Three New Terrifying True Scary Tales

Number One: The Pool

Now, this happened a very long time ago. I am not going to mention when or where though and I am submitting it anonymously. I don’t want people going back and finding out more about it and then lashing out of me.

I was 13 years old and my brother was 11. As I mentioned, this happened a long time ago and I think today, not a lot of parents would put a 13 year old in charge of an 11 year old. But this was not unusual at all back then. In fact, I was looking after my little brother all the time before either of us even hit 10 years old.

After a while, of course, always keeping my eye on him began to get very annoying. It interfered with my hanging out with friends. It was quite a drag when I would try to talk to girls. It was just a pain in the ass, really.

Anyway, one day during a really hot summer, our parents decided to drop us both off at the local swimming pool for the day. My dad had to work and my mom had errands and stuff to run plus work do to do for the church. It was so hot and there was no way we could afford air conditioning. We had one old fan in the house and a sprinkler in the yard that we could go play in. But the swimming pool was the much better option.

Of course the pool was very crowded. Lots of families would drop their kids off there during the summertime. And of course, even though I knew it already, my mom stressed to me, “Keep an eye on your little brother at all times.”

Some of my friends were at the pool too. I got to talking to them and they told me about this new girl who moved into town. She would be starting school that fall and supposedly she was really hot. So of course, I wanted to check her out. I knew the lifeguards would be watching my brother in the water, so he would be fine.

I went with the guys and the girl was really cute. My buddies all dared me to approach her, which was admittedly a brave thing for a 13 year old boy to do. Of course, I couldn’t chicken out in front of them, so I did just that.

She was a very sweet girl. We actually ended up talking for a little while. Her parents were at the pool though, and they called her back after too long. So I went back to the water to see how my little brother was doing.

The only problem was that I couldn’t see him anywhere in the water. This was a small town in a rural area, so although I said the pool was crowded, it wasn’t like a water park is crowded though. I should have easily been able to pick him out of the water. He just wasn’t there.

I went and searched around the area surrounding the pool and didn’t see him there either. My heart started beating faster and I began panicking. I went to the building where the showers and concession stand were. He wasn’t there either. You couldn’t leave that pool without going through that building, though. I asked the attendant if a 11 year old boy had left the pool on his own in the previous hour and he told me no.

I then went to the lifeguards and my buddies. I thought maybe there was a chance that I had missed him. It’s easy to occasionally miss someone in a crowd. The lifeguards ordered everyone out of the pool. Fortunately, there were no drowned children in the pool. Unfortunately, my brother was nowhere to be found outside of the pool.

The lifeguards had to call my mother at the church. I had never before lost track of my little brother like this before. I had no idea what to expect when she showed up. I was only thankful that the police were already at the pool or she probably would have whipped my ass right there in front of the entire pool.

The trouble I got into at home isn’t something that I want to go into very much. My butt very much has PTSD from the experience. But that was minor compared to the fear I felt for my little brother. Hell, I didn’t even have time to feel guilty although that I knew that I was. I was only concerned for him and wondered what would happen.

All day and night, I expected the police to bring him home. But that didn’t happen. I expected it the next day too. But it didn’t happen.

The town organized a search to look for him. I kept expecting to hear from them that they had found him. But that didn’t happen either.

After about a week of my brother not being found, I began fearing for the worst. I began thinking that he was dead. And I was terrified every waking moment of my life, expecting to absolutely hear the news that his dead body was found.

Nearly two weeks after the disappearance, we got a phone call from the police. They had found my brother and thankfully, he was alive. But unfortunately, that’s not the whole story.

Remember the attendant telling me that no boy had left on his own? Well that’s because the boy left with one of the lifeguards who was getting off duty. He had lured my brother out of the pool and into his car with promises of ice cream, something he and I rarely ever got. And my brother went to his house with him.

For all of that time, he kept my little brother locked up in his basement. He didn’t do anything sexually to him, thank God. But there was a lot of mental and some physical torment when my brother wouldn’t do what he was told to you. But the scariest part for him was thinking he would never get out and be with his family again.

Here is another weird part. The lifeguard wasn’t an adult. He did this while his parents were out of town for a few weeks. They came back early and caught him. And if you think I felt bad for my parents’ punishing me, what they did to him had to be legendary. The police thought he was either planning on killing or releasing my brother before his parents got home. But no one ever knew for sure.

He had to live with it without much help for a long time. Mental health assistance had a very bad stigma back then. But we’re both still alive today and he forgave me a long time ago.

Number Two: Taking the Garbage Out

A few weeks ago I went outside at around 3am to move the garbage to the curb since pickup would be in the morning. I often do this in the middle of the night. I just tend to keep weird hours and as the weather warms up for the summer I find the warm nights preferable to the sweltering days.

I’m not worried about bothering my neighbors since I don’t use noisy bins and all of the houses right next to me are currently empty. I actually find the quiet of the neighborhood at night quite relaxing.

Unfortunately since I don’t use bins animals are able to get into the bags a bit easier and while this doesn’t happen often it had happened on this night. So I was outside picking up the strewn around garbage and putting it into another bag when the silence of the night was suddenly broken by multiple police sirens.

At first they seemed distant and while they startled me it was not at all unheard of to hear sirens at night here. But usually it would be one in the distance. As I listened, still bagging the garbage, I could tell it was multiple sirens and they were getting closer. Then just as suddenly as it started it stopped again. There was just silence. By the time they stopped they sounded maybe four blocks away.

For a moment the night was silent again and I began hauling the bags to the curb when the neighborhood dogs began barking all at once. It was like every dog in the neighborhood had gotten the cue to start barking. Many were even howling. It continued for maybe a minute and once again it just stopped as suddenly as it had started.

I realized I hadn’t heard any barking or howling while the sirens were going and that’s normally how it would work. These dogs had started up separately from the sirens and just stopped all at once. It just wasn’t normal. I went back to the side of the house to grab more bags when the silence was broken a third time.

Just a single chime in the night. Like someone getting a phone notification. This sound wasn’t blocks away. This sound was here. RIGHT HERE. No more than feet away. As I said, the houses around me are empty.

I was done. The rest of the garbage would wait until morning. I didn’t see anyone close by but that just made it worse. There was someone close by that I couldn’t see. I immediately went into the house to leave the garbage for the morning.

I don’t know if these things were related. If the cops had been chasing someone who’s fleeing had caused the dogs to bark. Someone who received a message on their phone as they approached my house. Or if it was all just a coincidence. But I won’t be taking the garbage out at 3am anymore.

A Commuter’s Nightmare
William M.
06/30/2021

Back in the 80s, I worked at the Irwin Memorial Blood Bank in San Francisco while living and commuting from Oakland, CA

My job as Registrar, took me all over Northern California, during Blood Drives at hospitals, clinics, major corporations, etc., where we would sometimes witness firsthand, the dead, being placed on gurneys, running out of the Coroner's or Medical Examiner’s rear doors, and down the sidewalks, because they simply didn’t have enough room or staff inside the morgues to process them. Mortuaries were having problems too due to the massive overload where deceased loved ones were admitted but not processed or interred for months or even years at a time.

I remember watching the News and reading newspaper accounts of E.R.s in hospitals, clinics, etc. so clogged with patients, that 1 in 10 would die waiting to just get in to see a Dr. It was a Public Health and Safety nightmare. It was a National disgrace. It was politically orchestrated mass murder. It was the B purge of the ‘80s and ‘90s.

I remember, starting work early on one of many Blood Drives (the A.I.D.S. epidemic was just getting started) and having to catch the first B.A.R.T. (Bay Area Rapid Transit) train out of the station at about 4:00 am, where morning after morning I would witness hundreds of people sleeping on the benches, or the sidewalks, or on the streets outside, waiting for it to open.

Hundreds of others would be seen walking around like zombies in the early morning freeze amid the concomitant yelling, screaming, moaning, begging, and pleading, all of it looking like a newsreel of the death camps at Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Many times, I was woken at home in the middle of the night, to the sounds of people howling and cursing outside my window at some real or imagined threat, until either the police came, which usually took hours because they were spread so thin, or some tenant, or other, ran them off.

I remember the time I woke up to the sound of a woman’s voice begging in the early morning cold for someone to help her. She kept repeating it over and over growing weaker and weaker until it was little more than a whisper.
By the time I’d gotten up, armed myself with the steel-reinforced baton I’d purchased at a Police Supply store, and ran the 5 floors down to the ground floor, I found her sitting in a taxi shivering from the 42-degree drizzle coming in off the Pacific. The cabbie told me it was alright; she was just cold and needed someplace to rest and warm up; He’d drop her off at one of the nearby shelters.

At the time, I was living in a local Residence Hall on Lake Merrit in Oakland, California which was little more than a converted Hotel from the San Francisco/Oakland Gilded Age of the late 1920s. It had 5 floors and a penthouse with a capacity of about 200. I never saw it get much beyond about 30 residents. It sported a full kitchen, dining area, big screen tv viewing room, swimming pool, and a recreation room with pool, foosball, and darts.

I lived with a friend, at the time, on the 5th floor just under the penthouse. There was an elevator, but like most refurbs, it didn’t work. That meant we'd have to climb 10 flights of stairs every day to reach our room. The best part was that we had the entire floor to ourselves. I guess nobody wanted to climb that many stairs. Because we were both runners, it was a little like running the 900 feet to the top of Angel Island, running across The Golden Gate Bridge and back, or running the 3.4 miles around Lake Merrit twice a day.

Because there was no air-conditioning, all the windows were left open during the summer months, but along with whatever cool air the San Francisco/Oakland Bay would bring through the gaping nearly wall-length vault ceilinged windows, it was always accompanied by the teeming, screaming City of Oakland street din: cabbies, buses, cars, trucks, vans, motorcycles, scooters, police sirens, ambulance, fire department, pedestrians, hustlers, druggies, break-dancers, prostitutes the homeless, et al. Day or night, winter or summer, it was like living in a jet engine test lab, somewhere on the 9th level of hell.

Of course, we could always close the windows against the noise 5 stories below. But if it was summer, with all the humidity coming off the bay, we’d roast like 2 suckling pigs in our own sweat even if we used a fan.

One night after a particularly grueling day at work, I came home, climbed Mount Everest (or at least K-2) to my steaming little abattoir, tore off my sports jacket, shirt, and tie, and fell into a coma-like sleep only to awake some 4 hours later to the sound of someone slamming a door, over and over, seemingly as hard as they could. It was about 2:00 am and raining so hard the water was pouring through the open window and flooding the floor and carpet. The sound was coming somewhere down the hall from one of the other units.

After about the 15th or 16th slam to my inner ear, I was up, as in a trance, running like a lunatic from unit to unit and window to window, covering the entire southside of the 5th floor; battening down the hatches, and getting drenched in the process. It was, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating. I was supposed to get up in 2 hours and commute to work in the upper peninsula.
Having unconsciously completed this Sisyphean task and realizing that there was zero chance of getting any sleep, I donned my foul weather gear, equipped my trusty baton (I used to tuck its 2 ½-foot length up my sleeve when running), and headed out the front door to Lake Merrit which was just outside the main entrance. From there, I trotted to the sidewalk circling the lake, and began to run.

As I ran counterclockwise against a torrential rain with a gale-force wind broken only by the occasional intermittent rainbow-hued lightning flashes which blinded me to almost everything around me, I almost ran into someone up ahead who was walking in the same direction.

He was hunched over against the wind and rain and wearing a long heavy winter coat. Unusual for that time of year, I thought. Whenever I would run in public, I always made it a courtesy to let people know when I was approaching especially from behind. I’d blurt out a perfunctory:

“Excuse me.” Followed by a conciliatory:

“Sorry.”

But apparently, the person ahead either didn’t hear me or didn’t care because, when I was about 6 feet from him, he suddenly turned around, exposing a darkened contorted face, jagged teeth, and a guttural growl that would have stopped a charging 600-pound Grizzly.

The sheer force of the malevolence emitted from this inhuman thing almost made me stop, but because I was moving so fast, the inertia along with the gale force wind and lightning strikes propelled me past him (or it), and fingering my steel-reinforced baton, I, in turn, steeled my nerve and kept running. I looked back only once to reassure myself that he (or it) wasn’t following.

Running on the leeward side now, with the rain at my back, I ran past a group of men in a circle smoking or drinking or doing whatever noxious or illicit thing I imagined, when, feeling charged with my own adrenalin, or the anger and resentment at that woman’s searing pleas for help, or the spook I’d almost run into, or just the gross injustices thrust upon the world in that dank, dark and dangerous time, I almost stopped, baton in hand, intending to take on the whole group: I may go down, I told myself, but at least I would take one or two with me.

Just then, the lightning struck particularly close to where I and they stood and the sheer blinding flash and concussive boom shook all of us enough to break up their conspiratorial collaboration and my righteous crusade; just enough, that is, to shove me headlong around the next bend, to the long straight full out dash to the front doors, the 5 floors, 10 landings, and 50 risers to rain-sodden home.

To get to work every day, I'd have to commute to the upper peninsula by using 3 buses, 1 train, and 1 cab and after a 10 or 12 or sometimes 14-hour day, I would have to take the same to get back. This meant that if I didn’t go out, make dinner, eat, or watch tv, I just might get about 4 hours sleep. Commuting took between 2 to 3 hours, one way.

Once on the way home, almost every stop was crowded with commuters. I was told that it was because there were so many buses down for repair. The ones still running were so filled beyond capacity, that the shocks and springs were sitting on the chassis, and stop after stop proved nearly impossible to take on any more passengers. Still, and despite the few getting out at every stop, the driver would take on even more and just pack them in.

I remember him yelling for people to get back behind the yellow line over and over. By then, he was long past any semblance of reason; his patience frayed to a single maniacal thought, his voice raspier and raspier, his manner, more and more brusk.

I can still see when he finally lost it; jumping up, out of his seat, with a nickel-plated 38 Caliber Revolver pointing at one of the passengers; an elderly woman, screaming from the top of his lungs:

“Get back behind the yellow line!”

I can still hear the woman begging the driver:

“Please...” while the passengers behind were practically trampling each other to get out of the line of fire.
I remember the sad, exhausted urgency in her voice; she really was trying to move back, but how could she, an old woman, do that with all those people blocking her way? Everyone knew this was an impossible task; everyone except the maddened driver. He just kept glaring, and bellowing with his gun out pointed right at her and the other passengers.

"Back up and make room" he yelled.

‘Or else what?’ I thought. ‘You're gonna kill an old woman?'

Getting up out of my seat, pushing my way through the throng who were pushing against me to get away, I managed to get within about 6 feet from the front when, roaring through the din and my fear and anger, I ordered the bus driver to:

“Put the gun down!” And again, with even more rage and authority:
“Put the gun down, now!”

The bus driver shocked that it might be a cop, or worse, shakily, put his gun back in his concealed carry holster and hypnotically sat back down. He resumed driving without saying another word. I got out at the next stop, along with the elderly woman. She was so shaken, that she busted out crying. I held her still fuming despite the close call because I would now have to wait for another bus and after that, 2 more; the train and a cab to get home. I wasn’t going to make it until well after 8:00 pm. As soon as I got home, I reported the bus number and the driver to Muni.

Many of the commuters I'd see day to day, or share a seat with were victims of the purge just trying to get out of the rain or the cold, or the wind, or the sun, even for just a little while. For them, it was easing the agony of living on the street, even just a little. For many of us regular commuters, during those dark times, it proved to be the same.

On one of the final buses that would take me to the train and across the bay, I remember standing, with about 50 others, on Market Street waiting. Like ours, stop after stop was so packed with people, some were standing in the street because there was simply not enough room on the sidewalk. The ones in the street would stay where they were for fear of losing their place and missing their connection and having to wait another hour, or more, to catch another.

Because the rapidly descending elevation of the southbound streets ending at Market Street from the upper peninsula were so steep and the transverse angle of the turn so sharp, some of the buses would skirt the edge of the curb, sometimes rolling up over it onto the sidewalk putting them dangerously close to the commuters waiting on the other side.

If there were any people in the street, especially the old or the infirm, they would either have to get out of the way and lose their place in line or hope the bus driver stopped before completing the turn. Most of the drivers would. Once there was one who didn’t.

I remember the television and newspaper account about an elderly woman waiting at one of the stops during the pm rush hour. When the bus made the oblique turn way too fast at 25 miles per hour she was either too close to the edge or standing in the street when she was hit by the side view mirror across the face and the left side of her head.

She went down under the wheels and her body got hung up under the chassis. The bus driver too full of passengers to stop, or late for his break, or just too coked up to notice, kept on heading for the Embarcadero before he realized something was wrong. By then, the woman had been dragged over a quarter of a mile. No one knew for sure whether the concussion from the mirror or the relentless dragging was the cause of death. I guess it didn’t matter to her anymore, one way or the other. It mattered to a lot of those who witnessed the whole thing though; screaming and yelling, block after block, trying to get the bus driver to stop.

To get across the Bay to San Francisco from Oakland or back, one alternative to the nightmare bus commute was the B.A.R.T (Bay Area Rapid Transit). It was quiet, clean, air-conditioned, and fast. Traveling under the Bay, it could span the 13 miles in minutes. Once I’d reach the train station, by bus, from the Oakland side, I’d descend one of the many street-level entries to the below-ground turnstiles which led to the train platform. Of course, there were always hundreds of derelicts, homeless, hustlers, etc., hanging out by the turnstiles waiting for their chance to slip through and get on any one of the many trains that serviced the Bay Area, but sometimes, especially after a scuffle with B.A.R.T. Security or the San Francisco/Oakland Police, they’d scatter to the winds (or the shadows as it were) until everything calmed down and then they'd be back at it again, day and night.

Almost every week I'd hear about someone falling, or being pushed, or jumping down onto the third rail, which would either short-circuit the line and knock out the power or if it was particularly grisly, halt service entirely. Because service resumption could take hours, waiting passengers would have to go back up and out onto the street and catch another train, take a cab or a bus or just walk or, as was often the case for me, run.

Once, I remember running to the next stop when I was ascending to the upper peninsula because the previous connection didn’t show up which meant it would have added another 45 minutes to my commute. The choice was obvious and inevitable: I could either
“wait to be late” or go for it. I chose the latter.

