... erection masked in olive drab straining into my throat back & forth the odor of hanged men .... .... hard-on death erection ejects mothermilkwhite slime a fountain
he stole my clothesline .... puppet fucker i scream faint dead away on cement.... fuck the dream scream
cream the dream scream fuck
up john
sleep faker
up
faking-fucking-john-the-hard-up-hard-on john hairy wet on top of me ....
drippedidrop & fuckedifuck
gerry j johnny fucking my dreams
nonstop
go
go
go hurt me
harder
iwannadropbleedinfuckinblindin
to
sleep
(shocking excerpts from Mathilda Upjohn's recollections; trials or dreams in the connubial bed.)

IX

O.K. I'll tell it like it is. What can I tellya? I was his steady girl. Turn off the record player, willya, Eddy? HIGHWAY 61. He picked it from a pile of old records at a garage sale. Scratched up and outa date. He loved it, he loved the name and it gives me the willies to listen without him close by. So turn it off, and that goes for you too, lover boy. I ain't in the mood. I feel like I was a widow. Supposin everything still is like it was, I'd be his fiancee.
Why would I lie to you? I barely metya. Tho there's other lies goin round, like that bit about his bustin his gut to serve his country: a crock of shit, if you pardon my language. He no more cared to be a marine than I'd care to be his mom's toilet brush. It's her spread the tale about JJ bein voted marine hero of the future. He let her babble on. He needed her.
Heck, J] was no mama's boy. He was for real. He played up to her so he could con her outa bread whenever he was broke which was like always. His dad gave him a fair allowance but JJ was a super spender and so long as he made believe he was airnin to be a marine, he could wind her round his pinkie. She'd dish out the cash for whatever he'd dream up like books and maps on gorilla warfare exetera. Then off he'd be and spendin like it was goin outa style.
Nope, there ain't much you'd wanna spend on in Athens. We went to Munich for our shoppin sprees--oh, any old time one of their cars was available, the station wagon or the Buick. The late model Buick hadn't arrived, not yet ....
That cussed Buick, one day I'll blow it up, you wait and see .... Where was I? Munich. We had a ball, buyin loads of stuff and eatin at the snazziest joint in town, THE FLAMING STEAK PIT, which he dubbed THE SNAKE PIT on account of it bein darkish inside. But man, was it classy! You never saw nothin like it.
Oh, I forgot, you go to school in Munich--pardon me, sir, I shoulda said college. So what if you've ate cheaper and better at some other joint? I haven't and I'm appreciative of--they got a word for it like ambulance.
The ambience. Right. Your education shows. Dim lights and black chinaware with real purple napkins. He didn't mind payin for the amber... whatever.... Their double martinis are outa this world, so smooth they blow you away. But JJ stuck to cherry soda.
He didn't have to stay sober. He was so good behind the wheel he coulda got us home, in one piece blind drunk. Fact is, he couldn't hold his liquor. One drink and he'd throw up. He didn't fancy smokin pot either. All he fancied was cars. Speedin up and down a highway: that's how he got his high, he said.
Racin cais for a career? He did mention it, Eddy. He'd mull it over in his head nights but come to no decision like he never could decide on no career. College was out. He had his fill sufferin through high school tho he wasn't a bad student, his grades was average and teachers favored him maybe 'cause he was quiet and never asked no questions in class. As for the drivin course, he skipped it as he had already learned himself to drive before the legal age. If you ask me, he started too young too fast. But they never catched him speedin. I wish by god they'd catched him before he went speedin into the grave ....
Don't, Ed, I ain't cryin. I'm dead inside me .... Gimme a kleenex. The box is atop the fridge. Some dump I live in. Thanks, Ed. This muggy heat it makes me snivel and the window fan don't help. Do you mind movin to the other end of the daybed so we can both of us breathe? Thanks again. You are a gentleman.
Natch, you are great company too. And you are a listener. Now J didn't listen much. He talked cars. For a while he hunged around the radar station shootin the breeze with the boys. But when they catched him tryin to sneak a new jeep out for a road test, he never went back no more.
I wouldn't say he was a loner, Ed. I'd say he was alone a lot. His life was cars and he collected all the flashy ads he cut out from magazines like HOT ROD. Of course he'd watch TV by the hour, by himself or with me on his lap .... gotta blow my nose again .... all right, you must have seen them stunt shows, cars playing leapfrog tho what he was really hung up on was the famous racin shows like the Indy 500 or Grand Pricks, you name it, he watched it, even them terrible crashes, guys hurled into the air like Raggedy-Ann dolls in flames. It turned my stomach. But he explained crashin was the name of the game and the risk was worth millions of bucks. He said he could spot the winner by the way the hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he scratched the back of his neck when he said it, he said who knows one day he'll be the winner and what will his dad say then!
No, drag racin wasn't his bag. For him it had to be the real stuff or nothin. I reckon for him the real stuff was on TV. He hardly never missed an action show on wheels. But when it came to them army specials like OUR GLORIOUS MARINES he called it kid stuff, he made like he was throwing up and switched it off. Still, in the shower he'd sing FROM THE HALLS OF MONTEZUMA over and over. I asked him why when his mom couldn't hear him with the water splashin and all. Guess what his answer was? ZOOM. The ZOOM in Montizooma turned him on. I nearly laughed myself sick. But come to think of it, he did a lot of zoomin in his head. He dreamed of zoomin cross-country on the world's fastest wheels. He dreamed that dream so many times, he said he forgot the number.
Hold it. I'm gettin to that. For graduation, his dad offered to buy him a Trans-Am with all the options. But JJ said he wanted a Ferrari. Of course the old man laughed it off as a joke as who wouldn't and told him to pick a more affordable gift. "Take your time and think it over, son." You know how them rich folks talk. Only JJ wasn't thinkin of no gift. His mind was on the new Buick--"My dad's Buick," he always said, like his mom wasn't anywheres near the picture. The new car---it was delivered the day before and was sittin in the garage "starin me in the eye." That's what he said. "Starin me in the eye . . . ." Maybe you seen THE EXORCIST? They showed a rerun on TV. You know, the kind of scary movie when a little girl gets possessed by demons? Well, the way I read it, the cussed new Buick was JJ's demon. He got possessed by it, don't ask me why.
Nope, it wasn't one of them super deluxe speed demons. Expensive, sure, you can bet your sweet life, with a nifty coat of paint like rubbed silver, but not even a moron would take it for a racin car. So what got him hooked? A critter from outer space? His dad had already promised him he was welcome to take the Buick out on the road. And the old man wasn't the kind of guy who'd go back on his word. Trouble is, nothin worked out right. Whenever JJ asked for the keys, it so happened his old man had to drive to an outa town convention or lodge meetin .... Crazy, things sure snowball once they get off to a bad start. Each time JJ lost out, the four wheel critter possessed him worser. I swear, Ed, it got between him and me like a third party. The night before the prom he made a vow: Either the old man lent him the car tomorrow or he'd kill him.
You heard me right, kill his dad, not himself. But then JJ had a habit of talkin weird, like if his mom didn't stop spyin on the two of us, he'd wring her neck. It didn't faze me 'cause I knew he said it in fun and besides I have no love lost for the old lady. But when he made that vow about his dad, somethin spooky crept into his voice and I got scared. Eddy, that whole night was spooky. All the while we was havin intracourse, he was soundin off about his dad's Buick, how she'd take us in style to the prom, him in his white tux and me in the pink formal from Munich and how the pink would go great with her cool silver body and sexy curves .... Honest! It freaked me out like I was bein replaced by a goddam set of wheels.
Get off it, Buster! Nobody falls in love with a stupid car. This ain't no silly TV commercial or soap. This is life. O.K. It's America if you insist. What's the dif? No, let me finish. The day of the prom: that's when JJ lost out once too often. He woke up late and first thing he saw was a note his dad musta stuck under the door. Wait. I'll read it to you. I keep it inside my bra.
Just had a phone call from St. Louis.
Have to drive there this morning to
close a business deal. Station wagon
still in repair. Can't help it, must take
the Buick. Maybe you can ride to the
prom with one of your pals. Have
fun, son. Be seeing you.
Dad
How did I get ahold of the note? JJ dropped by the diner round noon. Didn't say nothin, no hi, no nothin, just off and left .... Why am I goin on? I'm tired ....
It's hard to keep track. Everything happened ass backwards. I was home from work, layin out the formal for the prom and puttin my hair up in curlers when the phone rings. It's JJ tellin me the date's off. He's minus his dad's Buick and he won't ask no pal of his for a ride. Now, it's a cat's jump from here to Daniel Boone High, so I say, lion, we don't need no ride, I'll carry my heels in a sack and we'll walk. But he says nothin doin, skip it. And he hangs up on me. That did it, I had the strongest urge to rush over to his house in my bathrobe and curlers and give him a piece of my mind. Why didn't I? I coulda saved him, maybe. But then, maybe I coulda been too late ... .
What can I say? It's been a bad, bad trip .... Yes, I could use a shot. But first scoot over, willya, honey? I'm so godawful dead inside. Hold me.
(Mary-Sue May tells it "like it is" to Eddy, chance acquaintance, instant confidant & psych major at Munich U.)
submitted by MilkbottleF to shortstoryaday [link] [comments]


2019.12.09 06:19 bink_benis Toss This Trash.

**go on youtube and put on any beat, works with 90% of the beats out there, this is speed lyrics**
bettem.
look at you lil hoodlum shit you look like a lil hoodlum kid you lul and you hook with a look to be a lil bit of a human yes but shit did i get you not with these words a lil bit of it yes did i get what you text when you read what you did with her you lil reject, fickle lil speedjet riddled with the word a "lil reject" maybe its time we got to know a lil bit of about you, you lil treason you lil idiot its ghostin season
are you a seasoned whats your reason shoot me because such sweet words of love be fuckin her for all of the "right" reasons with that semen that you show off,
whatever it is that you have written right up above of youre whole totalitarian tally is totally misbegotten so just shut up,
must be rotten dust these trustees best be besties placin bets on me trustin me adjustments on these missplacements of what knowledge you put up,
trust me but you havent gotten many so put them on me balla,
all these fact of the factors that makes up all the composition forever forgotten money,
forgettin whats competition with fake ass assumptions suffocatin on feelins,
feel good adjustments only you flack on the lack to connect the strong facts from yourself sure nuff, homie
you fucked up.
look at you lil hoodlum shit you look like a lil hoodlum kid you lul and you hook with a look to be a lil bit of a human yes but shit did i get you not with these words a lil bit of it yes did i get what you text when you read what you did with her you lil reject, fickle lil speedjet riddled with the word a "lil reject" maybe its time we got to know a lil bit of about you, you lil treason you lil idiot its ghostin season
fuck all of you fuck boys you can go ahead and fuck off with your big red flags with your reasons that i can cut noise,
go ahead and cut off a big black record for your black resolution then go ahead and eat off all my visions now hear your own chapter you bad boys,
stay fresh construct the constitutional fuck all you fake fuckin delusional fags, fuck boys,
with all your facts for the acts of flag prostitution faggots with the habbit of ravenous apes you go around fuckin girls wonderin
why its a mistake
but you go on and hate and you go on and ache and you go on wonderin
why
its a mistake
why are you so good yet you just wanna die wondering why, but you mistaken the fact that faster and harder does not make you a better, of a guy
will you survive
the girls gonna lie
and actually shes might be right because it feels the same way as she had felt while she is alive, youre such a smart guy
such a great guy you stupid great guy musta been why she dropped you and left you for the better, a better bit of a guy
fuckin alright ill live if i die im wondering why
what am i worried when i wanna flippin a dime
dip in a dye skippin a lie
what kinda color will i come out with if i ship it or die.
hold em?
look at you lil hoodlum shit you look like a lil hoodlum kid you lul and you hook with a look to be a lil bit of a human yes but shit did i get you not with these words a lil bit of it yes did i get what you text when you read what you did with her you lil reject, fickle lil speedjet riddled with the word a "lil reject" maybe its time we got to know a lil bit of about you, you lil treason you lil idiot its ghostin season
takes about a two cards to win the game to earn a meal talk about you try hards like i hold a chain maimed to train, trained to steal
try to turn around about it again you retards go and gang to make a shield, fuck around about it again you diehards ill shave off your bangs, razor steel
takes about two seconds to make it or break the deal talk about it later when the girl gets her meal
try another round about it after youve hit the pleasure trail
fuck around about it goin at it hard again and it breaks the deal
luck is all around gone and now its sad major feels
talk about it? now its done shes gone set to peel
now you gotta move on and play the danger field
cause this chics set to get it done and fuck around with the intent to screw up your sex appeal
best better move on or you get sent to jail got another big chunk off your job gone set to bail
fold em.
look at you lil hoodlum shit you look like a lil hoodlum kid you lul and you hook with a look to be a lil bit of a human yes but shit did i get you not with these words a lil bit of it yes did i get what you text when you read what you did with her you lil reject, fickle lil speedjet riddled with the word a "lil reject" maybe its time we got to know a lil bit of about you, you lil treason lil idiot its ghostin season
fuck all of you queer ass faggets you fake ass closet queer rapists you act like life is a prison so you go on and mistaken you dumbasses dont know why,
i am here,
because i am a haven,
that is why youre in love with it to fear,
but you cannot withstand the powers of the misbegotten misshapen missunderstood may not be the equation the outcome of source of the knowledge might be misbehaven misbehavior to be hatin you boys be V-vapin fiendin for a power your dick is misshapen mysterious satan your own dick is your own shit that you be chasin
showin your dick pics that dangle like cavemen learnin bullshit from porn entertainment
i suggest you sit down with a counselor for sex education i suggest you get burned once a week from female derangement
i suggest you get stubborn and reborn to fix your aggitational narrative that you give in spite of your shit because everything you say is all about yourself,
your self narrative
and there really isnt anything more left to give youre rather being inconsiderate, youre selfish
failed.
look at you lil hoodlum shit you look like a lil hoodlum kid you lul and you hook with a look to be a lil bit of a human yes but shit did i get you not with these words a lil bit of it yes did i get what you text when you read what you did with her you lil reject, fickle lil speedjet riddled with the word a "lil reject" maybe its time we got to know a lil bit of about you, you lil treason you lil idiot its ghostin season
is you ashamed yet?
wanna see that what i get?
i get the picture of you in pixel quality you reject
i dated a pornstar and she showed me you creeps
i got to see all the red flags that are unique
that is why i see you right underneath
you are a total beserk and it shows straight up to me
fuck all you geeks and all you creeps thinking that same word over again makes me go deep
stop doing it wrong.
look at you lil hoodlum shit you look like a lil hoodlum kid you lul and you hook with a look to be a lil bit of a human yes but shit did i get you not with these words a lil bit of it yes did i get what you text when you read what you did with her you lil reject, fickle lil speedjet riddled with the word a "lil reject" maybe its time we got to know a lil bit of about you, you lil treason you lil idiot its ghostin season
submitted by bink_benis to lyrics [link] [comments]


2019.11.30 20:03 twistedmjc Hey Teksavvy, even your billing support freely admits you screwed me on tape!

Update: Thanks to u/TSI-aaron it has been sorted. Long story short, they looked into it and realized a couple things that were done wrong, but it's all good now. Credit for the unused service and problems have been issued and just waiting for it to be deposited. I don't know what exactly they did, but they musta laid some smackdown cause it happened fast and he kept me updated each step of the way. This is the Teksavvy I expect and was happy to be a customer with!
--- Old Post ---
So beginning of Oct I sign up to come back to Teksavvy, had been a loyal customer for years and years, but switched away for a stupid promo with tv and crap.
From the get go there were issues, I almost immediately got a email asking to check lights on my modem, they might not need a tech to come out. Thought great! Then modem lights go completely out. Next day they come back on so I email them back again to let them know, but they still don't reply anything about wether install is happening. Day before my original install date, I call to ask what's going on and they tell me it's set for tomorrow. Great! Came on actually that night around 12:30am, thought okay great sign! By morning it was dead :(
This then began multiple calls every couple days trying to troubleshoot, test lines, etc. I couldn't get more then a couple hour service no matter what they did. Finally they send a tech, he comes out, checks signal etc, replaces a wire inside the apt, says that's it, and leaves.. got a little over 3hrs service before it died again. Go through all the stuff again with the calls and whatnot every other day trying to get things working. Nearly a month in now, they finally send another tech, he comes out spends about 30-40min fiddling with stuff, checking lines, signals etc In and out of the house. Finally comes back in and tells me I'm good to go.. I check, doesn't die immediately, do a quick speed test, not horrible.. ask him what it was, apparently the wire running into the house wasn't connected properly :( fine fine.. bit pissed, but I have service..
Go to use it.. 2500ms lag to EVERYWHERE! That's it.. at this point it's a new month and I've paid a second bill. I call in and decide to just cancel my service. I explain what I've been going through, ask for a credit back for my (lack of) service the past month and my money back for the next month. Employee understands, tells me he will credit me please hold . He comes back tells me that's done, and he will now cancel my sevice, great at least this is easy..
Fast forward to yesterday, I get my final invoice, it shows pro-rated credit for Nov, but nothing for Oct? Call in billing Dept to ask what's going on, explain the situation again and he looks at my account and sees notes last person was gonna credit me, puts me on hold to investigate. When he comes back about 15min later his voice has changed.. he explains the last person I spoke with, basically lied to me he says. They gave me a "courtesy credit" which has no actual value, instead of crediting me back for service I couldn't use. As such, they won't mail out a courtesy credit, it can only apply to balance or bills.. since I don't have service, I get no credit. He says he tried to explain about how they had screwed my service from the get go to his manager, but they basically said they aren't mailing out a $20 credit.. but they still owe me $40 for my pro-rated service... He just said the manager wouldn't do it.
Knowing they record all these kinda calls, I very clearly spelled out everything they had done, and how they werent gonna credit me for basically anything, and I just had to take it.. I said "So I want you to admit, right now, on this recording, that's your fucking me, a returning customer who previously had an account with you for 10+ years" and he laughed and said "yup!" He also apologized repeatedly..
Before my switch away, we had been loyal customers for as long as we've had internet in our apts, and only switched away cause Teksavvy hadn't had tv yet and we got a promo that seemed too good (hint it wasnt) .
Is this really the kind of service people can expect from Teksavvy now? I had heard stories about how bad things had gotten there but this is pretty unreal if even your own employees are willing to admit, ON TAPE, that your fucking a customer over..
submitted by twistedmjc to teksavvy [link] [comments]


2019.05.18 16:51 geekgamer420 [Let’s Build] 100 mysterious magical locations on a magical island