You just can't imagine what it’s like to run at a 20-degree angle uphill for about 2 miles while wearing dress slacks, dress shoes, a white shirt and tie, and a sports jacket, in San Francisco, during the summer, with the humidity until you’ve tried it. It’s, how should I say: exhilaratingly infuriating.

Running, I came upon a stand-alone, transmission shop, right in the middle of a residential area. The owners must have paid a pretty penny to get away with that one. There were police cars, the fire department, a metro ambulance, the San Francisco Chronicle, and a marked County Coroner’s Office vehicle scattered around the shop.
Some people along with some of the employees: their first names embroidered on their shirts, were standing on the sidewalk just outside the property watching. They’d been there for about an hour when I stopped to ask one of them (Bob) what happened.

Wearily he said:

“The girl who worked in the office answering the phone and typing up orders was shot to death by her boyfriend. The boyfriend got away but she was still down there being processed. God, she was only 24 years old. They’ll catch him, though. He hasn’t got a chance.”

'Nope,' I thought.
'In this town, I don’t expect he would.'

I was late again when I got home. Vaulting the 5 floors to reach our loft, I held my friend close, the entire night. She was ok with that. So was I.=

This is Part 2 of this write-up. Please read part 1 first. This is the link:
https://www.reddit.com/UnresolvedMysteries/comments/143r7l9/felix_vail_the_pedophile_serial_killer_caught/

PART 2:

ANNETTE CRAVER:

Born on the 7th of December 1965, Annette Craver was intelligent and creative. At 15 she was a singer-songwriter and in her senior year at a private school that specialized in medicine. Her dream was to become a midwife.
http://charleyproject.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/10/vail_annette6.jpg(A photo of Annette Craver.)
In the summer of 1981, she and her mother, Mary Rose greeted people at a friend’s yard sale in the Montrose neighborhood in Houston, Texas. They had just returned from a vacation in Mexico, and Annette felt heartsick, still infatuated with a boy named Adolfo, who was unable to join her in America.
VAIL MEETS ANNETTE
While people browsed the sale, Vail pulled up on a motorcycle and spoke with Annette. He was 41 and had done some carpentry work in the area. “When I saw her, I thought, ‘That’s going to be my new girlfriend,’” he said about the 15-year-old.
In April 1982, Rose and her daughter invested in a Tulsa home that had a rental cottage behind it. Rose began renovating both. After graduating from high school, Annette joined her mother in Tulsa. Vail appeared a few days later, and convinced Annette to leave with him on his motorcycle. They lived off the $500-a-month Social Security check that she received from her father’s death 3 years prior. It would be over a year before Mary Rose would see her daughter again.
That fall, Annette (who was still 15) would fall pregnant, and Vail would force her to have a painful abortion.
Jerry Woodall, reportedly friends with Vail later recalled an embarrassing scene, where the 42-year-old Vail was in a sleeping bag, having public sex with a 16-year-old Annette, only 20 feet away from him and his then-wife Meredith McMackin. Annette grinned and waved at them. Woodall and McMackin did their best to ignore them.
McMackin would later say that Vail had “this coldness and controlling aspect to his personality. Annette was so open and alive, but I think he just totally dominated her. He would try to convey that he was this higher form of being. At first, I thought maybe he was evolved, but then I realized it was this arrogant act.”
Later that summer, police in California would arrest Vail for violating probation a dozen years earlier. Annette telephoned Woodall, who gave her $200. After Vail walked free from prison, he and Annette decided to get married. However, as a 17-year-old she needed permission.
Annette told her mother that she loved Vail, that they were already “spiritually married” and that they would travel to Mexico and get married there if she refused. Not wanting to lose her daughter completely, Rose said OK.
On August 15th, 1983, in Bakersfield, California, the couple were wed.
AFTER THE MARRIAGE
Four months after the marriage, Annette turned 18, allowing her to collect more than $98,000 ($293,500 today) from life insurance policies on her late father. Accompanied by Vail, she withdrew all the money in cash from a San Antonio bank. She bought a Fiat convertible that Vail liked and paid for his dental work.
In April 1984, Rose returned home to find Annette waiting at her door. She told her she wanted to divorce Vail, and enroll in college. She talked about Vail’s temper, including an incident where he had broken his hand trying to punch his wife. He missed and hit a wall.
A few weeks later, Vail showed up. The couple fought constantly, and Vail left after a few days. Mary Rose said that Vail was “insanely jealous” and would become furious when Annette spoke of her desire to go out with younger men.
She and Annette worked on renovating the two homes after Vail left, enjoying their time together. The 2 even started a garden together.
Annette received a letter from Vail, who vowed their time apart would fuel their love. He wrote to her: “After we hung up, I went out to a park and ran and hung and talked with God and smoked some and shot some pool and rode with the top down out through the marsh playing ‘Iron Butterfly’ [“In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida”] and bathing every inch of your body-spirit being with love.”
He referred to being away from Annette as “deprivation jail” and to her ego as “his jailor.”
“The idea of her cutting away ego’s “feeder roots and creating roots between your spirit and the cosmic ground of loving makes me hot for you. My mind is kissing you everywhere.”
After that, Vail would return to Annette’s life. Rose said, “Annette told me, ‘Felix is the wisest person in the world, and I can’t make decisions without him.’” His influence on Annette had only grown stronger. According to Rose, she even compared Vail to God, a comparison Vail agreed with.
After this, the couple angrily insisted that Rose move out and deed the house to Annette. Accompanied by suicidal thoughts brought on by Vail’s continued control over her daughter, Rose left for California to stay with family and friends, deeding the house to Annette for $7000 ($21,000 today) before she did.
Annette would add Vail to the deed, and a month later had deeded him both homes, leaving him as the sole owner.
ANNETTE’S DISAPPEARANCE
Mere weeks after deeding the houses to Vail, the couple told neighbors they were leaving on vacation. When Vail returned in October, he was alone.
Vail told a neighbor that Annette had a lot of money wither her when he’d left her, and that she was likely visiting friends in Denver.
Upon learning that Annette hadn’t come back with Vail, Mary Rose called him. “He told me that while they were camping, Annette had a sexual dream about being with other men in Mexico, and she wanted to go there,” she recalled to an investigative reporter years later. “He claimed that the dream made them both realize that she should have her freedom.” The next day, Vail told her he had put Annette on a bus with $50,000 ($150,000 today) but didn't elaborate.
On Oct 22, 1984, Rose filed a missing person’s report. She told the Tulsa Police Department that each person who spoke with Vail “gets a different story about the amount of money that Annette took with her and where she might be. We all believe that he knows where she is or has done something with her.”
On January 22, 1985, Detective Dennis Davis and another officer questioned Vail at his home (This is obscenely late to start questioning him). By this point, Vail had filed for divorce, citing an inability to find her after a “diligent search.” Davis said her mother, Mary Rose, mentioned her daughter had received more than $90,000 from her father’s estate. Vail confirmed this was true, saying the couple had spent much of that money traveling in foreign countries. He said they kept their money in cash because they didn’t trust banks and that he had found about $10,000 in cash when he returned home.
The next day, Vail called a lawyer, who promised to talk with the officers and tell them to “leave me alone,” as he wrote in his journal.
When Davis returned five days later, Vail had a detailed alibi: The couple left Tulsa between noon and 3 p.m. on Sept. 13, 1984, and stayed the night in a hotel in Claremont, Oklahoma. After two nights of camping on the river, Annette woke up and told Vail she had decided to leave him. He took her to the Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis and left before she bought the ticket. (There is no Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis, and there has never been a Trailways Bus Station in St. Louis.)
He told the officers that she had told him she was headed for Denver, where she planned to get a fake ID card and leave for Mexico. When asked if he would take a lie detector test, Vail said no.
After Davis left, he wrote a letter to Rose. He blamed her for the “bad things” about Annette, told her that after the couple had returned from Costa Rica Annette had been “seeing friends and relatives --- completing her relationships with them for the purpose of getting ready to drop everybody and start over.” He wrote that Annette “disappeared herself from you” because Rose kept imposing her “value system” on her, and said Annette viewed her mother, grandmother, and herself as “zero self-image whores for approval.”
He explained the 2 had no plans to communicate, he did not know where she was, and that “I also assure you that even if I did know, I would not tell you.”
When Rose returned to Tulsa in April 1985, she entered the cottage Annette used to live in, only to find almost all the young woman’s belongings were gone, including her clothes and her diary.
Inside a Barbie suitcase, Rose found a photograph of her daughter and several of her identification cards. She also located things that Annette had written, including a Feb. 17, 1984, note that contradicted Vail’s claim that the couple had spent most of her inheritance on their travel to Mexico and Central American countries.
Instead, the note detailed how they used the money to buy the Fiat, pay off all of Vail’s loans, and deposit $36,000 into Louisiana Savings. It said that as of that day, they had $41,600 ($125,000 today) in cash.
Rose shared the information with the police. Detective Davis showed up again, and Vail told Davis the couple divided the money into smaller cashier’s checks, contradicting his earlier statement that they kept the money in cash.
After a while, Davis left, and despite the (seemingly obvious) suspicious behavior of Vail, closed the missing person’s case.
AFTER ANNETTE’S DISAPPEARANCE
Rose kept calling Vail after this and was finally able to reach him on September 14th 1985.
When asked about Annette’s whereabouts he refused to tell her.
When asked about Annette’s missing clothes he said he gave them to charity.
When asked about the insurance money, Vail told her ‘That’s all she really cared about.’ Rose hung up.
Two years later, fed up with the lack of progress in Annette’s case, Rose would return to Tulsa. She spent thousands of dollars on private investigators to locate Vail. When that failed, she simply went and found him herself.
Tipped off that he was staying at someone’s house, she went there with a friend and found him sitting outside. When asked where Annette went, he replied “Mexico.” When asked where in Mexico, he said the 2 had made a pact to contact each other every 5 years, contradicting his statement that the 2 didn’t have plans to communicate. Rose didn’t believe a word of it.
The whole time Vail never looked up, never stood up and never looked her in the eye.
BETH FIELD
Some time after this, Vail began dating Beth Field. Soon the couple had began arguing, and Vail would call her a “whore.” During a December 1987 argument, he would strike her so hard he ruptured her ear drum. She told Vail there was no justification for violence, to which he responded, “If you quit behaving like a whore, I’ll quit hitting you.”
In August 1988 Beth received a call from Rose, sharing details about the disappearance of her daughter, Annette. From that point forward, Field said she began to examine Vail’s words more closely, realizing that he had likely murdered her.
Four months after the call, he entered her home unannounced. Already drunk, he accused her of “imagined promiscuity,” according to a court order. He slapped her, struck her, and threw her across the bedroom. She asked if Vail was going to kill her, to which Vail replied, “It depends on what you tell me.”
A judge gave her a protective order, requiring Vail to keep his distance. Two weeks later, the sheriff reported that Vail was nowhere to be found.
While Field was visiting a meditation center in Texas in 1990, Vail arrived. After composing herself, she told him “There is a part of you that goes off, and it’s sick and it’s dangerous.”
He looked at her and asked, “Really?” She said “yes, really.” This time, the message seemed to go through. Vail left the next day, and with a single exception about five years later, she never saw him again.
MARY ROSE LEARNS ABOUT THE OTHER 2 CASES
In the summer of 1991 (6 years after Annette's disappearance), Rose drove over 2000 miles to Canyon Lake, Texas to speak to Sue Jordan, Felix Vail’s sister. Jordan said that Vail had told her that Annette wanted to leave, that he took her to a bus station and that she left with some Mexican men, heading for Mexico. Jordan also mentioned that Vail’s first wife had drowned, which was news to Rose.
Before she left, Jordan also told her, “Oh, you know, there was another woman that disappeared. I remember her mother calling my mother for years, checking to see if they’d heard from her. I think her name was Sharon.”
After the conversation, Rose sat down at a typewriter, writing every word she could remember. She also called the public library in Lake Charles.
The librarian remembered the 1962 drowning of Vail’s first wife, Mary Horton. She told Rose that he had taken out life insurance policies on his wife prior to her drowning and that the insurance companies were suspicious and didn’t pay the full value. The librarian made copies of newspaper articles and mailed them to her.
After reading them, Rose reached out to Mary’s family in Louisiana, speaking to Will Horton. He shared her suspicions about Vail and a copy of the 1971 National Enquirer article made after Vail's son Bill reported him to the police. When she read it, she learned that Sharon’s last name was Hensley.
In 1994, she read in the newspaper about Dolores Strehlow’s disappearance from Medford, Oregon, seven years earlier. Police had just arrested her husband, thanks to the work of Detective Terry Newell. She contacted Newell, who helped her find the family of Sharon Hensley. When Rose dialed the Hensley family, Sharon’s mother, Peggy, answered. Rose asked if Peggy knew a Felix Vail. Peggy replied with "you bet I do"
THE INVESTIGATION HEATS UP… AND COOLS DOWN
The detective who helped Rose before, Terry Newell, contacted Jim Bell, a national expert in serial killings working for the FBI. When Rose talked with Bell, she felt like she'd finally gotten somewhere. He was interested in working on the Vail case if he could swing the time. He still remained busy with active serial killer cases, helping train task forces across the U.S. Vail’s son, Bill, told Rose that he was willing to testify, as long as authorities provided protection to his family. Both the Tulsa police and the district attorney’s office in Lake Charles revived their investigations into Vail, now considered a suspected serial killer.
Bell suggested the victims’ families gather with authorities at the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, to share information on Vail. He was unable to work on the case and left the FBI in 1995. The meeting in Quantico never materialized, and the cases involving Vail grew cold once again.
A QUICK RUN DOWN OF EVENTS
In the fall of 1997, family and friends held a mural for Annette.
Diagnosed with esophageal cancer, Vail’s son Bill heard from doctors that he didn’t have long to live. He’s quoted saying “now I’ll get to be with my mom.” Months before passing away in 2009, Bill talked about his father in a recorded interview with his pastor at Grace Church in Overland Park, Kansas.
On Jan. 3, 2009, Bill died, and Vail wrote in his journal, “I feel a large empty hole in my being where his life presence has been for 47 years,” before writing about getting a good haircut. He drove to Kansas but didn’t attend his own son’s funeral. If he had, he would have heard the recording, with his son detailing how he had overheard his father talk about murdering Bill's mother, Mary.
When Vail learned of the recording, he wrote to Pastor Tim Howey, asking for a copy. He blamed his son’s statements on “false memories,” saying, “I have not known about it until now and am stunned.”
In 2012, while attempting to confront Vail with reporter Jerry Mitchell whom she had contacted to write about Vial, Rose was stopped by Kaye Faulkner, Vial’s sister. She told Rose and Mitchell of the recording and urged Mitchell to get a copy of it. She also said that she believed Vial had murdered Mary Horton, Sharon Hensley, and Annette Craver.
She gave the reporter Vial’s number, as well as the numbers of her other brother, Ronnie, and her sister, Beth. Vial didn’t answer those calls, so Mitchell left a message. Ronnie promised to speak to his brother on his behalf.
MITCHELL INVESTIGATES
Mitchell arrived in Lake Charles and stopped by the Southwestern Louisiana Genealogical and Historical Library, which shared copies from old city directories. He began tracking down people who had lived in the Maree Apartments with Felix and Mary.
Many described Mary’s fair of drowning. A close friend of Vails, Judson McCann II described Vial as a ladies’ man, and insinuated he was a cheater. “Many nights, his car wouldn’t be home, and Mary would be there with the lights on. When Felix was gone, it wasn’t because he was trotline fishing.”
Another close friend, Bob Hodges described Vial’s story of Mary ‘falling’ in the river as “horse manure.”
A college roommate of Mary, Sandra Sudduth Pratt, said “Nobody believed it was an accident.”
Mitchell shared Mary’s autopsy report with pathologist Dr. Michael Baden of New York City, who concluded that foul play had taken place in her death.
The report showed large bruises with bleeding into tissues on the left side of the neck, which he said suggested she suffered forceful neck trauma before entering the water. There were hemorrhagic bruises to the right calf and left leg above the knee, which he said were consistent with a struggle before her submersion. But most convincingly of all was the scarf authorities found around her neck that extended 4 inches into her mouth, which suggested traumatic asphyxia before entering the water.
“Somebody had to push that scarf into her mouth. She had to have that scarf wedged in her mouth before she was put in the water.”
A cousin put Mary’s brother Will Horton in touch with former detective “Rabbit” Manuel, who had headed up the Calcasieu Parish Sheriff Office’s investigation back in 1962. He had never forgotten Mary’s death. “Felix’s story just didn’t add up. The fishing tackle was dry. The trotline was dry. The boat was dry. Even Felix’s cigarettes were dry, despite him telling the deputies he dove straight in the water to save Mary.”
He and Manuel met with “Lucky” DeLouche, who directed an elite task force unit that investigated homicides. Three young detectives took notes as they talked. Manuel shared details from the case, saying deputies (officers) wanted to prosecute, but the district attorney wouldn’t let them. Horton shared the autopsy report, Vail’s letters and his belief that Vail was a serial killer. Horton said DeLouche replied, “This absolutely fits the profile of a serial killer,” to which the other detectives agreed.
Shortly afterwards, DeLouche left the task force, and for seemingly the hundredth time, grew cold again.
After Mitchell posted a story about Vail titled “Gone” (It’s nearly 9,000 words long, and the precursor to the 35,500 word story I have drawn heavily from) a man named Wesley Turnage contacted him. He told him of a conversation he had had with Vail in 1963 during a car ride.
According to Turnage, Vail called Mary a bitch and said she thought another child would help solve their marriage problems. He quoted Vail as saying, “She wanted to have another kid. I didn’t want the one I got. I fixed that sorry bitch. She will never have another one.”
Mitchell would make another discovery. District Attorney Salter Jr. had ordered that the judge dismiss 882 criminal cases — more than three cases for each working day.
Will Horton told Mitchell the original detectives in the case told him that Salter wouldn’t allow them to present the evidence they had collected against Vail. That matched the stories Mitchell had heard from grand jurors’ families.
Horton then contacted District Attorney John DeRosier, who said he would be willing to reopen the case if there was enough evidence.
Then came an interesting wrinkle in the story. Finding Vail.
He’d disappeared, returning on Labor Day weekend 2012 to sell his property, before disappearing again. Luckily, another reader of "Gone" came to the rescue. He phoned Mitchell, telling him where Vial was. Canyon Lake, Texas.
Mitchell then contacted Enzo Yaksic, founder of the Serial Homicide Expertise and Information Sharing Collaborative. Yaksic then contacted Armin Showalter, acting chief for the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, which specialized in serial homicide investigations.
Yaksic shared a copy of GONE with Showalter, who in turn called Calcasieu Parish Deputy Randy Curtis, now taking on the Vail case. Curtis phoned Mitchell to find out where Vail was. A few days later, he called back to say the FBI had discovered Vail purchased property at 737 Shadyview Drive in Canyon Lake.
On Jan. 18, 2013, Curtis decided to confront Vail. He found him at that address, living in a storage shed. Curtis said he read Vail his rights before asking him about the death and disappearances of the women. Vail refused to say anything, accusing families and The Clarion-Ledger (Where "Gone" was published) of lying about him. The whole time, Vail couldn’t stop smirking.