The players arrive at a mysterious foggy island. Once they go deeper into it they find...
1) A single hut inhabited by a very old hermit. “Ah, I’ve been expecting you for so long! I’m glad you could make it!” The hermit offers them a fortune reading and insists they stay the night. When the party leaves, they find the hut and hermit aren’t there anymore. (u/jmasm95)
2) A giant stone monkey head! (u/Torsryk)
3) A very large altar to a god near a village where the inhabits insist that the altar doesn't exist. But someone has been leaving offerings and there is a dried up blood near the altar. (u/Mace_Of_Astora)
4) A small sprout of a tree that has a slight magival aura, if they detect the tree and nurture it, the tree will grow quickly and supply the party with magical fruits, the Island will be kind. If they dont notice the tree they have a %50 chance of stepping on it. If they damage the tree the Island will be unkind. If untouched in either a positive or negative way the Islands fog will get denser and denser. (u/Goober_GM)
5) A Vampire that is starving and will offer 5 GP for some of a party members blood. PC rolls a d10 and take that number times 10 and that is the % of HP that is left of the PC after the Vampire is done feasting.(u/jibreeul)
6) What appears to be an island is in fact the back of a dragon turtle. On the island's "shore" is a dragon turtle egg just about to hatch. The hatchling is peaceful but gets lost on it's way to the water. The actions the party takes decide how the mother reacts. (u/Lysdexic12345)
7) The party finds a minor river / stream. If they follow it upstream, they find that the source is no lake nor pond nor reservoir; rather, they find that the source is a tipped over Decanter of Endless Water on top of a tall rock formation. If they take the Decanter, they can find it is labeled "Property of Gnorfo, the Gnome" (u/bxtros)
8) A messenger who claims to be in a great hurry, despite there not being any civilizations on the island. A later search shows that he has dissapaered (u/RandomGuyPii)
9) A floating building in the sky with two identical golden arches on top of it. The party must beat a DC of 18 perception, or have a passive perception of 16 or greater. If any players manage to get to it, they quickly realize that it is a McDonald’s that has been made to accommodate flying creatures. (u/malnox)
10) A protected shelter for peaceful sentient monsters that do not want to be hunted, or kill anyone else. (u/Lysdexic12345)
11) A magical plague has infected the island and they have caught it. It starts off with a small cough and a rash but if they do not hurry and find the cause, they will surely perish. (u/Lysdexic12345)
12) The island is used by pirates for it's perpetual fog cover to avoid detection and holds the fortress of a pirate king. (u/Lysdexic12345)
13) A chef pacing back and forth on the shore mumbling to himself. He will not interact with players unless interacted with first. He says he is worried that he has made to many magical pies to eat himself and doesn’t know what to do with them. He then offers if the players them if they were hungry. If the players accept, he takes them a quarter mile away to an antique circular wooden table in the middle of a clearing that has four warm pies. One apple, pecan, cherry, and pecan. He says “Dig in but just don’t eat my favorite!” He will never say what his favorite is even if the players ask what it is. Anyone who eats any of the apple, cherry, or pumpkin will have their health completely restored. If anyone eats any of the pecan pie he flips out and claps his hands 3 times and says “Have a fun time on the island assholes” and disappears. During the next combat encounter, any players who consumed any pecan pie will not be able to land a their first attack because the chef will appear right before the make contact and absorb the blow and say “Don’t EVER eat my pecan pie” then disappear. (u/jibreeul)
14) A man dressed in all white with bright red eyes sitting in a tree. If the players attempt to communicate with him, he hops down and not say anything. He will follow the party at a distance. He will follow them silently until someone comments on his eyes, to which he will respond “thank you, my uncle gave them to me” he will then walk away and will never be seen again. (u/jibreeul)
15) The foggy island is littered with the bones of hundreds or maybe even thousands of creatures. Once you make it to the center of the island, the fog starts to attack you. It turns out that the fog is actually a HUGE vampiric mist (Mordenkainen's Tome of Foes). (u/Lysdexic12345)
16) A ramphorychus (Like a giant bat, but with a tail and a climbing speed) nest in a tree. In the nest is a young ramphorychus (bat stat block) that can become a companion. If the mother finds the baby safe, she will accompany the party as a friendly companion. (u/BattraTheDruid)
17) A labyrinth in the middle of the island. Every dead end contains a monster or a type of fog that inflicts random effects (poison damage, healing, transports you back to the beginning, etc.) (u/bnahlik)
18) A large tower with a cylindrical glass room at the top and runes carved into it's sides on the cliffs of the island. Once the party enters, they find a man performing a ritual on the ground floor. If they are detected, the man halts the ritual and asks them to leave the immediately. If they are undetected, the man finishes the ritual and the tower is teleported to another location. (u/Col_Pan213)
19) A blue-purple glowing crystal growth on a big carapapace buried in the ground. If the crystals are disturbed, a giant scorpion crawls out of the ground, sneered at the disturbance. The crystals are worth 10gp a pound, and 50 pounds can be harvested. The crystals also glow with bright light in a 5ft radius, and then 10 ft radius of dim light. The glow never fades, unless the crystal is shattered (u/BattraTheDruid)
20) A freindly, lonely wood elf druid living in a overgrown rotted wood shack. She sells potions of healing and wooden items she made herself for food and company. She will follow the party as a companion, but leaves if they don't treat her fairly. She can speak sylvan, and can communicated with and understand any beast. She has a pet wolf and a pet black bear, which aid her in battle. If she dies, all of her allies within 30 ft of her are healed by 1D12+2 hp, a blessing from a goddess of life and nature. Her gift then decomposes and casts the 3rd lvl spell plant growth, with the 1 action casting time option if she died in combat, and the 8 hour casting time option if her body is left alone for the 8 hours. (u/BattraTheDruid)
21) An entire orchard of golden apples being tended by an old lady. She offers one to each party member. (u/Lysdexic12345)
22) A mysterious creature in a lake. The lakes water starts glowing at night but with no apparent reason. Maybe the creature has to do something with it? (u/SunStoneGurdian)
23) An old, overgrown well in the middle of a forest with an inscription in Ancient Common: "Welcome to the wish-granting well of the Everweeping! To trade with the mistress of heartbreak, throw an ox-eye daisy into the deep waters within during the first light of Friday and say thrice the incantation that appears!". This incantation appears in the water and is in Sylvan, but anyone with knowledge of the Elvish script can read it and attempt to pronounce it with a DC 14 Arcana roll. When successful, the archfey Buailcroí the Everweeping Princess will appear enveloped by mist and offer a trade. "Throw a living, heartbroken humanoid into my well in exchange for a Wish." After giving out one Wish, the well disappears along with the mist. (u/AlwaysBurningOut)
24) A magical crystal that causes wild maguc surges on all spells cast. Dancing around it is a goblin tribe, with a Nilbog sitting on a throne. (u/SauceMemer)
25) A large, beautiful plant covered with flowers in the middle of a sparkling clear pond. The plant’s pool emits a sweet fragrance that lures creatures to drink. Creatures that are neither undead nor constructs within 60 feet must succeed on a DC 16 Wisdom saving throw or be compelled to approach the plant and drink. The water is cool and refreshing but carries a sleeping poison: any creature (other than undead and constructs) that drink it regain 1d4 hit points and recover from 1 level of Exhaustion, but must succeed on a DC 15 Constitution saving throw against poison or fall Unconscious for 1 minute. If the saving throw fails by 5 or more, the creature is unconscious for 1 hour. An unconscious creature wakes up if it takes damage or if another creature uses an action to shake it awake. The plant is carnivorous and will eat the party while they are sleeping, but will put up a fight if extremely necessary. Otherwise, it just preys on sleeping creatures. (u/MoonPupper)
26) A wrecked schooner in the middle of a coastal plain, inhabited by a doppelgänger wearing the guise of the former captain. He drinks rotgut and eats rats and barnacles while overseeing the stick doll crew. (u/DwarfAardvark)
27) The ruins of a castle lies on top of a large mountain, nothing seems to remain except a staircase leading down into a dungeon containing 10 petrified soldiers. Still alive the players can explore the ruins finding clues to their demise. A sword lies discarded atop a tower. On inspection you can find that the sword can turn creatures to stone if they want to and return them back to flesh. If used on the soldiers you find that they did turned to stone on purpose to escape the old world in hope of a better future. (u/TmF_eX)
28) A giant glass lens on a brass swivel, with a crescent shape cut into one side. Light passing through the uncut side comes out the other as darkness. (u/DwarfAardvark)
29) A stone plaza with concentric rings carved into it but thirty of the stones from the rings are hovering from 2-50 feet in the air. Each stone has one of six glowing, colored runes on its underside, with five stones per rune. The stones cannot be moved and will hold weight if stepped on, unless the rune is touched, which will allow them to be moved. But if they are not placed in a slot with a matching rune, they will return to where they hovered before, as will all the other stones with the same rune. (I.e. putting a red rune in a blue slot will cause all the red rune stones to return hovering). Returning all the stones to their place will cause the plaza to descend like an elevator into an ancient temple below. Removing a stone will cause the elevator to return to the surface. (u/RedKibble)
30) A talking head statue complains that it’s view of the ocean is blocked by overgrown vegetation. He’s been here for hundreds of years, but has not moved from that spot. It’s been very dull. (u/ken_NT)
31) A strange cave which is filled with strange devices that break after a couple of uses. All of them are made from coconuts. (u/Astr0C4t)
32) A island with powerful protective wards, but they're only visible and active during low tide. (u/morepowertoshields)
33) A freestanding 20 ft wall stands in a clearing in the interior jungle. The wall is masonry, painted in pastel blue and yellow. There is a window in the wall, covered by an aluminum awning. Under the window, beneath the awning is a two-foot cactus. If the PC's approach the cactus slowly opens one cyclopean eye and all PC's receive the telepathic message "Hey man". The Cactus , named Mellow if asked, is bummed out to being the shade, asks the PC's for help getting some sun. Mellow really digs a spell like Daylight but mainly wants to be out from under the awning. Removing the awning disturbs d12 See-Through Rhino Bats, or similarly annoying flying pests. Mellow can be transplanted, can be "found" as a familiar but expresses a preference to hang out here. Will reward players that get him into the sun by teaching them Speak With Plants. (u/CertainlyNotCthulhu)
34) Staircases. Just sitting in the middle of the foggy forest. They look like they were ripped from various houses. They don't lead to anything. The inhabitants of the island don't speak common, but run and panic when the players try to climb one. (u/TenradMusta)
35) The island has a small run-down village. It seemingly has no people, but when the players enter a dusty old barn, they hear a ghostly pale figure singing. She's lost her soul to a demon she was love with. Even though she desperately wants to ask for help, all she can do is sing her haunting song. She tries to use her song to lure the travelers to burn her remains so that she can finally rest. (u/TenradMusta)
36) A cave under a rocky hill the deepest recesses of which covered in tiny crystalline flecks and a single crystal stalactite, glowing with a strange light (you pick the color, my choice is blue). There's a small pool under the stalactite which drips about 1 gallon per day from the stalactite into the pool. One dose of the liquid which acts as a lesser healing potion if consumed within the cave, with the effects of up to 3 doses per day stacking. There is no effect if more is consumed. Therein resides Gorrlog the Ogre. Actually very friendly if you speak one of his 2 known languages; Giant or Common (although your accent is difficult for him to comprehend, much repetition is required). Friendly primarily because he's been marooned here for so long, with no-one to talk to. He shakes coconuts and bananas from "tall trees" to eat with his infrequent "lizard dinner." Dinner turns out to be Kobolds who keep attacking him because he eats them because he can't comprehend their accent when they use the Common tongue. All were marooned here during a Spellstorm some time ago, and he's thrown most of their metal weapons into the shark-infested sea. (u/Chikimunki)
37) A giant coconut that has a mermaid inside. (u/alejo1905)
38) A village with a few tribal people going about their business. They don't seem to notice the PCs. If the PCs attempt to speak, the villagers look up in surprise. It turns out the PCs are invisible & intangible to the villagers. The villagers think the PCs are ghost. (u/World_of_Ideas)
39) A palm tree with lots of coconuts, one is magical giving a one use wish spell. If you pick any other one you lose the wish if you find the magic one. (u/Diddledan)
40) A log cabin in the woods. Inside it is an old man with a wooden staff. He greets characters and offers them to come celebrate his 120th birthday. Thus can be done during a short rest. During the rest, the man offers the characters magic stew. Anyone who drinks the soup is cured of all disease amd poisons, and gains permanent resistance to poison damage. At the end of this, the man thanks the characters, wishes them good fortune, and then fades away, leaving behind his staff. The staff is a staff of the woodlands (u/BattraTheDruid)
41) 1D10 hermit crabs with helmets for shells. Upon further investigation there is a capsized wreck of half of a warship, this is a shell for a giant hermit crab. (u/Sporedian)
42) A mysterious cave where rats can be seen trailing in and out like ants would. They are scavenging for food and returning it to the cave. If PC's follow the trail a stench will radiate from the inner workings. It will lead to a wererat king. A man who was stranded ashore many years ago and infected by a disease from the rats. He has created a massive colony of rats that obey his orders. He may or may not be in were-form when they find him. He can be cured if the party wishes. If he is hostile then the rats will swarm and appear from tunnels in the walls and ceiling. (u/BernieSanders2420)
43) An underwater shrine in pool under a waterfall (u/I_walked_east)
44) A small graveyard where the only legible headstones have the names of the party members. The dates of death correspond to the day before their respective birthdates. (u/ComtedStInane)
45) Rivulets of silver sand sidle gently caress the beach, climbing deep into the island. At the bottom of a waterfall-fed pool, a green gem sits, absorbing the sand. Deep in the ocean, an orange gem emits the sand. Taken out of the water, as either gem dries, the silver sand becomes worthless dust. While both gems are wet, the sand flows at a leisurely walking pace out of the orange gem and toward the green. (u/dpflug)
46) 2d10 corpses lay around a large half buried chest. (u/ThePlumbOne)
47) A pseudodragon breeding ground, maybe with one that has a broken limb for players to adopt (u/macadeku)
48) A man dressed in white with an exotic accent and a similarly dressed halfling mysteriously walk out of some fog. They ask the party to meet them at a particular shoreside location at a specific time. When the party arrives, they find the man in white and his halfling sidekick greeting people as they step off of a flying carpet. The man in white then asks you to escort a couple across the island to a specific location to retrieve a small McGuffin, and come back to this spot in a few days. The couple appears to be from another place and time, based on what they are wearing and the things they carry on them (like 1980's technology). (u/raykendo)
49) A carving of a face on a volcanic island looks a lot like one of the party members. The emotional state of that character triggers volcanic eruptions. (u/raykendo)
50) A ring shaped, abandoned temple with alcoves stuffed to the brim with chopped and dried cordwood, and jugs of oil. The temple is clearly designed with smoke holes in the ceiling, scorch-marks, and carved petroglyphs indicating some fire based ritual. The ring spirals around a carved shaft down 300 feet into the underdark, beneath sea level but still, somehow dry. Lighting the wood, causes an alchera/portal to the elemental plane of fire, the roiling smoke and updraft shrieking loudly, and reveals an unconcious elemental (Turgmam's Daughter) driven mad and chained to a rock, turned into an undead elemental horror. (Think Sons of Kyuss, but fire based stealing heat instead of burning.) (u/MaxSizeIs)
51) A beautiful and curious looking bug with a lovely glow and cheerful song. The bug is sure to make a great pet and score anyone able to tame and breed them a lot of gold for "the next big fad". The bug is pregnant and lays eggs, cooing in a way that leads to a sort of charm or control person spell, and each exposure lowers the victim's will until the bug lays eggs inside the victim. The victims become willing incubators and protectors to the bug, and it begins to spread quickly. The hatching of the bugs is not lethal, but is disfiguring, although the marks are often beneath clothing. Even after hatching, the victim is willing to be infected once more. In fact a peaceful, utopian, cohesive, and non violent society exists on the island, seeking to spread the bug in symbiosis. The society is a direct result of the bug's charms. (u/MaxSizeIs)
52) A shipwrecked shipment of weapons and armor have washed ashore. The party has a certain amount of time to rummage through the items before the shore is overrun by Rust Monsters as hundreds of them have come to feast. If they come back. DM’s discretion if they want to throw in a magic sword, shield, or piece of armor that is left behind by the Rust Monsters. (u/IamHybrid)
53) The island is know as "The Seal". at first glance the lone island is a harsh desolate place with a jagged rocky surface only remotely able to be navigated by the few naturally occurring gravel laden valleys. Upon closer inspection the island it made of an unbreakable metal and has a constant thrum like a giant tuning fork as the sound of the waves crash and resonate through the whole Island, this feeling is at best nauseating and at worst maddening. Any metal items feel heavier as the island is slightly magnetic, this also creates a constant stormy climate as the conductive nature of the island seems to create an endless static in the air that makes your teeth hurt. It is calld the seal because it is home to a banished drow turned drider who committed such a heinous act that they put it in a place it could never again find the underdark nor gain any power. The party can fight the drider or bargain with is as it has spent the last 100 years plotting to get back at those who wronged it. (u/Jrs6500)
54) A small, hidden grove of glowing mushroom trees buried in the depths of the jungle. When approached, make DC [insert appropriate number here] con saves. If the whole party fails, they fall unconscious. At some point, the whole party wakes up unharmed and free to move, greeted by a mushroom man. They'll notice their nails had been trimmed on both their hands and feet. The mushroom man will kindly guide them towards the exit, with a gesture of gratitude. (u/Axeloy)
55) A gigantic bird's nest atop a mountain. The chicks alone are as large as giant eagles. The mother is absent, but one gets the feeling she might return at any time. The shells of the cracked eggs, still lying about, are adorned with diamonds, being worth 200 gold pieces each. (u/StanggTwin)
56) A trail of bones laid end to end lead to an unnaturally flat circle 12 feet in diameter on the side of a mountain. (u/JuzamDjinn)
57) A large cave full of ferns and a small stream. Following the stream will lead you to an opening with natural light pouring through the ceiling. In the center of the room is a rock with a rusty sword in it. If the players pass a dc 13 strength check to pull it out, it instead snaps, turning it into a rusty dagger. When the blade leaves the rock, whoever took it out is cursed with vampirism until it is returned. (u/TenradMusta)
58) A lone tree seemingly hundreds of feet tall and at least a hundred feet across at the base. It bears fruit high up in the tree that glow like the stars at night and have the effect of the spell Lesser Restoration when eaten freshly picked, but eating more than one fruit a day has no additional effect except being tasty. The fruit's effect when picked lasts for 2d4-1 days. It is guarded by vicious but beautiful golden feathered Harpys. (u/MaxSizeIs)
59) You accidentally come across the graveyard of unicorns. This is where unicorns come to die.(like elephants). This place is overwhelming with how much magical energy there is in the air. (u/BeboTheMaster)
60) A bubbling pool of strange tan coloration. The fog is humidity given off by this steaming hot lake. Floating in the lake is giant pieces of meat from some colossal creature, large leafs and plants, and what looks like a gargantuan carrot. One can barely make out the shimmering shape of burning hot giant coals in the bottom of the lake, the source of the heat. Waiting long enough will allow the party to see the cloud giant visit the lake and collect in a giant bowl the soup he has been making. If the party wishes they can take some too, it's quite tasty! (u/MildlyConcernedGhost)
61) Three iron golems guard a long abandoned house turned to ruins. They were obviously guarding something very important. (u/Lysdexic12345)
62) The Burning Grove: A swathe of shrubs that secrete a highly flammable oil have somehow grown in an area infected by nature magic. Mere minutes after burning, the shrubs sprout back up from the ashes, meaning there is always some section of the grove ablaze. Local stories tell of a powerful elemental artifact hidden in an oasis at the center of the grove, but nobody's ever survived the journey to find out. (u/HurricaneBatman)
63) A circle of gigantic stone heads, worn and eroded by time and weather, spread out over a mile across at the bottom of a mountain. The heads are the size of houses and seem to lack any means of being carved or transported here. The heads are all looking in towards the center of the ring, except for one. This head is looking at a spot on the mountain, instead. This head, and this direction may or may not be obvious without study, or may be concealed by the local terrain or environment (jungle vines, etc). (u/MaxSizeIs)
64) A mountain made of smooth glass that is especially difficult to climb. (u/MaxSizeIs)
65) A vast pit with smooth sides going down a mile or more straight down. The bottom of the pit is hard to see. It may very well be bottomless. The sides of the pit have what appear to be holes several feet across, spaced regularly in a stair or spiral pattern. Half way down is the rusting and patinated remains of a geared elevator system, with spider-like legs seemingly permanently stuck halfway up the shaft. The elevator system appeared to use the holes to lever itself up and down the shaft. (u/MaxSizeIs)
66) A strange ring shaped tunnel system. The tunnel is roughly hewn 30 meters in diameter and forms a giant circle 100km in diameter around the base of the island deep below water level. The interior of the tunnel has a partial set of tracks as if for a vast mine-cart, but no cart, nor digging equipment is evident. A number of air shafts five meters in diameter are evenly spaced every 500 meters of tunnel and head up to land. The beginnings of a second smaller tunnel, and access shafts, is concentric with the first about 20 meters inwards. The partial access runs parallel to the greater tunnel and is only 8 meters in diameter. Tunnel supports are irregularly spaced and heavily corroded due to age, but appear to be made of a type of iron and cleverly welded together with very fine weld work. A brave adventurer and metallurgist would marvel at the size of the castings and purity of the metal supports, which are actually made of a low carbon steel highly suitable for blades and springs, far surpassing the skill and ability of most blacksmiths and smelters to create. Whatever made these tunnels and supports is a mystery, and may have had vast power potentially to equal the gods themselves. (u/MaxSizeIs)
67) An abandoned castle floating on a cloud that seems to have "high centered" itself on a hill or mountain top. (u/MaxSizeIs)
68) A small clearing, in the middle of which sits a pheonix on a small shrub. Once every six seconds, the Phoenix takes off and flies away, only to return in the other direction. It is not hostile to the party, and a nature check DC 18 will reveal that it is stressed. If the Phoenix is killed, it bursts to flame, but flies back into the clearing several moments later. The players discover that any attempt to leave the clearing results in them returning just like the Phoenix. Casting detect magic reveals a spatial loop with one exit. This can also be found with a survival check DC 16. If they take the Pheonix with them, it bursts into flame, leaving behind a tawny downfeather for each party member. The next time each player is knocked unconscious, the feather will disappear and they will regain 16 hit points or be returned to full health, whichever is smaller. The clearing cannot be found again once escaped. (u/RollinThundaga)
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submitted by geekgamer420 to d100 [link] [comments]


2018.04.04 04:04 santinomig [F]ate Got [M]e Laid [Squirting] [Cheating]

Beads of condensation rolled slowly down the ice cold pint glass sitting in front of me. The blaring sound of 10 different TV's airing the local baseball game drowned out the evening dinner rush around the bar. It had been a long day at work, and I needed a quick beer to calm my nerves. I worked in an extremely high stress environment at the time, so it was just nice to zone out the end of the bar. I downed the rest of my beer, tossed a crisp $5 bill on the counter, and started to get up. Just as I turned to walk away, the bartender tapped me on the shoulder and handed me another ice-cold beer.
"I appreciate it, but I'm good John. Just one for me tonight," I said turning back around to leave.
"Hey, this one's not on the house... it's from her," John replied, motioning to the other end of the bar, arm still outstretched with the frost covered pint glass, "She said she used to know you or something like that." I looked down to the other end of the bar and saw an empty stool.
"You must be fuckin with me man," I laughed, I was a regular at that bar, and John was always one for a good joke.
"Naw man, I swear," John started, "She was right there a second ago. She was this thin framed young woman with dark hair, hazel eyes, and a blue dress. She didn't give me a name though. Just sent this beer over to you and said once you taste it, you'd remember her."
I quickly glanced around the bar, but didn't see anyone I recognized. John shrugged and set the beer down in my spot. He walked down to the other end of the bar and picked up some cash near where he claimed she had been sitting.
"She musta left already," he shouted over to me.
I shook my head, knowing full well that John was just messing with me again. Either way, there was a free, ice cold beer sitting in front of me that I wasn't about to waste. I looked up at the game on the TV closest to me, already putting the whole incident out of my head. Absent-mindedly, I took my first sip of the beer. I was just about to yell at John for serving me some cheap piss beer, when the overwhelmingly fake lime flavor hit my tongue. It was Bud Light Lime (so yes, cheap beer, but let me explain)...
Within an instant of tasting that beer, my mind shot back to college... my mind shot back to her... All those nights we had together. All those times we spent in each others arms. All those shitty Bud Light Limes I drank with her because she wouldn't drink any other beer. My heart skipped a beat. She was here??? My eyes frantically shot around the bar. I even stood up and looked in the dining area but did not see her. I returned to my spot at the bar and shook my head in amazement. My mind rushed 1,000 miles a second. Where is she? Why didn't she say hi? What is she doing here? I thought she had moved? Seriously, what the fuck???? My head swelled with all the thoughts racing through my brain. I needed to get home. I downed the beer, wincing at the taste, but needing the cold liquid in my veins to cool me down before heading out into the 95º summer night. I slid the glass down the bar to John and waved goodbye. Before he could ask me about her or beer, I was already out the door. Since I lived just a block away, I began the short, but sweaty walk home.
As I turned the corner around the bar, my heart skipped a beat again. Katy stood there, in a blue sun dress, holding a six pack of Bud Light Lime. I didn't know what to say. I was speechless. She was more gorgeous than before. Her hazel eyes looked blue and had a bright spark in them that begged me to come closer. Her skin was more tan than I remembered, and her petite figure had gained some definition. She wasn't the cute college girl I used to know. She was a beautiful woman now.
"Hey, can I buy you another drink?" she asked, smiling.
"Sure..." I stammered, "Uh... my place is just down the street if you.... wanna catch up," I replied.
She nodded and smiled at me again. We started walking. We didn't say much until we got to my place. I unlocked the door, flicked on the light, and threw my suit jacket on a chair. She went right into the kitchen like she owned the place and threw the beer in the fridge. She then handed me a beer before sitting on the couch. I sat on the recliner across from her. As excited as I was to see her, we hadn't ended on the best note, so I decided to keep my distance. We awkwardly pushed through a 30 minutes of small talk before I couldn't take it anymore. I blatantly asked her why she was here.
"I took a 3 month transfer back out here for work," she replied.
"No... not 'why are you in town?' Why are you HERE??? In my apartment," I countered.
"It's a long story.... I am in this shitty relationship with this jackass from back home..." she began. The spark inside me immediately died.
"Ah," I said curtly, standing up and motioning her to the door, "I am not doing this again Katy. We aren't in college anymore. Between working all the time... and ya know... being a fucking adult, I don't have time for any drama. I don't need this shit in my life."
"Wait! Wait!" Katy burst out as I walked over to open the door. "Just hear me out for one damn second. I didn't come out here to find you. I know we both burned that bridge a long time ago. I am surprised you even agreed to talk this long with that famous temper of yours..."
"Fair enough," I replied. "Then why are you here?"
"I took the transfer to get away from him for a while, to clear my head, and decide what to do," Katy sighed. "I didn't look you up before coming here, in fact, I didn't plan on running into you at all."
"Sure..." I laughed sarcastically.
"No, I am serious," she argued, "I literally got off the plane a few hours ago, picked up my company car, and headed to the address of the hotel they have me staying in. That bar was the closest one around. I walk in, and who do I see??? I am literally here, in this crowded fucking city, for less than 5 hours, and the one person I see is you... Now, I don't know about you... but to me, that is fate. And if you don't believe any of that... my plane ticket is still in my purse."
I stood there dumbfounded. Katy pulled the plane ticket from her purse and handed it to me. She wasn't lying. My mind was eased a little. I grabbed us another round of beers and we slowly started catching up. We reminisced about our on-again-off-again hook up stage, our serious relationship stage, and finally our parting ways. After her and I split, we both finished up college and got into the workforce. I had dated around but never anything serious. My job called on me to travel too much to hold anything steady. Katy, on the other hand, had been with the same guy since shortly after her and I broke up. He was pressuring her with marriage and she wasn't sure what to do. She didn't have the guts to leave him though. We talked long into the evening, killing the six pack, and starting in on my stockpile of beer in the fridge on my balcony. With each additional drink, the conversation effortlessly turned from innocent memories to filthy recollections of our sexual past together. The spark started coming back. The summer heat drifted through the screen door and turned the air thick. We could tell nothing good would come of that night if we kept going down the road we were on. We stopped drinking.
Eventually the conversation paused. I broke the silence by telling Katy that it would be best if we continued this another night. Our buzzes were both starting to wear off, yet the sexual tension was still there. She agreed. We both had to be up early the next morning for work, and it was late. She helped me clear the empty beer bottles from the coffee table then asked if she could use the restroom before she left. When she returned, I was standing by the door to let her out.
"I noticed the cologne in your bathroom is the same scent you wore back in college... Funny... I didn't smell it on you tonight," she mentioned coyly.
"It's been a long time. Maybe you forgot what it smelled like..." I replied calmly, yet all the while feeling the sexual tension growing stronger.
"Or maybe I just didn't get close enough to smell it on you..." she smirked, her voice trailing off.
Katy approached me slowly, as a lioness approaches its prey just before the kill. I knew that look and that walk all too well. I had seen it thousands of times before. I stood with my back to the door, and reached for the lock. As much as I wanted her, I knew the amount of drama it would create would not be worth the pleasure. Just as I turned over the deadbolt, I felt her silky soft hand firmly grip mine and reset the deadbolt behind me. Her nose brushed against my neck, as she breathed in a mixture of sweat, cologne, and beer. She moaned ever so softly, drifting back into old memories. The sound of her moan transported me right back with her. I could never help myself around her; so just like that, all over again, she went in for the kill.
Katy sunk her teeth into my shoulder, just below my neck. Not too hard, but just enough of a nibble to snap me out of my stupor. Despite fighting it all evening long, this was honestly what I really wanted from the moment I took that first sip of Bud Light Lime. Immediately, I took control. She continued to kiss, nibble, and suck her way up my neck, as I picked her up and slammed her against the door. Without missing a beat, she loosened my tie, unbuttoned my shirt, and started working on my belt. Our lips met for the first time. Power surged through us both as we kissed. It was magic. It was more addictive than any drug or drink ever created. Our breath became one, and with each kiss, we sunk further and further into darkness. In that moment, we were back in college. The kisses became more and more forceful as I felt my slacks hit the floor. Kicking off my shoes, I picked Katy up and carried her into the kitchen. As I set her on the table, she slipped off her small blue thong.
Lifting up her dress, I could see her perfectly manicured strip of pubic hair running right down to her wet pussy. I pulled her to the edge of the table and she laid back. Gripping the edges of the table tightly, she moaned my name as I slipped the head of my cock through her pussy lips. I pushed slowly into her, inch by inch, until she was completely filled by me. It had been so long, yet it was so familiar. I slowly eased back out of her, then back in again. She was lost in pleasure. We barely began to pick up speed and she let out a long moan that she was already there. Her chest flushed red, her lips contracted around my cock. The build up to that moment had been to much for her. I asked her if she needed to stop, and she shook her head no. Taking it slow, I started to build up speed again. Before long, she came again. This time shivering with sensitivity all over her body. She popped up off the table and wrapped her arms around me. I held her tight as she relaxed. I asked her again if she needed to stop, but she begged for more.
I laid her back down onto the table. Her bright pink lips were dripping with her cum. This time, gripping her hips and holding her down gently, I slowly slipped my throbbing head into her. Pushing deep inside her, most of my shaft was engulfed by her tiny pussy. I started thrusting again, even slower this time. Gradually with every few thrusts, I picked up speed. She moaned and bucked trying everything to fight the urge to cum. She begged me to hold her down tighter on the table. I did as she asked, but picked up my speed. Faster and faster I thrust into her, and she became increasingly more sensitive. I could feel her lips contracting tighter around my shaft. Wrapping her hands in my undone tie, she pulled me closer to the table. She sat up just enough for our lips to meet again in a passionate kiss.
"I'm close!" Katy sighed in my ear. I nodded, I was close too. She bit my neck again and that was all it took. I thrust deep in to her one last time. Screaming my name, she began to cum for the third time that night as I filled her tiny wet pussy with a huge hot load. With each pump of my cock, I shot more and more cum inside her. She started shaking and begged me to pull out. I did as she asked and quickly pulled out. She fell back on the table and clutched her clit and pink lips. Her lips contracted hard and a stream of clear liquid shot out of her sexy little pussy onto me and the kitchen floor. She screamed again as the second, third, and fourth stream of squirt hit me. My cum oozed from her slit as the fifth stream of her love juices barely made it past her lips.
"I am so sorry!" she stammered shakily, covering her face in embarrassment.
"Damn Katy, when did you learn squirt?" I asked, impressed.
"Right now..." she sighed, still embarrassed, "That has never happened before.... I am so sorry."
"Don't be. It was hot. I guess we still got it huh?" I replied.
"Hell yeah we still got it," she giggled, "I think I am still cumming."
I helped Katy up from the table and led her into the shower. We showered together and because she was completely exhausted, I offered her my bed for the night. I cracked another beer as I cleaned up the kitchen. Once the mess was cleaned up, I lay down on the couch to sleep. After about 10 minutes, Katy came out and asked me if I was coming to bed. I explained to her that we had done enough damage to her relationship already and that I was fine out on the couch. She ignored me, took my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom.
"Fine," I said, faking reluctance, "But you better call that boyfriend of yours first thing tomorrow and break up with him."
"As long as you fuck me while I do it..." Katy finished.
submitted by santinomig to sexstories [link] [comments]


2018.04.03 00:38 parrushes I think I'm haunted.

I think I'm haunted. Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? Well, it's basically true.
There have been things my entire life I have had trouble explaining to myself, to others, even sometimes my parents are stumped at the goings on in my life.
Now, I don't particularly believe in ghosts, perse, but it is difficult to explain away somethings. Okay, before I get into it, I want to say that some of this I have been told and I don't really remember some of my younger life goings on, so some stories come from my parents.
So, according to my parents I was a very quiet child before my brother was born. I wouldn't talk to anyone. It wasn't that I couldn't talk, I just wouldn't. However, one day my mum was coming upstairs with some washing and heard me talking to... someone. She didn't know who or what, since when she reached the top of the stairs, I would stop talking and look at her. My bedroom was at the top of the stairs to the right, so you could see a person as soon as they reached the top. This went on for a while. My parents would always try and catch me and they would always fail.
Now, I usually just chalked this up to me having an imaginary friend or something. (Not that I remember ever having one). But a story that my mum told me not that long ago changed that.
In late August of 1993, my mum was heavily pregnant to my brother (she never told me the date but I guessed because she said she was heavily pregnant) and was again bringing washing upstairs. This time though, she caught me. I was apparently sitting on my floor, staring at the ceiling, talking to it. My mum was about to walk into my room asking: "who are you talking to?" but before she stepped through the threshold, the door slammed in her face, hitting my brother (he pooped in fear but he was okay). Now, i know what you're thinking here, but it wasn't drafts through the house. My bedroom window is always closed, it usually only happened to 2 doors in the house because of the layout of it. She never told me anymore after that.
Another thing to mention. My bedroom, no matter what house I live in and what bedroom I am in in that house is always cold. Always. It is very rare that my room is even mildly warm. Even now, the rest of my flat is extremely warm, but my room is cool. No open window, no open vents, radiator on.
So, fast-forward to my teenage years. I live in a different house. I had 3 experiences. The first, I was playing hide and seek with a friend, musta been about 13 or something at the time. I was hiding in a canvas covered clothes hanger, when I peaked out and saw a woman standing in my room. I was terrified and hid further into the hanger. When I heard my friend come into the room, I called out "Megan, turn on the light!" She did, and I came out and told her what I saw, but she didn't believe me.
The second was when me and my family were getting ready to go out somewhere. I was taking longer so my mum was out back talking to the neighbour. When I was ready I started heading downstairs. From the stairs you can see into all the bedrooms. So when I glanced into my mums room and thought I saw a man, running, at full speed towards my bedroom, with a knife. Thing is that he was running straight for a wall. I didn't even process this, I ran straight to my mum and told her. She grabbed a knife and headed upstairs to look but she never found anyone. The third was when I was about 23, still living in the same house. I was sitting talking to my parents, when i thought I saw a cat, it was ginger and white, slinking behind my dads legs. Though, I closed my eyes and when I opened them, the cat was gone.
When I was 24 I started working in a factory. It's a food factory so you have to wear special PPE, like hairnets, hats, jackets, plastic sleeves, gloves and aprons. Here I didn't really experience much when I was just an operative, however when I advanced to being QA/QC that's when the right creepy shit started happening. It started really suddenly as well. I was standing doing a check. Machinery in front and behind me, a path to my left and an empty open space to my right. It was then I saw someone approach to my left, now when you work in an environment where there's lots of noise, machinery and moving parts, you've visually got to be aware of your surroundings, it's helpful. Especially in my job. So when I saw this person approaching (it looked like the manager, Jack) I moved in slightly to let them pass behind me and continue on his route. I turned my head to shout something to him, though he had vanished. Straight up gone. It was odd because there was literally no where he could have went in such a minuscule space of time. No where, I even checked behind the machinery. Gone. It turns out he was actually in the office at the time doing some paperwork. I probably should mention that at this point in time I worked on the night shift. 9:30pm - 6:00am. I was one of 3 women.
A few nights later, I was upstairs, giving out some paperwork to be done, making sure everything was okay. I said something to the 2 guys there and began walking away when I heard a female voice shout "mummy". There was only 3 people in this room, me and 2 men. I turned back around to see that the guys weren't even paying attention to me, they were busy with dis-mantling a double stacked pallet. but i shrugged it off and started heading back down stairs.
I also heard quite a lot of walking about when I was in the office/kitchen. There was a small opening into the factory entrance corridor, it's good for passing stuff though without having to leave the factory floor or for people to come in. The shift was pretty small when I was on it, I knew when people went on and were due back from their breaks, so the noise was strange at 2am and no one should be out there, it was like a shuffling noise, someone walking by. I usually brushed it off as being tired.
After a while I was tasked with doing stuff in another part of the factory. This was usually at points through the night or at about 5 am. My supervisor had asked me to do something for him in one of the enclosed factory rooms, so when I was in there, by the industrial ovens, at the other side of the massive room to the metal stairs, I could hear a sort of soft metallic thumping noise. Sort of like someone coming down the stairs. I knew it couldn't have been anyone in the shift because we wear industrial wellies so they make a lot of noise on metal. Being tired at the time I just shouted "fuck off" and the noise stopped. I never heard it again after that.
The last time on the night shift was when I was going into another enclosed factory room, restricted access area. Really restricted, the door wouldn't unlock unless your card was specifically programmed for it. It was 5:34am and I had just came back from my break to finish up my work. It was Monday and there was no one in that part of the factory. No one due starting their shift, no one cleaning, not a soul. It would be another 15 minutes before anyone was due in. i was putting my jacket on in the changing room when I heard 2 distinct bangs and some movement. Sounded like someone was setting up for the day. I got myself ready and went in and went straight into the office to say hello to whoever it was when I noticed that no one was there. I thought to myself "huh, they must have heard me come in and fucked off to set up." so I did a sweep of the factory to see who it was. Not a fucking soul. The place was silent, I would have heard them leave through the door since it made a sort of "shhhh" sound when it opened. When I came back into the office, my supervisor was coming in and I asked him if he'd seen anyone leave, but he just said no.
Another time was when I heard someone move a pallet truck around in the room next door, it was a early (about 5) on a Monday morning, the earliest start in there was half 5, when I asked him about it, he didn't know what I was talking about, though, the uneven floors could have contributed to it moving
Skip about a year, not much has happened since then, I'm on day shift now. I have only had 2 experiences since, both in the exact same place at near enough the exact same time. There's an upstairs area that I can look across to see the gyro empty, I usually go up here about 5:45pm watching for the last meaty lump coming through, I can also watch the staff from here too so its quite useful so I can catch them doing anything that goes against the Quality Rules.
First time it happened I thought it might be Alfie, he likes scaring shit out of me, but I was standing, watching, leaning against the railing when I thought I saw something moving behind me. All white, moving fast. However, when I turned around it was gone. i went into the adjoining room and found that Alfie was in a completely different part of the factory. And even then, he wore all blue, not white. The second time I was pissed off and couldn't be bothered with it so i just rolled my eyes and turned back around.
The last one was only a few weeks ago, and honestly, if ghosts are attracted to me I'd rather they kindly fuck off.
Though what do you think? Do you think they're attracted to me like a fly to rotten fruit or do you think I'm just taking all of this way out of context? 'Cause I might just cut around with a bag of salt in the future.
submitted by parrushes to nosleep [link] [comments]


2018.03.06 03:02 Karmaplasticity Perfect day; then, not so perfect day.