Will Horton gave Mitchell the number of his cousin, who was a caretaker for 90-year-old Isaac Abshire Jr. When Mitchell sat down with the man, he shared a haunting story.
Abshire had worked with Vail and offered him a room to rent out. Once Vail and Mary were married, Vail had moved out. Abshire viewed himself as “a big brother” to Mary, calling her “a sweet little girl.”
After the marriage, Vail had become angry at work, talking about how ugly his wife was when she was pregnant, and how he didn’t like his baby. On the Friday before she was killed, the couple visited Abshire, bringing Bill, who was still an infant. Mary privately asked Abshire if he thought Vail could take her baby away.
Two days later, Mary was dead.
Abshire and two other workers went out the next day to drag the river. The next morning, Oct. 30, 1962, he returned with one of them, Jimmy May, to continue dragging.
Abshire said while they were talking, “something popped up. A guy with binoculars asked, ‘Does she have blonde hair?’ I said, ‘Yes, that’s her.’”
They recovered the body, and Abshire could never forget what he saw. Her body was rigid, and a scarf was wrapped around her neck before going into her mouth. Blood boiled on the boat, everyone voicing the same opinion. Vail had killed Mary.
Abshire had kept photos from that day for over 50 years. He said he had given them to Deputy Curtis as well as a copy of the 1962 sheriff’s report, which listed 15 points suggesting Vail’s guilt.
Despite being behind on major bills, Vail had managed to pay an entire year’s premiums in advance for a $50,000 ($150,000 today) life insurance policy on his wife. He had a second life insurance policy on her for $8,000 ($24,000 today), which promised to pay double if she died by accident.
It was almost as if he knew she was about to die.
Deputies had reported witnesses claims that Vail had told them he didn’t love his wife, that she looked stupid and vulgar, and that he had had sexual relations with multiple women, and at least one man.
Vail told deputies that his wife was wearing an off-white leather jacket when she went into the water. But she wasn’t wearing the jacket when her body was recovered. Inside his boat, deputies found two life preservers. Mary had not been wearing one, despite her fear of drowning. As for the trotline the 2 were supposedly running, deputies found it still inside Vail’s tackle box.
Most witnesses the Deputies had spoken too felt that Vail was capable of killing his wife.
When asked if he believed Vail killed his wife, Abshire said “Oh, my God, yes.”
THE CHASE & THE FINAL CLUES:
Ever since Vail had sold his Mississippi property, Mary Rose had wondered if he would eventually sell the Tulsa property, the one she and Annette had lived in. He did. Vail sold it for $149,000. Rose asked the question on the mind of everyone investigating. “What is he going to do with all that money? --- He could be running.”
On April 30th Mitchell got a call saying that Vail had left Texas. He was pulled over by police in Columbus, Mississippi after hopping the fence of his now dead brother Ronnie’s property. Curtis told Mitchell that the Columbus police were sending him a photo of Vail and the white pick-up truck he was pulled over in. He once again warned Mitchell that Vail could be running.
Vail’s sister called again, saying she heard her brother was heading to Montpelier. She wondered if he was driving to the home of possible witness Wesley Turnage.
Mitchell called Turnage to let him know that Vail might be headed his way. Turnage replied “If he sets foot on my property, there won’t be no trial.” He called Mitchell back later, saying no one in Montpelier had seen Vail.
Private Investigator Gina Frenzel, who had questioned Vail herself, including pretending to be his girlfriend, called Mitchell with good news. Vail had contacted her and told her he was back in Canyon Lake. Mitchell informed Curtis.
On May 17th 2012, authorities arrested Felix Vail for the murder of his wife Mary Horton.
In telephone calls from the jail in Lake Charles, he shared his explanation of what happened the night of Oct. 28, 1962, when Mary died.
He referred to his first wife as a “coon-ass lady,” saying she was “half kneeling” on his feet when she “saw one of the float buckets that were on the line.” He said the boat was “going real slow along the edge of the bank when the boat hit a stump ... and it dumped her right out.” Vail said he shut off the motor and dove in “where she had plopped in the water. I mean, nothing. The river had sucked her right in.” He said he “dove around until I was exhausted, and came in immediately to the police station in town and reported the accident and that was it.”
This story differed greatly from his story in 1962 when he said his wife was sitting on top of a boat seat when she fell out, not that she was kneeling on his feet. Back then, he said nothing about hitting a stump — just swerving to miss it.
It also differed from the story he had told his son, where a wave from another boat had dumped Mary out.
Vail told Frenzel that the case “has been an avalanche coming down the mountain all that time, waiting to hit my head, and it finally has.”
He blamed the families and Mitchell, “an evil, shrimpy reporter,” for what had happened, calling the charges “fabricated” and insisting that “a large amount of money, hate and political ambitions are behind them.”
At Vail’s request, Frenzel returned his truck to his home and went inside to take care of a few tasks. While there, she spent 16 hours photographing all his journals, more than 2,400 pages. She also photographed letters, documents, photographs and business cards, some dating back to the 1960s. She found a collection of women’s jewelry, old buttons, pins, and even a glass dildo.
Disturbingly, if at this point unsurprisingly, she found a photograph of a naked 3-year-old girl. Frenzel later spoke with the girl, now a woman. The journals revealed that Vail had stalked her for years.
Frenzel discovered the birth certificate of Annette Craver, who had used it for previous trips to Mexico.
Mitchell and Frenzel poured through the journals she had photographed. They noticed gaps in them that lead them to believe Vail had ripped pages out, including times when he should have been with Sharon and Annette.
His journals were dominated by sex, dreams of sex and reflected an obsession with children. In a March 27, 1986, entry, Vail wrote about the visit of a woman and her daughters in his home. “The little girls were delicious --- We massaged some, hugged & kissed some & it was 12 (midnight) & time for them to go.”
On Aug. 29, 1992, Vail walked into the Wal-Mart in West Point, and as he wrote in his journal “a 1-year-old white girl looked in my eyes loving me like there was no age difference between us.”
When Mitchell interviewed Kert Germany, a co-worker of Vail in 1977 he said that Vail attracted women wherever he went, and that Vail had told him the best sex of his life had been with 2- or 3-year-old girl.
It was that this time that Alexandra Christianson, Vail’s ex-wife called Mitchell and told him her story. She also put him in contact with Bruce Biedebach, the man she had been on a date with when she left with Vail. Biedebach would tell Mitchell that during a party in 1965 that turned into a “boast-fest” Vail had boasted about something he had done, that no one else had done.
Killed his wife.
He told the men at the party that he had held his wife’s head underwater until she drowned.
Biedebach then put Mitchell in contact with Rob Fremont, who had bicycled around California with Vail when he was 13. He said that while riding with Vail, he had told him that he hit his wife on the head and drowned her. Fremont never rode with him again after that.
With as much evidence as they could possibly gather, the case went to trial.
THE TRIAL:
Vail’s trial began on August 8th, 2016.
District Attorney John DeRosier laid out the evidence clearly.
He spoke of the evidence against Vail about Mary’s murder on October 28th, 1962.
He spoke about Vail swearing to Sharon Hensley’s mother that she wanted to start a new life in 1974.
He spoke about his letters to Mary Rose, telling her he wouldn’t tell her where her daughter Annette was “even if he knew.” Vail smirked at that one.
Finally, he spoke to the jurors.
“Mary Horton Vail is gone, Sharon Hensley is gone,” DeRosier said, “and Annette Craver Vail is gone.”
“You’re going to write the last chapter, and it’s simply going to read, ‘And justice was finally done. William Felix Vail, guilty as charged.’”
Prosecutors called all three families to testify.
Will Horton told jurors of his sister, “Mary was the kind of person you would want as a friend.” He broke while talking about visiting his nephew after he death in 1962. “I just wanted Bill to know how much his mother loved him.”
Brian Hensley told jurors that he last saw his sister, Sharon, with Vail before the pair left Bismarck, North Dakota, in 1972. Other than a telephone call and letter in the months that followed, he said no one had seen or heard from her since.
When Mary Rose took the stand, Vail bowed his head.
This was the woman who had been working for 32 long years to bring him into this court.
This was the mother who had waited 32 years for this moment.
She called Annette “a huge light in my life. We were always loving toward each other.” She testified that Vail ran off with her daughter on his motorcycle and married her. She testified that Annette, who inherited nearly $100,000 and received two homes, disappeared weeks after deeding those homes to Vail.
Wesley Turnage, Rob Fremont, and Bruce Biedebach swore under oath that Vail said he killed his first wife. Biedebach said he asked Vail if Mary was a bitch, to which Vail had said yes. Vail laughed in court as he told the story.
The current coroner, forensic pathologist Dr. Terry Welke, testified that in most drownings, the body comes up in a “dead person’s float,” with the back of the head surfacing first and the limbs hanging down in the water.
After sharing a series of pictures to show it, he showed the court two black-and-white photographs of Mary Horton when her body was recovered on Oct. 30, 1962, less than two days after she reportedly drowned. Her body was stiff, with her hands over chest as if she was in a coffin.
They also saw the videotaped testimony of Isaac Abshire Jr, who had died in 2014. He said her body was stiff when it surfaced either sideways or face up when she bobbed up in the Calcasieu River.
That testimony helped contribute to Welke’s homicide conclusion. So did the unbroken grease-like stain across her Chi Omega sweatshirt, which he believed could have come from a tarp covering her. Welke concluded Mary was dead and stiff before her body went into the water, explaining why rigor had set in.
Testimony was heard of Vail not paying for his own wife’s funeral, despite having made thousands from her life insurance.
THE VERDICT
The jury didn’t even take a half hour to reach their verdict.
William Felix Vail Sr was unanimously found guilty of murdering Mary Horton. He was sentenced to life in prison.
After the verdict, the prosecutor also revealed that the FBI had found out that Vail had molested a child over 30 years ago. They were unable to put him on trial for it, as the statue of limitations had passed.
Finally, nearly 54 years after she was murdered, Mary Horton had found justice.
Finally, 42 years after her disappearance, Sharon Hensley had found justice.
And Annette Craver, with the help of her mother Mary Rose’s tireless efforts, had finally found justice after 32 years.
https://content.api.news/v3/images/bin/f75084c7dce4fb08e12e45ccba5e40a1
This a photo of Mary, Sharon and Annette. I felt it was fitting to end off with. May they all rest in peace.
MY SOURCES:
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/8284?nav
https://charleyproject.org/case/annette-michelle-craver-vail
https://www.clarionledger.com/story/news/local/felixvailgone/2016/12/29/felix-vail-gone-one-wife-dead-two-other-missing-jerry-mitchell/95895894/
https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/5796622/mary-elizabeth-vail
https://charleyproject.org/case/sharon-hensley
https://www.namus.gov/MissingPersons/Case#/20525?nav

Yesterday Big Gold Inc. (CSE: BG) announced that it has successfully closed the second and final tranche of its non-brokered private placement offering, raising a total of $713,205.
Full press release here: https://biggold.ca/big-gold-closes-non-brokered-private-placement-for-gross-proceeds-of-713205/
The funds will be used largely in part to support exploration programs at BG's Tabor Project in the Shebandowan Greenstone Belt and Martin Kenty Project near the Rainy River Mine Complex in Ontario.
Notably, the Tabor Project benefits from its proximity to Goldshore's Moss Project, which recently reported an estimated 6 million ounces of gold.
Promising field sampling results from the Martin Kenty Project have unveiled multiple assays with gold grades surpassing 0.5 grams per tonne, pointing to significant potential for gold mineralization in the area.

Advent Home
trigger warnings
rape, suicide, physical abuse, emotional abuse.
https://www.wvgazettemail.com/news/legal_affairs/more-former-students-sue-over-alleged-abuse-at-boarding-school/article_db70c152-c8db-5711-82dc-52e3d26303ab.html
chrome-extension://efaidnbmnnnibpcajpcglclefindmkaj/https://www.courthousenews.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/02/WEST-VIRGINIA.pdf
note: Several organizations share a name with the Advent Home. I am specifically referring to the now defunct group home near Calhoun, Tennessee.
We talk a lot today about trauma in a way I don't remember it being discussed even in the broader cultural consciousness when I was young. Mental health was just viewed differently. Adventists have always had a weird relationship with mental health, but I think rarely more strange and harmful than the ideas of Dr. Senior and the Advent home. Through most of this I will use fake names but as Dr. Senior's name is intrinsically and publicly tied to the school he is my one exception. Also, if any reading this had the misfortune of also attending the school, you will know we were told to call him Dr. B or Dr. Blondel but we are adults and his title was Dr. Senior.
I've wanted to write about this for some time and this will likely be a first draft of a larger discussion. Psychology isn't my field of expertise and I've never felt I found the right platform to talk about such a niche subject but finding the Ex Adventist sub and with more being said about mental health I at least feel qualified to discuss where I feel Adventism was used to twist psychology into something harmful by Dr. Senior.
Before I continue, I wasn't there for the worst of what was to happen nor did I receive the worst of what happened in my time there. I also cannot entirely claim innocence of some of the emotional bullying that was tolerated if not encouraged. I hope I have grown since then and have learned from mistakes I made when I was 13 and do believe I am largely innocent of the physical bullying and certainly the sexual assault.
First, I want to address the lawsuit. As I say, I wasn't there for most of this as by 2014 the Advent Home and Miracle Meadows seem to have become much more closely related, swapping students to hide them from law enforcement and deposition. The school closed around 2014 , the time a lawsuit was filed. More lawsuits have since been filed and the director of the sister school miracle meadows was imprisoned. I will link the lawsuit and articles above. As the events detailed in it represent a massive escalation from what was happening while I was there, but I do think the events described are merely the codification of the policies being unofficially implemented on a smaller scale in my time. In short it lays out regular forced sexual assault by students and staff, duct taping students in rooms for days if they were violent and forcing them to study the bible for days at a time as punishment. Thinking back, I can see how the deference to authority and refusal to treat mental health as anything other than a religious failing could lead to the behavior detailed in these allegations. To be clear I am linking the allegation and articles below though I wasn't part of any of these trials and don't know which charges exactly stuck.
Even though the school is closed and from what I can tell Dr. Senior is retired, I think there is a larger discussion to be had about how the Adventist Church handles mental health and firebrands. So, what was the Advent Home? The Advent Home was a young men's reform school begun by Dr. Blondel Senior in Calhoun, Tennessee. There isn't much left to find on it as it shut down around 2014 and never had a great online presence. I suspect a lawsuit around the same time was to blame, as, if any of its allegations were proven, it would have cost the advent home, Dr Senior, and the conference a lot of money and embarrassment. More on this later.
The Advent Home advertised a range of services from treating ADHD and general misbehavior to serious developmental disorders and outright criminals. Basicall, he wanted it to be everything from a more structured middle school to a juvenile detention center, and predictably, it would fail at both.
I don't know how my mom found out about the Advent Home, but I know her reasons for sending me. A nasty divorce between my parents caused me to lose interest in schoo, so I barely passed 8th grade, and I had started listening to Eminem. That's it. it seems so laughably tame but that's all it took for Dr. Senior to be able to convince my mom that this behavior would escalate and the only recourse was his school which was built on and advertised correction through a strict adherence to Adventist principles. Every student came with fundamentally different problems. Some, like me were struggling scholastically while several had been ordered there by courts for violent offenses and several had what I cannot give another name other than a complete stall in mental development (one student thought and acted like a toddler, mentally and emotionally well below his age).
We were all, however, given the same treatment regimen, Maturation Therapy. This I will argue is the root of the problem. Dr. Senior claimed to have gotten his PHD in psychology from the University of Jamaica. I am not going to cast aspersions on this institution, but if he did have this degree he missed some crucial lessons and did not keep up on developments in the field. Dr. Senior had identified 70 ideals he believed every young man should emulate as he matures. I could not possibly list them, but they ranged from keeping a clean room, respect for staff to whether you used harsh language to how often you prayed. These would have made for fine rules for a religious correctional facility, but this was the entire treatment plan. Each of the 70 points would have you ranked 1-5, and you graduated by achieving a 4.5 average. 230 points overall. An important note here is all of these points were external. There was no mention of healing trauma or discussion of past actions. We were seen as immature children and by forcing mature behavior our other issues would right themselves. Right? In short, Dr. Seniors idea of therapy was entirely about becoming presentable, respect for authority, and respect for God. I want to go through these because in each I see a failing not only of the school but Adventism's handling of mental health in general. Also while I cannot speak to the lawsuit I will be linking it below as I believe sexual assault survivors and I want to say what these points contribute to how this environment may have developed.
His entire idea of personal growth was based on becoming outwardly his idea of a respectable man. He was willing to cross any number of boundaries violating others' religious taboos, disregarding the desires of the parents and showing no interest in the students as individuals. We were broken and needed only to be put in his mold and recast. One student was Rastafarian and his father wrote a letter explaining their faith and why he shouldn't cut his hair. His father had barely left town when the boy was forced to get his hair shorn off. Our 'civilian' clothes were confiscated on arrival and sorted for how appropriate he felt they were. Anything he didn't like we would get back when we left. I never did. As for speech we were strictly regulated on what words we could say. Cuss words, and even adjacent words like darn, would result in a loss of points and thus longer before we would be able to go home. Instead of psychological healing, his priority was always to make us look healed on the outside.
The most egregious example of this was a boy I will call Zach. Zach had a severe developmental disorder that in my opinion Dr. Senior was woefully ill-equipped to treat but that never dulled his confidence. Because of his neurodivergence Zach was habitually unpresentable. Zach would frequently have food dripped down his shirt, throw temper tantrums in public areas and speak loudly about bodily functions that would have been amusing from a four year old but Zach was almost 14 and just beginning puberty if you get my meaning. At every turn, Zach was not met with treatment but ridicule. To the Advent Home staff, he wasn't sick, he was misbehaved and punished severely for it. We all had to run up to 3 laps of 1/3 of a mile as discipline regularly, but Zach's condition often racked him up more laps than could be humanly run. at one point, a new staff member refused to allow Zach to eat at all until he completed a number of laps I doubt would be humanly possible, let alone for a confused neurodivergent. One of the proudest moments of my life is that I stood up for Zach and pointed out, whatever punishment was meted out, food was an illegal method of punishment in the state. My shame, however, is how often I joined in the ridicule and bullying of Zach when the staff made punishments for his misbehavior punishments for all of us. As I say, I hope I have grown.
Dr. Senior saw scruffiness and cultural differences very much the way the Dursleys from Harry Potter did. These were not the markers of young men expressing themselves or of cultural differences but of moral failings to be stamped out or hidden until they faded into normalcy. We didn't need to discover ourselves, we needed to learn the joy of conformity
The real problems would come with his reliance on authoritative structures. Both the staff and students had clear hierarchies within them. New students would be Group Members, GM, while you could be promoted to Assistant Group Leader, AGL, a Group Leader, GL, with a possible Super Group Leader SGL at the top All leaders had the authority to report misbehavior and physically restrain violent students. Here, we start to see the problems. What constituted violent behavior was entirely up to the authority figure, and unless there were witnesses who ranked equally, Dr. Senior would implicitly believe the higher ranked individual. Keep in mind that some of these kids had real criminal records, and as I've established, we were not getting our problems treated.
I want to use one student as an example. I'll give him a fake name (James) as I hope he's reformed and also should not be judged entirely on his actions when he was 16 but these are actions I either witnessed or saw the fall out of so believer their veracity. I was walking by him one day. he had been given a job he didn't want to do. Instead, he was sitting talking to a group he bullied but passed for his friends. He called out to me to do the job for him. I laughed and kept walking. he took offense and deciding I had disrespected him, chased me down, hit me, tackled me into the gravel road, and held me there until I begged to be released. Those words; I beg you to release me. I was cut, bruised, crying and bleeding. James was unharmed, but when I told Dr. Senior, he believed James because he was a group leader and I a lowly Group member.
One of the students who had been sitting on the steps with James, who I will call Sam, would get caught performing oral sex on James only a few months later. James assured Dr. Senior Sam had asked practically begged to do it, and here again, James authority had him taken at this word. They both received punishment, but Sam got the lion's share as he had initiated and must be gay. I firmly believe James pressured Sam into this, and likely not just this once.
Dr. Senior said the word "manipulative" more than anyone i have ever known. often as we lowly students tried to explain actions or avoid discipline for petty offences, he would accuse us of manipulating. In hindsight, this is how he viewed the relationship between those with power and those without. There were those the system had put in power and those below who now would try to manipulate those who had the power. from the bottom of the ladder, he was incapable of seeing sincerity or pain. only manipulation. To be clear, I don't know how much of the reality reached Dr. Senior's ears, but enough had to he had to be actively ignoring warning signs in favor of authority. I talk about this to show how Dr. Senior felt strongly that respect for authority was essential regardless how abusive the authority figure might be. Hold on to that too.
The final point is religion. It should not need said, but Dr. Senior wanted all of us studying the bible and practicing a very conservative faith even for SDA. This is fine(ish), but he also believed that Christ had predictable healing powers and that mental health was only a failing of the individual to have the faith necessary for healing.
We were all encouraged to discontinue any medications we might be taking. For me, with ADHD and Ritalin this was probably fine, but for one student with borderline schizophrenia this led to several violent episodes he was blamed for despite the staff convincing him to get off his meds. A diabetic student was eventually pulled from the program after his 4th hospitalization when he was allowed to opt out of his insulin/ blood sugar checker. Christ, as a placebo alongside medicine, is silly but fine, but as a replacement for lifesaving drugs, it can have dangerous consequences, and Dr. Senior refused to see this. In Dr Senior's mind, I believe, these boys weren't sick, they were failing to let Jesus in to heal them and that's what needed to change.
Furthermore, behavioral incidents were often met with explicitly Christiaan remedies. Issues of bullying and cursing would require not time out but a scripture reading. sometimes alone sometimes publicly, along with a public admission of what we did. This was done at a weekly meeting when Dr. Senior came down from his literal house on the hill to play mediator and in no metaphorical sense moral arbiter of our actions. in essence, he got to play God for 2 hours a week.
The most heinous example of the use of religion however was, Mr. V who I believe saw jail time. This man was a thousand walking red flags. He went to boys' rooms to pray alone, and he insisted on a separate bible study with a group of boys he was particularly close to. Outwardly, however, he was fanatically religious, and this was enough to assuage Dr. Senior of concerns. Mr. V was the guy who when the pastor said kneel for prayer he would stand with his arms to heaven, when the pastor asked for a moment of silent reflection he would exclaim AMEN! every five seconds, He played moral police intervening in behavioral issues after considering a matter settled if a student agreed to a private prayer session (yup, nothing sus here). Dr, Senior employed and sung the praises of Mr. V's work even as this concerning behavior began to escalate to the point that some students, formerly in his inner circle, began to actively distance themselves from him but were unwilling to discuss why.
Dr. Senior could not, however, ignore when Mr. V took a kid off campus without telling anyone to a small mountain cabin to "diet" for three days. Only once the police were involved could Mr. V. 's behavior no longer be ignored and his religious authority be given priority. If you are wondering Mr. V gets a fake name because, while I am telling the truth to the best of my knowledge, we were never told the full story. The student in question was withdrawn before he was willing to talk about it, and Mr. V was not seen again. I don't know what he was charged with or what stuck but I think we can put the pieces together.
Fortunately, other than some more bullying and getting through a nasty flu with nothing more than pepper water as medicine, I graduated. Yeah, shocker, he also didn't like doctors. The shock of seeing how normal people practiced Adventism after a year of this cult like fanaticism has a lot to do with why I'm on this sub and not the SDA sub, but I got off easy. For the criminals and really troubled kids recidivism was high, with several being in a proper prison weeks or months after. Several would turn around and be back at the Advent Home in months because the behavior never stopped, they just learned to act like it did. But the real harm was a boy I'll call Dan. He had depression when he arrived, it was never treated but pushed down. He pushed it down so far he became the best of us. he was very nice and a bit of a mentor to me. he worked hard and became SGL (the highest one remember) with one of the highest scores that an Advent home graduate had had. One year after leaving the school, he committed suicide by diving into an empty pool. Only then, did I realize he wasn't fine. He was never fine. He had mastered acting fine. The furthest I got in Psychology was a single college course and some youtubers (and the small bit of real therapy I've had) but even with this, I can see how Dr. Senior was out of step with the psychological practices even of the early 2000s. He was so much more focused on appearance and behavior than he was ever interested in the root cause, his system often became a new trauma rather than treating an old one. An excessive respect for authority led to abusive behavior being overlooked if not encouraged, and Jesus was treated in a professional setting as a supreme healer despite real medical issues. I saw these issues in the church I left, and my mom and extended family still practice in. This is why I really feel compelled to write this. People like Dr. Senior may seem like an Adventist version of Godwin's law. "Oh, yeah? If we can look at Jesus to heal, it'll end up like the Advent Home!" (Or Miracle Meadows) I know this sentence has never been uttered by anyone but me and maybe Sam, hope you're ok buddy, but the fact is Dr. Senior is the end stage of the ideas put into their most harmful practice, and some like Dan paid with their life.
Finally, through all of this, I remember how Dr. Senior was treated by outsiders. Entire churches prayed for his good work to continue, meetings were held for him to teach others to copy his program, he was featured multiple times in the herald and other Adventist publications. Like Mr. V his religiosity was a shield despite all the red flags, and like Mr. V he was given the respect and admiration that came with his position all the way up until there were consequences. It isn't that no one could see there were problems. He flew his red flags high. Its that the church didn't want to see the problem and didn't care until the outside world took action.
Please, if you take anything from this, look out for your SDA relatives who struggle with mental health. The church sure won't. But on a larger note, I hope this to be part of a larger discussion about bringing awareness to the churches failing on mental health and how they overlook monsters in their ranks who just haven't embarrassed them yet. Dr. Senior never sexually assaulted a kid as far as I'm aware, but he enabled and protected abusers in service of pushing his ideology all while the church sang his praises. Disclaimer: At no point in this do I feel I deliberately lied or exaggerated, but these are 20 year old memories of a traumatized 13 year old who was never given the full story. I tried to leave hearsay out, but I did find out what happened to Dan through the grapevine, though from someone I believe completely. If there are minor inaccuracies, I do apologize, but I believe I have been accurate in the larger points.
Names are changed for obvious reasons, though my change style switched cause I am bad at coming up with names when stressed, my D&D group will confirm, and this is stressful to write about even now.
The Advent Home I attended is shut and a very attractive hotel now. My research showed he partnered closely with miracle meadows, which is also now shut. If by chance Dr. Senior is still practicing somewhere, or has appointed a successor, please persuade family to look closely and critically at his practices before signing anything. He used to complain kids were manipulative but, as with all projectors, he was the master manipulator. He convinced people to consent to incredible things. I believe everyone can change if they want and as far as I know he had the education to do good work. Instead, he chose to ignore that education in service of his biases. Unless he has updated his treatment, please at the very least accompany his work with another well regarded psychologist.

I am really focused on trying to help wildlife now. I've been planting flowers for bees and setting up a bee hotel. I've got a family of hedgehogs living in my garden. And now... I want to help some birds.
I got one of those birdfeeder platforms (looks like a little house), and I really want to put it up for the birds. However... I have cats. Cats that have been outdoor cats for too long to become indoor cats. And I don't want to risk any birds.
So, my idea was to put the birdfeeder up my by bedroom window. My house is a typical two storey, so there's no way any cats are reaching the birdhouse/feedeplatform. Near to my window means I'll be able to open the window and put some feed out.
However, this isn't really something I ever see people do. So I'm wondering if there is a reason for it.
Would it be safe for the birds? They can fly so it shouldn't be an issue with it being high? Will my window cause issues? Etc etc etc.
What do you think?
If its a bad idea I won't do it.