Yesterday I finished out a 900mi run and shut down 10mi outside of my drop in Carlisle, Pa over at the Flying J on Flying J road. I Was to be at my Amazon drop 0700 sharp today. Got there @ 6:40 and was checked in at the gate pretty fast and had my truck docked before 7!
As the two Amazon team members was looking over my trailer and taking pictures another trucker walks up and asked when he was gonna get unloaded.
"Ahh, here pretty soon bud." the Older fella said to the trucker.
The trucker walks off and the older fella turns to me and said.
"Ahh hell, he's just got some damn wooden pallets; we going to unload you first, so, he can just wait."
I'm like "Hell ya, sounds great."
Man, they musta had nitro on that forklift b/c what was supposed to be a 2 hour live unload turned out to be 45 minutes- and I was gone.
So now, I have a live load in Mechanicsville for a partial load and then it was on to Shippensburg for the rest and then off to North Carolina to get unloaded.
I pull into Mechanicsville appointment 90 minutes early- Said " Hey sorry to be so early but I was just around the corner in Carlisle so I came on over."
"No problem buddy- grab dock door 16 and we load ya right now."
-at this point I'm thinking to myself " No shit?". So, sweet. got my DD16 right off the bat and what was going to be a 90 min live load turned out to be about 45 minutes. Now, I'm on my way and gone by 1030 when it was a scheduled 1100 appointment... sweet, right?
So now I get to Shippensburg, or whatever, at 1115 for my 1300-1500 appointment time; and you guessed it- BAM !!! Dock door RIGHT AWAY !
Now, shit seems too good to be true....
I grab my dock and I head in and the guy is now sitting down to eat lunch.
"Ahhh hey bud- we are gonna take lunch now so give us about a 1/2 hour and we get ya loaded."
I was super polite and said "Hell, I'm early anyway and I think I could use a bite too. I'll walk over to the gas station and get me some grub."
So I get back and it's been about 45 minutes now and getting close to 1245 and as I take the last bite of my lunch I get this hard knock on my window; it's dude.
"Ya, man, what's up?" I say.
"Hey driver, there's not enough room in your 53' for 17 pallets, I can only fit 15. Your going to need to call someone."
So, speeding this story up some- 3 hours go by of playing phone tag circle jerk and so it's settled; the load will just be cancelled and I'll just head on about my business. So, I now head inside to relay all that to the guy and he's on the phone and turns out- NOW it's going to be a partial load he tells me.
I go. "Ummm, I just got off the phone with my driver business leader and was told customer service cancelled the load and I'm to head on down to North Carolina."
He's like "Ahhh, naaaa buddy- I'm on phone right now with customer service and they want it partial loaded and to send email to them with what info I can about what don't fit."
I'm Like. " Lemme go get the phone so EVERYONE is on the same page, we don't want any more trouble than this loads worth."
So, yep- It's setup now as a partial load and I'm out into my truck and it's going on 1500 and I hear the first bump of the forklift hitting the ramps. I'm like.. "Damn..."
I sit for a little over an hour as they load me and I felt a 3 or 4 minute pause in the action so I head in to check on the progress.
"Heyyyy!!! THERE he is, hhahahah hey, guess what buddy!?" He's laughing and smiling... "Can you believe it? I WAS able to get all 17 on, buddy, I'm sorry to keep ya waiting like that, but hey, it's all there. Sign here, here, and date there and your good to go; here's yer seal."
So I leave, 1620 or so and get down to the TA to scale out..... Fuck me? what the ... what?!?!?!! steers just shy of 12, ok... That's fine. Drives... 24,500, sweet, sweet.... BUT WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ????? 39,670 on my tandems????
Ok at this point.. I open my permit book to see what kingpin axle is for Virginia ( it's 41' btw ) and I'm already on the 11th hole and I'm like shit... If I'm running 41' I'll be sitting at just over 40k on my tandems...
Ring, ring...
Ring, ring...
Phone picks up...
"Ahhh hi, it's driver..." bla bla bla...
And that conversation was funny as hell.. Won't go into it- but at one point I suppose the leader on the phone didn't cover the mouthpiece well enough b/c I hear her say.
"Does he even know what he's talking about. OH? *chuckles Well, then."
She hops back on over. "Hey lemme put ya on hold ok?"
She gets back. "Hey, another leader here said slide tandems to 43 and that will take the weight off some."
I'll play dumb.... "Hey, "name" can you help me here, maybe I'm just reading this wrong- can you read that kingpin to axle for me on page 31 of the permit book for Virginia?"
lolololol you know how that went...
"Sooo at this point... let's just say I DID slide to 43' now it's two tickets I'll get by DOT. One for being over 41' kingpin to axle distance and a second one for being over weight because I'll only drop down, what, 300 a hole? So, I'm still looking at a 36,000 pound tandem. I can't have that"
She replies. "Ohh no, no sir, we sure can't can we. Here, I need ya to send overweight macro in and then call claims in a 1/2 hour if you don't get a message back from them."
So they obviously never sent a message, so, I've got to call them. Now I'm down to my last 2 hours on my 14 and I've got no time left to go get the load reworked. The appointment in NC is 0730 sharp and the place I need to go back to don't open until 0800 and I'll still need to get fuel on my way down to my drop about 400 miles away.
AND, to top all that off- that drop spot I need to get a live unload at is only open from 0500 to 1200... so NOW--- I cant even make this run tomorrow, period... and it won't be until the 7th I can get in there for their appointment times.
ahahahahahah what a day !!! But, I honestly don't mind, hell, I don't even get upset at all. It's just one of those things ya know? So much more bad shit could happen to me out here that alllll those little things that piss most people off- don't even phase me.
But, hell, I just had a feeling of " Man- today's going like bam, bam, bam, bam, clockwork..."
I knew something had to go wrong :)
TL;DR - I drive truck, things happen. Bye.
submitted by Karmaplasticity to Truckers [link] [comments]


2017.09.28 16:36 TheJesseClark What Really Happened to Andersonsburg, Pennsylvania, in April 1829

Perhaps you've heard of Andersonsburg - the old western Pennsylvanian town, that, like Roanoke before it, suffered a mysterious end and left no accounted survivors to enlighten anyone as to the details of its fate. Luckily that may no longer be the case; I've joined a University-funded expedition here, and have been tasked with collecting items of value that can hopefully assist in our search for knowledge pertaining to the curious fate of the city. After some exhausting work, I did indeed come across a Diary that is by far the most informative document yet unearthed. I'll check the contents for veracity at a later date. For now, here are the most relevant excerpts for anyone interested:
3 April 1829
Another man caught the Fever, this time down at the lumber camp. From what I hear the poor bastard was tying down the logs when he just up and fell right over into the river. Almost drowned, I heard, and when the others got to him, Matthew and Thomas and the lot, they said his face had gone pale as a cloud, and that he was shakin,’ and sweating and coughing. Ain’t no mistaking that for nothing but the early signs o’ the Fever. So they hauled the poor fellow out and gave him a canteen and had him rest, but then without telling him, they struck camp and left ‘im there. I'm not sure what came of him. But everyone here knows the Mayor’s rule - none struck with Fever are permitted to return to Andersonsburg. If they're favored enough to survive the thing, unlikely as that sounds, they're to remain banished to the woods with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever coin they gots in their purse. Not a one of the other lads down at the camp wanted to risk becoming an Infected and meeting such a grisly fate. No, sir.
4 April, 1829
By mayor’s decree: the lumber camp is to be abandoned, along with all the supplies it's gathered, for fear of being tainted with Fever. There was an uproar at the Mansion today over the decision. Many men are out of work now because of it; but strange enough, I didn’t see not a one of the fellows from the camp itself down at the Mansion; just their wives and some others. And I know why, too. They wouldn’t admit it aloud - no, sir - but they don’t wanna go back. I wouldn’t either. I've seen the Fever at work at Pinefield, and it ain't got no place in my home. Not while I got a wife at home. No, sir.
7 April 1829
Maria says to me today in the kitchen: “Paul, I can’t believe the Mayor’d throw so many good men out of jobs!” But I says back to’er: “Dunno, Sweetheart. Perhaps he’s got himself a point. That ol’ camp’s been run clean over with Fever. And you don’t want that Plague finding its way round here, no, sir. God ‘Imself couldnt’ stop it if it did.” So she snorts and walks away. But she’ll come ‘round eventually. ‘Specially when the stories of the Infected keep comin.’
If Fever’s hit the camp, then its only a good two or three miles from town. Only a matter of time, I think, before it finds its way here. God above, I hope I’m wrong, but maybe I should start thinking bout taking Maria away for a time, though, to see my brother in Philadelphia. Just til all the foul things conclude here.
11 April, 1829
A man got shot last night, not a hundred yards from Jim Isley’s porch. Jim says he was delirious, just stumbling about near the treeline without an aim in the world. He calls out to ‘im an he says, “Declare yourself! You’s an Iroquois? I’ll shoot you dead if you an Iroquois, ol’ boy!” And he said nothin,’ so shoot ‘im he did. Then Jim sent his boy Nathan into town to fetch a picket while he watched the field, thinking an Indian attack was brewin.’ But when Nathan got back with some of the men and their rifles looking for a good fight, not another Indian had shown his face. So they went out and looked at the body, and saw it was something worse: that old Infected fellow from the lumber camp. Found his way back to town in his stupor, and by God, says the men, the Fever worked its way through him right quick. Says he was rotting inside-out, skin falling off like a Leper. Teeth all filed into those wicked points. So they puts up their shirts to their noses and mouths and they set the body to the flame.
They told the story today at the Pub, but some o’ the other gents there took offense to the tale. Says they shoulda told the Mayor, says they shouldn’ta gone near the corpses. One fellow, Tom Huggins, I think he was, said those men were probably Infected, too, by virtue of going near even a dead Infected. Says the Plague lingers after death. Then he bolts out the door, and the barkeep asks the storytellers to leave. I left, too. Ain’t no risking getting the Fever. No, sir.
15 April, 1829.
Jim Isley didn’t show up at the Office today. And all the men there knows the story with the Infected fellow getting shot, too. So the rumors are swirlin.’ No one’s heard from him. His clients are stopping on by and alls we can say is ‘we ain’t seen the fellow, come on by later on.’ So they do, but they ain’t happy about it. No, sir. I like ol’ Jim, even if he’s a little small-brained, so I says to myself I think I’ll stop on by his house after closin,’ to see what’s the matter. I know I shouldn’t, but if he’s sick I’ll know for sure and I won’t go near the man.
I just hope it ain’t the Fever. God above, I hope it ain’t the Fever.
So I gets to his house at roundabout dusk and his wife Sarah opens up the door. She’s a sweetheart, she is, but even though she’s putting on a nice big smile for her guest I can tells she’s got a worry on her mind. So I put my hat to my chest an I says, “Greetings, ma’am. Just stopping on by to extend my regards to Jim. He didn’t show up at the Office today, y’see, and I was hoping I could see him.” Then her smile fades and she says “That’s mighty kind of you, Paul, but Jim’s been under the weather and he won’t let neither me nor Nathan in the bedroom. Alls I know is he’s sweating and having trouble keeping down a meal.” Then my smile fades, an I says without a second thought, “Sarah, I’m guessing you heard bout the guest a half-week back? The man Jim shot?” And she says, “The Iroquois scout! Jim says he shot ‘im dead.” So I says, “Sarah, that weren’t no Iroquois scout. That was the Infected feller from the Lumber camp. Jim and some other fellers burned the body once they saw the skin.” And her face goes white as a ghost and she just says “Don’t you lie to me! Don’t you lie to me about my Jim!” And she goes and shuts the door in my face! I hope she gets her wits about her and gets Nathan out of there soon. He’s a good lad, and she’s got a big kindly heart herself. They don’t deserve this. As luck would have it, though, I ran across Doctor Armistead on the way home, an I tells him about Jim. Maybe he can help.
16 April, 1829.
Maria wakes me up earlier to-day and she says, “The Isley’s are gone! The Isley’s are gone!” And I’m tired so at first I don’t know what nonsense she’s talkin.’ But then I remember Jim and Sarah and Nathan, and I says, “What you mean, gone? Dead, gone?” And she says, “No! The Doctor says Jim’s got the Fever, Paul, and so a few men grabbed their muskets and they haul the whole Isley family out their house and toss ‘em right out the whole town! Some of the men says, if they ever come back, they’ll shoot ‘em dead.”
So I feels right guilty for ratting ‘em out and I throws my covers off and I run outside and down the street. Sure enough, the Isley home’s gone up in a smoke! The whole towns out there watching it burn without a pity, except the Parish, and when I run up I hears people talking about anyone else who’d been in contact with that body of the fellow down at the Lumber camp. Then I hears the other names come up: David Brody, John Greene, Will Benson Hodges. The townsfolk say they’ve gotta find ‘em an give ‘em the boot, or else the whole town’ll get the Fever! One lass says “Why don’t we just shoot ‘em?” An another fellow says back to her, “Then we’d have to remove the corpse. Wouldn’t wanna go near such a thing, would you? The Plague lingers. Better to have ‘em walk right on out on their own two feet.”
But I thinks to myself hell, that's almost worse.
18 April 1829.
The town’s all done over in a hysteria, I tell ya. The Mayor’s declared martial law ever since the Isley’s and the Brody’s and the Greenes and the Hodges got evicted, and not a soul is to enter Andersonsburg until further notice. You can leave and he won’t stop ya. But you ain’t coming back if you do, and the townsfolk’ll assume your departure means you been struck with Plague. Then they’ll burn your home to ash. I’ve seen it happen ten times in the last few days alone. These boys ain’t playin games, no, sir. There are some o’ them religious folks talking about how its God’s judgment for sin, and other fellows with muskets patroling the streets, and every once in awhile you’ll hear a big ol’ loud crack! as he pops off his gun.
Cause that’s the other thing, y’see. Them Infected keep trying to get back in.
20 April 1829.
Some o’ the Infected stormed in down Mulberry Street last night. Stole some cattle, rattled some doorknobs. But the militia showed up right quick and drove ‘em off with some sharp musketry. They didn’t kill any of ‘em until after they’d run out past the wooden palisades. Then they shot ‘em in the back and dropped ‘em like a sack o’ potatoes, says they.
The men have orders only to wound, if possible, y’see, if the Infected make it inside the town. That’s seeing as how a dead Infected in the streets is a corpse some poor bastard’ll have to remove. And then he’s struck with Fever too, far as the town’s concerned, and they send him a packin.’ Needless to say not a man woman or child in Andersonsburg's willing to volunteer for such a job. So the Mayor says to the militia captain, he says, “If them infected find their way in here, you get ‘em out some way other than killin ‘em dead, y’hear? I ain’t aimin’ to have to pick a poor lad to take the bodies out and take himself out the same way. No, sir.”
24 April 1829.
The Mayor let in a visitor today. Some o’ the townsfolk down at the Hall threw up a good fit over that, but the man had something to say, so in he comes. He meets with the Mayor and from what I heard from Phil Gables, he told the Mayor the Infected have thrown in their numbers and overrun the nearest town over west. That place - Lesterburg - was in a similar spot to us: rooting out the Infected, burning their homes. Barricades had gone up, the milita’d been mobilized. All the same, the Infected, hungry for flesh, swept in out of the woods one night and overran the barricades and the watch towers and killed every last person in the town. Except for this feller - Charles Gates or something or other - he was the last man alive, and he ran all the way here to tell us that horde is heading up this way, not two days out.
So now the town’s gotta figure out what’s to be done. Some people think the feller’s lying to get himself a bite to eat. Others think we should all leave for Philadelphia while the leavin’s good. Others think we can take on the horde. Lesterburg was half the size of Andersonsburg, after all, says they. We have more men, more muskets. We could beat ‘em. But its all up to the Mayor now.
25 April 1829
The Mayor elected to stand and fight, but said that anyone who sought to flee was welcome to do so, o‘course. Got himself a nice round of applause, and then the men, myself among ‘em, set about collecting arms and bullets and building up the barricades in the streets and setting up wood towers for the lookouts. If these Infected aim to have a fight, a fight they shall have.
According to Charles, we should expect the horde to come up from the Southwest near the Pike, sometime in the next twelve or so hours. Said there were uncountable hundreds of ‘em, all rotting away and thirsty for blood and crawling like beasts. We’ve got ourselves a good two hundred forty men and muskets and rounds enough for maybe a hundred eighty of ‘em. Add to that number thirty good sharp-shooting rifles for the marksmen in the towers, and even two twelve-pounders overlooking the pike from two angles, and we gots ourselves a fine force to defend the town with. But I can see it in everyone’s eyes: a mist of fear.
Tonight I’ll spend the evening with Maria, and we’ll do what the two of us can to take our mind off things. By the door is my musket, o’course, and in my satchel all the ammunition I could find. Should I hear the church bells go off at any point, I’ll have no choice but to grab the gun, kiss Maria one last time, perhaps, and rush out to the Southwest barricade to do some fightin.’
If the church bells ring a second time, though, everyone knows what that means: the Infected have broken on through. Then it's time to hit the road to Philadelphia. So I tells Maria to keep our valuables packed.
26 April 1829
To-day I took a good stroll out at the edge of town. We’ve got ourselves a good palisade. Some of the boys at the Northwestern edge even dug themselves a trench, and the whole of the militia, even Captain Gaines, have elected ol’ Booker Downes to lead the defense, seeing as he fought with the mountaineers in the Indian wars and got himself some experience. So he rounds up some horses and dispatches a rider to Philadelphia to call up some help, and then two more riders with orders to scout the outskirts of town - one to the west to spot the horde and the other elsewhere to ensure they ain't coming up from nowhere’s else - and report back what they find no later than mid-afternoon. So off they all go, and the rest of the lads get back to the job of fixing up defenses.
By now we scrounged up a good twelve more muskets and forty or so pistols and every blade we can find. The butcher was kind enough to lend us some cutlery, and in the town armory Briggs and I bagged up a few score rusty bayonets and distributed them evenly along the front. We got ourselves an army now, boys. I only hope it lasts the night.
Still no word from the scouts. Downes is getting nervous, so he goes and he sends off another two riders and says “You lads go no more than a mile out, y’hear? Then come on back to me.” So off they go.
One of the new scouts came a-galloping on back in, and he's huffing and puffing and he says to Downes, “They ain't just coming up from the west, sir. Spotted a good lot of ‘em in the Northwest, too, and the north, and they gots themselves horses! A whole mess of ‘em!” And Downes says “Whatd’ya mean, horses? Like they’s eaten ‘em?” And the scout says, “no sir, they’s ridin’ ‘em. Like cavalry. Dead looking things, rottin' skin, with the same red eyes as those Infected folk. And they making speed, sir! They makin’ damn good speed!”
And no sooner does he say that then the Church bell rings. And I look up, and all the men looks up, and we see young Johnny Billings up there, and he’s waving his arms and shouting somethin fierce and pointing off to the West. So we looks to the west. And there they are, all’ve sudden, a whole mess o’ them Infected comin up out of the treeline and runnin up the hill towards the barricade. So we all rush up to the wall and take aim, and Downes says to fire the twelve pounders. So they fire - BOOM! BOOM! - and a good few of those Infected go’s a-flying. But then more are coming, and more and more.
So then the marksmen open up fire from the towers and they're picking the bastards off as best they can. But the horde gets closer and closer. Soon they's in musket range, so me and the boys fire a volley, and when we reload the boys behind us fire, and then the boys behind them. We three lines deep at the choke-points. And pretty soon we got Infected piling up right quick not fifty yards off. Dead and more dead and more. But the rest of ‘em keep right on climbing over the pile o’ the dead ones and keep right on coming, and we keep right on shooting.
But then the infected did something I ain’t seen yet. Far as I could tell beforehand, the Fever keeps you from thinking straight, and then you’re just not thinking at all; you just a mindless thing with rotten skin that eats and kills. But today, after a good ten or twelve minutes of fighting, the horde got up and the whole lot of ‘em actually fell back. Now that says to me a number o’things, things discussed openly as the men set about reloading and fetching water in the interim - that means these things are thinkin.’ They knew they couldn’t break our lines and so they retreated back towards the trees. They ain’t done - we can still see their damned red eyes glowing through the shroud of trees, but they fell back. Maybe they’s scared?
The Infected haven’t tried another all out assault yet. Commander Downes thinks they’s waiting for nightfall so they can slip in unseen, so he had a handful of boys from each of the regiments head out to the killing fields and throw up lamps while some others stood guard. When sunlight starts to fall we’ll have other boys run out with torches and light those lamps, and the hope is we can keep the fields lit for shooting throughout the night. We gots’ closer lamps, too, that can be lit from behind the barricade without having to send men out all exposed.
Sun’s coming on down. We can still see them damn Infected in the trees, and we hear rustling and footsteps and Commander Downes says they’s likely to be bringing up reinforcements for another push. Billie’s got a fine ear, and he says he can even hear ‘em talkin,’ out there. Grunting and stuff. Probably planning their next move. Meanwhile the boys on this side of the palisades have been reinforcing the barriers.
Still no word from the other three scouts. But we ain’t holding our breath on their return.
Round about eight o’clock we heard some shooting at the Northwest barrier, so Commander Downes sends me and Butler and Payton out to see if they need help. So we get there and the boys said the things had tried crawlin through the tall grass for cover and were only about a hundred some-odd feet from the palisade when the boys spotted ‘em and started shootin.’ So we goes back to Downes an tells him, and he calls up a Council of War with the regiment heads and says that given that and the retreat from earlier, its clear the Infected are smarter than we thought. Made a point to say that no weapons could fall into their hands. Not under any circumstances. No, sir.
No we all’s still waiting on that big night-time push.
Sure enough as hell, those Infected bastards made a second big charge against all the barricades at the same time, sometime before midnight. Damn near caught us with our pants ‘round the ankles, too. We hear rifle cracks from the marksmens’ towers and then the twelve-pounders fire off, and then a flurry of musket fire from the Northwest. Then they hit us twice as hard as they did before, and we’re firing volley after volley into ‘em, stacked up three lines deep to keep the musketballs flying. And they’re hitting the dirt an bits and pieces of ‘em are flying, but still they keep on coming.
Then they start hitting back, even though they’re still a good fifty yards to the palisade. They bring up rocks and start flinging ‘em towards us. Fistfulls of gravel flying in through the musket smoke, and they peppering the boys and knocking teeth loose. Men start to yelp when they get hit. And them twelve-pounders are firing away, too - BOOM! BOOM! - every couple o’minutes, and that tears big groups of ‘em down. But they kept on coming till they was right up at the palisade, and Commander Downes told the front row to start up with their bayonets and blades and tomahawks. I remember how close the bastards came to taking a big ol’ bite outta my neck. Luckily ol’ Bruce knicked the sumbitch with a bayonet to the head and he keeled over. Not long after that the Infected retreated again.
But now we gots a fresh problem: we got casualties. Men are bit, men made contact with Plague, and so now we gots to do what we all knew we’d have to do. Get rid of the infected. Commander Downes rides up and he takes a good, long look at this one poor lad, arm bleeding from a bite, and he tells him to head out and relight the torches. The boy looked all forlorn, like he knew what was happening, but he weren’t about to disobey orders. So out he goes, and as soon as he lights the torch, Downes has one of the men fire on the poor lad. He dropped like a stone, dead ‘fore he hit the ground. That one hurt us all, I think.
But we wasn’t done, neither. Some o’ the other men got touched by Fever, too, and so me and the rest o’ the boys backs up and levels some pistols at ‘em and we asks Commander Downes, “What do we do with ‘em, sir?” An he says, “You know what we do. We send ‘em away.” So at gun point we show the men to the gate, and they’re begging and they’re pleading, but we gots no choice. So out they go, and we say we’ll fire at ‘em unless they get as far away from town as they can. We all knew what was coming, and sure enough as soon as they got near the woods, Infected ran out and dragged ‘em in. We all watched ‘till the screaming stopped and the bushes quit their shakin.’ Few o’ the men here got sick. Others cried. I just wrote it all down. God above, I hope Maria’s as far from this hell as possible.
27 April, 1829.
We slept in shifts last night, and luckily there weren’t any other attempts by the Infected to rush the barricades. But we’re tired, the lot of us. Damn hell, we’re tired. I’d be amazed if any man got a lick of real rest. We was silent, but we stayed up and we listened good to the sound of Infected howling out there in the woods. There were thousands of ‘em, it sounded like, filling up the whole night sky with the din o’ their big, collective war-scream. Lasted for an hour, maybe more.
One o’ the boys nearest me was praying along all night, begging for the good Lord to come down and save us. I asked him to put in a good word for me, too.
This morning some of the wives pitched in with medical aid and a big, hearty breakfast. So we ate well, and Commander Downes allowed us to spend time with our families. Maria and I took a nice stroll, but I didn’t have much to say. By mid-day I was back at the palisade with the other men, and by sun-down we were starting to hear the Infected getting riled up again, hearing that awful howlin.’
Downes and his aides were riding back and forth, making sure the walls were good and solid, the cannons reloaded and manned, and the belltower watch was keepin’ his eye out. And this time we gots’ some o’ the younger boys to run ammo up and down where its neede-
Shooting started. Will update if possible.
God above. God help us. The Infected hit us at all sides, all at once. Them cannon’s were firing like mad, and Commander Downes was telling ‘em, “Aim for the trees! Aim for the trees!” So they did, and after a few rounds they’d managed to dam off the entry points and slow down the horde. But it weren’t more than a stopgap. Them Infected were running through the musket smoke, howling and screaming for food. Some of ‘em were galloping towards the walls on all fours and you could see the red of their eyes, like pooling blood. Jim Isley was one of ‘em, and I had to be the poor bastard to put ‘im down for good. I’m sorry, Jim. Truly, I am.
But they kept right on comin!’ The boys were firing wildly and chopping and stabbing and screaming, and them Infected was doing the same and trying to mount the palisades. And then, just when there weren’t a lick more we could take, we heard some o’ the men screaming from down south of us. We wasn’t aware we were even threatened there, but sure ‘nuff, them Infected bastards had broken on through some of the pickets and were trying to break in through the windows o’ the houses. So Commander Downes sent me and five other gents to go and put a stop to that. We burst in through the houses and stabbed ‘em through the windows and traded shots for rocks over barrels. I got all good and cut up from the exploding glass windows, but I ain’t been bit. Not yet.
So we put a stop to them coming in that way, but when I got back I explained to Downes real good that they were gonna try that again, sooner or later, and we needed a good force o’men to guard up there. Turns out he’d gotten similar reports from other parts o’ town, though, and so we’d have to stretch our lines real thin to cover it all up. But we did what we had to, and by God we held the line all around the town by the skin of our teeth. Some o’ the men - God above - grown men, they’re just cryin.’ They’re so damn tired, and scared. We all are. But we held the line - by God we did. Ain’t a man here who didn’t do his duty.
28-29 April, 1829.
To-day the women and children helped us all build a new defensive line to-wards the center of town. Downes says that if we get hit again like we did last night, we’d have these new palisades and trenches to fall back on. I worked with Maria to-day digging away. She tended to my wounds, too, and we just enjoyed each other’s company as we worked. I even got some shut-eye, some real good shut-eye, if not but for an hour or two. Then it was sun-down again. The boys and I ate up a stew the women cooked up, and then we were off to the palisades.
Them wooden posts were beaten and worn, too. We knew we couldn’t stay for long. And as soon as the Howling started from the trees, Commander Downes ordered the twelve pounders be stripped and rushed to the inner line of defense so they’d be ready if it gets bad. Or when it gets bad, I suppose I’ll say.
I made sure to kiss Maria real good tonight, and made her promise to make a good run for it if those church bells rang twice - which now meant the inner line’d been breached. She cried and nodded. I wanted to tell her that if she had to run, I’d meet her at Joseph’s house in Philadelphia. But alls I could bring myself to say aloud was, “You run straight for Joesph’s, you hear? Don’t you stop.” ‘Cause Lord, and I’m tearing up just writing this down, I don’t know if I’ll last the night.
Hell, I dunno if anyone here’ll last the night.
We at the inner line of defense now. We ain’t been hit that hard since the battle started. God above, it was a bloody mess - the rush started off with some Infected leaping outta them woods and tackling the lamps into the ground. The glass broke and all the dry weeds go in a flame. Soon the fire smoke and the musket smoke made it so we couldn’t see a damn thing out there; all’s we could hear were the howlin’! Musta been a thousand o’ the bastards tonight. Maybe more.
So we’d been shooting for a good while, and hacking and throwing rocks, an then we heard the commotion up at the other wall, and boy we knew it weren’t no small thing. There were men screaming and the shooting altogether stopped up there. So we knew they were done for, and Commander Downes rides up to us and he says, “The Northwest Palisade is breached! Fall back to the inner line! Fall back!” And so me and the boys pick up our guns and beat a fighting retreat down the Boulevard towards the inner walls. Then them Infected started pouring over the palisades, and we knew there weren’t no throwing ‘em back. Not this time.
So we get’s back to the inner palisade and we start right up again, shooting and firing those twelve pounders, boy, and them Infected are coming at us from e’ry side now. Howling the whole way, burning up and’ getting shot all up but still running at us. Now we gots kids in the camp, and I can hear the little lads and lasses putting up a good cry even over the din of the fight, an I thinks, how’s it we ain’t sent them little ones off to Philadelphia? How’s they still here? Maybe its because Downes thinks their being here will inspire us, y’know, to fight even harder.
Anyways. After ‘bout a good more hour or two o’ shooting and stabbin,’ the horde dwindles a bit, and that’s when Briggs see’s it - one o’ them Infected mounted up on a dead horse, looking down on the town from atop the wooded hill north o’town. We only saw his silhouette and those red eyes peering at us through all the smoke and flame, but he’s there, right as rain. Briggs points and we all look, and we gotta catch our breath in our throats. Them Infected got themselves a general, from the looks’ve it. He’s just sitting up there, watching his Plague-runners set the town ablaze.
Not too long after that some sunlight comes up o’er the church tower, and then the horde falls back. But we don’t know how far; we don’t know if they’s ran back to the trees, or if they’s still inside the town, staying in our houses til’ dark. Downes says we can’t spare a-nobody to go and takes a look. So here we stay, here in the inner palisade by the edge of town. And we waits for nightfall. And that Infected up on the horse.
29 April, 1829
So I got some sleep this afternoon. Not a whole hell of a lot, but a better amount than none. First thing I did when I woke was help count ammo. We’s almost clean out; maybe ten rounds a man, and now we’s only got seventy men or so. And them twelve pounders is almost out, too. They only has maybe twelve balls left to shoot between the two of ‘em. And none of the riders have gotten back, neither, so we ain’t got no reinforcements comin.’
So Briggs and I, and Payton and Short, we goes up to Commander Downes and we says, “Sir, we almost out of men and ammo, and we got lil' ones here, sir, and our wives! And the town’s all up in flames, sir. There ain’t nothing left for us here. Not for a one of us. We should make a run for Philadelphia while we still gots’ daylight.” But he says back, “I ain’t never left the enemy in command of the field. We stay, and we fight.” And he rides off! Now I ain’t no mutineer - Lord above knows I done my duty - but I ain’t aiming to die for the principle of it. Not when I gots my Maria here, and no town left to defend.
So I talks to some o’ the men and women and lay it out for ‘em. And I says, “Look here, boys. We ain’t lasting another night and if we do, what’ll come of us in the next one? We gots to get out while we still can. The road to Philadelphia’s still open, and we still gots ourselves enough daylight to get outta the woods and to the open road before nightfall.” An the majority of ‘em nod and we take a vote. The motion to leave is the clear winner.
So we get our things and we tells Commander Downes, “We’s leavin,’ sir. There ain’t nothing here left for us and we ain’t aiming to die for a pile o’ rubble.” An he gets red in the face and he says back, “I’ll have the lot o’ you hanged for treason!” And he calls up his boys - bout half the men left with their muskets and he says, “you lot arrest them mutineers, y’hear?” And so they advance, and we level our muskets to repel ‘em back. But before any shots are fired, one of the women in the Church points down the road heading off to the Southeast and she says, “Look! One o’ the scout’s is riding in!” So we all turns an look and sure enough, ol’ David Benjamin’s puling up into town, an he looks like hell itself.
He says, “Water, water!” And so we gives him a canteen, and then he says, “I was coming up with a column o’ state militia from the midland, alls the help I could muster up, but them Infecteds - they’re everywhere! All over the road, out in force. I swears they was lying in wait for the lot of us, like an ambush, and they leapt down on the main road and just tore into the poor lads. They didn’t have a chance. I’m the only man who made it back; I needs to tells y’all that the road to Philadelphia is blocked!”
So now the whole damn town’s in a panic. We’s surrounded by the Plague, and there ain’t no way out. And not a minute ago, while I was writing this here entry, someone points up to the hill north o’town an they says, “There’s the horseman!” And we all look and there he is - that Plague Rider, eyeing the town with that wicked red stare o’his, and that of his horse, and we see’s he’s got a whole wretched host of other Infected Riders. And then they started moving right on down the mountain towards us.
Then the Howling started, and just now - the church bells started to ring. I know it in my bones I ain’t surviving this night. They coming at us from all sides now. And I’m holding Maria tight, and she’s crying, too, and alls we can hear’s the wailing of the little ones from the church, and the shouts of the boys as they run up to the Palisade with their guns, and the wheeling forward of the cannon. So I gave Maria a kiss, and I’m leaving this here diary in her possession. I love you, darling. I love you, and I hope you know that.
29 April, 1829
Paul has gone off to the palisades. He’s scared. I am too. We all are, but we’ve gotta be strong for the children here in the back of the church. The other women and I have tended to the lot of them since the men fell back to the inner line of defense, which I helped to build, and at least half of them have the Fever. Of that I’m now sure. But it no longer matters, does it? They won’t live to see themselves be taken by it, and perhaps that’s a merciful thing.
The shooting has started. The boys are throwing in everything they’ve got, God bless the lot of them - but I can tell its not enough. We’ve but an hour left, maybe less - before the Infected make it to the church. The children here have cried themselves empty, and now they're huddling around myself and the other women and clutching our dresses and burying their faces in our laps. I’m as afraid as any of them. But I can’t let them see that. I can’t.
The church bells are ringing again, and the men just outside - the thirty or so of them left (I’ve no idea if Paul is among them) - sound exhausted and panicked. The cannons have long since stopped firing, likely having expended their ammunition. Only periodically do I hear a musket blast. Paul was explaining earlier that they’d nearly run out of bullets last night. I can’t imagine they’ve found many more.
I hear galloping now, coming up from the west. Its not the state militia. Its that Plague Rider. I can hear him - I know its him. I know it. He commands these beasts. He grunts and shouts, and they listen. They’re only a few yards from the Church doors. We’ve hidden the children in the very furthest corner and covered them up with whatever we can find. We told them to stay quiet, at all costs, but some of them are infants. They’ll cry for their mothers, and when they do? The whole lot of them will be found.
Its been several minutes since I heard musket fire, and the last of the shouts from our boys have long since ceased. All I can hear now is the Howling, and some of the women in here saying how we should use the pews to barricade the door. But its hopeless. We all know its hopeless. All we can do now is be strong for the children. But how can I? My home is burnt. My Paul - my Paul - is gone. All our boys are gone. How can I be strong when my strength is gone?
The Infected have begun hammering away at the church doors and windows. We are surrounded in here. God, Lord - give me strength. Please, Father. Give me strength. Just for a little while longer. Just for a liit-
This Diary was found buried in the rubble of an old church in the center of Andersonsburg, cradled by a long-rotted corpse that appears to have suffered severe blunt trauma wounds along the length of the spine and around the skull. There are multiple other skeletons strewn about the floor of the place, all but one of which appear to have suffered similarly. The other one - an infant’s corpse and one well-hidden in the corner, appears to never have suffered a wound at all; it looks instead to have perished of starvation, likely some days after the events described here.
Outside the church of course, is the town itself. It is currently being picked clean by my colleagues and other members of the University - all for research purposes, of course (although I fear black market scavengers will descend like vultures upon the place once word of its existence spreads) - and it is in a spectacular state of ruin, mostly from what appears to be fire damage. As of this document I am the only person who knows of the existence of this Diary.
Anway. Hell, I’ll update this later. At the moment I’m being called over to help with one of the interns, who’s apparently collapsed and begun to convulse. They’re probably just dehydrated.
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2017.06.06 20:39 TheJesseClark What Really Happened to Andersonsburg, Pennsylvania, in April of 1829

Perhaps you've heard of Andersonsburg - the old western Pennsylvanian town, that, like Roanoke before it, suffered a mysterious end and left no accounted survivors to enlighten anyone as to the details of its fate. Luckily that may no longer be the case; I've joined a University-funded expedition here, and have been tasked with collecting items of value that can hopefully assist in our search for knowledge pertaining to the curious fate of the city. After some exhausting work, I did indeed come across a Diary that is by far the most informative document yet unearthed. I'll check the contents for veracity at a later date. For now, here are the most relevant excerpts for anyone interested:
3 April 1829
Another man caught the Fever, this time down at the lumber camp. From what I hear the poor bastard was tying down the logs when he just up and fell right over into the river. Almost drowned, I heard, and when the others got to him, Matthew and Thomas and the lot, they said his face had gone pale as a cloud, and that he was shakin,’ and sweating and coughing. Ain’t no mistaking that for nothing but the early signs o’ the Fever. So they hauled the poor fellow out and gave him a canteen and had him rest, but then without telling him, they struck camp and left ‘im there. I'm not sure what came of him. But everyone here knows the Mayor’s rule - none struck with Fever are permitted to return to Andersonsburg. If they're favored enough to survive the thing, unlikely as that sounds, they're to remain banished to the woods with nothing but the clothes on their backs and whatever coin they gots in their purse. Not a one of the other lads down at the camp wanted to risk becoming an Infected and meeting such a grisly fate. No, sir.
4 April, 1829
By mayor’s decree: the lumber camp is to be abandoned, along with all the supplies it's gathered, for fear of being tainted with Fever. There was an uproar at the Mansion today over the decision. Many men are out of work now because of it; but strange enough, I didn’t see not a one of the fellows from the camp itself down at the Mansion; just their wives and some others. And I know why, too. They wouldn’t admit it aloud - no, sir - but they don’t wanna go back. I wouldn’t either. I've seen the Fever at work at Pinefield, and it ain't got no place in my home. Not while I got a wife at home. No, sir.
7 April 1829
Maria says to me today in the kitchen: “Paul, I can’t believe the Mayor’d throw so many good men out of jobs!” But I says back to’er: “Dunno, Sweetheart. Perhaps he’s got himself a point. That ol’ camp’s been run clean over with Fever. And you don’t want that Plague finding its way round here, no, sir. God ‘Imself couldnt’ stop it if it did.” So she snorts and walks away. But she’ll come ‘round eventually. ‘Specially when the stories of the Infected keep comin.’
If Fever’s hit the camp, then its only a good two or three miles from town. Only a matter of time, I think, before it finds its way here. God above, I hope I’m wrong, but maybe I should start thinking bout taking Maria away for a time, though, to see my brother in Philadelphia. Just til all the foul things conclude here.
11 April, 1829
A man got shot last night, not a hundred yards from Jim Isley’s porch. Jim says he was delirious, just stumbling about near the treeline without an aim in the world. He calls out to ‘im an he says, “Declare yourself! You’s an Iroquois? I’ll shoot you dead if you an Iroquois, ol’ boy!” And he said nothin,’ so shoot ‘im he did. Then Jim sent his boy Nathan into town to fetch a picket while he watched the field, thinking an Indian attack was brewin.’ But when Nathan got back with some of the men and their rifles looking for a good fight, not another Indian had shown his face. So they went out and looked at the body, and saw it was something worse: that old Infected fellow from the lumber camp. Found his way back to town in his stupor, and by God, says the men, the Fever worked its way through him right quick. Says he was rotting inside-out, skin falling off like a Leper. Teeth all filed into those wicked points. So they puts up their shirts to their noses and mouths and they set the body to the flame.
They told the story today at the Pub, but some o’ the other gents there took offense to the tale. Says they shoulda told the Mayor, says they shouldn’ta gone near the corpses. One fellow, Tom Huggins, I think he was, said those men were probably Infected, too, by virtue of going near even a dead Infected. Says the Plague lingers after death. Then he bolts out the door, and the barkeep asks the storytellers to leave. I left, too. Ain’t no risking getting the Fever. No, sir.
15 April, 1829.
Jim Isley didn’t show up at the Office today. And all the men there knows the story with the Infected fellow getting shot, too. So the rumors are swirlin.’ No one’s heard from him. His clients are stopping on by and alls we can say is ‘we ain’t seen the fellow, come on by later on.’ So they do, but they ain’t happy about it. No, sir. I like ol’ Jim, even if he’s a little small-brained, so I says to myself I think I’ll stop on by his house after closin,’ to see what’s the matter. I know I shouldn’t, but if he’s sick I’ll know for sure and I won’t go near the man.
I just hope it ain’t the Fever. God above, I hope it ain’t the Fever.
So I gets to his house at roundabout dusk and his wife Sarah opens up the door. She’s a sweetheart, she is, but even though she’s putting on a nice big smile for her guest I can tells she’s got a worry on her mind. So I put my hat to my chest an I says, “Greetings, ma’am. Just stopping on by to extend my regards to Jim. He didn’t show up at the Office today, y’see, and I was hoping I could see him.” Then her smile fades and she says “That’s mighty kind of you, Paul, but Jim’s been under the weather and he won’t let neither me nor Nathan in the bedroom. Alls I know is he’s sweating and having trouble keeping down a meal.” Then my smile fades, an I says without a second thought, “Sarah, I’m guessing you heard bout the guest a half-week back? The man Jim shot?” And she says, “The Iroquois scout! Jim says he shot ‘im dead.” So I says, “Sarah, that weren’t no Iroquois scout. That was the Infected feller from the Lumber camp. Jim and some other fellers burned the body once they saw the skin.” And her face goes white as a ghost and she just says “Don’t you lie to me! Don’t you lie to me about my Jim!” And she goes and shuts the door in my face! I hope she gets her wits about her and gets Nathan out of there soon. He’s a good lad, and she’s got a big kindly heart herself. They don’t deserve this. As luck would have it, though, I ran across Doctor Armistead on the way home, an I tells him about Jim. Maybe he can help.
16 April, 1829.
Maria wakes me up earlier to-day and she says, “The Isley’s are gone! The Isley’s are gone!” And I’m tired so at first I don’t know what nonsense she’s talkin.’ But then I remember Jim and Sarah and Nathan, and I says, “What you mean, gone? Dead, gone?” And she says, “No! The Doctor says Jim’s got the Fever, Paul, and so a few men grabbed their muskets and they haul the whole Isley family out their house and toss ‘em right out the whole town! Some of the men says, if they ever come back, they’ll shoot ‘em dead.”
So I feels right guilty for ratting ‘em out and I throws my covers off and I run outside and down the street. Sure enough, the Isley home’s gone up in a smoke! The whole towns out there watching it burn without a pity, except the Parish, and when I run up I hears people talking about anyone else who’d been in contact with that body of the fellow down at the Lumber camp. Then I hears the other names come up: David Brody, John Greene, Will Benson Hodges. The townsfolk say they’ve gotta find ‘em an give ‘em the boot, or else the whole town’ll get the Fever! One lass says “Why don’t we just shoot ‘em?” An another fellow says back to her, “Then we’d have to remove the corpse. Wouldn’t wanna go near such a thing, would you? The Plague lingers. Better to have ‘em walk right on out on their own two feet.”
But I thinks to myself hell, that's almost worse.
18 April 1829.
The town’s all done over in a hysteria, I tell ya. The Mayor’s declared martial law ever since the Isley’s and the Brody’s and the Greenes and the Hodges got evicted, and not a soul is to enter Andersonsburg until further notice. You can leave and he won’t stop ya. But you ain’t coming back if you do, and the townsfolk’ll assume your departure means you been struck with Plague. Then they’ll burn your home to ash. I’ve seen it happen ten times in the last few days alone. These boys ain’t playin games, no, sir. There are some o’ them religious folks talking about how its God’s judgment for sin, and other fellows with muskets patroling the streets, and every once in awhile you’ll hear a big ol’ loud crack! as he pops off his gun.
Cause that’s the other thing, y’see. Them Infected keep trying to get back in.
20 April 1829.
Some o’ the Infected stormed in down Mulberry Street last night. Stole some cattle, rattled some doorknobs. But the militia showed up right quick and drove ‘em off with some sharp musketry. They didn’t kill any of ‘em until after they’d run out past the wooden palisades. Then they shot ‘em in the back and dropped ‘em like a sack o’ potatoes, says they.
The men have orders only to wound, if possible, y’see, if the Infected make it inside the town. That’s seeing as how a dead Infected in the streets is a corpse some poor bastard’ll have to remove. And then he’s struck with Fever too, far as the town’s concerned, and they send him a packin.’ Needless to say not a man woman or child in Andersonsburg's willing to volunteer for such a job. So the Mayor says to the militia captain, he says, “If them infected find their way in here, you get ‘em out some way other than killin ‘em dead, y’hear? I ain’t aimin’ to have to pick a poor lad to take the bodies out and take himself out the same way. No, sir.”
24 April 1829.
The Mayor let in a visitor today. Some o’ the townsfolk down at the Hall threw up a good fit over that, but the man had something to say, so in he comes. He meets with the Mayor and from what I heard from Phil Gables, he told the Mayor the Infected have thrown in their numbers and overrun the nearest town over west. That place - Lesterburg - was in a similar spot to us: rooting out the Infected, burning their homes. Barricades had gone up, the milita’d been mobilized. All the same, the Infected, hungry for flesh, swept in out of the woods one night and overran the barricades and the watch towers and killed every last person in the town. Except for this feller - Charles Gates or something or other - he was the last man alive, and he ran all the way here to tell us that horde is heading up this way, not two days out.
So now the town’s gotta figure out what’s to be done. Some people think the feller’s lying to get himself a bite to eat. Others think we should all leave for Philadelphia while the leavin’s good. Others think we can take on the horde. Lesterburg was half the size of Andersonsburg, after all, says they. We have more men, more muskets. We could beat ‘em. But its all up to the Mayor now.
25 April 1829
The Mayor elected to stand and fight, but said that anyone who sought to flee was welcome to do so, o‘course. Got himself a nice round of applause, and then the men, myself among ‘em, set about collecting arms and bullets and building up the barricades in the streets and setting up wood towers for the lookouts. If these Infected aim to have a fight, a fight they shall have.
According to Charles, we should expect the horde to come up from the Southwest near the Pike, sometime in the next twelve or so hours. Said there were uncountable hundreds of ‘em, all rotting away and thirsty for blood and crawling like beasts. We’ve got ourselves a good two hundred forty men and muskets and rounds enough for maybe a hundred eighty of ‘em. Add to that number thirty good sharp-shooting rifles for the marksmen in the towers, and even two twelve-pounders overlooking the pike from two angles, and we gots ourselves a fine force to defend the town with. But I can see it in everyone’s eyes: a mist of fear.
Tonight I’ll spend the evening with Maria, and we’ll do what the two of us can to take our mind off things. By the door is my musket, o’course, and in my satchel all the ammunition I could find. Should I hear the church bells go off at any point, I’ll have no choice but to grab the gun, kiss Maria one last time, perhaps, and rush out to the Southwest barricade to do some fightin.’
If the church bells ring a second time, though, everyone knows what that means: the Infected have broken on through. Then it's time to hit the road to Philadelphia. So I tells Maria to keep our valuables packed.
26 April 1829
To-day I took a good stroll out at the edge of town. We’ve got ourselves a good palisade. Some of the boys at the Northwestern edge even dug themselves a trench, and the whole of the militia, even Captain Gaines, have elected ol’ Booker Downes to lead the defense, seeing as he fought with the mountaineers in the Indian wars and got himself some experience. So he rounds up some horses and dispatches a rider to Philadelphia to call up some help, and then two more riders with orders to scout the outskirts of town - one to the west to spot the horde and the other elsewhere to ensure they ain't coming up from nowhere’s else - and report back what they find no later than mid-afternoon. So off they all go, and the rest of the lads get back to the job of fixing up defenses.
By now we scrounged up a good twelve more muskets and forty or so pistols and every blade we can find. The butcher was kind enough to lend us some cutlery, and in the town armory Briggs and I bagged up a few score rusty bayonets and distributed them evenly along the front. We got ourselves an army now, boys. I only hope it lasts the night.
Still no word from the scouts. Downes is getting nervous, so he goes and he sends off another two riders and says “You lads go no more than a mile out, y’hear? Then come on back to me.” So off they go.
One of the new scouts came a-galloping on back in, and he's huffing and puffing and he says to Downes, “They ain't just coming up from the west, sir. Spotted a good lot of ‘em in the Northwest, too, and the north, and they gots themselves horses! A whole mess of ‘em!” And Downes says “Whatd’ya mean, horses? Like they’s eaten ‘em?” And the scout says, “no sir, they’s ridin’ ‘em. Like cavalry. Dead looking things, rottin' skin, with the same red eyes as those Infected folk. And they making speed, sir! They makin’ damn good speed!”
And no sooner does he say that then the Church bell rings. And I look up, and all the men looks up, and we see young Johnny Billings up there, and he’s waving his arms and shouting somethin fierce and pointing off to the West. So we looks to the west. And there they are, all’ve sudden, a whole mess o’ them Infected comin up out of the treeline and runnin up the hill towards the barricade. So we all rush up to the wall and take aim, and Downes says to fire the twelve pounders. So they fire - BOOM! BOOM! - and a good few of those Infected go’s a-flying. But then more are coming, and more and more.
So then the marksmen open up fire from the towers and they're picking the bastards off as best they can. But the horde gets closer and closer. Soon they's in musket range, so me and the boys fire a volley, and when we reload the boys behind us fire, and then the boys behind them. We three lines deep at the choke-points. And pretty soon we got Infected piling up right quick not fifty yards off. Dead and more dead and more. But the rest of ‘em keep right on climbing over the pile o’ the dead ones and keep right on coming, and we keep right on shooting.
But then the infected did something I ain’t seen yet. Far as I could tell beforehand, the Fever keeps you from thinking straight, and then you’re just not thinking at all; you just a mindless thing with rotten skin that eats and kills. But today, after a good ten or twelve minutes of fighting, the horde got up and the whole lot of ‘em actually fell back. Now that says to me a number o’things, things discussed openly as the men set about reloading and fetching water in the interim - that means these things are thinkin.’ They knew they couldn’t break our lines and so they retreated back towards the trees. They ain’t done - we can still see their damned red eyes glowing through the shroud of trees, but they fell back. Maybe they’s scared?
The Infected haven’t tried another all out assault yet. Commander Downes thinks they’s waiting for nightfall so they can slip in unseen, so he had a handful of boys from each of the regiments head out to the killing fields and throw up lamps while some others stood guard. When sunlight starts to fall we’ll have other boys run out with torches and light those lamps, and the hope is we can keep the fields lit for shooting throughout the night. We gots’ closer lamps, too, that can be lit from behind the barricade without having to send men out all exposed.
Sun’s coming on down. We can still see them damn Infected in the trees, and we hear rustling and footsteps and Commander Downes says they’s likely to be bringing up reinforcements for another push. Billie’s got a fine ear, and he says he can even hear ‘em talkin,’ out there. Grunting and stuff. Probably planning their next move. Meanwhile the boys on this side of the palisades have been reinforcing the barriers.
Still no word from the other three scouts. But we ain’t holding our breath on their return.
Round about eight o’clock we heard some shooting at the Northwest barrier, so Commander Downes sends me and Butler and Payton out to see if they need help. So we get there and the boys said the things had tried crawlin through the tall grass for cover and were only about a hundred some-odd feet from the palisade when the boys spotted ‘em and started shootin.’ So we goes back to Downes an tells him, and he calls up a Council of War with the regiment heads and says that given that and the retreat from earlier, its clear the Infected are smarter than we thought. Made a point to say that no weapons could fall into their hands. Not under any circumstances. No, sir.
No we all’s still waiting on that big night-time push.
Sure enough as hell, those Infected bastards made a second big charge against all the barricades at the same time, sometime before midnight. Damn near caught us with our pants ‘round the ankles, too. We hear rifle cracks from the marksmens’ towers and then the twelve-pounders fire off, and then a flurry of musket fire from the Northwest. Then they hit us twice as hard as they did before, and we’re firing volley after volley into ‘em, stacked up three lines deep to keep the musketballs flying. And they’re hitting the dirt an bits and pieces of ‘em are flying, but still they keep on coming.
Then they start hitting back, even though they’re still a good fifty yards to the palisade. They bring up rocks and start flinging ‘em towards us. Fistfulls of gravel flying in through the musket smoke, and they peppering the boys and knocking teeth loose. Men start to yelp when they get hit. And them twelve-pounders are firing away, too - BOOM! BOOM! - every couple o’minutes, and that tears big groups of ‘em down. But they kept on coming till they was right up at the palisade, and Commander Downes told the front row to start up with their bayonets and blades and tomahawks. I remember how close the bastards came to taking a big ol’ bite outta my neck. Luckily ol’ Bruce knicked the sumbitch with a bayonet to the head and he keeled over. Not long after that the Infected retreated again.
But now we gots a fresh problem: we got casualties. Men are bit, men made contact with Plague, and so now we gots to do what we all knew we’d have to do. Get rid of the infected. Commander Downes rides up and he takes a good, long look at this one poor lad, arm bleeding from a bite, and he tells him to head out and relight the torches. The boy looked all forlorn, like he knew what was happening, but he weren’t about to disobey orders. So out he goes, and as soon as he lights the torch, Downes has one of the men fire on the poor lad. He dropped like a stone, dead ‘fore he hit the ground. That one hurt us all, I think.
But we wasn’t done, neither. Some o’ the other men got touched by Fever, too, and so me and the rest o’ the boys backs up and levels some pistols at ‘em and we asks Commander Downes, “What do we do with ‘em, sir?” An he says, “You know what we do. We send ‘em away.” So at gun point we show the men to the gate, and they’re begging and they’re pleading, but we gots no choice. So out they go, and we say we’ll fire at ‘em unless they get as far away from town as they can. We all knew what was coming, and sure enough as soon as they got near the woods, Infected ran out and dragged ‘em in. We all watched ‘till the screaming stopped and the bushes quit their shakin.’ Few o’ the men here got sick. Others cried. I just wrote it all down. God above, I hope Maria’s as far from this hell as possible.
27 April, 1829.
We slept in shifts last night, and luckily there weren’t any other attempts by the Infected to rush the barricades. But we’re tired, the lot of us. Damn hell, we’re tired. I’d be amazed if any man got a lick of real rest. We was silent, but we stayed up and we listened good to the sound of Infected howling out there in the woods. There were thousands of ‘em, it sounded like, filling up the whole night sky with the din o’ their big, collective war-scream. Lasted for an hour, maybe more.
One o’ the boys nearest me was praying along all night, begging for the good Lord to come down and save us. I asked him to put in a good word for me, too.
This morning some of the wives pitched in with medical aid and a big, hearty breakfast. So we ate well, and Commander Downes allowed us to spend time with our families. Maria and I took a nice stroll, but I didn’t have much to say. By mid-day I was back at the palisade with the other men, and by sun-down we were starting to hear the Infected getting riled up again, hearing that awful howlin.’
Downes and his aides were riding back and forth, making sure the walls were good and solid, the cannons reloaded and manned, and the belltower watch was keepin’ his eye out. And this time we gots’ some o’ the younger boys to run ammo up and down where its neede-
Shooting started. Will update if possible.
God above. God help us. The Infected hit us at all sides, all at once. Them cannon’s were firing like mad, and Commander Downes was telling ‘em, “Aim for the trees! Aim for the trees!” So they did, and after a few rounds they’d managed to dam off the entry points and slow down the horde. But it weren’t more than a stopgap. Them Infected were running through the musket smoke, howling and screaming for food. Some of ‘em were galloping towards the walls on all fours and you could see the red of their eyes, like pooling blood. Jim Isley was one of ‘em, and I had to be the poor bastard to put ‘im down for good. I’m sorry, Jim. Truly, I am.
But they kept right on comin!’ The boys were firing wildly and chopping and stabbing and screaming, and them Infected was doing the same and trying to mount the palisades. And then, just when there weren’t a lick more we could take, we heard some o’ the men screaming from down south of us. We wasn’t aware we were even threatened there, but sure ‘nuff, them Infected bastards had broken on through some of the pickets and were trying to break in through the windows o’ the houses. So Commander Downes sent me and five other gents to go and put a stop to that. We burst in through the houses and stabbed ‘em through the windows and traded shots for rocks over barrels. I got all good and cut up from the exploding glass windows, but I ain’t been bit. Not yet.
So we put a stop to them coming in that way, but when I got back I explained to Downes real good that they were gonna try that again, sooner or later, and we needed a good force o’men to guard up there. Turns out he’d gotten similar reports from other parts o’ town, though, and so we’d have to stretch our lines real thin to cover it all up. But we did what we had to, and by God we held the line all around the town by the skin of our teeth. Some o’ the men - God above - grown men, they’re just cryin.’ They’re so damn tired, and scared. We all are. But we held the line - by God we did. Ain’t a man here who didn’t do his duty.
28-29 April, 1829.
To-day the women and children helped us all build a new defensive line to-wards the center of town. Downes says that if we get hit again like we did last night, we’d have these new palisades and trenches to fall back on. I worked with Maria to-day digging away. She tended to my wounds, too, and we just enjoyed each other’s company as we worked. I even got some shut-eye, some real good shut-eye, if not but for an hour or two. Then it was sun-down again. The boys and I ate up a stew the women cooked up, and then we were off to the palisades.
Them wooden posts were beaten and worn, too. We knew we couldn’t stay for long. And as soon as the Howling started from the trees, Commander Downes ordered the twelve pounders be stripped and rushed to the inner line of defense so they’d be ready if it gets bad. Or when it gets bad, I suppose I’ll say.
I made sure to kiss Maria real good tonight, and made her promise to make a good run for it if those church bells rang twice - which now meant the inner line’d been breached. She cried and nodded. I wanted to tell her that if she had to run, I’d meet her at Joseph’s house in Philadelphia. But alls I could bring myself to say aloud was, “You run straight for Joesph’s, you hear? Don’t you stop.” ‘Cause Lord, and I’m tearing up just writing this down, I don’t know if I’ll last the night.
Hell, I dunno if anyone here’ll last the night.
We at the inner line of defense now. We ain’t been hit that hard since the battle started. God above, it was a bloody mess - the rush started off with some Infected leaping outta them woods and tackling the lamps into the ground. The glass broke and all the dry weeds go in a flame. Soon the fire smoke and the musket smoke made it so we couldn’t see a damn thing out there; all’s we could hear were the howlin’! Musta been a thousand o’ the bastards tonight. Maybe more.
So we’d been shooting for a good while, and hacking and throwing rocks, an then we heard the commotion up at the other wall, and boy we knew it weren’t no small thing. There were men screaming and the shooting altogether stopped up there. So we knew they were done for, and Commander Downes rides up to us and he says, “The Northwest Palisade is breached! Fall back to the inner line! Fall back!” And so me and the boys pick up our guns and beat a fighting retreat down the Boulevard towards the inner walls. Then them Infected started pouring over the palisades, and we knew there weren’t no throwing ‘em back. Not this time.
So we get’s back to the inner palisade and we start right up again, shooting and firing those twelve pounders, boy, and them Infected are coming at us from e’ry side now. Howling the whole way, burning up and’ getting shot all up but still running at us. Now we gots kids in the camp, and I can hear the little lads and lasses putting up a good cry even over the din of the fight, an I thinks, how’s it we ain’t sent them little ones off to Philadelphia? How’s they still here? Maybe its because Downes thinks their being here will inspire us, y’know, to fight even harder.
Anyways. After ‘bout a good more hour or two o’ shooting and stabbin,’ the horde dwindles a bit, and that’s when Briggs see’s it - one o’ them Infected mounted up on a dead horse, looking down on the town from atop the wooded hill north o’town. We only saw his silhouette and those red eyes peering at us through all the smoke and flame, but he’s there, right as rain. Briggs points and we all look, and we gotta catch our breath in our throats. Them Infected got themselves a general, from the looks’ve it. He’s just sitting up there, watching his Plague-runners set the town ablaze.
Not too long after that some sunlight comes up o’er the church tower, and then the horde falls back. But we don’t know how far; we don’t know if they’s ran back to the trees, or if they’s still inside the town, staying in our houses til’ dark. Downes says we can’t spare a-nobody to go and takes a look. So here we stay, here in the inner palisade by the edge of town. And we waits for nightfall. And that Infected up on the horse.
29 April, 1829
So I got some sleep this afternoon. Not a whole hell of a lot, but a better amount than none. First thing I did when I woke was help count ammo. We’s almost clean out; maybe ten rounds a man, and now we’s only got seventy men or so. And them twelve pounders is almost out, too. They only has maybe twelve balls left to shoot between the two of ‘em. And none of the riders have gotten back, neither, so we ain’t got no reinforcements comin.’
So Briggs and I, and Payton and Short, we goes up to Commander Downes and we says, “Sir, we almost out of men and ammo, and we got lil' ones here, sir, and our wives! And the town’s all up in flames, sir. There ain’t nothing left for us here. Not for a one of us. We should make a run for Philadelphia while we still gots’ daylight.” But he says back, “I ain’t never left the enemy in command of the field. We stay, and we fight.” And he rides off! Now I ain’t no mutineer - Lord above knows I done my duty - but I ain’t aiming to die for the principle of it. Not when I gots my Maria here, and no town left to defend.
So I talks to some o’ the men and women and lay it out for ‘em. And I says, “Look here, boys. We ain’t lasting another night and if we do, what’ll come of us in the next one? We gots to get out while we still can. The road to Philadelphia’s still open, and we still gots ourselves enough daylight to get outta the woods and to the open road before nightfall.” An the majority of ‘em nod and we take a vote. The motion to leave is the clear winner.
So we get our things and we tells Commander Downes, “We’s leavin,’ sir. There ain’t nothing here left for us and we ain’t aiming to die for a pile o’ rubble.” An he gets red in the face and he says back, “I’ll have the lot o’ you hanged for treason!” And he calls up his boys - bout half the men left with their muskets and he says, “you lot arrest them mutineers, y’hear?” And so they advance, and we level our muskets to repel ‘em back. But before any shots are fired, one of the women in the Church points down the road heading off to the Southeast and she says, “Look! One o’ the scout’s is riding in!” So we all turns an look and sure enough, ol’ David Benjamin’s puling up into town, an he looks like hell itself.
He says, “Water, water!” And so we gives him a canteen, and then he says, “I was coming up with a column o’ state militia from the midland, alls the help I could muster up, but them Infecteds - they’re everywhere! All over the road, out in force. I swears they was lying in wait for the lot of us, like an ambush, and they leapt down on the main road and just tore into the poor lads. They didn’t have a chance. I’m the only man who made it back; I needs to tells y’all that the road to Philadelphia is blocked!”
So now the whole damn town’s in a panic. We’s surrounded by the Plague, and there ain’t no way out. And not a minute ago, while I was writing this here entry, someone points up to the hill north o’town an they says, “There’s the horseman!” And we all look and there he is - that Plague Rider, eyeing the town with that wicked red stare o’his, and that of his horse, and we see’s he’s got a whole wretched host of other Infected Riders. And then they started moving right on down the mountain towards us.
Then the Howling started, and just now - the church bells started to ring. I know it in my bones I ain’t surviving this night. They coming at us from all sides now. And I’m holding Maria tight, and she’s crying, too, and alls we can hear’s the wailing of the little ones from the church, and the shouts of the boys as they run up to the Palisade with their guns, and the wheeling forward of the cannon. So I gave Maria a kiss, and I’m leaving this here diary in her possession. I love you, darling. I love you, and I hope you know that.
29 April, 1829
Paul has gone off to the palisades. He’s scared. I am too. We all are, but we’ve gotta be strong for the children here in the back of the church. The other women and I have tended to the lot of them since the men fell back to the inner line of defense, which I helped to build, and at least half of them have the Fever. Of that I’m now sure. But it no longer matters, does it? They won’t live to see themselves be taken by it, and perhaps that’s a merciful thing.
The shooting has started. The boys are throwing in everything they’ve got, God bless the lot of them - but I can tell its not enough. We’ve but an hour left, maybe less - before the Infected make it to the church. The children here have cried themselves empty, and now they're huddling around myself and the other women and clutching our dresses and burying their faces in our laps. I’m as afraid as any of them. But I can’t let them see that. I can’t.
The church bells are ringing again, and the men just outside - the thirty or so of them left (I’ve no idea if Paul is among them) - sound exhausted and panicked. The cannons have long since stopped firing, likely having expended their ammunition. Only periodically do I hear a musket blast. Paul was explaining earlier that they’d nearly run out of bullets last night. I can’t imagine they’ve found many more.
I hear galloping now, coming up from the west. Its not the state militia. Its that Plague Rider. I can hear him - I know its him. I know it. He commands these beasts. He grunts and shouts, and they listen. They’re only a few yards from the Church doors. We’ve hidden the children in the very furthest corner and covered them up with whatever we can find. We told them to stay quiet, at all costs, but some of them are infants. They’ll cry for their mothers, and when they do? The whole lot of them will be found.
Its been several minutes since I heard musket fire, and the last of the shouts from our boys have long since ceased. All I can hear now is the Howling, and some of the women in here saying how we should use the pews to barricade the door. But its hopeless. We all know its hopeless. All we can do now is be strong for the children. But how can I? My home is burnt. My Paul - my Paul - is gone. All our boys are gone. How can I be strong when my strength is gone?
The Infected have begun hammering away at the church doors and windows. We are surrounded in here. God, Lord - give me strength. Please, Father. Give me strength. Just for a little while longer. Just for a liit-
This Diary was found buried in the rubble of an old church in the center of Andersonsburg, cradled by a long-rotted corpse that appears to have suffered severe blunt trauma wounds along the length of the spine and around the skull. There are multiple other skeletons strewn about the floor of the place, all but one of which appear to have suffered similarly. The other one - an infant’s corpse and one well-hidden in the corner, appears to never have suffered a wound at all; it looks instead to have perished of starvation, likely some days after the events described here.
Outside the church of course, is the town itself. It is currently being picked clean by my colleagues and other members of the University - all for research purposes, of course (although I fear black market scavengers will descend like vultures upon the place once word of its existence spreads) - and it is in a spectacular state of ruin, mostly from what appears to be fire damage. As of this document I am the only person who knows of the existence of this Diary.
Anway. Hell, I’ll update this later. At the moment I’m being called over to help with one of the interns, who’s apparently collapsed and begun to convulse. They’re probably just dehydrated.
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2017.04.21 03:16 all_the_cliches [OC] There's A Demon Lord Renting Out My Attic: Chapter 19