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“What?” came her whispered reply.
“Katira, I know way too much about all this for it to be a mere coincidence. Maybe that’s all clairsentience is. A reincarnated soul whose work wasn’t done, and they decided to come around again, only this time, with a little head-start. One of the two lives on in me, and I’d be willing to bet it was your former Master. Her partner died before you met her, and only you would know these things, correct?” Katira nodded her head, and I pressed on. “Okay. I’m also betting that this took place more than a hundred years ago, judging by the amount of earth and growth on this cairn, and due to the nature of societal acceptance of homosexuality. Them keeping their relationship a secret, way out here in the middle of nowhere, would be far easier than the two of them living together in a town. Am I right?” I asked
“Nearly one hundred fifty years, yes. As humans reckon these things, it was around 1875. Not long after your stupid civil war. My Master had lost her mother to typhoid, and her father to the war. She and her best friend decided to attempt to homestead not too far from here, and they eventually fell in love. They were only seventeen at the time, and most of the eligible young men in town had succumbed to the war or to injuries they sustained afterwards. My Master was a hardy, resilient woman. You would have liked her, Stu. She was built like me, and was bullheaded as a mule.” Katira laughed softly, wiping away tears. “Anyway, they built a cabin not terribly far from this spot, and lived for several years together, until the events you described. My Master was beside herself with grief, and nearly ended her time here on several occasions. Until one day, she chanced upon what looked like an old cellar out here in the fields.
“It was there that she found my little body and attempted to bury me. You should have seen her fright when, instead of a pile of bones that fell apart, she had a skeletal kitten bounding around her ankles. We bonded in a similar manner to Joaquin and Shutan. She fell onto the cellar, cut her arm, and the blood dripped onto me. She went on to become an amazing Necromancer in her own right. You two share the same essence type, as well. Huh. I wonder why I never made the connection before,” she concluded softly.
I walked over and wiped the tears from her soft, shimmery face. “Why would you even think to do so? You’ve dealt with all but the most rare of essences, right?” I asked, receiving a nod in turn. “There’s no shame in not recognizing an extremely old pattern. Especially when there’s no real reason to suspect anything. You had already explained away my knowledge, and that should’ve been the end of it.
“Let’s get the last of the reagents and head back. Now that we know where this is, we can come and pay our respects after my Growth. Any time you’re up for it. In the meantime, we say nothing and hint at nothing. My description of their last days could be chalked up to a lucky guess. A very lucky guess, but a guess nonetheless. Unless and until we have some concrete proof, we keep this to ourselves. Not a word even to the guild. Sound good to you?” I asked.
Katira nodded, and I turned and knelt by the old grave. I laid a hand on the topmost stone, and whispered “Not even the stars.” I took a small bouquet of the tiny blue flowers and stood, seeing a weeping dragoness behind me.
“It is you, Bethany. You’re in there, and I know it. I look different, but I’m still the same Katira. I still love you,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry, what? Bethany? Is that your former Master’s name? What are you talking about?” I asked, concerned.
“What you said when you laid your hand on the grave. Do you recall?”
I nodded, “Yeah. I said ‘Not even the stars’. It just felt right. I dunno why,” I replied.
“That’s what Bethany used to tell her partner, Rose. ‘Not even the stars could shine as brightly as her eyes’, is what she told me. You hold her soul within you. It explains everything to me. Your apparent skill, your oddly specific knowledge, and your way with people. It doesn’t explain your intuition, but that could just be an amalgam of your spirits and your broad intellect. She always lamented her inability to be more creative,” she explained, taking my hand in hers.
“Well. That’s a thing, then. I’m still me, Katira. Even if I have Bethany’s soul, you’re still dealing with Stu. Remember that, please,” I told her.
“Absolutely, Master. This just brings new possibilities to light, is all,” Katira said, sniffling. “My Master, Bethany is gone. I know this. However, knowing that some part of her lives on is a great comfort. That’s all,” she said softly. Katira stepped forward and took my hands in hers. “I know you’re Stu. I know you’re my Master. I can’t forget it. You gave me this form, and I cherish it. Just like I cherish you. You’re going to be my final Master, and I can’t wait to spend an eternity with you,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze.
“Alright, then. As long as we are clear. Are you ready to head back?” I asked gently.
Katira nodded, and we started back off towards the cave. It took us another three hours, but we made it back. The others had been there for a few hours by the time we returned. All three had begun the distillation process by the time we arrived, and had placed their squirrels in the appropriate locations.
“Excellent job, Initiates! I’m glad to see you have taken the initiative to begin your reanimations. Now, it isn’t a guarantee that you will be successful. Be prepared for a messy failure, otherwise. Upon a success, even a minor one, your squirrel will sit up and make vocalizations at you. In the event of a minor success, this is all that will happen. If it is anything more, you can give it a command. It might understand it and act. Just make sure it is a simple one. You can command it to simply die, if you wish. It is up to you. Now, who got here first?” she asked.
“I did, Instructor,” Robert said.
“Excellent. Good job, Initiate Grimes. How long after you got set up did the next one arrive?”
“About an hour, I think and Joaquin was a few minutes after her. That was three hours ago. I think mine is nearly done,” Robert explained.
“Good. While Initiate Merideth gets set up, we will discuss what comes after a successful reanimation,” Katira began.
I turned and began the process of removing the petals from the phlox, depositing them in the pot. I mostly tuned out the discussion they were having, my mind reeling from the events of the day.
If I didn’t hold a reincarnated soul, how else would I be able to do what I do without even thinking about it? How else would I know the stuff I know without having had the instruction? How did I know who was buried beneath that cairn of stones, and how she died? Was it even my soul that was reincarnated? Or, had Bethany’s spirit hung around waiting to impart knowledge upon one lonely Necromancer?
These questions and more rolled around my head, my body moving on autopilot. I was just about to reach into the bag containing the nettles when Katira grabbed my wrist, jerking me from my reverie.
“Initiate!”
“Huh? Wha?”
“Initiate, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a bit. You almost reached into the bag that has the nettles bare-handed. What’s gotten into you?” she asked, her concern evident.
I simply looked into her eyes, my own face a blank mask, and she sighed softly. “Okay. I understand. It’s about what we talked about before, isn’t it?” she asked softly. I nodded slowly. “I take it you’ve never handled nettles, have you?” I shook my head. “Let me show you. In fact, gather around, everyone. Nettles are a painful plant, and you may have to handle them at some point. Let me show you how to deal with them,” Katira announced.
The rest of the group came over and sat while Katira taught us how to handle the irritating plant. Once she demonstrated the process, I tried it once, and even though I’d succeeded, I figured I’d not like to attempt it again. Instead, I took my multitool and pocket knife, clamped onto the stem, and sliced the leaves into the pot. Then, for good measure, I sectioned up the stem and dropped it in, as well. In went the snake skin, water and three drops of my blood. I set the fire, and waited for something to happen.
As luck would have it something did happen. We all heard Robert’s fire go out with a pop, and turned to see the droplet of essence-infused oil spill onto the squirrel. As with our message stones, nothing was spilled, it all just absorbed into the squirrel, and we watched with bated breath.
At first, nothing happened. The squirrel sat motionless on the cold stone slab. After a few moments, however, we all saw the digits on the left forelimb twitch. Collectively, we moved back, as a crazed squirrel was as fearsome as it was small. It took a breath, then a second. Slowly, it sat up, turned its black, unblinking eyes towards Robert and began chittering.
“Try it, Initiate Grimes,” Katira whispered.
Robert cleared his throat and swallowed. “Go outside the cave, and dig a hole big enough for you to lie in beside the first tree you see,” he commanded.
We watched as the squirrel cocked its head to the side and hopped down. It bounded drunkenly out of the cave, and after a short search, began to dig a hole.
“Excellent job, Initiate. Why did you tell it to do that?” Katira asked.
“I felt terrible for it. I think it should be put to rest,” he said quietly.
“So it is digging its own grave? Interesting. Go and tend to it. It may not be able to finish,” Katira replied.
Robert got up and went outside to tend to his squirrel, and the rest of us sat back and chatted for a bit.
“Senpai? What took you so long to find your reagents?” Morita-san asked.
“Well, as our Instructor specified this morning, I require very specific reagents to even have a chance at making this work, and they weren’t easy to find. I had to have phlox, nettles and a shed skin. Phlox were those tiny blue flowers, and they weren’t easy to find. Especially as I had no idea what they looked like until I opened my Grimoire. I knew what nettles looked like, and everyone from around here knows what a shed skin looks like, I think. They just weren’t easy to get. However, after I found the nettles, the other two just kinda happened. The snake skin was tangled around some weeds in a field, and the phlox were growing by an outcropping of stone. We had to go something like five miles from the cave. Speaking of which, I’m gonna need to eat something soon. I just had a small snack around noon or so,” I explained.
“By the time your still finishes, it will be time for dinner, anyway. I’d suggest holding off, if you can,” Katira said.
“I’ll try, but if I start getting the sugar shakes or acting belligerent, I’ll need a small snack again. We really don’t want that,” I said.
Robert came back, looking somber and somewhat sad. “It’s done. I…I told it to die, and it closed its eyes and just stopped moving. It seemed happy,” he said, taking a seat.
“Initiate Grimes, I want you to understand that all you did was reanimate the body of a squirrel. It had no soul, and therefore wasn’t the same creature I killed three days ago. It was more or less a biological machine that used the energy of the reagents you selected and your essence as fuel. It would have eventually stopped moving on its own. You could re energize it with your essence, but that would serve to bond it tighter to you, which is not a situation we want here. You have done well thus far, and I’m proud of you. We all are,” she told the younger man.
“She is right, Master. You have grown in skill, and as a person. Rather quickly, I might add. As such, I would say that your own Growth is no more than a month away. Once we get home, you should alert your job to your upcoming illness,” Yin grumbled.
“I can’t do that, bud. I can’t plan to be sick. Instructor? Do the symptoms all come on at once, or are they in stages?” Robert asked.
“You will most likely get the headaches first. If you can function through them, I would call your job at that point, and tell them that you are sick, and it is unknown as to how long it will last. Hopefully, you will be able to maintain your job after you are done Growing,” Katira replied.
“I can form human arms and hands for the time it takes to send a message on your phone, Master. I could also call for any number of other familiars and Necromancers to help, should you need it,” Yin said reassuringly.
Robert seemed satisfied with this answer, and began to clean his equipment. He had just finished when, with twin pops, we heard both Joaquin and Morita-san’s fires go out. All heads turned to watch the reaction complete.
Both squirrels were doused with the oil/essence mixture, and we watched as it was absorbed into the bodies of the squirrels.
Both squirrels twitched and sat up, turning their heads towards their creators and began chittering.
Morita-san nodded at Joaquin, and he cleared his throat. “Venha aqui, esquilo,” he said.
The squirrel shakily stood and took two steps before collapsing. We all watched in horror as it continued to crawl forward, leaving its back half behind. Joaquin began to panic and scooted back.
“Release it, Initiate Madras!”
“Morra, esquilo! Morra!” the young man cried out. The squirrel shuddered and heaved out its remaining breath, one clawed paw outstretched towards Joaquin. As it did, the rest of its entrails oozed out from its body, coupled with a brown slime.
“I will explain in a moment, Initiate Madras. Initiate Morita-san, it is your turn,” Katira said.
Morita-san swallowed, staring at the halves of the squirrel on the cavern floor. “私に近づいて、リス。” she said, her eyes never leaving the squirrel.
Her squirrel never moved. It sat there, blinking. “Instructor? What do I do? It’s not moving. Just….blinking,” Morita-san said quietly.
“Try rewording what you just said.”
“ここに来て、リス。” Morita-san said. The squirrel bounded over to her, and began to inspect her shoes.
“Excellent job, Morita-san. It seems that your reagents harmonized rather well with both you and your subject. This is why it is acting more like a normal, living creature and not the automaton Initiate Grimes produced. There is nothing wrong with your results, Initiate Grimes. You’ll just need to try a different combination of reagents, is all. Initiate Morita-san happened to chance upon the right triad for her for this experiment.
“The squirrel is yours to do with as you wish, Initiate Morita-san. Congratulations to the three of you. You have successfully reanimated your squirrels,” Katira said happily.
The others smiled and seemed happy. Morita-san looked at her squirrel and cocked her head to the side. “Should I name him?” she asked aloud.
“There is nothing prohibiting that, Initiate.”
“I shall call you Daisuke,” she said to the squirrel. “この死んだリスを片付けて、ダイスケ。” she commanded, and the squirrel bounded over to Joaquin’s partial reanimation, and began to cart the remains outside.
“Now, as for your squirrel, Initiate Madras. It was apparently infected by a parasite which had been eating it from the inside. Some sort of intestinal worm, I would say. When you reanimated it, the parasite was immediately destroyed, and likely aided the decomposition. There is no shame in this, and none of us could have known it was there. It is the risk we take when we choose a creature for reanimation.
“This is why a skeleton was chosen for reanimation more often than not in the past. There was no risk of parasitic infection, little risk of a messy failure, and in the event the energies used ran out, it would simply fall to the ground in a pile, ready to be used again. However, one needs a distinct grasp of anatomy for it, because in the event you put it together wrong, it won’t move correctly,” Katira said.
“So, wait. We could potentially Frankenstein ourselves a servant together?” Robert asked.
“Where do you think Mary Shelley got the idea, Initiate Grimes?” Katira returned with an enigmatic smile.
Robert sat there, his mouth agape.
“Close your mouth, Initiate. You might catch a fly, otherwise.”
We all laughed as Robert closed his mouth with a click. He shook his head and sat beside his cubbyhole in thought. Morita-san and Joaquin were talking animatedly in their respective languages, aided by their familiars.
I sat beside my equipment, watching the oil collect in the reservoir. It looked a little different than the others’ did.
“Instructor?” I asked, waving her over.
“Yes?”
“My essence-infused oil looks different to theirs. Theirs was green, and mine is…well, it’s kind of an orangey-pink. Is something wrong?” I asked with concern.
“Hmm. I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a reanimation essence appear this color. Yin? Shutan? Oiwa? Would you three come here, please?” she called out.
The three familiars approached my station curiously. Katira turned to them, gesturing at my equipment. “Have any of you ever seen this color in a reanimation essence before?” she asked.
“Exactly once,” Shutan said, stroking his bony jaw. “Stu? Yours is a Multiplying essence, correct?” he asked, receiving a nod. “Then, I will reveal nothing, save this: This will be interesting.” He walked away, shaking his head, and I could swear I saw a smirk on his skeletal countenance.
“What? Interesting? I’m not sure I like interesting. Wait a minute! What do you mean, interesting?” I called after him, receiving no inkling of acknowledgement.
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Master List

“What?” came her whispered reply.
“Katira, I know way too much about all this for it to be a mere coincidence. Maybe that’s all clairsentience is. A reincarnated soul whose work wasn’t done, and they decided to come around again, only this time, with a little head-start. One of the two lives on in me, and I’d be willing to bet it was your former Master. Her partner died before you met her, and only you would know these things, correct?” Katira nodded her head, and I pressed on. “Okay. I’m also betting that this took place more than a hundred years ago, judging by the amount of earth and growth on this cairn, and due to the nature of societal acceptance of homosexuality. Them keeping their relationship a secret, way out here in the middle of nowhere, would be far easier than the two of them living together in a town. Am I right?” I asked
“Nearly one hundred fifty years, yes. As humans reckon these things, it was around 1875. Not long after your stupid civil war. My Master had lost her mother to typhoid, and her father to the war. She and her best friend decided to attempt to homestead not too far from here, and they eventually fell in love. They were only seventeen at the time, and most of the eligible young men in town had succumbed to the war or to injuries they sustained afterwards. My Master was a hardy, resilient woman. You would have liked her, Stu. She was built like me, and was bullheaded as a mule.” Katira laughed softly, wiping away tears. “Anyway, they built a cabin not terribly far from this spot, and lived for several years together, until the events you described. My Master was beside herself with grief, and nearly ended her time here on several occasions. Until one day, she chanced upon what looked like an old cellar out here in the fields.
“It was there that she found my little body and attempted to bury me. You should have seen her fright when, instead of a pile of bones that fell apart, she had a skeletal kitten bounding around her ankles. We bonded in a similar manner to Joaquin and Shutan. She fell onto the cellar, cut her arm, and the blood dripped onto me. She went on to become an amazing Necromancer in her own right. You two share the same essence type, as well. Huh. I wonder why I never made the connection before,” she concluded softly.
I walked over and wiped the tears from her soft, shimmery face. “Why would you even think to do so? You’ve dealt with all but the most rare of essences, right?” I asked, receiving a nod in turn. “There’s no shame in not recognizing an extremely old pattern. Especially when there’s no real reason to suspect anything. You had already explained away my knowledge, and that should’ve been the end of it.
“Let’s get the last of the reagents and head back. Now that we know where this is, we can come and pay our respects after my Growth. Any time you’re up for it. In the meantime, we say nothing and hint at nothing. My description of their last days could be chalked up to a lucky guess. A very lucky guess, but a guess nonetheless. Unless and until we have some concrete proof, we keep this to ourselves. Not a word even to the guild. Sound good to you?” I asked.
Katira nodded, and I turned and knelt by the old grave. I laid a hand on the topmost stone, and whispered “Not even the stars.” I took a small bouquet of the tiny blue flowers and stood, seeing a weeping dragoness behind me.
“It is you, Bethany. You’re in there, and I know it. I look different, but I’m still the same Katira. I still love you,” she said, tears streaming down her face.
“I’m sorry, what? Bethany? Is that your former Master’s name? What are you talking about?” I asked, concerned.
“What you said when you laid your hand on the grave. Do you recall?”
I nodded, “Yeah. I said ‘Not even the stars’. It just felt right. I dunno why,” I replied.
“That’s what Bethany used to tell her partner, Rose. ‘Not even the stars could shine as brightly as her eyes’, is what she told me. You hold her soul within you. It explains everything to me. Your apparent skill, your oddly specific knowledge, and your way with people. It doesn’t explain your intuition, but that could just be an amalgam of your spirits and your broad intellect. She always lamented her inability to be more creative,” she explained, taking my hand in hers.
“Well. That’s a thing, then. I’m still me, Katira. Even if I have Bethany’s soul, you’re still dealing with Stu. Remember that, please,” I told her.
“Absolutely, Master. This just brings new possibilities to light, is all,” Katira said, sniffling. “My Master, Bethany is gone. I know this. However, knowing that some part of her lives on is a great comfort. That’s all,” she said softly. Katira stepped forward and took my hands in hers. “I know you’re Stu. I know you’re my Master. I can’t forget it. You gave me this form, and I cherish it. Just like I cherish you. You’re going to be my final Master, and I can’t wait to spend an eternity with you,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze.
“Alright, then. As long as we are clear. Are you ready to head back?” I asked gently.
Katira nodded, and we started back off towards the cave. It took us another three hours, but we made it back. The others had been there for a few hours by the time we returned. All three had begun the distillation process by the time we arrived, and had placed their squirrels in the appropriate locations.
“Excellent job, Initiates! I’m glad to see you have taken the initiative to begin your reanimations. Now, it isn’t a guarantee that you will be successful. Be prepared for a messy failure, otherwise. Upon a success, even a minor one, your squirrel will sit up and make vocalizations at you. In the event of a minor success, this is all that will happen. If it is anything more, you can give it a command. It might understand it and act. Just make sure it is a simple one. You can command it to simply die, if you wish. It is up to you. Now, who got here first?” she asked.
“I did, Instructor,” Robert said.
“Excellent. Good job, Initiate Grimes. How long after you got set up did the next one arrive?”
“About an hour, I think and Joaquin was a few minutes after her. That was three hours ago. I think mine is nearly done,” Robert explained.
“Good. While Initiate Merideth gets set up, we will discuss what comes after a successful reanimation,” Katira began.
I turned and began the process of removing the petals from the phlox, depositing them in the pot. I mostly tuned out the discussion they were having, my mind reeling from the events of the day.
If I didn’t hold a reincarnated soul, how else would I be able to do what I do without even thinking about it? How else would I know the stuff I know without having had the instruction? How did I know who was buried beneath that cairn of stones, and how she died? Was it even my soul that was reincarnated? Or, had Bethany’s spirit hung around waiting to impart knowledge upon one lonely Necromancer?
These questions and more rolled around my head, my body moving on autopilot. I was just about to reach into the bag containing the nettles when Katira grabbed my wrist, jerking me from my reverie.
“Initiate!”
“Huh? Wha?”
“Initiate, I’ve been trying to get your attention for a bit. You almost reached into the bag that has the nettles bare-handed. What’s gotten into you?” she asked, her concern evident.
I simply looked into her eyes, my own face a blank mask, and she sighed softly. “Okay. I understand. It’s about what we talked about before, isn’t it?” she asked softly. I nodded slowly. “I take it you’ve never handled nettles, have you?” I shook my head. “Let me show you. In fact, gather around, everyone. Nettles are a painful plant, and you may have to handle them at some point. Let me show you how to deal with them,” Katira announced.
The rest of the group came over and sat while Katira taught us how to handle the irritating plant. Once she demonstrated the process, I tried it once, and even though I’d succeeded, I figured I’d not like to attempt it again. Instead, I took my multitool and pocket knife, clamped onto the stem, and sliced the leaves into the pot. Then, for good measure, I sectioned up the stem and dropped it in, as well. In went the snake skin, water and three drops of my blood. I set the fire, and waited for something to happen.
As luck would have it something did happen. We all heard Robert’s fire go out with a pop, and turned to see the droplet of essence-infused oil spill onto the squirrel. As with our message stones, nothing was spilled, it all just absorbed into the squirrel, and we watched with bated breath.
At first, nothing happened. The squirrel sat motionless on the cold stone slab. After a few moments, however, we all saw the digits on the left forelimb twitch. Collectively, we moved back, as a crazed squirrel was as fearsome as it was small. It took a breath, then a second. Slowly, it sat up, turned its black, unblinking eyes towards Robert and began chittering.
“Try it, Initiate Grimes,” Katira whispered.
Robert cleared his throat and swallowed. “Go outside the cave, and dig a hole big enough for you to lie in beside the first tree you see,” he commanded.
We watched as the squirrel cocked its head to the side and hopped down. It bounded drunkenly out of the cave, and after a short search, began to dig a hole.
“Excellent job, Initiate. Why did you tell it to do that?” Katira asked.
“I felt terrible for it. I think it should be put to rest,” he said quietly.
“So it is digging its own grave? Interesting. Go and tend to it. It may not be able to finish,” Katira replied.
Robert got up and went outside to tend to his squirrel, and the rest of us sat back and chatted for a bit.
“Senpai? What took you so long to find your reagents?” Morita-san asked.
“Well, as our Instructor specified this morning, I require very specific reagents to even have a chance at making this work, and they weren’t easy to find. I had to have phlox, nettles and a shed skin. Phlox were those tiny blue flowers, and they weren’t easy to find. Especially as I had no idea what they looked like until I opened my Grimoire. I knew what nettles looked like, and everyone from around here knows what a shed skin looks like, I think. They just weren’t easy to get. However, after I found the nettles, the other two just kinda happened. The snake skin was tangled around some weeds in a field, and the phlox were growing by an outcropping of stone. We had to go something like five miles from the cave. Speaking of which, I’m gonna need to eat something soon. I just had a small snack around noon or so,” I explained.
“By the time your still finishes, it will be time for dinner, anyway. I’d suggest holding off, if you can,” Katira said.
“I’ll try, but if I start getting the sugar shakes or acting belligerent, I’ll need a small snack again. We really don’t want that,” I said.
Robert came back, looking somber and somewhat sad. “It’s done. I…I told it to die, and it closed its eyes and just stopped moving. It seemed happy,” he said, taking a seat.
“Initiate Grimes, I want you to understand that all you did was reanimate the body of a squirrel. It had no soul, and therefore wasn’t the same creature I killed three days ago. It was more or less a biological machine that used the energy of the reagents you selected and your essence as fuel. It would have eventually stopped moving on its own. You could re energize it with your essence, but that would serve to bond it tighter to you, which is not a situation we want here. You have done well thus far, and I’m proud of you. We all are,” she told the younger man.
“She is right, Master. You have grown in skill, and as a person. Rather quickly, I might add. As such, I would say that your own Growth is no more than a month away. Once we get home, you should alert your job to your upcoming illness,” Yin grumbled.
“I can’t do that, bud. I can’t plan to be sick. Instructor? Do the symptoms all come on at once, or are they in stages?” Robert asked.
“You will most likely get the headaches first. If you can function through them, I would call your job at that point, and tell them that you are sick, and it is unknown as to how long it will last. Hopefully, you will be able to maintain your job after you are done Growing,” Katira replied.
“I can form human arms and hands for the time it takes to send a message on your phone, Master. I could also call for any number of other familiars and Necromancers to help, should you need it,” Yin said reassuringly.
Robert seemed satisfied with this answer, and began to clean his equipment. He had just finished when, with twin pops, we heard both Joaquin and Morita-san’s fires go out. All heads turned to watch the reaction complete.
Both squirrels were doused with the oil/essence mixture, and we watched as it was absorbed into the bodies of the squirrels.
Both squirrels twitched and sat up, turning their heads towards their creators and began chittering.
Morita-san nodded at Joaquin, and he cleared his throat. “Venha aqui, esquilo,” he said.
The squirrel shakily stood and took two steps before collapsing. We all watched in horror as it continued to crawl forward, leaving its back half behind. Joaquin began to panic and scooted back.
“Release it, Initiate Madras!”
“Morra, esquilo! Morra!” the young man cried out. The squirrel shuddered and heaved out its remaining breath, one clawed paw outstretched towards Joaquin. As it did, the rest of its entrails oozed out from its body, coupled with a brown slime.
“I will explain in a moment, Initiate Madras. Initiate Morita-san, it is your turn,” Katira said.
Morita-san swallowed, staring at the halves of the squirrel on the cavern floor. “私に近づいて、リス。” she said, her eyes never leaving the squirrel.
Her squirrel never moved. It sat there, blinking. “Instructor? What do I do? It’s not moving. Just….blinking,” Morita-san said quietly.
“Try rewording what you just said.”
“ここに来て、リス。” Morita-san said. The squirrel bounded over to her, and began to inspect her shoes.
“Excellent job, Morita-san. It seems that your reagents harmonized rather well with both you and your subject. This is why it is acting more like a normal, living creature and not the automaton Initiate Grimes produced. There is nothing wrong with your results, Initiate Grimes. You’ll just need to try a different combination of reagents, is all. Initiate Morita-san happened to chance upon the right triad for her for this experiment.
“The squirrel is yours to do with as you wish, Initiate Morita-san. Congratulations to the three of you. You have successfully reanimated your squirrels,” Katira said happily.
The others smiled and seemed happy. Morita-san looked at her squirrel and cocked her head to the side. “Should I name him?” she asked aloud.
“There is nothing prohibiting that, Initiate.”
“I shall call you Daisuke,” she said to the squirrel. “この死んだリスを片付けて、ダイスケ。” she commanded, and the squirrel bounded over to Joaquin’s partial reanimation, and began to cart the remains outside.
“Now, as for your squirrel, Initiate Madras. It was apparently infected by a parasite which had been eating it from the inside. Some sort of intestinal worm, I would say. When you reanimated it, the parasite was immediately destroyed, and likely aided the decomposition. There is no shame in this, and none of us could have known it was there. It is the risk we take when we choose a creature for reanimation.
“This is why a skeleton was chosen for reanimation more often than not in the past. There was no risk of parasitic infection, little risk of a messy failure, and in the event the energies used ran out, it would simply fall to the ground in a pile, ready to be used again. However, one needs a distinct grasp of anatomy for it, because in the event you put it together wrong, it won’t move correctly,” Katira said.
“So, wait. We could potentially Frankenstein ourselves a servant together?” Robert asked.
“Where do you think Mary Shelley got the idea, Initiate Grimes?” Katira returned with an enigmatic smile.
Robert sat there, his mouth agape.
“Close your mouth, Initiate. You might catch a fly, otherwise.”
We all laughed as Robert closed his mouth with a click. He shook his head and sat beside his cubbyhole in thought. Morita-san and Joaquin were talking animatedly in their respective languages, aided by their familiars.
I sat beside my equipment, watching the oil collect in the reservoir. It looked a little different than the others’ did.
“Instructor?” I asked, waving her over.
“Yes?”
“My essence-infused oil looks different to theirs. Theirs was green, and mine is…well, it’s kind of an orangey-pink. Is something wrong?” I asked with concern.
“Hmm. I’m not sure. I’ve never seen a reanimation essence appear this color. Yin? Shutan? Oiwa? Would you three come here, please?” she called out.
The three familiars approached my station curiously. Katira turned to them, gesturing at my equipment. “Have any of you ever seen this color in a reanimation essence before?” she asked.
“Exactly once,” Shutan said, stroking his bony jaw. “Stu? Yours is a Multiplying essence, correct?” he asked, receiving a nod. “Then, I will reveal nothing, save this: This will be interesting.” He walked away, shaking his head, and I could swear I saw a smirk on his skeletal countenance.
“What? Interesting? I’m not sure I like interesting. Wait a minute! What do you mean, interesting?” I called after him, receiving no inkling of acknowledgement.

Day 1:
Few of the tributes got much sleep that night. The parties all throughout the Capitol did not end until dawn, and the noise could be heard in the accommodation building. Vannery and Carton ate breakfast slowly, like zombies. They were subsequently taken to the holding rooms. Organza wished Carton good luck before accompanying Vannery in her cell. She kept trying to reassure her as she put on her beige shorts and t-shirt. The young girl attached her hair with a purple ribbon that had been provided and climbed into the glass tube. Organza hugged her one last time, feeling her tears soaking her shoulder.
It was Platonia Travers who accompanied Carton. She muttered to herself about the outfit choice for this year. She tried to be cold to the boy, but she accepted to help him tie the purple ribbon to his wrist. He gave her a sad smile : “I probably won’t come back, but it’s nice to know that everyone in the Capitol isn’t heartless.” Platonia stood, mute, as the boy’s platform started to rise. She couldn’t keep the tears in this time.
A few cells over, the atmosphere was as morose. Alexandra had finally deigned to discuss their strategy with Delta. She accepted his plan of staying on the sidelines while he ran to the cornucopia. Still, he looked at her suspiciously and hounded her about working together for the whole breakfast. Halifax gave Delta one last pill to combat the morphling withdrawal, assuring him that the only symptoms he would experience were a mild headache and maybe some stiffness. He subsequently accompanied him to his holding room while Sean Callahan went with Alexandra.
Halifax took advantage of being alone with his mentee : “You shouldn’t trust her. I know these kinds of girls. They look harmless, but they’ll stab you in the back as soon as you let down your guard.”
“But-but…”
“You like her, huh ? Too bad, she doesn’t. So, man up and move on !”
Delta did not know what else to say. He climbed into the glass tube in silence, his brows forming a single black line over his dark eyes.
In the next holding room, another conversation was happening. “You don’t plan on allying with Delta, do you ?” asked Sean Callahan. Alexandra looked away coyly. “ I have other plans… With Angelo, we have an agreement.”
The mentor sighed, but he did not criticize the girl. He just told her to be prudent. You couldn’t trust careers. Alexandra nodded then flinched as the glass tube started descending from the ceiling.
The first thing she noticed as she rose into the arena was the noise. She hadn’t even emerged that she could hear a cacophony of bird songs. It was almost deafening, and she covered her ears before protecting her eyes from the sunlight.
The racket made Delta’s headache intensify. He first looked to his sides ; Hattie (3) cowered on the left while Angelo (2), on the right, was focusing on the cornucopia. This year, it had been made out of a thin weave of golden metal, almost like a very shiny basket. After this zoom on the cornucopia, the cameras started moving around to show off the arena. The tributes stood in the clearing of a dense rainforest. The terrain was relatively flat, with a few creeks and an explosion of colorful flowers. The main attraction of it was the birds, however, as thousands of them fluttered about, sang, and screamed.
As Carton looked around for his allies, Head Gamemaker Vishwa welcomed the tributes and wished the odds to be ever in their favor before starting the 30 seconds countdown. With Borea (5) and the girl from 10 to his sides, he didn’t feel safe. He finally found what he was looking for, but he didn’t like that his allies were so spread out. He made eye contact with Rivage and Vannery but was unable to see Sardine, who stood on the opposite side of the cornucopia.
Vannery caught sight of her district partner, as well as Sardine. She gave them a small wave, but made the mistake of looking to her left, where Perfecto (1) was sneering at her. Georges (N), on the other side, was just as intimidating. Instead, she looked straight ahead. As the countdown reached ten, she spotted a coil of rope on the outside of the cornucopia.
Delta had been pondering, unsure if it was worth entering the bloodbath. Alexandra, who happened to be just two podiums over, winked at him. She then pointed to the cornucopia. He understood. At that moment, the countdown reached zero. He sprinted to the center of the clearing, expecting her to follow, but she stayed on her podium.
On later replays, it was shown that Alexandra was winking at Angelo and not her district partner. As the boy from 2 sprinted forth to the cornucopia, the girl waited for a few seconds. She moved only when most of the other tributes were too occupied and grabbed a knife as well as a small bag of food. Angelo acted like he helped the other career tributes in order to pick up weapons and supplies, but as soon as they were occupied, he joined Alexandra. The pair was actually one of the first to leave the clearing, not counting Circuit (3) and the pair from 10 who had run away immediately.
When Vannery realized that she was running side to side with Perfecto (1), she immediately changed course and ran to Carton. She had to give up on the rope but managed to pick a water bottle off of the corpse of the boy from 9, who had just been stabbed by Glare (9).
If the career pack didn’t notice the disappearance of one of theirs, it wasn’t the case for Delta. When he saw his district partner escape with Angelo, he became enraged. He tried to exit the cornucopia. Fraxen then attacked him to try and steal his backpack. Delta threw him to the ground and punched him so hard it broke his neck. Now he had lost trace of Alexandra. As the fighting started to die down, he ran in a random direction.
Carton had dodged one of Glare’s knives and grabbed a bag of food and an unwieldy lance before Vannery and Rivage joined him. The trio heard Sardine scream from the other side of the cornucopia. Carton wanted to go and help her, but a second gargled wail convinced him that they couldn’t do anything else, especially since Proserpina (2) had now retrieved her axe from Sardine’s chest. As they left, they could hear the crunching of Ora’s neck (12) at the hands of Georges (N).
Meanwhile, Alexandra and Angelo were already far away, giggling at each other. It was only after Perfecto had stabbed Hattie (3) to death that the career pack noticed Angelo’s absence, but they didn’t seem bothered by it.
Delta was halfway to the perimeter when the five bloodbath cannons sounded. He was still seething, and the running helped him calm down. Eventually, he collapsed on the side of and old mossy tree, out of breath. Once he was a little better, he explored his surroundings. The big tree had a hole in his roots where Delta could fit, although it was a squeeze. He decided to stay there for now and used moss to hide himself. He also put some in his ears, which helped with his headache.
Carton, Rivage and Vannery had been running in the opposite direction. They wanted to put the most distance between themselves and the other tributes. They stopped long after the bloodbath cannons had sounded. They set up camp a few hundred feet away from the Northern part of the perimeter, next to a creek. Carton helped Rivage to take inventory. He had the lance, Rivage had gotten a trident, and between the three of them they had enough food to last two days at most. The bottle Vannery had taken was only half full, but the water of the creek was clear and drinkable.
The trio decided to stay put. Vannery and Carton would work on a shelter while Rivage fished for their dinner, as they had agreed to during training. In the early afternoon, they heard hurried footsteps coming their way. The boys readied their weapon, protecting Vannery between the two of us. Circuit (3) came running into their little encampment, which took him by surprise. He skidded to a halt and turned around as quickly as he’d arrived, leaving the trio dumbfounded.
Angelo and Alexandra had quite enough supplies to last a while. He held a sword in his hand and an “emergency axe” strapped to his back, while Alexandra held two knives. At first, they wanted to get away from the careers, but Alexandra eventually convinced Angelo to follow them from afar. They weren’t really hard to track, their bickering could be heard over the constant chatter of the birds. The noise also covered them. Proserpina, Glare and Perfecto were circling around the central clearing, slowly moving away from it. In the late afternoon, they discovered Forger (12) who was lying unconscious. He had received a deep wound during the bloodbath and was now at the mercy of the other tributes. Proserpina killed him.
The subsequent cannon surprised Vannery. She had climbed on top of a tree to get a view of the arena, and the sudden sound almost made her loose her grip. She didn’t fall, but while reaching her hand for a hold, she grabbed something warm and spherical. It crumbled and a viscous liquid dripped onto her finger. She looked up. She had inadvertently grabbed an egg from a nest. She was silent a moment, and a bright purple starling looked at her. “Oh no !” she whispered to herself. The bird screamed louder than she thought possible. Then it attacked.
All the birds in a radius of 50 feet coalesced into a multicolored tornado. Vannery fell to the ground, fortunately not hurting herself on the way down, and a feathery mass started clawing and pecking at her. They also attacked Carton and Rivage, who had been chilling at a distance. They batted the volatiles away, trying not to get scratched. Vannery managed to get up and run to the makeshift tent they had built. She picked up Carton’s lance and swung it, hitting some of the birds. She swung a second time and hit the metallic water bottle with a resounding CLANG! It seemed to stun the birds, but Vannery was too busy keeping them out of her face. Carton, however, noticed their reaction to the noise. He shouted loudly and flailed his arms : “Make noise ! They don’t like noise !”. Just his screaming was enough though. Eventually, the three tributes managed to drive the mutts out by hitting their weapons against rocks and the water bottle and screaming as loud as they could.
Delta also had an encounter with some angry birds. Those were red, with a long curvy beak and fearsome talons, but he managed to kill them all with a big branch he used as a bat. He then ate them, cooked over a small fire. Argus berated him for building a fire that could alert the other tributes to his location. However, the “Aviary Jungle” as it had been baptized by Urania Whimsiwick herself, was way too dense for anyone to see the smoke.
As the sun started to set, Delta squeezed himself back into his root hole, being careful to camouflage himself with moss. He held his branch in front of him just in case. An hour later, two cannons sounded in quick succession. They belonged to the pair from 10, who had had the great idea of making an omelet. The flock did not appreciate that…
When the sun started to set, Angelo suggested he and Alexandra find a place to sleep, preferably away from the career pack. She agreed, so they stopped following. They looked for a safe spot in the light of the dusk, eventually settling on the middle of a tight thicket. It was complicated to get inside, but the small space was comfortable, and the pair even had a view of the darkening sky. They ate some food then laid down, hand in hand. “Your district partner doesn’t seem to mind that you ditched her” joked Alexandra.
“I don’t think she cares. Maybe they believe I’m dead. But they’re not looking for us at least.”
“I think Delta is, though. You should have seen his face when he saw us. I almost feel bad about leading him on.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get rid of him if he isn’t dead yet.”
“I’m sure he’s feeling the same thing”, responded Alexandra before going to sleep. Angelo kept the first watch.
In another section of the arena, Carton took the first watch. He had spent the remaining hours of daylight cleaning his wounds, along with Rivage and Vannery. The two of them slept, hoping to feel better the next day.
A little before midnight, Rivage awoke. He came to sit next to Carton, and the boys talked about their families, their school. Suddenly, a cannon sounded. It belonged to Ulma (7), who had stumbled upon Quinoa’s (9) camp by accident. The younger girl had not hesitated to stab a pointy branch in Ulma’s throat. This cannon prompted Carton to go to sleep, Rivage taking second watch.
At midnight, the hymn of Panem resounded in the arena and the portraits of the 9 fallen appeared in the sky : Hattie (3), Sardine (4), Fraxen and Ulma (7), the boy (9), both (10), Ora and Forger (12). This left 17 tributes after an eventful and interesting day.
Day 2:
Delta didn’t sleep much that night. The uncomfortable position coupled with a strong headache meant that he was up before the sunrise. As the first hints of blue appeared to the east, Delta got up. He needed to occupy his mind. The moss had stuck to his clothes, and he decided to take advantage of it. He caked his face and hands in mud and used it to stick more moss to his clothes. Urania commented that he looked like a green Orang-utang, which prompted laughter in the Capitol. Once he was fully camouflaged, he started roaming the arena. Stealthily at first, but as the sun rose and the birds started their cacophony as well, he allowed himself to move a little faster.
Alexandra and her district partner had spent a restful night. As she awoke, she was surprised to be cuddling with Angelo. Her rousing awakened him, and he turned around to look at her, puzzled. “I guess you’re the little spoon”, she joked. They ate cereal bars in awkward silence. Soon, the voices of the career pack walking in their direction prompted the pair to hide. Proserpina and Perfecto were loudly arguing about someone stealing their water bottles. Unbeknownst to them, it had been Glare who had hidden them in her own bag.
As they moved away from her, Alexandra suggested they follow the trio like the day before. Angelo thought it was a safe strategy as long as they kept their distances. They made their way out of the thorny thicket and followed. A few minutes later, a scream warned them that something was going on. It was Glare (1). She’d walked into a trap laid by Georges the day before and was now hanging upside down from a rope. Perfecto started to help her, but the stolen bottles fell from her bag, along with a few hidden knives and more food. Instead of killing her, as Perfecto wanted to do, Proserpina convinced him to leave her there. She screamed and screamed. Proserpina and Perfecto left her there wiggling. Before Alexandra and Angelo could arrive, the thin rope holding up Glare by the ankle snapped. She fell headfirst on the ground and her cannon sounded. Alexandra winced, but Angelo told her that it was better this way, since you could survive for many hours hanging this way. Then another cannon sounded.
Delta had been unsuccessful for a few hours. He had avoided a couple of poorly made traps and fought off a flock of tiny yellow canaries but had been unable to find another tribute. Eventually, he decided to change tactics. He found a path that clearly looked like it was in use and hid in proximity. His ambush eventually worked. Lavandine (11) walked past him, clutching a meagre stick in her pale hands. She didn’t even notice him getting up and following her, his branch raised. Many viewers thought it looked cartoonish, the tiny girl, followed by a big man with a club, not noticing anything. Glare’s cannon gave him the signal he expected, and he swung at her head. Lavandine flew and crashed into a patch of ferns. Her head was bloody, but she was still alive. Delta walked up to her in order to finish what he had started. The cameras cut to another group of tributes.
For the whole morning, Vannery, Rivage and Carton had been staying put. They foraged, fished, and built rudimentary spears just in case. Vannery climbed trees, very carefully in order not to disturb any more birds, so she could spot any tributes. Eventually she did, a little after midday. The pair from district 5 was heading their way. They were armed.
Vannery transmitted the information to the boys, who debated leaving or fighting. “Let’s fight !” said Vannery. There were 3 of them against 2, and they had weapons. Carton had his lance, Rivage his trident, and her… a spear and a rock would do the trick. So, they waited for what felt like a century. As soon as Borea and Zapp entered their field of vision, they attacked. The pair was surprised, but not enough to let themselves be killed that easily. Borea shouted at Zapp to run while she fended of Rivage’s trident with her sword. She had wrapped metal coil all around her arms, as she had seen on one of the older games. They clashed for an instant, enough time for her to disarm him, and then she ran too. On the way, she threw an egg she’d hidden in her pocket to the group. A flock of angry sparrows was the distraction the pair from 5 needed to escape.
Proserpina and Perfecto seemed to have made up a little and were now actively hunting. Still, they weren’t aware of the couple _ the “double A couple” as they were now called in the Capitol _ following them from afar. They dared not speak, but the looks they shared meant a lot more. They say love makes you blind, and maybe that’s why Alexandra didn’t see the orange and turquoise pheasant she walked on. It screamed and ran away, catching the attention of Proserpina. She turned around and shouted, “I knew it !” before charging at Angelo and her ally. Her first axe hit a tree a few inches above Alexandra’s head. She was hesitant to fight a career, but Angelo had already jumped into the fray and was now battling his district partner. So, she ran at Perfecto, who was lagging behind. He quickly turned around and sprinted when Proserpina’s cannon sounded. Angelo had managed to stab her in the gut. The look of betrayal was still printed on her face as the hovercraft claw took her away.
The pair was unsure if they needed to pursue the boy from 1, as Angelo assured that he was an “ego-inflated wimp” . Instead, they rifled through the bag Proserpina had dropped and decided to rest a little. They could have stayed there longer if it hadn’t been for the fire…
After getting rid of the birds, the trio decided to keep following Zapp and Borea (5) in order to get their supplies. Vannery managed to track them thanks to their footprints and the trail of broken branches. They found them quite quickly. Indeed, the gamemakers had decided to trigger a forest fire in order to move the tributes around a little. This explained why they had seen so many birds flying away. The pair from 5, however, had found themselves cornered on three sides by the flames, and the last side was where Carton and his allies arrived from.
Rivage thrusted his trident straight into Borea’s back, sounding her cannon. Carton’s lance, however, flew past Zapp and into the fiery inferno. The boy from 4 barely had the time to pick up his trident before a tree fell, smashing into the boy from 5 and sounding his cannon. As other trees started to creak and groan, Vannery led the boys back to the creek, where she believed the water would keep them safe.
Delta ran as soon as he smelled smoke. He ended up in a small clearing in the Southern part of the arena. As the grass quickly burned, he jumped into the flames. Many viewers gasped, thinking he had just killed himself, but he just ran a few seconds then stopped. Argus explained that the fire had been controlled in a way that it burned quickly and extinguished itself just as fast. From his spot of scorched earth, Delta was safe for now. From the sky descended a small silver parachute bearing the number 6. It contained a water bottle and some aspirin. Delta was the only one to use this strategy successfully. A few minutes after him, Circuit (3), who was shorter and weaker, tried. He fell face first into the fire and did not get up, his cannon sounding a few moments later.
Angelo and Alexandra were some of the closest to the central clearing, so it was after the three cannons that the fire reached them. They ran. Angelo was practically flying but the fire was catching up to Alexandra. Another tree cracked. It crashed onto the girl, pinning her legs to the ground. Thankfully, it was a much younger tree, and it did not cause her much more damage. For an instant, Alexandra thought the boy from 2 would just keep running. That he would be glad to get rid of yet another opponent. But he turned around. He used his axe as a lever, bending it in the process, to get the girl free. Then he picked her up onto his back and ran again. Angelo was not a very muscular tribute, but he proved to be quite a strong one.
Neither Carton, nor his allies had suffered any injury thanks to Vannery’s quick thinking. The creek was wide enough to protect them from the flames, and they avoided any falling branch. Quinoa (9) had had the same idea. She internally debated reaching the small group, but eventually decided not to. In the late afternoon, it started to rain, revealing that many of the trees and plants of the forest were actually fireproof. It was much sparser now, but the rain cleaned off the soot and, soon enough, the forest was green again.
Rivage, Vannery and Carton huddled together. They stayed that way for the whole evening, until Carton took the first watch while the other two went to sleep.
Delta was almost unharmed too, apart from a few minor burns on his ankles. The aspirin had taken effect, and for once in a long time, he felt totally clear headed. He hoped his district partner had died today.
The fire had changed the landscape quite a lot. What used to be a lush jungle was now less green. The ground was visible in most places, and the humidity levels had gone down. The sky was more visible. It also meant that the traps set by Georges and Odette (N) on the first day were either destroyed or very conspicuous. The boy from 6 avoided them all.
Delta found a pond where he cleaned himself from the soot and the half-charred moss. The fresh water also soothed his burns. He ended up settling close by, between two fallen trees.
Angelo and Alexandra, however, had suffered many burns. Fortunately, as they were setting camp and trying to remove their singed clothes, a silver parachute descended over them. It contained two containers of oil, as well as a blanket and a note from Angelo’s mentors, which he did not show to Alexandra. It would later be revealed that it scolded him for keeping his plan of betraying the career pack secret. The oil was perfumed and designed to almost instantly heal burns. It worked a charm. As the massaging continued, the two tributes started to get more and more steamy. They were intimate that night.
While they were busy, the portraits of the fallen appeared in the sky. The second day of the games had seen the loss of Glare (1), Proserpina (2), Circuit (3), Borea and Zapp (5), and Lavandine (11). This left only 11 tributes for the third day, with better odds now that a few strong tributes were gone.
Day 3:
On the morning of the third day, an announcement was made by Head Gamemaker Vishwa. She informed the tributes that a feast would be held at noon, three hours from now. The 11 surviving boys and girls would find supplies they desperately needed there. She then wished everyone a glorious day and the dampened sound of the birdsongs came back in full force.
The announcement awoke Delta, but he decided not to go to the Feast. He still had food and a source of water nearby, as well as his heavy branch. A real weapon would have been nice, but he didn’t feel safe going to the central clearing. Instead, he decided to just sleep more. He only woke up again when the first cannon sounded.
As for the couple, they were lost in bliss. Their show from the previous night had to be censored, although it was available for those who had enough “connections”. Let’s just say that it was quite memorable, and cemented Angelo and Alexandra’s place as favorites. They got ready after a long cuddling session, grabbing their bags and their weapons and heading to the cornucopia. They arrived with minutes to spare. Actually, they were the last tributes to arrive.
Vannery had been the first on site, scouting for other tributes. Once she had been sure the coast was clear, she had signaled to Rivage and Carton that they could come. They hid in the bushes nearby; this area having been spared from the fires. Little by little, other tributes started to arrive. Kumquat (11) hid behind a tree, Perfecto (1) stood in the open, Odette and Georges (N) huddled together.
As Quinoa (9) and the “Double A couple” finally arrived, the cornucopia started receding into the ground. It reappeared at once, and a bell rang.
Vannery stayed behind. She watched all the tributes run to the center where laid 8 numbered bags, including Carton and Rivage. The fighting raged in the cornucopia. Her allies attacked Alexandra and Angelo, as Kumquat escaped with his bag. Quinoa (9) almost got out, but Perfecto (1) caught her by the ponytail and stabbed her in the throat, sounding her cannon. He then picked up her bag in addition to his.
Alexandra and Angelo fought side to side, covering each other. She scared Odette (N) away, while he pushed back against Rivage. The boy from 4 tried to hit Alexandra again, but her ally caught the trident and almost tore it out of Rivage’s hands. Instead of trying again, he attacked Georges. The trident hit him in the back and sounded his cannon a few seconds later. Angelo took advantage of this distraction to slash at Carton with his sword, causing the boy from 8 to bleed out.
Vannery screamed and ran out of her hiding place, almost colliding with Odette (N) on the way. Rivage grabbed the district 4 and district 8 bags in one hand, and Vannery’s arm in the other, and they ran away together. The young girl cried and struggled to keep up the pace. She wanted to go back, but Carton’s cannon sounded, ruining her hopes.
Angelo and Alexandra were the last tributes to get their bags. One of Perfecto’s knives punctured Alexandra’s. The pair turned back, giving Kumquat (11) enough time to flee. They chased Perfecto into the woods. He was quick, however, and they had a hard time gaining on him.
The following hours were very quiet, boring, even, so Urania and Argus invited a few guests to discuss the bloodbath and the tributes’ different strategies. It was only in the late afternoon that Delta deigned getting up. He was well rested. He ate what remained of his food and started camouflaging himself once again in order to hunt. The tributes were now very spread out, however, and it appeared that Delta was in an area devoid of them. He walked until it got too dark to continue, before letting out a scream of rage. His sudden outburst scared some resting birds. They flew away and hit Kumquat (11) square in the face as he was in the process of climbing up one of the taller trees. The surprise caused him to lose his grip and he fell to his death a few feet away from Delta, his Feast bag laying next to him. Suddenly, Delta laughed and thanked the birds. He emptied the contents of the bag, glad to find some fresh food and water. He settled right there for the night.
Angelo and Alexandra eventually gave up on hunting Perfecto. Every time they thought they heard him; it turned out to be another bird. He was nowhere to be found. The pair settled down near a creek, right where Carton and his allies had camped earlier, in order to clean themselves. It was another spectacle to behold. The couple played in the fresh water, wearing only their underwear, and at one point, Alexandra winked at one of the cameras. This resulted in the appearance of a sponsor gift a few seconds later. She caught it and opened it discreetly once she was dressed again. She checked that Angelo was busy with the campfire before peeking inside. There was a water bottle and a tiny, sheathed stiletto knife, about two inches long. There was also a note that said : “You will only get one chance” – S. She acted nonchalant, thanked her sponsor for the water, and hid the knife in her sock. She took the first watch, jumping when a cannon sounded.
Since they had come back from the Feast, Vannery felt that Rivage was acting strange. He kept pacing and muttering to himself and seemed unhappy even though they had received enough supplies to last five more days in the arena at least. They found another place to sleep, Vannery built a new shelter. As she was about to go to sleep, Rivage approached her, trident in hand. He didn’t speak, so she asked him what he wanted. “I’m sorr-“ he started. Vannery interrupted him : “Behind you !”.
He spun around and threw his trident. It caught Perfecto in the head, sounding his cannon before he had hit the ground. He had been sneaking up behind Rivage with a knife in both hands, but Vannery had a keen eye. Rivage seemed to deflate. He cleaned up his weapon and went to sleep. Vannery tried to ask him what he wanted to tell her, but he didn’t answer. Instead, she took the first watch.
At midnight, five portraits appeared in the sky : Perfecto (1), Carton (8), Quinoa (9), Kumquat (11) and Georges (N). The six remaining tributes were spread out around the arena : Rivage and Vannery to the East, Angelo and Alexandra to the North, Odette (N) in the South and Delta to the West.
Day 4:
The sound of a cannon startled Delta out of his slumber. He was feeling well rested and decided to head to the cornucopia with just his branch and a knife he had taken from Kumquat. With only 5 remaining tributes, he knew that the showdown was about to take place and was about as excited as the viewers in the Capitol for it to happen. On the way, he stumbled upon a suspicious mound of leaves. He almost let it be, until he saw two feet poking out of it. As he bent down to look at it, a sharp pain entered his shoulder blade. By pure reflex, he swung his club backwards, hitting a barefoot Odette (N) in the forehead. She stumbled backwards, clutching her knife, and tripped on a rock. Delta jumped onto her, planting his knee in her stomach, and stabbed her with her own knife. He added it to his “collection”.
The atmosphere between Alexandra and Angelo had been quite tense since they’d woken up. They hadn’t slept so well. When the first cannon sounded, they set out to get to the cornucopia, and by the time the second cannon echoed throughout the arena, they were in position. “We’ll fight together, right ?” asked Alexandra. Angelo nodded solemnly : “Until there’s no one else. I’m so glad I got to meet you.”
“Me too… Too bad one of us will have to die.”
As she said those words, a twig cracked in a nearby bush.
The first cannon had shocked the viewers quite a bit. As Rivage finished his watch, he looked at Vannery, asleep next to him. He murmured “I’m sorry”, so low that it had to be subtitled. Then he plunged his trident in her throat. Before leaving, Rivage let out the longest sigh of relief.
Alexandra climbed onto the cornucopia, hiding herself, a length of rope held tight between her hands. She waited as Rivage entered the clearing. He was focused on Angelo. Delta appeared a few seconds later, on the other side of the cornucopia. He walked under it, oblivious to the girl awaiting him. As Angelo charged Rivage with his sword, Alexandra lowered the rope. Delta let out a choked growl as she pulled. He was much stronger, however. With one labored step, he yanked her off the roof. The rope was still around his neck, but his hands were now around Alexandra’s. Nevertheless, she held on to the rope, using it to hold him at bay. Just before she fell unconscious, she kicked him in the groin. She let out a few coughs, before grabbing the two ends of the rope again and pulling Delta against one of the steel columns of the cornucopia. Delta tried to stab her, but she was behind him, and he was quickly loosing consciousness. With one last brutal pull, the rope crushed his windpipe.
Alexandra watched Angelo dispose of Rivage with one final feint of his sword, and his cannon sounded at the same time as Delta’s.
Silence fell on the clearing. Even the birds had shut up. The couple was breathing heavily. They hugged tight. Something glinted in Alexandra’s hand. She almost reached Angelo’s neck when he gripped her wrist. He smiled, but his eyes were full of sorrow. “I had to try at least !” she half-laughed, half-whimpered. He sat her down and hugged her once again. She told him that he deserved to win. That he was a good man. He took his swords and gently stabbed Alexandra in the heart. She barely cried as he looked into her eyes. A cannon sounded. The last one. Jahani Vishwa announced Angelo Clearfell, of district 2, as the victor of the 119th Hunger Games. He had to be forcefully removed form Alexandra’s corpse in order to be retrieved.
Aftermath:
The games took an immense toll on Angelo, who was unable to speak for more than a month. Even when he had gotten the use of his words back, he fell into a lengthy depression. His interview with Urania Whimsiwick and Argus Brown had to be cut short as soon as they mentioned Alexandra.
After that, he remained alone in his home of the Victor’s village. He received no guests and did not act as a mentor the following years. The other victors of his district described him as “disillusioned” and “a killjoy”. The situation stayed the same until his disappearance two years later.