Previous
Today marks three and a half weeks since my arrival on the ISS. About seven-eighths of what needed to be done on my end had been completed, leaving only finishing touches and the training of new staff for this museum. Kristoph was working with a construction crew on the final bits of the renewed exhibits, which would be filled in A.S.A.P.. Thankfully, the list’s between the museums added up and at this point most of my job was repairing some broken artifacts and cleaning up the ones we were going to put on display. The end was in sight. We expect to be on the station for maybe another week, week and a half, before we got our feet planted on some good old Earth dirt. We decided to take the day to celebrate, and I checked out an hour earlier than usual before finding Kristoph losing his mind over his remaining work.
“Come on, get up,” I ordered, tugging at his arm. “There’s a bar filling up with singles -”
“Say no more,” he shot up, simultaneously straightening his hair and suit. “I’ve got the cab ready.” He lead the victory march out to the cab, and I was thankful for the fact the the bar was within a ten block radius of our apartment as he set a limit on his bank account for tonight - a high one.
The American styled bar we’d managed to find (felt more like home and less like I was walking into a Star Wars movie) was already filling up with, mostly other humans, but other locals who’d figured out that this bar liked to have everything it could in stock, rather than some of the other bars that stayed to a very tight niche.
“Here’s to being almost done with it all!” Kristoph raised his pint after we got our first beers, clinking our two glasses together. “May the muses look ever favorably upon our great temple!”
“Hear hear!” I chorused before the two of us proceeded to chug the entire pint and race to slam the empty glass jugs onto the bar counter. The bartender waited before coming over to ask if we wanted another drink. Kristoph moved onto whiskey while I stayed with the beer.
“You sure you don’t want to stay on for the opening and first week?” Kristoph asked, swirling the ice around in his drink. “Just to see how it all goes?”
“I enjoy my life on a non-regulated, moody weather, spring-time planet, thank you very much,” I replied. “Besides, I actually enjoy springtime. There’s a shit ton of flowering trees on my street back home and by the time I get back they should all be in full bloom. It only lasts for about two weeks you know.”
“I got you,” he smiled. “What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get back?”
“Take my dog for a walk,” I sipped my beer, “then go to a bar with my friends.”
Kristoph laughed, “You’ve such a simplistic life.”
The televisions in the bar were tuned into various different sports games - mostly baseball and hockey, some college sports thrown into the mix (all a day behind regular Earth viewers), a single news channel (the only one on the space station for news), and one televisions that sometimes synched up the music and the music videos.
“I’m going to go get a better look at the Yankees game,” Kristoph said, motioning over to the other side of the bar. “If you need me, don’t find me.”
I laughed as he vanished and another patron immediately filled in the vacant seat. It didn’t stay filled very long, as they ordered a group of drinks and then brought them back to a booth. A group had started up a pool game and the overall combination of music, drunken chattering, and pool balls crashing together reminded me of the regular bar my friends and I go to back on Earth.
“Holy sheet,” the voice of my ever absent sibling rang behind me after about an hour. Winston shoved a guy who looked about to sit down out of the way in order to get the seat next to me. “Sorry buddy, she’s off limits.”
“Nice to see you too, bro,” I laughed at the other guys face. Another glass of beer was placed in front of me and I thought about switching to cider or something else soon.
“Well no shit, why didn’t you tell me you were up here? I could’ve picked you up, given you a tour, the whole shebang!” He turned to the bartender and quickly ordered four beers, and two other drinks that I didn’t recognize. “But this is good, I can introduce you to some of my work buddies and my girlfriend.”
“This oughta be good.” I stood and waited patiently as Winston received the tray of drinks from bartender, then followed him over to a booth that was situated directly under the slightly off sync music videos.
That’s gonna drive me crazy all night, I thought watching as what I assumed to be the band members walked through a crowded shopping mall, causing chaos for no particular reason. Sittin in the booth, in order, was a male Antithipan, another male human, a female Oxinia, a male Listes, and a female Antithipan.
“Friends, comrades, countrymen, lend me your ears. I present to you, the infamous Calla Burnhart,” Winston placed the tray down and took a slight bow.
“Infamous? What on Earth have I done to become infamous?” I asked him as he dished out the drinks.
“Other than your wicked backhand, nothing,” he grinned.
“This is your little sister?” The female Antithipan asked, make room for me to sit next to her as Winston pulled up a chair. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Yaileri.”
“My girlfriend,” Winston injected with a rose-colored smile.
“Nice to finally meet you too,” I shook her hand. “Sorry you have to deal with his idiocy on your own.”
She laughed, which was this odd wind chime sound.
“Right, right,” Winston grumbled. “Everyone, introductions.”
“I’m Beris,” the male Antithipan across from me nodded his head. “I work with your brother in technological services.”
“I’m Matt,” the other human smiled. “I’m shut up in accounting most days but your brother and I teach these nerds how to be real nerds with d-n-d.”
“Fun stuff,” I replied.
“Crys,” the female Oxinia said. Her drink looked like molten lava, and I wouldn’t be half surprised, given that they’re mostly composed of the same elements as Basalt and Quartz. “I’m a friend of Yaileri’s from college.”
The male Listes had the equivalent of chemistry goggles over his eyes and he adjusted them before speaking to me. “Swi-tahli. I work in the research department.”
“I’m Calla, as you apparently all know, I’m here for work but I’ll be leaving in about a week,” I told them.
“Where’re you living?” Matt asked, half-screaming over the music.
“The Corves building,” I mulled over it with my beer. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s the name.”
“Oh? Are you a diplomatic assistant?” Crys asked me. Winston was busy explaining something to Beris and Swi-tahli.
“No, I work in a museum, why?”
“The Corves building has a reputation for being the spot visiting diplomats are brought to in order to, ehem, relax them with worldly pleasures,” Yaileri explained. “Rumors have it that most of the dirty dealings and such go down there.”
“Well, my boss happens to be friends with Drien Shon, so that may be why we got set up there,” I elaborated.
“Shit, Shon? Really? I’ve met him before,” Beris interjected. “For an Aestian he’s very straightforward, no nonsense kind of guy.”
“Drink every time Beris says something ridiculous!” Winston shouted. The group of them, minus Beris and I each took a sizable gulp from their drinks.
“What was so ridiculous about that?” Beris exclaimed.
“One - you meeting Drien Shon, and two - an Aestian being straightforward,” Winston said, then turned to me. “Okay, lemme explain how this game works. So, there’s a drink every time Beris says something ridiculous, Matt says he’d bet on something, Crys accidentally smashes a glass, Swi-tahli begins talking chem bable, Yaileri says she'll quit her job and start a new life on a remote planet, and now, whenever you…. Threaten to hit someone.”
“And he left out whenever he becomes theatrical,” Yaileri continued. “And a shot whenever one of us starts trying to pick up a date, a fight breaks out in the crowd, or one of us throws up.”
“How often do you guys actually do any of that? Can't be enough for a drinking game,” I said.
“Wanna bet?” Matt grinned and happily downed the rest of his drink. “What’s everyone's want for the next drink?”
Playing that game ended up being more fun than sitting around chatting. They’d sneak up as people would relax and then someone would shout “Drink,”reminding everyone that we were out to get hammered, sloshed, and a hundred other varieties of drunk out of our minds.
The table hoisted their drinks as one and let out a hearty cheer to continue our festivities. A fight had just been broken up and nothing could ruin tonight. A few minutes of noisy, dizzying, drinking went by before a low rumble sounded in the distance. Everyone in the bar paused, looked around, and then continued their activities.
“Musta been an engine test,” Winston said.
“Those are only on the first of a cycle, and besides,-”
“Holy shit, shut up,” Beris snapped, pulling out his communicator. “There’s been an attack.” The bar steadily fell silent as the audio switched to the news channel, the anchor’s monotone voice cracking slightly as he read.
“Officials are asking citizens to please remain inside. There are still no leads on the bombers, but the Aestian, Eyshir, and Scotel embassies have all been attacked. However, traffic cameras have captured pictures of three Sorainian males leaving each of the locations just prior to the attack. No eyewitnesses have been found, and fire crews and damage control are trying to stop the spread of any more destruction.”
“Jesus fuck, Scotel’s going to start a war,” Beris muttered, his hand trembling as he reached for his drink. “Hard-headed species that they are, they’re going to point the finger.”
“There have been seventy-five casualties in total so far, one-hundred and fifteen injuries resulting from the three explosions. There are still people trapped inside, rescues teams are working to get them out now,” the anchor paused and slumped just before the news channel cut to a commercial break.
“I-I gotta call my parents,” Yaileri pulled out her communicator and nearly dropped it trying to dial the number. Winston sat in stunned silence along with Matt and most of the bar. A few people went up to order another drink.
“It’s probably just a group of radicals,” Swi-tahli over the rim of his glass. “Sorain has been the high-elder of the federation for millennia. They wouldn’t just pick a war for no reason. Has to be radicals. No other explanation.”
“Radicals can do unspeakable things,” I said, “but normal people will surprise you just the same.”
The news came back on in a flurry of banners and images. It was on every screen in the bar now. The anchor took a deep breath, “First responders are being met with additional traps and hazards, making rescue operations more dangerous. The Eyshir embassy surveillance tape has been recovered, however, and is being reviewed for any leads about the attacks.”
A few people came into the bar, crowding in to get a better view at even one of the televisions. I jumped as a hand grasped my shoulder. “What the- Niex?”
“Shush,” he clamped a hand over my mouth. No one was paying enough attention to notice. Niex pulled chair over and took my drink, watching the screen more intently than any of us.
Winston looked over, “Ni - Jonathan? What’re you doing here?”
“Was in the area, needed to get inside,” he said, head spinning about to observe all exits. “Seems things are starting to quiet down. You mind if I steal Calla from you?”
“Only if you promise to get her somewhere safe,” Winston glanced between the two of us. “You… Uh, do have the ability to do that? What with your job?”
“Hi, hello, grown ass adult,” I pointed out. “Besides, they said to stay inside.”
“I’d rather be outside if another building choses to collapse,” Niex grunted. “And yes, my vehicle is armored.”
“Do you-”
“I know as much as the rest of you,” Niex told my brother. “Come on, let’s go.” I had the distinct feeling that Niex was jittery about something, and as he parted the crowd, he consistently glanced over his shoulder, beyond me as the news anchor reminded everyone to stay inside and remain calm. “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”
“Much time till what?” I asked, apologizing as I tripped over someone. He didn’t answer me, only rushed me into a waiting vehicle, which took off the second the door was closed on us. Niex began shedding his outer jacket, communicator firing off with incoming messages. “Niex, what’s going on?”
“You still have that ring I gave you?” Niex asked as he checked over the messages.
“Well, yes-”
He tapped on the glass dividing us and the driver. “Can’t you go any faster?”
“They’ve created a roadblock sir.”
“Then go around it,” Niex ordered. He tore off the front of a seat, revealing what looked like a kevlar vest and beckoned me forward. Once I had leaned towards him enough, he helped me into the vest, asking “The ring, Calla?”
“I’ve got it,” I snapped, pulling it out from underneath my shirt. “Do you need it or something?”
“Just making sure it’s safe.” He pulled a wooden box out of a hidden compartment and placed it in my hands. “Keep this too.”
“Sir, we’re being followed,” the driver called out suddenly.
“Good,” Niex grinned. “Let them catch up, alright.”
He then pushed me to the floor of the car and removed a hidden set of pistols. As he was preparing the weapons, the glass windows shattered and I, to my humiliation, let out a yelp of terror. Niex fired back through the now open window, my ears ringing at the proximity. Some more shots fired back and I felt more than anything Niex get hit. He was pushed back slightly and took a few seconds to recover himself before emptying the last of his ammunition.
The driver picked up speed, as if on cue, and proceeded to lead the pursuers into a maze of twists and turns, all the while, I was being kept on the floor like a piece of luggage.
“We’ve arrived, sir,” the driver said after what felt like five minutes due to the adrenaline.
“Good,” Niex scanned the back window, helped me up, slipped the driver an intergalactic federation bank note with the instructions to keep driving, and then threw the door open. We walked into the building, the main floor completely emptied - even the front desk was closed. Niex used a key to summon the elevator, and used the same key to make sure the elevator didn’t stop on the way up. He leaned against the back handrail, breathing deeply as the soothing jazz played distantly.
“So…” I watched as he released the magazine from the guns, storing them in his back pockets, and, hopefully, turned on the safety. “Rough day?”
“How goes that museum of yours?” He asked, undoing the tie around his neck. It baffled me that in all the chaos, he still managed to keep his suit uncrumpled and clean.
“It’ll be done in a few more days.”
“Think you’ll be back on Earth then?”
“God I hope so.”
He smiled and pushed himself towards the opening doors. He led the way to his apartment, the door opening for his hand print and I was shocked when he immediately slammed one of the magazines back into the gun and cocked it. I peeked over his shoulder to see an Antithipan with silvery-hair (odd, since most of them had either a hue of blue or red), dressed in a formal style of robes.
“You did well, Niex,” the man’s voice sounded vaguely familiar as we approached. He turned and offered Niex one of the two drinks he was holding. “No need to be so threatening.”
Niex said nothing, but grabbed the drink. He downed it as Zilfor continued to speak. “Sorain can’t stay quiet for long, the people will demand answers, and the unrest that’s been stirring for ages will finally-”
Metal clicked as Niex finished his drink, barrel of the gun nearly pressed against the space between Zilfor’s eyes. “Get out, Zilfor.”
I stepped forward, “Uhm-”
“Ah, oh well,” Zilfor brushed the gun away. Briefly, he leaned in to whisper to Niex, the hair shielding expression from my view. Once finished, he placed his glass down on the table and approached me. He took my hand and held it in both of his, “I hope to make your acquaintance again, human Calla. Maybe when things aren’t so,” my knuckles made short contact with his lips and I felt a shiver run down my back, “tense.”
Please, no. Never, eugh, I thought, subtly scratching the back of my hand.
My hand fell limply to my side and I watched Zilfor as he happily made his way out of the apartment. I turned to Niex, who stood with his forehead against the window, empty tumbler in one hand and the gun in the other, for some answers.
“So… uhm, what just-”
The glass in his hand shattered.
“Okay, holy shit,” I scrambled over and went for the gun first. His hand easily let go of it.
“It’s empty, idiot,” he muttered as I held it down, looking for the magazine release.
“Well how I was I supposed to know!” I grumbled, putting the gun on the far corner.
“Man, I’ve made a mess,” Niex sighed, his injured hand oozing out a softly glowing amber liquid. “I’ll go get the broom.”
“Leave it,” I ordered. He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “You’re bleeding?”
“You don’t sound to sure,” he commented with a quirk of the mouth.
“Well, I’m assuming that’s blood, considering there’s glass sticking into your fingers,” I lifted the hand up. “Do you have a first aid kit?”
“Do you really want to know the answer to that question?”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s fine, go sit down.” I wandered around the apartment before I found a small emergency first-aid kit, though I didn’t recognize over half the items in it, I was thankful for some bandages and tweezers. When I came back, Niex had shed his outer jacket and I noticed a stain forming on his right shoulder.
“Were you shot earlier?” I asked, kneeling down infront of him.
“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered.
Don’t worry about it, he tells me. Like that’ll fix anything, I thought, pushing Scotty and Xiest away from Niex. They’d been upstairs resting but I accidentally roused them. Niex leaned his head back and flinched when I grabbed his hand.
“If you don’t get the glass out, it’ll get infected,” I said, tugging it closer. “I’ll be gentle. Just tell me if it hurts.”
He said nothing, but his hand would tense up anytime a shard was particularly difficult to get out. I placed the collection onto a towel on the table as I worked, tilting his hand this way and that in order to find any hidden pieces of glass.
“What’re you thinking about?” He asked me as I began to bandage up his hand.
“Mm. Do you really think a war’s going to happen?” I replied, moving slowly.
“Indubitably.”
I huffed, and flinched when the noise of another explosion sounded. Out the window, I could see smoke begin to rise in the distance.
“Ah, damn,” Niex looked down at me. “I really hope they end this quickly.” I kept quiet, my head spinning with the imaginings of entire planets going to war. Images of spaceships and alien technology and soldiers in spacesuits filled my mind, and while a part of me was scared, the larger portion found the entire notion silly.
“It’s brutal, nothing like whatever you’re imagining,” Niex spoke. He was watching the scene outside now. “Slow, tedious, absolute. Peaceful planets and species will turn to blackened surfaces and charred bones as the stronger armies and older species chose their battlegrounds. It’s a game, to the ones directing the orders that bring men and women between the outer ships and death. It’s the same as war on your planet, just larger and much more unavoidable.”
“Earth couldn’t even get its shit together enough to pick an ambassador for three years before something was finally decided,” I laughed. “Though, I guess that being said, having so many different voices and opinions will probably keep us from getting sucked into this little feud. Besides, I get the feeling you all think we’d be too emotional to keep a level head while fighting.”
“True. I’ve seen humans charge into enemy territory with no hope of returning, in a daze of emotional distress,” Niex commented. “I do hope they don’t drag your planet into this war.”
“What, afraid you’ll lose your vacation spot or something?” I scoffed, trying to lighten his mood.
He said nothing, his brow furrowed as he looked back at me. “You should get back to Earth as soon as the lockdown is lifted.”
“Stop worrying so much,” I smiled, pressing my finger right where his nose meets his forehead. “Otherwise your handsome face will get stuck like this.”
The furrow increased. “I highly doubt-”
“Oh hush up,” I stood. “It’s a figure of speech. You don’t need to worry about me so much, okay? I’m literally the least likely person to get caught up in a war effort. And you’re done with Aestia, right? So quit looking so sad, it doesn’t suit you.”
“Go home and rest,” he ordered softly.
“What about your arm?” I asked.
“I’ll call someone,” he grinned. “I won’t go down so easily.”
I smiled back, “Alright, don’t die.”
He stayed on the pile of pillows as I left, Xiest sniffing at his hand and Scotty curled up next to him.
“Calla,” Niex looked to me as I was about to leave. “Ah, no. Nevermind.”
“Hm? No, what was it?” I pressed, leaning against the door.
“Nothing. Get some sleep,” he said. I waited for ten seconds, in case he changed his mind, then shrugged and left.
Kristoph was on the couch, his computer open and the television turned to the news channel. He nodded at me when I came in. “I’ve booked your trip back.”
“Oh? That so?” I sat down next to him and stared at the screen. “Do we have anything to drink?”
“‘Fraid not,” his computer clacked next to me as he typed. “It’s in three days. Don’t worry about anything you haven’t finished, just make a list and instructions and I’ll get it done.”
“Will the station even be out of lockdown by then?” The television was muted, but the subtitles were describing the recent events. Starting with the earlier attack, then informing me that the most recent explosion was on the Zeten embassy.
“Hopefully,” he muttered. He closed his computer and stood, “I’m going to sleep. There’s nothing we can do about what happened today.”
“Still a shame,” I commented. The anchor had changed and was going over some of the witness reports from those who had been saved. I pressed the power button and it flicked to black. The lights turned off after me as I retreated into my bedroom to begin packing. When I sat on my bed, I felt the wooden box press against me and pulled it out. As I turned it over in my hands, I searched for a seam, notch, or anything that might distinguish it from a normal block of wood.
“Nothing,” I rapped my fingers against it, the sound reverberating. “Except that it’s hollow. Great.”
I sighed and placed it on my night table, laying down and staring at it with all my might until I gradually passed out.
Next
submitted by all_the_cliches to HFY [link] [comments]