Chapter LXXXVII

Somewhere, West Virginia, USA.

"Well, there goes the neighborhood." Agent Smith stated as him, Agent Doe, and everyone else in town, watched the migration of people stream into the small town as the sun hit the horizon.

They looked like a bunch of extras to Lord of the Rings. People with pointed ears and flowing robes. People short and stout and with thick beards with bands of gold and silver woven into them. Shorter people that spoke in high-pitched nasally voices and large glasses. There were even people dressed in what looked like giant turtle suits.

Of course that's what the townsfolk would think. To the two Agents it was a very real possibility that these people came from another world like the lizard people, greenskins, and the halflings.

"So much for my report being up-to-date." Agent Smith sighed as he went inside and burned the report he had spent so much time typing out. As he cleaned up the ashes the hotel phone rang.

Johnathan looked between the phone and Agent Smith with a look of curiosity as the Agent seemed greatly hesitant to answer. Agent Smith looked at Johnathan as the phone continued to ring. He walked over and disconnected the line to the phone and it went silent. For a second.

"Damn." Smith cursed as the disconnected phone rang once more despite there being no connection.

He picked up the phone and placed it to his ear. He bit back another curse as the voice of the Director came through.
"Agent Smith."

"Director."

"How is the investigation coming along?" She asked.

"Well, until about a few minutes ago it was going pretty smoothly and quietly."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, changed?"

"I'd tell you but if you're calling then that means you already know."

"Of course I already know. I'm just disappointed it came from our sources in the State Government and not my two field agents."

"What is the State going to do?"

"They're going to send the 111th Engineer Brigade, and the 77th Brigade Troop Command."

"All of them?!"

"What did you expect? The population of some small town in the middle of nowhere just became the largest in the State in a single day. They're even sending the 35th."

Smith tapped his foot in thought.
"Can we stop them? Or at the very least make it so they don't send damn near the entire National Guard of West Virginia?"

"No can do Agent. Even if we had caught this before the Governor's office did, we still would've sent troops in. This became top priority the second a large number of people came over."

"Well what about leaks? We can't keep the lid on this with so many showing up."

"We'll be sending our own task force. Officially they are there as "Federal Oversight". In actuality they are there to aid you in your investigation as well as limit leaks from the National Guard."

"So there isn't anything we can do to stop them from showing up en masse?"

"Unfortunately no. Aerial recon is being deployed to "substantiate" the claim. But seventy-thousand people showing up out of nowhere isn't something to take lightly. When they see that there are indeed an entire city's worth of people, then they will send the rest. But that will be a few days, a week at most. Once they verify, they'll be getting crash courses in crisis response and begin mobilization."

"What about the rest of the Federal Government?"

"As far as the State is aware WE are the Federal response. And we are going to keep it that way."

Smith didn't like this, not one bit. It was hard enough doing their job quietly in even a small town like this. Now they had to worry about not only a population the size of medieval Venice, but now the National Guard.
"What if we-"

"No, Agent Smith."

"We could do it you know?"

"Not in the time we have nor the volume. You should know that disappearing an entire town is hard enough, doing it to a city's worth of people is harder to not only pull off but harder to sell to the public."

Smith huffed in frustration.
"So what's the new mission?"

"The same as it was before. Only this time, you'll be getting a team to back you up. Set up and monitor everything that happens. Keep the NG from getting too close to the less explainable creatures and people. ESPECIALLY keep them away from Entity APL-1."

"You mean-"

"I will not use that ludicrous name! It is a dangerous entity! Not a pet!"

Smith chuckled a bit.
"Since we're talking, would you like my report up till today?"

The Director sighed.
"Very well. Only because this is a secure way of communicating."

So Smith gave the Director his report. Jeb and the kobolds. Morty and the greenskins. The halflings. All of it. There was a pause as the Director processed the information. No doubt already sending various people about to adjust to the new information.
"Is that all you have to report Agent Smith?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Good, continue as planned until our team arrives then procced from there."

"Yes Ma'am."

"And don't call me Ma'am. Makes me sound old."

"You are old."

Smith heard the Director guffaw.
"And you aren't?! Quit being insubordinate and get back to work Agent Smith."