2016.12.31 22:46 Creeping_dread "I think it's time we talk about the voices in your head."

She said it just like that. Her eyebrows were raised and her red, over-lined lips were pursed, but she still managed to say it matter-o-factly, as if she actually believed someone who heard multiple people whispering in their brain on a daily basis could be a reliable witness to their own insanity. When I didn’t answer right away, she uncrossed her legs and then re-crossed them the opposite way. She was wearing white panties underneath her skirt. She acted like I hadn’t looked.
“Charlie,” she said, tapping her foot to an unknown beat. “Do you know where you are?”
I looked around the room. There was a large desk to my left, with an iron, a-frame base and a glass top. Half a dozen framed certificates hung behind it on the wall, situated between two floor to ceiling windows with closed blinds. A single lamp illuminated the room.
I realized I had no idea where I was or how I’d gotten there.
“I’m Dr. Megan Goldman.” She pointed to the nametag on her white suit jacket. “I’m a psychiatrist. You’ve been seeing me for several weeks now. We’ve talked about your addiction to PCP and prescription opiates. About how you’d recently moved onto heroin. And how, for the last three weeks, you’ve been clean.”
“Clean?” The words sounded hollow and strained. I didn’t even have a job; how could I pay for a psychiatrist? And I certainly hadn’t been clean a single day of the last eight months.
“Clean, Charlie,” she repeated. “Look at your arms. What do you see?”
I was sitting in a simple wooden chair with arms that curled at the end like a ram’s horn. My arms were upturned, like I was waiting on an IV. There were no track marks. I squeezed my fists and watched the healthy veins fill with blood as the muscles on my forearms bulged. I looked up at Dr. Goldman, who obviously saw the confusion written on my face.
“You don’t remember any of it, do you? Charlie, you need to answer.”
I finally found my voice. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry Dr. Goldman. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Memory loss is a consequence of heavy drug use. I’m just sad that you’ve forgotten your recovery.”
Recovery. The word echoed in my head, spoken from a different world. Had I really recovered? I placed my right hand on my chest, feeling the dull thump of my heart pumping exactly as it should, without flutter or hiccup. My fingers trembled, but I was starting to relax.
“I’m extremely proud of you, Charlie.”
I looked up at Dr. Goldman. She did look familiar somehow. Maybe I’d blacked out for the past several weeks. It’d happened many times before, but never for that long. I thought about my family, wondering how they’d react to hearing I was clean. I started to get excited. I could feel my feet bouncing up and down, cushioned by the plush carpet beneath my bare feet. I wanted to call my sister. I hadn’t talked to her in such a long time. Why had it been so long?
“Uh, Dr. Goldman, is there a phone in here? I’d like to talk to Claire. Her number should be in the phone book.”
“In time, Charlie. First, you need to take your medicine. And then you need to answer the question I first posed to you. About the voices.”
I didn’t remember telling her about them. Telling anyone, for that matter. But I must have. Just thinking about them sucked all the moisture out of my mouth.
“Here you are,” Dr. Goldman cooed. A single, blue pill sat in her outstretched palm. In the other hand she held a tall glass filled three quarters of the way up with water. No ice.
Before I could extend my arm, something strange happened. Dr. Goldman started to change. Her head began to elongate as her eyes moved to either side of her face. Her mouth opened wide, displaying a pulsating red rim which encircled dozens of small, sharp teeth. A lamprey - that's what she looked like. Her necked snapped towards me with with the speed of a rattlesnake.
“What the fuck!” I cried. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t.
“What’s wrong? Charlie, are you hallucinating again?” Dr. Goldman’s head shrunk back again and her eyes migrated to their proper positions on her face. Her red lips pouted. “I think it’s time for your medicine.”
I squirmed, trying to free myself from whatever was holding me to the chair, but it was no use. Dr. Goldman shoved the blue pill in my mouth and then held my head back and poured most of the water down my throat. The remainder rained down on my body, soaking my shirt. It felt like ice.
“Now, tell me about the voices,” Dr. Goldman urged. She scooted her chair closer. “If you’re so much better, why won’t you tell me about the voices?”
“I, I think I want to go now,” I stammered. “I’m….not supposed to be here” I felt like I was unraveling.
Dr. Goldman started to laugh. I hadn’t noticed before, but her teeth were yellow and crooked.
My eyes got wide. “I want to talk to Claire!” I shouted. “Please let me call Claire!”
“Oh, Charlie,” she whispered. “Don’t you remember? You killed your sister. Claire is dead.”
I suddenly remembered everything.
I blinked my eyes and was back beneath the overpass again. It was dark and I could hear the wind whipping between the concrete supports. Several fires flickered in the darkness around us. Old Meg sat in front of me, her face illuminated by the small fire we’d lit in a metal trashcan. Her white doctor’s coat, a poor barrier against the howling wind, was filthy and torn. She’d pulled it out of a motel dumpster several weeks prior after a date with one of her johns. She hadn’t taken it off since.
The metal wire that secured my arms to the chair was cutting into my wrists. The chair with the arms that curled like ram’s horns. A furniture store had tossed it out after a fire scorched half their merchandise. I saw that my healthy veins were bruised and black again, my forearms pock-marked with sores. I was so weak I could barely make a fist.
“You killed Claire, Charlie, don’t you remember?” Old Meg was saying. “1994 Ford Taurus, right into a telephone pole. Ain’t that what you said?”
My eyes filled with tears. She was right. I’d killed my little sister after a night out drinking and partying. I’d done a year in prison for manslaughter. That’s when I started the heroin.
“That musta been some good shit!” she cackled. “Your eyes were rolled back in yo head! Talkin’ about a lamp-shade or somethin’.”
I looked around, but there was no one in sight. “Help!” I cried. “Someone help me. Old Meg’s gone crazy!”
She tsked, standing up and walking towards me. She smelled like spoiled fish and mold. “Not a soul to hear ya, ya dumb junkie. That old van with them meals came by. All them vagrants is makin’ they bellies full.”
She reached down towards the overturned bucket beside me and pulled something into my view. It was a needle, already loaded up with heroin.
“Don’t Meg, don’t. I’m clean!” I struggled against my bonds, but the wire just cut further into my flesh.
“Clean?" She spun her finger next to her temple. "Them drugs really musta fucked with your head. I saw you shoot up just yesterday." She took a step forward.
“Why are you doin’ this?” I shouted.
She stopped, the needle inches from my right arm.
"Do I gotta tell you again? You told me you was hearin’ them voices. When you was high. And right after that, you found that five dolla bill in that old pair o’ jeans them people brought. So I thinks to myself, Meg, maybe them voices told you where that money was.”
“Meg, they didn’t! I just found it!”
She leaned over and stuck the needle into the only vein that hadn’t collapsed. By that point, I was done fighting. I felt the fire crawl slowly up my arm and into my heart.
“Says you,” she mumbled. “But I’m gonna see for myself. You’re gonna be spinnin’ in a sec. Maybe then you’ll tell me about them voices.” She held the needle close to her face, inspecting it. “That’s a big ol’ hit, Charlie. Shouldn’t be enough to kill ya, but I’m sorta hopin’ it does.” She tossed the needle and smiled, decaying teeth protruding between her cracked lips. “That jacket you got hidden in your sleeping bag looks mighty warm. Specially on a night like dis.”
submitted by Creeping_dread to nosleep [link] [comments]


2016.06.04 08:37 famoushippopotamus The Joshua Kemble Holotapes: Bundle 02

This is a collection of first-person writings from the point-of-view of the protagonist of Fallout 4 (albeit with a different backstory) during my real-life playthrough on Survival Mode. I'll add to these as I go, I guess.
  • <0011> 11/01/87 - 11/02/8718:02
  • <0012> 11/03/87 - 11/04/8715:22
  • <0013> 11/05/8719:56
  • <0014> 11/06/8722:15
  • <0015> 11/07/8716:04
  • <0016> 11/08/8720:31
  • <0017> 11/09/8702:30
  • <0018> 11/09/8718:22
  • <0019> 11/10/8717:02
  • <0020> 11/11/8723:18
  • <0021> 11/12/8719:12

0011

Today I told the Old Man I wanted to strengthen the walls. We talked for awhile and he drew up some plans. After lunch we hitched up Clarabell, the mutant cow, and dragged the sled back to Sanctuary Hills for supplies. All day long I was walking slow back and forth behind this goddamn ugly cow, and God help me, I think I'm gettin used to the fuckin stink.
So we built. Couple more turrets. Another tower. The Old Man and I talked about how there had to be others out there. Others who weren't trying to rape, kill and eat us. There's a TV satellite dish on one of the houses in Sanctuary Hills. We grabbed it and spent half the day trying to get it to broadcast a signal. Got a small gas generator running the thing, and we finally got it to work, but the range isn't very far. I'm worried that it won't just be normal fuckin people picking up the transmission, so I showed the Ballbuster how to shoot. She's good.
...
Christ, what a day. I think I threw my back out and I woke up feeling like crap. I think I might have a cold or something. I ache all over and I just feel really shitty. Weak and tired. The Battleaxe kept bringing me bowls of tato soup. I didn't have the heart to tell her it tasted like boiled ass, and when she left I let Meat lick the bowl clean, hahaha - ow, fuck!
Guess I'm resting for now. I'll talk to you later.

0012

I'm still in bed. The Ballbuster came flying up the stairs earlier and told me our broadcast was picked up by a couple travelling nearby and they're downstairs right now! Can ya believe it? The Old Man is interviewing them. Making sure they aren't cannibals or jet-heads (learned that term from the Battleaxe). This old leaky barn is going to be kinda crowded now, ya know? Guess as soon as I'm back on my feet we'll have to build an annex so this couple has somewhere private to sleep. Last thing I need right now is hearing two people get it on.
Don't know if I was dreaming or what, but I heard a woman's voice earlier. Reciting poetry I think. You believe that shit? Poetry in the fuckin wasteland. But I remembered every word.
Don't you fuckin laugh at me, alright?
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools, singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn, Would scarcely know that we were gone.
Really made me think, ya know?
...
After lunch I started to feel better. I think maybe the witch's potion the Battleaxe whipped up for me actually did the trick. If she wasn't such a wishy-washy bitch, I'd kiss her. Only got 3 magazines to read and I've read them ten times. One more day in this bed and I'd lose my goddamn mind.
I did some work on the annex. I got tired out pretty quickly, but the new guy (Jake) and his missus (Shelley) helped out. They seem like good people and the Old Man says they check out. Got a few beds together too, and Jake had some really shitty looking ears of corn that the Old Man says we can plant after the next rain. Got gourds in the ground too. But it won't be enough. The shitty soil barely puts out anything, and we are going to need more food.
Tomorrow I go hunting. If'n I've got my strength back that is. Break's over. Talk soon.
Oh. One more thing. Some drifter named Gary or something came by. Had a dog he wanted to sell. Asked me some pretty hard questions and wanted to know if I was gonna eat the fuckin dog! I told him to fuck off and was about to close the door in his face, but there was something about the look in his eye. He really loved the damn thing. I told him to come inside. Jake patted him down for weapons, and took his pistol. I don't blame the guy for being armed. You'd be stupid not to be, but we can't let some stranger in packing that kind of heat.
We had some lunch and talked. In the end, he sold me the dog. A mutt bitch, so I'm hoping Meat can get his freak on and we'll have a bunch of puppies soon. Could train them up to be watch dogs, or maybe Gary will come by again and I can sell him a dog. Ha!
Anyway. Back to it.

0013

Was feeling better today, so I whistled for Meat and we headed into the hills above Vault 111 to see if we could take some of the mutant deer I'd seen grazing on the hills. A quiet day, right?
Bull-fuckin-shit it was. I mean, Jesus, how do I keep getting myself into these messes?
A beautiful crisp Autumn day. Perfect, right? The sky is blue, the wind is low, and the trees are really beautiful in that way that only dead and dying things can be. There I go with the fuckin poetry again. Anyway. Found a couple of abandoned places - a shack and a hilltop camp. Grabbed some supplies from them and was heading south over the old logging road, when Meat starts growling low in his throat. I've come to trust that goddamn sound, so I climb up on some rocks, get out the rifle I managed to bolt a scope onto and start scanning the area.
Out of the goddamn ground comes another pack of those goddamn mutant moles. Like 6 of the ugly bastards! Meat went nuts. He loves killing these things, but there were too many. I helped him out, clever bastard that I am, and I swear to God he fuckin smiled at me when it was all over. I let him eat his fill of one, but had to shoo him away from the others. The farm needs this meat, and whatever else I can bag today, fingers fuckin crossed.
So we're in these rocks near this big, whaddyacallit, transmission tower, thats the word, and I see two lovely mutant deer grazing. Two-headed and weird as fuck looking, but the Old Man says they are good eating, and what the fuck do I know from hunting? I got the shot lined up and then I hear Meat. That low growl. Jesus, now what?
The deer run off and I'm looking around when this big ugly piece of garbage walks right into my scope.
Goddamn raider. And he wasn't alone. There were 4 of the bastards. I see their campfire too. Couple of dead bodies strung up near it. Cannibals. I mean, Jesus, I hope I'm never that hungry.
So I'm thinking, no way am I gonna take on 4 psychos, not by myself, when Meat takes off like a shot. FUCK!
Then I hear him fighting with something. I crawl to the edge of the rocks and he's tangled up with some mutant dog - big fucker too, with a chain collar around its neck. Shit. This thing probably belongs to the raiders, and sure enough - they start looking my way.
Nothing for it, now.
First guy goes down like the sack of shit that he is - headshot. Damn, I'm getting good.
The second and third, not so easy. I throw away a few clips, but I've leg-shot them both, and they ain't going nowhere, bellowing like hell, though. I'm trying to find the fourth guy, and I'm starting to panic, because I don't see shit.
Then I hear a scrape on the rocks behind me, I turn my head, and he's right fuckin there, a machete in his hand and its swinging for my head. I rolled off the goddamn cliff and I think I broke something, and I'm lying there, dazed, when Meat comes out of nowhere, breath smelling like blood, and gives me a sloppy lick. Fuckin. Disgusting. Then he takes off again and I'm trying to call him back, when I hear the raider yelling like someone's got his balls.
Someone did.
I ended it with two shots to the head. A few more put the leg-shot scumbags outta their misery.
My leg hurts like hell and I think my knee is either broken or severely fucked. I can't walk on it anymore, and its swelling bad. The Old Man insisted I take a stim with me. Some who-the-fuck-knows concoction that he said would keep me going when I couldn't anymore. Guess now was the time to find out. Good thing too because the next thing I know, 4 fucking mutant dogs crest the ridge and are staring down at me.
Yeah, ok, I pissed myself. So what? They had dead fuckin eyes. Skin all scabby and sore looking. Big goddamn teeth. And they charge. All of them.
Rebecca. Remember her? She blows two of their heads off and then they are on me. Bad breath, ripping teeth and strong as fuck. I figure this is it, I'm dead. Meat, my sweet dog, Meat, saves my ass, again. I've never seen a dog flip out like that. Like I was his child or something. He didn't just kill them. He ripped them into pieces. It was fuckin horrible.
So I've got like 6 dead bodies around me, a broken knee, and more raw food than I can carry. Oh, and get this. The sun went down about an h---
<<<
Level Up Perk (9) - Sneak (1)
<<<

Holotape 0005 - Index of "Journal"

<0014> 11/06/8722:15
<0015> 11/07/8716:04
<0016> 11/08/8720:31

0014

So apparently I didn't die. I woke up in bed. The Old Man and the new settler, Jake, somehow found me out there. Guess it was a good thing I mentioned where I was going before the hunt. My knee is just sprained, not broken, so I get to spend another goddamn day in bed. I swear to Christ I could never handle being an invalid. I would fucking off myself, seriously.
Nothing else to report today. Talk later.

0015

Had a long day. The knee was ok. The Battleaxe spread some goop she mixed up and slathered it on my knee. Jesus it hurt like hell. Burning hot and it stunk worse than their mutant cow. Made my goddamn eyes water. But it did the trick and I'm up and about again.
I know what you are thinking. Same thing I've been thinking.
Why the hell haven't I gone looking for my boy?
Here's the thing. He could be anywhere. So I'm looking. Everywhere. I can't take the chance of passing up even one rotten shack. I have been looking. Its just goddamn slow.
Today I wanted to explore the road that the Diner sits on. Everyday I push out little further. Every day I get a little stronger and I build up my map a bit further. The Ballbreaker gave me some paper she stashed away and I had the foresight of grabbing some pencils on my way out of Sanctuary Hills. So I've been drawing a map. Its crude as shit, but its better than nothing.
Dogmeat is feeling a bit under the weather today. Throwing up and shit. Probably because of all those raw mole guts he's been eating. Seriously disgusting. Liquid baby shit practically fallin outta his ass. I never knew shit could be that color. Man.
Anyways, I headed out.
Shot a mutant deer in the Eastern fields below the farm, and I called up to the farm for someone to come and get the damn thing. At least there will be a hot meal waiting for me when I get back.
If I get back. I think about that shit a lot, ya know? I mean, what happens to Shaun if I don't make it? Let's be honest, here.
I mean. sigh
Like. He could already be, ya know. Gone. I don't think about that shit much. I try not to anyway. But I still do. He's my boy, ya know? Still looked like an old man when last I saw him. Not the cutest kid, I admit. But he's mine. And I love him. And I will goddamn find him. I will.
Jesus. Rambling again. Yeah I had a few drinks. I know I shouldn't when I go out, but. Some days I just need it.
So I get down onto that road. The one that runs past the diner. I see this concrete building to my right. Looked quiet. I knew not to believe that shit, so I hunkered down in some bushes and waited. Sure enough, some kinda, I dunno, fuckin flying robot or some shit, comes outta the door! Like a ball or something. Wires and antenna and shit all over it. Its just flying around, aimlessly. I have no idea what it is or if its got lasers or some bullshit so I wasn't gonna take any chances. I find a fat rock, plant my ass behind it and line up the shot.
Goddamn thing exploded practically. Lucky for me, I guess. Don't need no lasers up my ass. Not today. I creep up and its got some stuff I can use. A circuit board that isn't fried, and some wires and shit. Inside the place is nothing. I mean, not nothing, but just this control panel thing that's dead to the world, probably hasn't worked in 200 years and next to it is this cage. Floor to ceiling. Fuckin skeleton inside, with some crates and shit. Gate is locked up tight. I know how to pick a lock, but this thing wasn't budging. Some kinda computer thing on the wall next to it. I don't know shit about computers. Never liked em. Still, I had a look. Damn thing still had power and its got this whole screen of gibberish on it. Some words, and this blinking square thing at the bottom. No fuckin way I'm touching this thing, so I take off.
Coupla hundred yards away is this dilapidated green house. No windows. Door wide open. I figure maybe might be worth taking a look. So I watch for awhile, like I always do. Nothin. The quiet gets to me after awhile, so I run up to it, real low, and peek in the window.
What do I see? Some goddamn drunk passed out on the couch. Wine bottle next to him on the floor. Sleeping sitting up, and Jesus I could smell the b.o. from here. I mean, I'm no rose, but this guy stunk like he rolled in shit. Dunno how people can live like that. At least rinse the dirt off or somethin, ya know?
I'm thinking I can still take a look inside, and this guy ain't gonna say squat, and even if he does, what's he gonna do? Didn't see no gun on him. That was weird. Made me think for a minute. Maybe he knows something I don't. So I wait. I watch him sleep. About an hour later he opens his eyes, rattles off this fart like a machine gun and starts mumbling to himself.
Then I see him reach into his coat pocket and pull out this thing, looks like one of them, whaddyacallit - asthma inhalers, but its got some other thing like attached to it. Dude puts it in his mouth, presses the trigger thing and sucks in his breath real deep. His eyes roll up, his head starts to sag and the dude starts fuckin drooling on himself.
Fuckin junkies, man. They never change. This guy ain't gonna do dick. So I get up and I go inside. Dude is out like a light. I find some food, coupla lamps I can strip the wire out of, and a carton of cigarettes. Grey Tortoise. You believe that shit? 200 fuckin years go by and they still have my brand. I stuff that into my bag and I'm making my way outside when the dude musta woke up and heard me, cause he says, "Heymanyoulookinforsomechems?"
Kinda took me off guard and I spun around and almost fuckin shot him. I said, "What?". Dude goes, "Youwantsomechemsman?"
I said, "Nah. You look like you need em more than me.", and I take off. Not even worth shooting, this guy.
I searched the valley running up to that cabin where Meat almost died, and I find a campsite, some tools, a few other bits and pieces and I shove all that into my ruck and start heading home. Its getting late in the afternoon, and I won't be out after dark if I can help it.
When I get back, Meat looks like he's over his stomach (and ass) problems and nearly knocked me over giving me licks and shit. He and that new dog (I decided to call her Potatoes. Get it? Meat and Potatoes?) then starting chasing each other and the Battleaxe starts laughing, saying they are really getting along. Says maybe Meat could teach me a thing or two about women. I said something rude under my breath and went to get some dinner. Dumb broad. I don't want no goddamn woman, ok? I'm still in love with the one that I watched die.
Fuck!
I skipped dinner and decided to drink my meal instead. Its quiet up on the roof and I can hear the family and the new folks all chattering away.
People.
Who fuckin needs em.

0016

Woke up with a bad headache, but I ain't staying in bed again, so before the sun is even up, I whistled for Meat and we went South over the ridge towards the lake, past where I met that one Trader and her hardcase guards.
Didn't see much except for some weird green mushrooms, glowing like one of those plastic sticks you sometimes got at concerts back in the day. I picked em anyway. The Battleaxe can make anything out of anything. I swear that woman is some kind of evil chef, and who knows? Glowing mushroom soup might be good.
We crest this hill, up onto some rocks, and I look down and see this big ass bridge going across the water. The Old Man said this was called Walden Pond but it looked like a lake to me. Anyway. Bunch of rusted out cars and on the far end some kind of makeshift barrier kinda blocking off the road. That didn't seem right, so I got out my rifle and scoped it out.
Just like I thought. Coupla raider motherfuckers hanging out at the barrier. What the fuck were they doing? Charging a toll or some shit?
Like I said, I had a bad fuckin headache, and I was still pissed at the Battleaxe for that crack yesterday, and that's the only excuse for what I did next.
I took a couple of potshots at them. Didn't hit shit, but that got their damn attention and they start running across the bridge. Dumb ass me forgot to keep my head down and I hear gunshots and ricochets are bouncing off the rocks all around me. Goddamn it, I hate that shit! I start to haul ass, gotta find a better place to hide, and I dunno if I'm just slow, or the hangover is slowing me down, but I hear one of them yelling at me, I dunno what, but it didn't sound friendly.
I got one chance.
I gotta get back to the farm, let those turrets do their job. I turn and let off a couple of wild shots, just to keep them interested, and just like I planned, they follow. Meat is right beside me, tongue hanging out, having the time of his life running from druggie psycho cannibals. If I ever get reincarnated, I'm gonna be a German Shepherd that still has his balls. What a life, am I right?
I'm running up across the fields, yelling like a sonofabitch to start up the turrets and grab some guns, and a bullet goes right past my ear. I mean right fuckin past it. Felt like I was doused in ice water, that's how goddamn scared I was. If I couldn't get behind that wall in the next 5 seconds, I was gonna get shot in the back or the head and that's all she wrote. No more Shaun. No more nothin.
But I tell you what. Those turrets, and this family and those new people?
They were born to it.
All of a sudden the sounds of those beautiful machines opens up and its suddenly raining bullets. Me and Meat get inside, bar the door, and get up on the wall.
Raiders didn't know what hit them. It was all over in 2 minutes.
Here's the weird part though. When I went down into the fields to search the bodies, they were g---

Holotape 0006 - Index of "Journal"

<0017> 11/09/8702:30

0017

sound of cigarette being lit
heavy sigh
Man. The day I've had. For the first time since I left the Vault I didn't think I was going to make it home.
I wanted to go exploring a bit. Trouble is that I left before the sun was up and I was drinking again.
Been having nightmares about Donna again. I keep seeing her right before she is killed and hearing her voice calling out to me for help. I mean...
sounds of crying
What could I do? I was trapped. Those fucking bastards. Those goddamn motherfuckers!
I need...I need a minute.
...
sound of throat clearing
Ok. I'm ok. Where was I? Oh yeah. Exploring. I wanted to explore the roads East of Concord. So I set out with Meat in the early morning. Was still dark. No problems getting around the town. I was up on the bluff above the town, where a few mansions are sitting, all boarded up. Found a dead guy in the back of one house, just chilling on the porch. Very strange.
I moved through the forest with little trouble, but then I got turned around. At the top of a large bluff I found a skeleton next to some big piece of machinery. Looked like it opened, but I'll be damned if I could open it. Just a ways East were the shells of some burned-out houses. Found some stuff jammed inside a chimney. People hide stuff in the strangest places. The sun came up and I could see down through the forest, and I realized I had wandered way too far North.
So I drop back down onto the road and keep heading East. Came across some train tracks and under some elevated highway. I scoped the shit out of that. Raiders like to hide up high I've found, but I didn't see anyone and no one shot at me for fuckin once.
Meat started barking and took off. I'm thinking, "Shit, now what?" and as I come up over the hill I see a huge cemetary in this valley. Creepy ass crypts ringing the heights and Meat is digging at some grave. I mean, Jesus, I know he's a dog, but have some damn respect, ya know?
I don't like the look of this place at all.
Of course, right then it started raining and the fog rolls in. I laughed out loud. It was just too fuckin perfect, right?
Meat finished whatever the hell he was doing and comes back to me, and I see he's got a goddamn bone. A human bone. Fuck me, I almost got sick.
We wait for an hour. Nothing moves. Just us and the fog and the rain. Across the way I can sort of make out a chapel or something, and I figure it might be best to get out of the rain. Can't stay outside too long. Makes my skin itch.
So we go inside and I'm poking around when I hear Meat cry out in pain. "What the fuck?", I'm thinking, and I take out Rebecca, load two shells and creep up to the doorway. Fucking raider bitch is kicking my damn dog. I blew the bitch away. Meat's limping and I'm ready to get medieval on this whore's corpse. Who kicks a dog? Assholes!
The rain has cleared up and its afternoon, so I figure its time to head back. Didn't find shit anyway, except a whole bunch of those glowing mushrooms, which I gathered up.
So we head back the exact same way we came. Get past the freeway and up into the scrub when Meat starts growling. I'm looking everywhere but I don't see shit. His hackles are up and his teeth are bared. I back right the fuck up. Suddenly out of the scrub comes the biggest, ugliest mutant fly I've ever seen. I throw a few shots from Rebecca into it and it doesn't even slow it down.
I'm gone. Running. I look back to see where Meat is and the fly is still following us and a giant mutant dog joins the chase. What. The. Actual. Fuck. I holler for Meat and increase my speed. I'm even thinking of dropping Rebecca just to gain some speed. Meat is right next to me, tongue hanging out and he takes off ahead of me. Thanks a lot!
I'm crashing through brush and snapping small trees and running for my goddamn life. I check behind me and I don't see the mutant dog but that goddamn fly is still on my trail. I stop and blow off a few more shots. Nothing. What the hell is this thing made of anyway?
I don't know how long we were running. Felt like an hour. Somehow, and I have no idea how, we lose the fly. Thank Christ. But there's a big problem.
I have no goddamn idea where I am.
No landmarks look familiar. I don't recognize the terrain. I figure I've got maybe 2 hours before the sun goes down. I'm thinking that I'm in real trouble here. Real fuckin trouble. I know the farm is West, and that's all I have to go on, so I start walking towards the sun. I'm in thick forest and on a South-facing ridge line. To my left, through the trees and way below me, I can see the sparkle of sunlight off a large body of water. The only real water I've seen so far is that pond and this is way bigger.
I'm fucking lost. Then the panic hits. Like ice water and I start sweating and my stomach starts to churn. I feel like I need to take a shit and I barely get my pants down before I shotgun a brown blast out of my ass. Gross, I know. Sorry.
I wipe my ass with some leaves and get my pants hitched up and my stomach is still feeling like crap. I'm thinking, "Fuck, what am I gonna do?"
I walk West for hours. The sun sets and I still have no idea where I am. I hear gunshots in the distance and really weird noises in the woods. Anything could ambush me up here and the panic is starting to spiral. In maybe 20 minutes it will be too dark to see anything. I don't even see a place to hole up for the night. I gotta keep walking.
Soon I'm walking blind. I know this Pip-Boy has a flashlight on it, but I don't dare fuckin use it. That's like a neon sign to anyone out there saying, "Come kill me".
I got no choice. I gotta just hunker down and wait for dawn. I at least find some rocks I can hunker down in.
Longest goddamn night of my life. Meat kept me warm and I didn't sleep for one single second. Finally the sun came up and I'm freezing. I ate a little and shared some food with Meat and we split a bottle of dirty water. I keep heading West.
Another hour, maybe two, and I see some houses to the South. I think maybe its Sanctuary Hills. Thank God. I start heading down towards the neighborhood when I hear voices. I think, "This cannot be happening."
But it was. More raiders. Fuckers are everywhere. This is a group of 3. Moving East, opposite of me, and halfway down the ridge, but between me and Sanctuary Hills. I'm not risking a fight, not when I'm so tired I can barely see straight and my hands are shaking from the cold. I lie flat and get Meat beside me. Somehow he knows what's up and doesn't make a peep. The grass is wet and I'm shivering like crazy. I felt myself willing them to move faster, and I think I was whispering, "Come on, come on."
Luck was with me, and I haul my ass back to the farm, and when the Old Man saw me he dropped his hoe and came running over to me. Got me some food and a hot drink and a blanket, bless his wrinkled heart. That map I drew? Fuckin worthless. I've got to find a better way to keep track of where I am.
This tape is about to run out and I don't have any more holotapes left. Not sure when I'll be able to talk again.

Holotape 0007 - Index of "Journal"

  • <0018> 11/09/8718:22
  • <0019> 11/10/8717:02
  • <0020> 11/11/8723:18
  • <0021> 11/12/8719:12

0018

Had a shitty night's sleep. More nightmares. Donna just keeps haunting me. Damn I miss her so much. Had a big fight with the Battleaxe too. She found my stash of bourbon. Uptight bitch. Anyway.
We are running out of food. Why? Because we had a group of 8 more goddamn people show up. I told the Old Man to shut the beacon down. Spent the day building beds and trying to get to know everyone. What a goddamn nightmare. So I grabbed Meat and we went hunting north of the gas station. Bagged a mutant deer and a dog. Can't believe I'm eating dog for fuck's sake. Didn't see anything for a few hours, so I went back and checked the woods north of the farm. Ran across another pack of mutant dogs - three of them. One of them almost took my head off, but Meat and I survived. Took me a while to dress out the carcasses and haul the meat back. At least there is food for all of us now, but clearly we need to farm more, and build some more turrets. A settlement of this size is sure to attract unwanted attention.
I went back to that Ranger's cabin and found a stash of whiskey under one of the beds. I wasn't looking for booze, ok? But I did take the bottles. Spent most of the afternoon drunk as a fish. Meat was playing in the yard. He's such a nut. Funny damn dog. Pretty fuckin sad that some mutt is my best friend, but there you go.
Dinner's ready. Talk later.

0019

Today I decided to return to the Satellite Array where I found Mary's locket. There was a lot of supplies that I wasn't able to take the first time, and a few locked doors that I wanted to see if I could get open.
No problems on the journey. Didn't see anything. Was raining and really quiet. Kinda spooky, actually. Just me, and Meat, and the rain. Really peaceful, actually.
Once I was inside, I was able to find a stash of ammo for my guns, including some shells for Rebecca. Only had 3 left, so that was a fuckin lucky find. Was a computer terminal that I couldn't figure out how to operate, and I'm pretty sure it controlled this locked door. I could see a ton of stuff through the window, and I was dying to get inside.
Downstairs that goddamn helicopter cannon was sitting where I left it. I still didn't take it. No ammo for the thing, and no way I was going to hump that thing through the rain back to the farm, and even if I did, who the hell would buy it? It must weigh fifty pounds.
Managed to get these twin doors in the basement open. The lock was pathetic, and I am getting better at it. Bunch of barrels and junk inside. Was about to leave, when Meat lets out this yelp and I look and he's goddamn surrounded by giant roaches. Got a cold chill up my fucking spine. Goddamn I hate those things. Managed to kill them all, but Meat was bitten a few times, and he's in bad shape. I held him in my arms and nearly cried. I gotta carry him home, but when I was sitting there, I noticed a tape sitting on this bench. Wondered if maybe that computer upstairs could read it, so I carried Meat up there and made a bed for him while I tried to read this tape. It worked! Turned out to be a password, and I got that locked door open. There was a ton of ammo and good stuff inside. Even this huge bullet thing. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was a tiny nuclear bomb, but that's crazy. Who would build something like that? It was way too heavy anyway, so I left it. Loaded up the ruck and carried Meat back to the farm. Such a brave dog. He didn't whimper or whine even once. Just kept looking at me with those big brown eyes and licking my face. I think he loves me as much as I love him.
Shut the fuck up, ok? Ain't nothin wrong with that.
One of the new settlers used to be a vet, and she took a look at him. Said the bites were deep and might get infected, so I couldn't take him out for awhile. I gave her a handful of caps and told her to do whatever it takes to make him well.
If he dies, I swear I'll lose my damn mind.
Where'd I put that bottle?

0020

Meat is still on the mend, and my feet are itchy, so I grabbed my guns and headed out. I want to see what's on the other side of that lake...pond thing. It was still raining and really quiet. Perfect for my state of mind. Had another nightmare about Donna again. This time we were on our first date, at the movies, and as I leaned in for our first kiss she kind of...she kind of...rotted, I guess. Into a corpse right in front of me. I think I must have yelled out, cause everyone gave me these really weird looks when I went down for breakfast.
Fuck em. My nightmares are my own. My ghosts. Not theirs.
Anyway.
Took awhile to get around the pond. Damn thing is big and the hills are really steep. I didn't want to get to close to the water. I hate the water. Always have. Not sure why, but ever since I was a boy I was afraid of it. I never learned to swim, so that's probably a big part of it.
So about halfway around I see these buildings and shit across from me. The rain was still coming down pretty hard and I was slipping all over the fucking place, but I managed to claw my way up and as I'm lying there, trying to catch my breath, I hear this really weird voice. Like a robot or some shit, but it keeps saying the same thing. Something like, "Wow, groovy!" over and over again. I'm thinking, "What the fuck?" and then I see it. It was a Mr. Handy model, like my old one, Codsworth, and its just floating around, aimlessly, repeating that line over and over. Must be bugged out or something.
I started to stand up, and was going to go over to it, when I see not one, but two Ghouls. Shit. Damn things were fast and unpredictable. One of the buildings had a generator or something out the back, right up against the wall. I'm figuring, I climb up there, and get out that scoped rifle and have a party. Easily done and I'm lying on my belly and I can see not just two ghouls, but about six or seven of them. Whole goddamn place was lousy with them.
I'm really hestitant to start shooting, because I haven't scouted the area, and who the fuck knows what else is out there. Gunshots would just draw them to me like flies on shit. The Mr. Handy isn't paying any attention to them, and they are ignoring it as well.
Its a big place. Besides the building I'm lying on, there were six other buildings. Sort of set in a circle around this garden plot that's gone to weeds and seed. I check the sun. I've got maybe two hours before dark. I figure I'll head back, and maybe get an early start and come back in the morning, scout the surrounds, and if all is quiet, then I can clean out these rotting fuckers and see what kind of supplies this place has. I scootch around and duck-walk over to where I climbed up and there's a goddamn ghoul right below me.
Goddamn fuckin shit!
My mind is racing. I don't have any weapons on me that aren't guns. Stupid, stupid man. I'm thinking, "What am I gonna do now?" I haven't had a drink for a few hours and I'm staring to get the shakes. So I have a few. And then a few more. And the next thing I know the moon is up. Now I'm stuck here. I'm drunk and I'm worried that if I fall asleep I'm going to roll of the goddamn roof and break my damn neck.
But then I realize. Its dark. I can see from the moon, and if anything else is out there, they probably won't come looking for me at night. Time to rock and roll. The ghoul who's blocking my path gets his head blown off. I laughed. I probably should have taken the opportunity to leave right then and there, but the whiskey and the bloodlust have got my heart racing and I'm having too much fun to quit now.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!......BLAM!
"TAKE THAT YOU ROTTEN FUCKS!" BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAMBLAMBLAM! "WOOOOOOOOOOOO! YEAH!"
What the...fuck? What...what is that? A ghoul, I think, but...
but its goddamn glowing green. What the hell?
BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAMBLAMBLAM!
Jesus. Ok. Ok. I think...I think he's down. Oh shit! BLAM! BLAMBLAM! BLAM!
Ok. That did it. What the hell was that thing? Christ I need a drink.
<<<
Level Up Perk (10) - Charisma +1 (@5)
<<<

0021

Jesus my head hurts and my mouth tastes like I Frenched an ashtray. Don't know how I didn't roll off the roof last night. Drunk as a pig and twice as stupid. But I don't see anymore ghouls. I waited like an hour, and I didn't hear or see shit. I managed to get down off the roof without breaking a leg or my neck.
This place is huge. I see someone has painted "Sunshine Co-Op" on the side of one of the long buildings. No fuckin clue what a "co-op" is, but whatever it was, its long deserted now. Maybe the ghouls were the sad bastards who lived here.
Found a lot of good stuff. Food, chems, ammo and yes! Some bottles of vodka! What's that old joke? "Too much wodka makes you womit?" Heh. Yeah. Not much call for jokes these days. Even less for bad ones.
I found a computer terminal that I could actually operate. Turns out this place was some kind of hippie commune, and the Mr. Handy that is stuck in a programming loop they named "Dr. Goodfeels". Hippies. Seriously. There was an interface for the robot and some alternate personality programs. I switched the "Woah, groovy" one to a maintenence program. Thank fuck it worked and the robot is silent now. Its actually clearing out the ghoul bodies! Fertilizer for the dead farm maybe?
I load up my ruck and head back. Its bulging and I can't wait to see how Meat is doing. As I'm getting ready to leave, I notice that the bridge where I got chased away from by those raiders the other day is just below me. So that's where it goes. To here. Well that's damn handy. I head back that way instead of trying to navigate the pond cliffs in my less-than-sober state. No raiders, but I did see one of those mutant scorpions way down in the valley below me. Fuck that. I hurried on my way.
I'm climbing up the last bit of hill through the woods when I hear the turrets chugging and automatic gunfire. Then the klaxon that I insisted the Old Man build starts wailing.
The settlement is under attack! I race up the hill and burrow through some thorn brakes and I see five goddamn raiders assaulting the wall on the North and East. Motherfuckers. One of the turrets is already destroyed and the one of the raiders is trying to put his boot through the East door. The settlers are all up the wall, firing pipe pistols and any other damn thing they have but they are terrible shots and two of them get picked off. I gotta do something. Fast.
I have two grenades in my ruck. Found em at that co-op. Why hippies had explosives, I don't know, and at this point, I don't care. Two of the raiders are clumped together. I pull the pin and lob it. Man. I should have been a grenadier. Perfect shot. BOOM! And their friends finally notice me. I rabbit and start racing through the brush to the North, if I can just get to the corner where the wall turns, Rebecca and I will have a nice surprise waiting for them.
Miracle of miracles I make it. This raider dude comes around the corner and I blow his damn head off - both barrels. Goddamn it was disgusting. His head literally exploded. I got brain soup all over me. My stomach flipped over and then I hear Meat, inside the walls, and he's losing his shit. That must mean the raiders are inside. Adreneline dumps into my system and I feel myself going cold all over.
Hang on buddy, I'm coming
The turrets must have taken out another one, because the East field is empty when I round the corner. Sure enough, the door is off its hinges and there is gunfire from inside. I run like I've never run before and as I shoulder my way through the entrance, I see Meat, and he's got the last raider by the goddamn throat and shaking her like he would a rabbit. I let my breath out, and walk over calmly and put two in the bitch's head.
Meat practically leaps into my arms. I'm crying and saying "Good dog, good fuckin dog" over and over, when the Old Man taps me on the shoulder. He says, "We lost Jake today. And two of the newcomers. They came up on us so damn fast, we didn't have a chance to turn the turrets on until they were practically at the wall."
I don't say anything. I set Meat down and inspect the damage. Its not good. Two turrets down. Some crops destroyed. Front door is blasted to shit and eight corpses.
We carry out the raiders and dump them in the lower field. Maybe some mutant dogs will find them.
We bury the newcomers and Jake out the back. Next to Mary's grave. The skies are grey and drizzling and the Old Man says a few lines from his Bible.
Jesus I need a drink.

submitted by famoushippopotamus to TalesFromDrexlor [link] [comments]


2013.08.06 03:58 tabledresser [Table] IamA Pirate Reenactor and Educator, building a Pirate Ship, AMA!

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Date: 2013-08-05
Link to submission (Has self-text)
Questions Answers
What is your opinion on Alestorm? Very fun music. Good live shows.
Can is ask if there is a lot of period specification about being a Pirate and what the most annoying misconception about pirates are? I'm a late imperial roman reenactor and there is a knee jerk reaction to say anything that isnt hollywood typical is non roman. Do you get the same reaction with any of your kit? Most annoying misconceptions are bucket boots and saying "ARRR!" There is very limited evidence for sailors to have boots like those made popular by Hollywood, and a lot of evidence of pirates going barefoot or wearing the same buckled shoes as everyone else did. ARRR was made popular by the 50's film of Treasure Island starring a drunk from Wales. That's how Robert Newton spoke, but everyone liked it so much they started mimicking him in the sequel and the TV shows that followed.
Robert Newton was from Dorset in England. He had a thick West Country accent, which is the basis for the stereotypical pirate accent. I learned something new today. I had always heard he was from Wales.
Drunks from Wales!?! Tall tales I tell ya... Sad, but true.
Sounds brilliant! is there any clear evolution/development of Pirate gear through the age? If you had to put one piece of kit up at your desk to show off what would it be? Yes. What was being worn in 1650 is pretty different than what was worn by 1725. Especially for the English, as they were known to wear trousers. I'd show off with my blunderbuss, because it impresses the lubbers.
Oh, also sailors developed shorter waistcoats than lubbers.
So we're paying for your private yacht? Why? Not exactly. I am looking for people to pledge so that a pirate ship can be built and then used for educational programming. As for the "why", because it is a cool project with good rewards. Don't care about the project or rewards? Don't pledge.
Oh my gosh the project pledge rewards are like treasure in and of themselves. I'm dying to crew for a week!!! Thankee. I think we have some fun rewards for pledges. Toss down the loot, and once we finish building come out for a cruise!
Step 1: Become pirate. Step 2: Free drinks. Step 3: Profit? Still waiting on Step 3 here. But the drinks are nice.
You pretty much have my dream job. What's the most difficult part of your job, or something that you have to deal with that you didn't think would be part of the "life of a pirate"? The "worst" part of my job is having people scream "ARRR" at me all the time. It really gets annoying quickly. That and when people shout "the British" are coming". That being said, those people for the most part see someone who enjoys life and what they are doing and in a strange way are usually trying to join in the fun.
Second worse is sailing in really bad weather while wearing historical gear. The wet pirate smell is pretty funky.
The historical garb looks so good! I like the way people dressed back then. Anyway,I wish you the best in the project. it sounds like a lot of fun. Thankee. BTW- a good vendor for some kit is: Link to jas-townsend.com Check out their slops. Osnaburg and checked shirts are what most sailors would have.
So.. you dont punctuate your sentences with Arrr? I'll admit to the random druncken "ARRR", but generally no. I speak the Queen's when on duty.
Edit: what about things like "me hearties"? I don't use "me hearties", but I do call my ship mates mates from time to time. And I definitely call lubbers lubbers.
Thank you. I used to be in the SCA and actually have some garb. Nice. I play with the SCA and LHA from time to time. Always fun getting together with friends to exchange bruises.
It was fun,but after 13 years,we got tired of it and no longer are involved. I hear you. I have played with them for about 20 years, and have never gotten involved with drama or politics, so I still have fun at the ocassonal practice or war weekend.
What compromises will have to be made with the new ship to comply with modern day OH&S regulations? Will this pirate ship be dotted with bright orange life preservers all over the deck and enough life rafts for all crew and guests? We will need to have a working head, engine and prop, modern helm, etc. Our life preservers will be kept in wooden deck boxes, so out of sight. We will be mostly staying near coastal, so life boats are optional. For longer voyages we will need to put them on though. Other things on deck will be fire extinguishers, signs. Happily, a lot of modern gear can be camouflaged.
How do you feel about modern day piracy? Both online and in foreign seas. Online piracy I think is one of the dumbest things governments have ever tried to persecute. But, money is being lost, so someone needs to be made an example of. As for sea pirates today, they are doing it for the same reasons that pirates have always done it: there is too much money to be made doing it to resist, and not very good alternatives. Generally speaking pirates are working class people and always have been. For example Somalia has no infrastructure and their fishing waters have been decimated. They can pirate or starve.
Thank you :) what about headgear? Helmets have alwasy been my fetish for ancients, did the Pirates only ever wear soft caps (makes sense) or was there any form of armor used? Also have you ever seent he deadliest warrior pirate vs knight episode? what was your opinion on it? I have seen examples of boarding helmets that were thick leather caps. That is about the only armor for pirates I know of. Some Spanish were still wearing breast plates though, but I wouldn't dream of it on a boat. I did see that episode, and I call shenanigans. They used a bunch of pseudo science for no good reason as far as I can tell. The truth of the matter is that the winner is the bigger bastard. There is no definite "such and such would do it this way", because soldiers, warriors, fighters, what have you do not always follow a set path of action. They adapt or die.
It's hard to keep wit dry on a pirate ship. The dude is trying to help educate youngins on history, give him a break... or are you still pissy about the Gaspee and those barbarous colonies? Yeah! Someone else heard of Gaspee! We actually celebrate that here in Rhode Island EVERY YEAR!
What's the role of women in the world of pirates back in the day? If a woman wanted to join your project/ your ship crew, do they have to dress as a man? Back in the day there is some evidence of women as active crew. More usually, women that associated with sea rovers were of negotiable virtue. Women will be able to join as crew, and we have some fine ones already active within our group. Yes, crew dress as men. Flouncy skirts and rigging don't mix, and generally you don't want to go aloft nd show everyone your knickers.
Well hello there! We know each other, and I just wanted to say that I'm so proud of what you've accomplished! <3 LL. My only question is: what is the most awesome part of your job? The most awesome part of my job? Waking up in a hammock knowing that I'll get the opportunity to spend my day sailing, singing, talking, firing guns, and working with some of the best people I have ever met.
Or, travelling to new ports, meeting new friends, and enjoying fellowship with other reenactors from all over.
How did you get into this? How does someone like me get started into something like this. I've been wanting to do this myself, even when people try to tell me there's no such thing as a "black pirate". I've had little experience with this when I worked at Renaissance Faires, but I was quiet back then so I didn't talk much. Which fictional series (movie, book, tv) do you think has best represented the pirate culture? Are you in New England? We are always looking for new crew. If not, then I'd start with a google search of "pirate living history" and the name of the state you are in. I started my own group, because I'm obstinate, but there are times I wish I had joined another living history group before I started on my own. It would have saved a few stumbles. As for "No such thing as a black pirate", those people are WRONG! During the Golden Age of Piracy it was common for crews in the New world to be up to 30% black. And those men were treated as equals, getting an equal share and a vote in what happened on the boat (pirate ships ran as democracies). Edit: Slave owners were often terrified of pirates, not because of them attacking, but because they were known to happily accept runaway slaves as members of their crews. This is not to say all pirates were anti-slave. Henry Every was known throughout the Gold Coast as someone to trick blacks into coming aboard so he could then sell them. But a higher percentage of European pirates than land dwelling Europeans seemed to condemn the practice.
The best fictional series that I know of to portray pirate life: the newest Treasure Island starring Eddie Izzard is pretty good, but Hollywood has never been able to due justice to these men.
I wish. I reside in Central Florida at the moment. Any books you recommend reading? Johnson's General History of Pirates is a good start, but please bear in mind a lot of his stories are changed to have moral endings and sell books 300 years ago. Republic of Pirates by Woodard is a fun read. And Exqumelin's The Buccaneers of North America is good primary source documentation.
What are your feelings towards King George III? I never met the man, but I bear him no ill. He was no Queen Ann, who I hold in high regard, I'll tell you that much.
Awh, does that mean we won't see your crew at the burning of the Gaspee next year? I hope we'll be there. I love that event! *edit: this was the first year in 5 we, as a group, didn't participate. I was still there for a good part of Saturday. Love Gaspee.
Did you know that the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (NFL team) have a pirate ship INSIDE THEIR STADIUM?!?!?! Sounds cool. Can you get me in touch with their PR people? :D.
Who is your favorite pirate, and why is it Thomas Paine? My favorite pirate, if I were to have one, would probably be "Black Bart" Roberts. Very impressive track record of 400 vessels taken in three years.
I do like Paine, mostly because he has the longest career (spanning roughly 40 years), then he retired and married into a good family (governor's daughter).
Holy shit Bart musta been busy. He used good tactics as well. My favorite was when he captured a Dutch slave ship, asked (at gunpoint) where they did their shady deals and what signals where used to tell others "shady deals here", then used those signals to lure in shady slave traders looking to buy into a trap.
That's awesome, you never think tactician when you think pirate. Have you looked into the oriental pirates at all? I saw a picture of a Chinese ship that was like four times the size of a British navy ship. I have looked into Chinese a little, but mostly to look up Mrs. Chang. She was AWESOME! For the most part though my research is on colonial American Pirates.
What can people expect from an experience on your ship once it's built? Once we are finished with construction and running our season passengers of regularly scheduled tours will get to enjoy cruises where they learn about pirate history, hear sea shanties sung by the crew, get to help raise sails and take a turn at the helm, see black powder flintlocks fired, and enjoy some time out on the water. People who charter the Defiance will have the option to do the same, or enjoy their time with us however they would like. School groups will have all the options of a normal cruise, and we'll work with teachers to incorporate their experiences with what is going on in the classroom. Oh, and as long as we can swing it we'll also have overnight guests.
The overnight thing was going to be my next question. Will people be able to hire the ship and crew for their own event? And if so, for how long... and how many people can you accommodate? Ok, overnight is going to be subject to getting the US Coast Guard to do overnight guests. We'll have 13 bunks onboard, 3 of which will be for crew, so 10 guests can stay over at a time. People will be able to charter Defiance for private events, like wedding, etc. And really, they can do it for an hour to a whole day, to however much they want to pay for. We should be a 45-49 passenger rated vessel once completed.
What type of ship are you trying to build? We are building a "pinky" schooner. It's called that because of the pinched aft. these vessels developed in New England after the old Chebacco fishing boats.
Are going with the schooner because of being in New England, or is it your favorite? Mostly because it is very New England. My favorite vessel is actually the brigantine. I have been sailing on one for the last few years and they are really fun! But the pinky schooner is as RI as the quahog.
What would you do if I showed up in my Pirate Hunter shirt and gear from my time in Africa? Depends where I saw you. At the pub I'd wonder how you got by the doorman, on the boat I'd ask if you knew that we were reenactors.
What would you say are the minimum requirements for a pirate costume? Minimum: Sailor's slops, osnaburg shirt, neckerchief.
a well worn axe! I love my boarding axe. And my broad axes. And my tomahawks. ;) BTW- good call on knowing the most popular weapon of the age.
How often is the phrase "poop deck" put to good use in your line of work? There is a lot of jokes about the poop deck. But you'd actually do your business off the bow, or the head, of the vessel. Poop deck just refers to the highest deck over the aft cabin.
What have you learned about pirates that's surprised you the most? The broad range of who they were. For example, Edward Teach (Thatch), AKA Blackbeard was a large and imposing figure with a very rough reputation. This was carefully cultivated to make his job easier. However, accounts from people taken by Blackbeard mostly say that they were treated well by him, and he kept his men from harming them too. Meanwhile, people like Charles Vain also had reputations for violence. And this is because he was a sadist, and liked to hurt people.
Have you ever thought about formatting the buccaneer language into a translator app so's we can all talk pirate properly? I mean talk into a phone or computer and our words would be translated into pirate. Nope. I am technologically impaired. :)
Also, sailors talk like everyone else, except they have terms that many people don't know what they mean. For instance, If I asked you to tack the outer jib to port and meet me at the binnacle so we could set the spanker because someone crossed our hawse, most people would have no idea what I meant.
They will when you make the app! Just sounds like a fun way to maybe raise a little extra money for you guys if you could swing it... I'll toss the idea at a few of my more technology minded crew. I'm muddled at a lot past 1800.
Are you in need of a Captain? I'll settle for nothing less. Actually, yes. Do you have your 100 ton license?
Psh, I'm a pirate... Who needs a license Coast Guard, and they outnumber us. ;p.
But I'm Captain Jack, mate. In that case I shall allow you to parlay with the Coast Guard. Good luck. God speed. :) I'm sure it will work out very well.
I knew you'd warm up to me. Now, we'll need a crew, and I'm granting you title of commodore. I'll need a big hat. No feather though. They get too chewed up in the Block and tackles.
Best I can do with the resources at hand... I'll accept that!
Sid mier's pirates? Probably now very accurate considering on the hardest difficulty cutlasses were useless. For better accuracy you should have gone over the rail with an axe. Swords were damned expensive back in the day.
Never thought of that, come to think of it no one in that game looked poor or dirty at all. I have some kit that is more patches than original by now. Work clothes get worn down quick in the sea air, with plenty to catch on.
bullet holes. And people trying to stab you with pikes, swords, and knives. Not to mention axes chopping at you. Then there's powder burns, and the blood and powder residue getting rubbed into the material.This is why every Wednesday should be a "make and mend" day.
How can I become as cool as you? Hard work, practice, remember to laugh often and love hard.
I used to enjoy the old simulation game Pirates. If you've played it, how accurate is it? I have. It is ok as far as fun, and what cannons can do to another vessel, but story is Hollywood inspired, and it doesn't really let you get the feel of how wind and sail interact. You can get way too into the wind.
I remember it was a pain to sail against the wind, so reality is even worse? I know that ships can move forward against the wind. It was a pain in the game, but yes: in reality it is worse. Especially on a square rigger. Fore and aft rigged vessels can get a bit more into the wind, but not much past 70 degrees.
Is your mortal enemy, a ninja? No. I have some very good friends who are ninja. My mortal enemy is a bar tender with my tab.
No wenches? There are wenches in this world, and I have loved too few.
Do you watch One Piece? Can't say that I do. I watch very little TV, and tend to be way behind on popular culture. I actually just finished Battlestar Galactica for the first time.
In your honest opinion, who do you think would win in a fight, pirates or ninjas? Depends on the ninja and the pirates in question. Much like the Knight verses Pirate question earlier, there is no easy answer to this.
Lets say that the ninjas in question were sent from the emporer to assassinate black bart and his crew. I'd get a tub of popcorn and watch that.
Is it equal numbers, 1 pirate per ninja? Is this on the land or the water? Are the pirates taken unawares, or do they see the ninjas on the approaching vessel? Who is and isn't drunk on both sides (I've seen ninjas drink, no denying they are sloppy drunks). Very complex question.
What was your biggest pirate mix-up? Not quiet sure what you mean, but I'll take it you mean mistake. In which case I'd say going onto a human gyroscope ride but forgetting that I had a knife in my belt (all good sailors carry knives). After a few minutes of whirling about the knife came out of its sheath and smacked me dead in the eye. Luckily, handle first. I needed to wear an eye patch for about a week.
What is your favorite pirate movie? Hard to say. I like the first Pirates of the Caribbean, but hate all the others. I also am a fan of Capt. Blood.
Have you ever had sex on a pirate ship? Was there a talking parrot in the room. Yes and no, in that order.
I was told there would be rum. There is usually rum. And beer. And sometimes wine. And whatever else we can get our hands on. It is actually kind of surprising the amount of free drinks pirates get at bars.
I would think the free drinks would either be obtained because the bartender was afraid of getting hurt or robbed or looked up to the life of a pirate and wished to be one. It is often the other patrons who buy. You get talking, and they ask questions, then buy drinks. Or you can just sing some shanties and next thing you know others are buying you drinks.
Such a great question! People always think the pirate life looks so swashbunklingly easy. There is a lot of fun in my work. I get to sail, talk to people from around the world about a subject I love, play with swords and guns in public, and as mentioned elsewhere often get free drinks in bars.
On the other hand, I've been stabbed while giving sword demos, rained on, bumped, bruised, and had many obnoxious people come into my life, even if briefly.
In all, I'll keep doing it.
No direct link yet (it exists but there is nothing in it just yet. Though keep an eye out for "Raging Romans". I have a HEAP of episodes penned which are about to be animated but if you had any questions no matter how silly -ask them. Like you I love answering what I can. Very good. Looking forward to it. I like some Roman history, but I usually root for whomever they are attacking. I love Terry Jones' Barbarians series. On Youtube if you have not seen.
You awesomely crashed my friends' wedding a few years back. don't have a question, just saying.. but if you want to talk about it, thats ool too. HAH! Where did we do this? Newport? Rockport? I have crashed several wedding I am semi-proud to say. I hope they didn't mind. Most don't.
No, I believe this was welcomed; it was Laura and Zeppo's (I hope that's not too identifying for the GP) Yep. That was fun. We also had a sword fight at Jason and Kim's. :)
Oh damn, I missed it! Kinda. As I said in my edit, I'll still answer as I can.
Yeah, you might be if you are using an alternate or another account to push your ama through as this is 13 minutes old and has been used primarily for this ama. Sorry, joysiren isn't me. Keep trolling though. You could go pro.
Pirates murder people. Yes, pirates murder people. A lot of people murder people.
Why should people give you money? You should pledge to the Kickstarter for cool rewards, and to help fund educational programming if that is what you're into.
You are crazy. I've been called worse.
No I normally only fund people with a sense of humour. I have a great sense of humor.
Last updated: 2013-08-09 20:02 UTC
This post was generated by a robot! Send all complaints to epsy.
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2013.03.02 08:11 firemylasers Google Fiber/ISPs part II: The Ultimate Circlejerk

As some of you may recall, I wrote a post about the Google Fiber jerk about 5 months ago.
Since then, I've become more and more disgusted with /technology's fascination of Google and condemnation of all other ISPs.
I've noticed that the jerk has become so bad that anyone who doesn't accept Google as their lord and savior gets downvoted to hell and back. Google Fiber threads are full of people spouting bullshit and projections about the service.
My last post was focused on debunking some common claims as well as showing off the jerk. This one is intended to be a bit of an expansion of the last one, but this time I'll be covering more subjects. This post will primarily cover the jerk itself and debunk common myths instead of primarily focusing on mocking individual comments like most submissions in here do.
I wrote about a third of this before remembering to disable automatic spellchecking, so if you notice some weird words that don't seem quite right, leave a comment pointing them out and I'll fix it.
So let's get started!
Wall of text warning: This post is roughly 4000 words long, there is NO Tl;Dr, either read it or don't read it, your call.

Voting

It's clear that Google is popular in /technology. It's pretty much guaranteed that you'll see an article about them at least once a week, and articles bashing other ISPs are also upvoted quite a bit. Submitting an article about Google Fiber? As long as the headline is in their favor, it's pretty much guaranteed karma. I have abused this to gain several thousand points of link karma. If you average out the 5 major articles I've submitted about the subject, the actual average amount of upvotes is around 1581. I'd even go as far as saying that this is the biggest circlejerk on the site. Unfortunately, very few people seem to understand anything about the whole project. They just get excited at the prospect of 1Gbps without bothering to fact-check or think things through.
Articles bashing other ISPs also see a disproportionate amount of upvotes. The number one link of all time on /technology has the title "Dear Google Fiber: Please, please, please rescue me from Comcast". Now I can't resist dissecting this article, so let's take a quick look inside.
The author starts off by mentioning that he has network issues. Instead of calling his ISP to get them fixed, he decides that whining about his ISP is a better idea. He then compares his ISP to a girlfriend. It's already a terrible article. But then he starts talking about Google Fiber — praising them, whining about his service (which, ironically, is $66/mo and has both internet and basic cable, while Google Fiber with TV would be $120/mo plus fees — it seems that he isn't willing to pay for better TV unless it comes from Google). The entire article is nothing more than a poorly written blurb about Google Fiber and the author's personal wishes. And yet, redditors decided that it's worthy of being the number one post of all time on their technology subreddit — voted higher than articles like "397-0. House approves resolution to keep Internet control out of UN hands.", "Syria has disconnected from the Internet. All 84 of Syria's IP address blocks have become unreachable, effectively removing the country from the Internet.", and "EFF wins renewal of exemptions to the DMCA for smartphone jailbreaking rights plus new legal protections for video remixing; "If you bought your gadget, you own it, and you should be able to install whatever software you please without facing potential legal threats"".
Even as I write this post, the number one submission on /technology is bashing TWC for saying that people don't really need 1Gbps. And this brings me onto the next topic of discussion…

People don't really need 1Gbps

Say that phrase in /technology and you've just pissed off a sizable portion of the 2.6 million subscribers. It's like committing internet suicide. For some odd reason, redditors are obsessed with 1Gbps. Why?
Well, it's cool. There's no denying that. Do you know what else is cool? A Ferrari. Let's use the Ferrari analogy to explain why 1Gbps is useless! You see, you've just bought this Ferrari. It's fast. Very fast. But the speed limit is 55MPH. It's cool to show off to your friends, but uselessly overpowered for the task at hand.
If that wasn't clear enough, go read my previous post. Most servers can't even serve 100Mbps clients. Even torrents can have issues saturating that fast of a line. And, despite many projects intended to find a use for it, nobody has found a consumer use for gigabit internet beyond "lol it's fast". Of course, reddit finds a way around that argument…
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/19fo5k/you_dont_want_superhighspeed_internetsays_time/c8nmh81
Time warner is lying through it's teeth, because it KNOWS we DO, but it doesn't want to provide it when it can make so much on it's customers now.
I think most of you can see the issue here. As I've already shown, 1Gbps is pretty much worthless right now. It's for bragging rights, not utility. But for some reason, redditors seem to think that it's essential.
Just for fun, let's look at ways that we could use 1Gbps with a 5-person family. Let's say Netflix suddenly starts offering 4k streams. Assuming they use the same compression that YouTube used to use before they pulled 4k support, that's a bitrate of 30Mbps per stream. Even with six streams running, that's only 180Mbps — you don't even need fiber for those speeds! DOCSIS 3.0 Cable systems can support up to 300Mbps with channel bonding, and DOCSIS 3.1 will support even higher. And again, we're looking at 4k — realistically, everyone would be streaming 1080p (roughly 7Mbps bitrate with Netflix's "SuperHD" option), so that's only 35Mbps.
And on a related note, h.265 will bring that number down to around 20Mbps per 4k stream. You'll be seeing mass adoption of h.265 within a few years.
You can argue all day about ways to saturate 1Gbps, but it's incredibly difficult to do. Torrents can saturate a nice chunk of it, but only if they're well seeded, and how much (LEGAL) torrent traffic does the average person use anyways? Most people are streaming and browsing the web, not downloading Linux ISOs, WoW, and the small amount of software with Torrent downloads as an option.
So really, the entire argument for 1Gbps boils down to "I want fast speeds, even though I can't use them for most of what I do online".
Of course, redditors are never happy with this quick of a conclusion, so they dredge out the "ram argument". See, someone may or may not have said something about 640k or 64k of RAM being all you'd ever need, way back at some point in the 90s. Nowadays, this (possibly completely made up) quote is used to justify gigabit fiber. But what these people don't seem to understand is that if this was true to the extent they're claiming it's true, you'd have never seen any innovation in technology. Nada. Zilch. If you actually had to have widespread adoption for a use, nothing would ever be invented. Let's look at electricity. It was useful far before widespread adoption. What about internet? That didn't require widespread adoption to come up with uses for it. And cars? Those were developed when roads were usually gravel paths or dirt, maybe cobblestone if you were lucky. So like all the other "justifications", it doesn't really justify anything.
…on the other hand, even this isn't enough to convince everyone.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/19h044/time_warner_cables_arrogance_perfectly/c8nykef
I think the fact that people in Kansas City can rent out their houses just on the fact that they have google fiber shows that many people don't just want it, but are willing to go out of their way to get it.
Ah yes, I remember reading about that. Except as usual, the facts are exaggerated beyond belief.
http://www.wired.com/wiredenterprise/2012/12/google-hacker-house/
So one room being rented out suddenly equals "people in Kansas City can rent out their homes"? Hah.

The shady side of Google's deal

Something a lot of people don't realize about Google Fiber is that their deal with Kansas City is shady in many ways. Here's a few quotes from the Google-KCMO agreement.
In consultation with City, Google will decide where to build the initial locations of the Project
Oh boy. Now this is a big one. Did you catch that?
Google will decide where to build
Yeah. They get to choose where to build out the fiber. Now I don't have the Kansas City cable franchise agreement, and can't find it anywhere online, so let's use my city's franchise agreement as an example, as this type of agreement is pretty generic.
http://www.ci.carbondale.il.us/sites/default/files/pdf/FranchiseAgreementRevision22006.pdf
5.3 Operator shall extend service to all residences within an annexed area adjacent to any portion of the City then currently served by Operator in which the density of homes is at least six (6) residences per 1320 cable-bearing feet (one-quarter cable mile) measured from Operator’s existing distribution system (excluding homes subscribing to direct satellite) within twelve (12) months of a request by residents of such area for service. In the event that such annexed area is served by another cable operator or its technically or financially infeasible at the time of such request, Operator will have the option but not the obligation to provide service.
Now one city is obviously not proof of anything, so here's New York's cable franchise agreement.
http://www.nyc.gov/html/doitt/downloads/pdf/time_warner_cable_franchise_agreement_brooklyn.pdf
5.3 Provision of Service: Subject to the exceptions set forth in Subsection 5.4 hereof, Franchisee shall make Cable Service available to all households in the Initial Service Area. Franchisee agrees that it shall not discriminate between or among any individuals in the availability of Cable Service or based upon the income of residents in a local area.
Damn! That's a hell of a lot different from Google's agreement! So there you have it — Google gets to deploy wherever they want, while, if the KCKS/KCMO Franchise Agreements are the same as the examples here, TWC is forced into covering the entire city. How again is TWC being "beaten" by Google when Google isn't even following the same rules?
But wait! There's more!
City will make space available to Google in City facilities for the installation of Google’s Central Office (“CO”) equipment and for additional network facilities, in locations to be determined as part of the design. In addition, City will provide power necessary for Google’s equipment at City locations. Google will install all equipment necessary for operation of its facilities. City will cooperate with Google in connection with all equipment matters under this Agreement, and will not charge Google for such space, power or related services.
Subject to City’s reasonable security measures and escort procedures, City will provide to Google and its contractors 24 x 7 access to Google’s network in City facilities so that Google may perform installation, operation, maintenance, replacement and repair functions. City will secure City locations via locked doors that trigger alarms in the event of unauthorized entry.
The parties will determine the timing for delivery of the necessary space for the Google equipment cooperatively as part of the Project planning. Location may be changed at the discretion of City to locations at least as suitable. In the event of such a change, City will cooperate with Google to allow for any necessary reconfiguration of Google’s network and the necessary move of any Google equipment. Any such change will be undertaken in a manner that is as least disruptive to Google’s operations as possible. The parties will negotiate in good faith to determine the appropriate cost responsibility.
City will not charge Google for access to City’s assets and infrastructure.
City will provide Google with access to assets and infrastructure of City, to the extent such assets or infrastructure are available and are needed for Google’s deployment of the fiber network. City will use its best efforts to make such assets available to Google upon request, on commercially reasonable terms. Such infrastructure may include, but will not be limited to, conduit, fiber, poles, rack space, nodes, buildings, facilities, CO locations, available land, and others (TBD).
City will not impose any charges for access to or use of any City facilities provided under this Agreement, nor will it impose any permit and inspection fees.
City will cooperate with Google in efforts to allow Google to gain access to poles and rights-of-way owned or controlled by third parties.
Additional notable obligations under the contract:
(c) Create a City team dedicated to the Project and allow Google to place Project employees in City office locations, working side-by-side with the dedicated City team.
(e) Provide access to assets and infrastructure, with no charges for such access.
(h) Use the dedicated City Project team to provide on-the-spot exception management where necessary to avoid delays in the Project.
(i) Provide a dedicated inspection team as part of the City Project team for inspection of all work performed on the Project. As part of this process, City will permit Google to use an approved third-party inspection firm to assist the City in completing necessary inspections in a rapid, timely manner.
(j) Allow Google to attach fiber on City poles, to the extent such poles are technically suitable and mutually agreeable for attaching a fiber optic cable.
(k) Provide Google with access to detailed GIS data and computer tools, including location information on all facilities owned by City and, to the extent available, those of third parties, with no charges for such access.
(l) Provide consulting assistance to Google on planning and build of the Project, as requested by Google. Such requests will be responded to in a timely manner sufficient to meet Google’s design and build requirements.
(o) Cooperate with Google on all publicity and public relations for the Project, including the obligation to obtain Google’s approval for all public statements or announcements related to the Project.
Holy shit! I don't see those provisions in New York's or Carbondale's franchise agreements! Google gets free from the government? Google gets to censor the government's words?
What was that argument I keep on hearing?
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/19fo5k/you_dont_want_superhighspeed_internetsays_time/c8no7f2
Braindead corporate greed strikes again.
Let's get rid of these disgusting internet monopolies, then we would see real internet development.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/157lgs/i_guess_google_fiber_has_forced_time_warnec7k2ztp
I have no doubt in my mind that Google will become the majority provider if they continue expanding their service in the states. Other companies can't keep up.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/17pdvn/report_google_fiber_putting_pressure_on_time/c87yyhb
There's no demand for TWC to provide 1Gb because the price would be insane. Google is showing that yes, it is possible, and yes, it can be affordable.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/134vf0/google_fiber_starts_rolling_out_in_kansas/c711kg4
Free market at its finest. I hope Google destroys current ISPs.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/zvpab/how_google_fiber_is_trying_embarrass_the_cable/c689orj
[this one is extremely long, so here's a tiny snippet]
Google is giving me a hard on for capitalism.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/yoyej/googles_audacious_bet_on_fiber_and_why_it_could/c5xnjp9
You want competition? You want CAPITALISM? This is what we need. Someone willing to SPEND money to flip the fucking table over and laugh.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/14gbzk/time_warner_cable_demand_not_there_for_google/c7ct6r3
I demand they sell me 1Gbps for $70/month with no cap.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/14gbzk/time_warner_cable_demand_not_there_for_google/c7cv802
God I hate cable tv/internet companies. So they admit they can provide faster speeds but the "demand isn't there." NO, the demand is there, just not at ABSURD prices. They won't even tell you the real prices on their website they are so bad. I was paying $60 a month for 25 mb/s. That's $10 less than Google fiber which gives 1 gb/s and other perks. Just a complete joke.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/18b0wz/why_us_internet_access_is_slow_and_expensive_how/c8da1yc
Google Fiber is the monkey wrench in the system that proves that their prices and speeds aren't derived from real, vigorous competition. GF comes into the picture and suddenly they're offering higher speeds at lower prices in the same areas? Why didn't one of them do it earlier? Surely one of them wanted to compete with the other because free market. Surely they wouldn't have colluded and made at least a tacit agreement to only compete with each other at the low end of technically available service possibilities while squashing competition from the high end until someone came along with so much money and influence that it couldn't be stopped. No, that's crazy.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/18b0wz/why_us_internet_access_is_slow_and_expensive_how/c8dhs4x
Google Fiber is a beacon of hope in these shitty times.
Hmmm. This doesn't quite look like much of a free market success, and I'm not surprised that national ISPs with 8.7 million internet customers are reluctant to destroy their current infrastructure, build everything with fiber, and somehow get the obscene city benefits that Google got from Kansas City in all the cities these ISPs serve.
So, yet again, Google's little success story is nothing more than a misleading lie.
I could go into further detail on this, but there's lots to talk about!

The 97% myth

Anyone remember this article? It's been quoted over and over again. People are convinced that all the big cable companies are raking in the cash.
Now I'm pretty sure that everyone on this subreddit can already see some flaws, but there's a simple and very big one that should be noted — if margins were this high, everyone would own an ISP!
We might already know that it's bullshit, but gullible redditors latched onto it and started quoting it wherever they can.
Search for the phrase "cable distribution giants like Time Warner Cable and Comcast are already making a 97 percent margin on their ‘almost comically profitable’ Internet services" (with quotes) in Google and you'll see an impressive 1200 results. Quite high for a 27 day old article, and this is just direct quotes!
The source for all this bullshit is MIT's David Talbot. On February 4th he published an article entitled "When Will the Rest of Us Get Google Fiber?" link.
In parts of the country, slower-speed copper, fast-download cable, and a few fiber networks are already built out. The cable distribution giants like Time Warner Cable and Comcast are already making a 97 percent margin on their “almost comically profitable” Internet services, according to Craig Moffet, an analyst at the Wall Street firm Bernstein Research. As Levin points out, “If you are making that kind of margin, it’s hard to improve it.” And most Americans have no choice but to deal with their local cable company.
Full halt!
according to Craig Moffet, an analyst at the Wall Street firm Bernstein Research.
Hmmm. I wonder where I might find information on this report of his.
http://dailycaller.com/2013/02/15/does-cable-really-have-a-97-profit-margin/
Aha! Talbot is a lying sack of shit who misquoted Moffet so that Talbot's article is nice and controversial. Case closed, party's over.

The 140 billion dollar question

Another thing redditors like is the prospect of universal broadband. For some reason, they seem to think that everyone is entitled to 1Gbps broadband at $70/mo, so lots of people are suddenly in favor of a government-funded fiber rollout. As such, when an article claimed a nationwide rollout would cost $140 billion, redditors jumped on the bandwagon and started blindly citing the figure.
http://www.businessinsider.com/how-much-it-would-cost-google-to-build-a-cable-network-2012-12
Building out the infrastructure will be expensive. In his September 17 report Still Bullish on Cable, although not blind to the risks, Goldman Sachs Telco analyst Jason Armstrong noted that if Google devoted 25% of its $4.5bn annual capex to this project, it could equip 830K homes per year, or 0.7% of US households. As such, even a 50mn household build out, which would represent less than half of all US homes, could cost as much as $70bn. We note that Jason Armstrong estimates Verizon has spent roughly $15bn to date building out its FiOS fiber network covering an area of approximately 17mn homes. The cost of ongoing test cases like this and the potential for significant cap ex investments also likely contributed to the company’s recent decision to issue non-voting class C shares in an effective stock split, in our view. Moreover, in the same note, Jason Armstrong also pointed out that Google’s TV offering represents the fifth (or higher) competitor in an already competitive market. All that said, while this initiative is clearly still in very early days, going direct to consumers with internet connectivity and video distribution could give Google the potential to become the end users sole channel for media consumption.
I see no 140 billion figure there. What's more, Verizon's costs for deploying FiOS are around $23 billion [1][2][3][4][5], not 17 billion. 23000000000/17000000 = average of $1350 per home. 17000000000/17000000 = inaccurate average of $1000 per home.
Now we're looking at averages in Verizon's footprint here, not all over the country. Rural areas cost much more money than the cities and suburbs that FiOS tends to be deployed in. And, what's more, these per-home numbers are averages of Verizon's costs to pass 17m homes with only 5.4m hooked up internet customers. The much higher hookup rates for a national networks would drive costs up even further than $1350 per home.
Still, for the sake of debate, let's assume the economies of scale would make the average cost per home $1000. There are 115 million households in the United States. Roughly 20% are rural. 80% of 115000000 is 92000000. 92000000 * $1000 is 92 billion dollars. That's just to cover all non-rural households, using the lowest possible per-home cost figures. In reality, per-home costs for 80% of the United States with realistic uptake numbers would probably be at least $1500 per home, meaning that 80% would cost 138 billion dollars. And that other 20%? The average cost per home for rural areas could be anywhere from $3000 to $10000 (ignoring the extremely hard to reach areas since those could cost hundreds of thousands each and would skew the numbers too far up). Even if it's $5000, that's 115 billion dollars right there. These numbers don't scale linearly, you can't lump rural and residential together under the residential rate.
So basically, incompetent reporters have manufactured a story of the 140 billion dollar fiber upgrade, an upgrade that would never be anywhere near that cheap to cover 100% of the nation. And, as usual, without even bothering to fact-check, redditors seized the story and used it to promote their wishful dream of 1Gbps fiber for everybody.
(on a side note, I find it hilarious that redditors think that universal fiber is more important than America's power infrastructure, roads, bridges, education, college, debt, financial crisis, etc)

The international community

Ah yes, other countries. Here on /circlebroke there are many articles discussing the "sweden" jerk. On /technology, people like other countries for other reasons — they can compare them to the US and bash us for not being as fast on fiber uptake! Yay!
..and every single one of these people ignores the government-funded infrastructure projects that paid for the infrastructures used by those other countries, the censorship (china, korea), the terrible international speeds (effectively making many of these networks nothing more than a superfast country-wide LAN), the larger population density (gigabit may be $20/mo in Hong Kong, but a 40-square foot apartment is the hidden cost), the late adoption of the internet (it's easy to build out fiber when you don't have existing copper and coax), the smaller country size, and other inconvenient facts.

The Dark Fiber Myth

What's that? Fiber is expensive to build out? Then why do we have all this dark fiber? I saw a news article a while ago about Google buying it, I bet they're using it for Google Fiber!
Nope. Nope nope nope nope. First of all, the vast majority of the dark fiber they bought was backbone fiber. It's not very useful for deploying residential FTTH. The primary reason they bought so much of it was for datacenter-to-datacenter private transport and for Google's CDN / free peering. Google themselves have confirmed this.
Case closed.

Netflix's PR stunt

Way back in November 2012, Netflix published rankings on ISP speeds. As usual, they included all major US ISPs. But this time, they included… Wait for it… Google Fiber!
http://blog.netflix.com/2012/12/november-isp-rankings-for-usa.html
It's a blantant PR stunt. Google has very few customers, if they're ranking Google then they should rank muni networks like EPB as well as private companies like Paxio and Sonic.net, but instead they decided to only included Google. Of course, this thread took off a bit too fast on reddit, spawning a few highly amusing comments.
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/14o98f/netflix_ranks_google_fiber_as_the_most_constantly/c7exr5v
I hope they start rolling out Google Fiber in more cities soon. This has the potential to finally restore some genuine competition to the broadband market.
"I hope Porche gives me a free car soon. This has the potential to make luxury car prices lower. Oh and I'll also be paying more taxes. The IRS guy said something about a grant to Porche to bring cheap luxury cars to the American public, but that's unrelated to my car, right?"

Shills

"I disagree with you and have no way of matching your arguments, therefore you are a SHILL!"
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/173dxgoogle_fiber_not_a_hobby_could_expand_tech_giants/c81y71s
I would leave comcst in a ny minute.... those comments at the bottom of the article musta been shills for the cable companies
http://www.reddit.com/technology/comments/18b0wz/why_us_internet_access_is_slow_and_expensive_how/c8d91ea
Well, I submitted a short 5 star review.
^ They find some (possible) shills (who quite clearly read the book), get outraged at them (lol) and decide to do..exactly the same thing. Except without a well-written response, without reading the book, without even bothering to write a proper review. Good job?
I also just got called a shill in /circlebroke :D
http://www.reddit.com/circlebroke/comments/19dnpb/entitlement_rtechnology_and_the_gigabit_internet/c8ob60v
You're clearly insane, or joking or lying or SHILLING.
(being the shill or contractor you clearly are)

But what happened to open access?

http://googleblog.blogspot.com/2010/02/think-big-with-gig-our-experimental.html
Openness and choice: We'll operate an "open access" network, giving users the choice of multiple service providers. And consistent with our past advocacy, we'll manage our network in an open, non-discriminatory and transparent way.
Funny how they conveniently forgot about that when it came to actually rolling out their service.
submitted by firemylasers to circlebroke [link] [comments]


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