"Yes Ma-"

CLICK

"Rude old bitty." Smith quipped playfully as he set the dead phone back on its base.

Johnathan just stared at Smith.
"How-"

"Trade secret Agent Doe. You'll find out when you're older. In the mean time. Its business as usual until reinforcements arrive. So go pull up a chair and observe." Smith stated as he dragged one of the worn hotel chairs out and sat on it while he watched the sheer number of people walking about along the main street of the town.
-----
Time must be different here than back home, because that was NOT "20 minutes", thought the Duchess as she entered the town the deputy had pointed out to her. She and her people were drained. Mentally, physically, and emotionally.

This worlds sun was past its peak when they came to this world. Now it was just nearing the horizon to the west as they reached the town. The chill air didn't help, especially the turtle people from the isles. The moderately sized enclave that live- HAD lived in Daele grumbled and groaned the whole walk. Both the temperature difference and the long journey didn't agree with them.

Everyone had dressed for a spring that, just a few hours ago, they were sure they weren't going to see. Now it felt like they had missed it entirely! But the sight was still something to behold.

Sure it wasn't a grand city like Daele... was. But it was still shelter, and it was still a wonder to see. Buildings made of faded red brick or what looked like solid stone and glass. A road made from a faded black stone. Lights that didn't look like they needed fire. Not to mention the multitude of metal carriages about! She couldn't see any horses in sight and she wondered how they were pulled.

A sentiment shared by many, but especially of Dylan. He was looking around the new town with wide eyes. Scribbling on his notepad furiously as his eyes darted back and forth over everything new they saw. He wasn't the only one shocked and awed. Though some looked less than impressed by the simple, even rough, conditions of the town.

They weren't sure where to go, but seeing a slightly taller white colored building decided to head there. Perhaps that was where they could inquire with whoever the ruler was, the Duchess thought.

As they neared City Hall, the Duchess glanced about and observed the people of the town. Everyone she saw was human, many were old and tired looking. But even the younger people she saw had a tired and worn look on their face. These looks barely changed as they watched and stared at the migration.

There were no offers of support or aid from the townsfolk. Judging from the condition of the town, they probably didn't have much for themselves let alone her people, she thought sadly. Her honor guard stayed close to her as they made their way through the street.

As she reached the steps of City Hall a commotion was heard and a portly man, a gangly nervous looking man, and several other, equally rounded, men shuffled out and greeted her. Or what might pass for a greeting around here.
"Who are you and what is going on here?!"

The nervous looking man stuttered a response.
"T-t-t-the Sh-sh-sheriff l-l-l-l-"

"Cease your infernal stuttering Greg and get to the point!" The Mayor snapped.

"The point is Gerald is that these people arrived looking for shelter." The Sheriff stated as he climbed the stairs, his two deputies flanking him.

The Mayor cast a suspicious eye on the sea of people that filled out one of the few roads Somewhere had. They were starting to coalesce around City Hall as they tried to get close enough to hear what was happening. Though many were still amassed at the edge of town where the town ended and the landscape changed to that of fields and hills.

"Oh are they now? Pray tell how we are supposed to shelter them Sheriff? How are we supposed to feed them? Hmm? Did you think of that before inviting these people to our town?"

"You're right Mayor. Our town is under enough stress without adding more people we can't take care of." The Sheriff answered plainly.

"There we have it! You all will just have to-"

"That's why I called the Governor and he's sending the National Guard to aid both the town and these poor people."

"YOU WHAT!?" The Mayor rounded on the Sheriff so fast his jowls still shook from the motion.

The Sheriff stepped up to the Mayor.
"We needed help before these people showed up. Now we DESPERATLY need help!"

"So you call the Governor!?! Are you mad!?"

"No! I care about this town and I'm not going to see it die because you're too scared of the past!"

"There's a damn good reason we are and you know it!" The Mayor hissed.

As the Mayor and the Sheriff bickered, the Duchess, flanked by two of the Delta Guard, walked up the steps and bowed to the two men. The heavily armed and armored men made the councilmen and deputies nervous, causing the latter to put their hands on their holsters.
"I am sorry if our presence puts too much strain on your town. If need be we will leave at first light."

"Good! You can-"

"STAY! We are good and honest folk and we won't turn away those in need!"

"If it helps alleviate your burden. We do have some wealth that we still retain. We can donate some as thanks for your hospitality."

The Mayor, and councilmen, perked up at that.
"Wealth you say?"

The Duchess touched a hand to a ornate necklace she had. Silver and aquamarine. She unclasped it and held it out.
"I could not ask my people to do what I would not. So accept this as my thanks."

The Mayor's eyes went wide and he licked his lips as he reached a fat hand out to snatch up the exquisite jewelry. But he was stopped by the Sheriff who stood between the necklace and his meaty hands. The Delta Guard tensed at the movement put did no more once it was apparent it wasn't a threatening motion.

"That isn't necessary. If you wish to show thanks then please. Enjoy what the town has to offer. Food, a few hotels and apartments you and yours can stay in and any other services and amenities you find. Please. If you wish to offer thanks, then offer it to the people of the town itself."

The Duchess smiled and withdrew the necklace before bowing.
"Thank you for your hospitality. Me and my people will do our utmost to repay it and do our best to be civil guests in your town!"

"Of course! If need be there are other places that might be able to shelter your people. We have some space at the station. The railyard probably wouldn't say no to housing some of your people. As I said, we have room and board in several parts of town that wouldn't say no to any new business!"

The Sheriff and the Mayor bickered quietly while the Duchess turned to address her people.
"Good people of Daele! We have come far from our home by the sea and have faced many hardships in these past weeks! But now the people here have been generous enough to offer us shelter! Offer us Sanctuary! They only ask that we reward that kindness at the many shops and vendors around the town! So go and find a place to rest and fill your bellies and get warm!"

With that, the great flood of people murmured curiously and excitedly as they formed various groups and began to explore the town as the message was carried through the mass of bodies. As the Duchess watched, many group heads came to her.

The scions of the dwarven banking clans and the remnants of the nobility, elvish and human, walked up to join her. As did the heads of the various merchant houses, smithy and artisan guilds. Even Alban pulled Dylan away from running off to fulfill his duty as the leader, and half, of the Artificers Guild. The Great Sage of the tortle enclave grunted as she walked over with the rest of the leaders before sitting down on the cool grass nearby with a relieved sigh.

"What're we ta do now yer Ladyship?" One of the dwarves asked as he ran a bejeweled hand over his golden beard that was woven with emerald imbedded silver bands.

"We do as I stated. We find places to rest and recover from our journey. Tomorrow we will meet again with the leaders of the town and work out the rest."

One of the elves sniffed his hawkish nose as he gazed at the town.
"Are we really to stay in such a place so... pedestrian?"

"We aren't really in a position to argue my Lord. If it is not to your liking then you are free to keep walking in hopes of finding someplace more suited to your tastes."

The elf sniffed indignantly but remained where he was. One of the merchants spoke next.
"What should we do then? We have no place to work our trades."

The other merchants and various guild leaders nodded in affirmation.
"For tonight, just find food and shelter. I'm sure that these people will have need of, and greatly appreciate, your work. As I have stated already. Food and shelter first. Everything else will be settled tomorrow."

The leaders all grumbled and murmured but did little else as they split off to find their own places of rest. The Great Sage groaning and grumbling as she forced herself to stand and return to her people. Though the dwarves and Dylan walked over to the Sheriff and Mayor.
"Excuse me lad? What were tha' 'bout a railyard?"

The Sheriff broke the mutual glaring between him and the Mayor and turned to the stout man.
"The railyard. Its on the north of town. Follow the main road here and take a left at the library. Can't miss it."

"Well thank ye lad. But uhm? What is a railyard?"

"Well, its a place where trains are stored and maintained, its also where freight from our town is, or was, shipped out of and to the rest of the country."

The dwarves hummed in understanding.
"One last question lad. What is a train?"

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[←Interlude II] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 62→]
Slowly the group was peeled apart and taken to their various quarters, with the merchant Amicio shuffling off the children and paladins to his junior, taking the commander and captains for himself. Efrain was left with the so-called mentor, who was in a state of nervous agitation.

“Alright, you’ll need to explain why you’re about to have a fit,” Efrain said.

“Well, of course, of course, you wouldn’t know me,” said the mentor, “I came to the post of mentor long after you’d left the city.”

Efrain thought the title vaguely rang a bell, and he was beginning to have a dread certainty of the origin of it.

“Please do not tell me you’re a cast-off from Nicolo, aren’t you,” he said, the image of the far too charming ‘scholar’ coming to mind.

“I-If you’re referring to Nicolo Zarrentini, our most honoured founder, then yes.”

“That… bastard,” Efrain said, “I told him that it was a joke! A joke!”

The man shrank back from the apparent anger of Efrain, before growing significantly more confused as Efrain began to howl with laughter.

“The ass was always fond of his pranks. I believe he even said that he ‘wanted one to follow me into the grave,’” Efrain said, shaking his head, “it was so long ago.”

“But-but didn’t you- weren’t you part of the first convocation of the academy?”

“It was in Aimstand’s kitchen,” Efrain complained, “two hundred years ago, and they were both so drunk that if they’d taken a few steps to the left, they’d have drowned in the canal. ‘Convocation’ was one way to put it.”

This was clearly not the secrets that the mentor desired, judging by his rapidly reddening face.

“It was an old joke between friends, the idea of starting and academy of magic,” Efrain said, “I left, what, two hundred years ago?”

“But your name… and your books?”

“My books?” Efrain said, desperately scanning his memory of published works.

“Well yes. Your books. The ones you left behind. We use them as a foundation text for most of our students and…”

Efrain didn’t even let him finish, rather grasped him suddenly and violently by the collars.

“You don’t mean to say that… my old notes are used to teach. Students. Magic?” he said, voice trembling with horror.

“Yes?” said the man, who was beginning to sweat profusely.

“Those aboslute motherf-” Efrain said, as a loud gong rang out into the canal.

“Oh!” said the man, “We’ll have to pick up this conversation later, that’s the signal for canal clearing. We’d better be off before they close it off for the Festival traffic only.”

“Am I staying with you, then?” Efrain said, trying to drop the note of absolute menace in his voice as best he could.

“Yes, yes that would be correct,” he said, “as soon as I heard you were coming, I prepared the finest office in the academy for you. It’s not much, but I believe that you would enjoy seeing the labours of your wor…”

The man trailed off as he remembered the last few minutes of conversation.

“Either way, I would hope you’d at least examine it.”

“I would be happy to, mentor,” Efrain said, straightening himself, “particularly the notes.”

The man shrank at his venom but lead Efrain to his boat all the same, and they set off down the canals to the south.

“The Academy, as you might know,” he said, “is still located in the old district. As such, academy studentship is still a prized opportunity, if only to gain access in and out.”

“Gain access?” Efrain said.

“Well, it’s been monitored for thirty years, restricted to only business, and those with invitations only,” he said, patting a pin on his inner shirt, “academy students have numbered passes that-”

“No, why is it restricted in the first place?” Efrain said.

“Oh. Oh of course! You wouldn’t be aware. The Miram estate burned down almost thirty years ago. Suspected arson, though no suspects were ever caught.”

“Oh really?” Efrain said, “what a pity. I remember the old houses well. They had the most wonderful curtains.”

“The Mirams?” the man said, “I’ve only ever heard stories.”

“So the whole old district has been restricted? From where to where?”

“Just before the shipyards, master Efrain, to the tip of the white stone ziggurats. Of course the major western canals to the shipyards remain open.”

“What?” said Efrain aghast, “that much? Why, that was half the city last time I was here.”

“Yes, well,” said the man, adjusting his spectacles, “the Eisen and Poutash have been buying up immense amounts of property throughout the district for, well about eighty years now. The ‘old district’, as we now call it, is effectively two large estates with the central trade offices between.”

“Huh,” said Efrain, “well that’s not surprising, I suppose. They were always greedy.”

The man exclaimed in shock at him as they rounded a bend in the canal.

“My dear master Efrain!” he said, “the Eisen and Poutash are dear patrons, especially the former, who’ve been supporting this institution for generations!”

“Uh-huh, say,” Efrain said, trying to piece the names beyond the vague historical context that he remembered them in, “do you remember the family trees?”

“The family trees? Of the houses? Well, I certainly could give a guess,” said the man, “incidentally, Karkosian history is something of a passion of mine.”

“Well then, the Eisen,” Efrain said, “I distinctly remember something about them. In my time it would’ve been about two hundred years. So, give or take four to five generations from now.”

The man thought for a moment, and snapped his fingers.

“I think I know what you’re looking for,” he said, “you’re wondering who master Nicolo married.”

Ah, that had indeed been it - Nicolo did always go on and on about this one girl, who Efrain was fairly sure was well beyond his league. She was an Eisen, now that the memories had jumped to the surface of his mind. No wonder the academy had generational funding if one of the founding fathers had married in.

“Yes, yes,” Efrain said, “I think she was a branch family member, if I recall correctly.”

“No, master Efrain, you’re mistaken,” said the man, wearing a fairly familiar expression - a combination of fear of failure to please, and taking delight in correcting an error in a field he knew quite a lot about.

“Oh?” Efrain said, “bold claim, mentor. Back it up.”

The man once more pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and began to recite.

“About a hundred-and-eighty years ago, master Nicolo married Hymatia Eisen. Hymatia Eisen was a daughter to Fielia Eisen, the matriarch of Eisen, hence he did not marry into a branch member of the family. He married into the direct, matrilineal line, represented by current matriach Aysatra, head of the Eisen family. Who is succeeded by, well…”

The man dropped his eyes, apparently embarrassed on behalf of the people he’d just named.

“Succeded by who?” Efrain said, leaning forward in the boat.

“Well, that’s the problem, master Efrain. In fact it’s one we currently struggle with. Oh, I do hate politics, but everything’s political in Karkos when money’s involved,” he said, putting on a expression reminiscent of a begging dog.

Efrain did not find it particularly charming, and pushed the man to go on.

“Well, that’s the thing,” he said, “the matriarch Aysatra, who is as youthful and vigorous as a woman half, no, a third of her age, is still well… older. There’s a clamour at the house of the Eisen on who’s supposed to replace her in the most deeply unfortunate event that she might… expire. No, no that make me sound like I’m talking about food and-”

“I get the point,” Efrain said, “spare me the flattery of a person who’s not even here. This matriarch doesn’t have a direct descendent?”

“Well, yes…” said the man, “but, it’s not exactly simple. The direct heir left the city some time ago.”

“And this relates to the academy, how?” Efrain said, “not that I care, just curious mostly.”

“Well, of course,” he said, “some at the house of Eisen… well, they think that our research and education is hopelessly outdated.”

“You mean useless,” Efrain said, more than ever wanting to get his hands on those notes and burn every copy he could find.

“Well, yes,” said the man, raising his hands in a gesture of helplessness, “some have used those words.”

“And you’re concerned that if they’re elected to leadership, your funding will be gone,” Efrain said flatly.

“Exactly. You’re quite insightful, just as the records suggested,” said the man, sniffing.

Before they could pick up the conversation, their polemen, dressed in the same blacks as the academy master, spoke up. They were before a river gate of sharpened palisades, which Efrain immediately recognized as the remnants of the old outer wall of the city, painted a bright red. The guards before it were dressed in ornate brass armour, studded with a set of small pearls and seashells.

Not quite the legion of sand and sea of old, though the aesthetic sense clearly meant to harken back to it. Efrain idly wondered how different the city would be if the legion actually still existed. In all the histories he’d read, most of their military exploits were suprisingly minimised, save for the few folk legends about them. Of course, most of those authors immediately left out the fact that almost all the legion commanders were women, which given many history writers were men, made sense.

The guards checked the proudly displayed pin, nodded, and opened the canal gates. Efrain immediately noticed the difference in the stone work as the passed beyond. It was more worn, but unmistakable paler, bringing back fond memories of days and nights spent in these canals over two centuries ago. He was just glad he was returning in a black, and not the horrid purple robes that he often inhabited while he was here.

The streets were noticeably quieter here, no doubt everyone was completing the final administration for the Festival. The buildings were also considerably older, their wooden slates near the water thick with strands of seaweed and barncles. Efrain more than once recognized the shape of an alley, or more noticeable deviations in the stonework. It was funny just how much he remembered of the old city and its details, and how little of his friends.

A couple of twists and turns, and Efrain started to recognize the part of the district he was in. Catching a glimpse of the mountains in the fading sunset, and a bridge or two he recognized, though they’d been significantly upgraded and replaced. With that information, he finally realised where they were, and more importantly, where they might be going.

“Noooo,” he groaned, “he didn’t.”

The mentor attempted to calm him, not understanding why he was so audibly distraught. The answer soon became quite clear as Efrain recognized the exact route they were taking. By the time they’d passed through the two statues, now dancing fish rather than the familiar wolves, Efrain’s worst fears had come true.

“He’d better not be buried on the academy grounds,” he said, his fingers fidgeting.

“I mean - and here we are!” said the academy master, clearly glad to move on to another subject.

Efrain looked up, nearly threw himself over the side, and forced himself to look up again. To say that it was exactly the way he remembered it would’ve been a lie. It had clearly expanded to include the surrounding pyramids, connecting them with bridges and walkways where what were presumably students passed by. The centre pyramid was kept more or less the same, with the same augurs drawing up water to the top, cascading it down in falls across terrace after terrace of gardens.

Refusing the offered hand, Efrain barged past him to take the steps two at a time.

“Wait! Wait master Efrain! I-” the man’s voice fell further and further behind as Efrain practically ran into the pyramid.

It was still a mess hall, but it was now one of long tables and high back chairs. The banners and plaques above proclaimed a short history of sport and scholarly achievement. Students, predominantly dressed in black, some with colourful stripes that Efrain didn’t bother to try to decode, stared at him. As did the cooks, still busy in the large kitchens that he himself had once manned.

The academy master had almost caught up to him when he took off again, striding through the aisle between the tables and out the other end of the pyramid. Yes, it was all the same, the same flower pots, and the marble steps and the little waterfall with the cracked edge. Two centuries, two bloody centuries, and Aimstand never bothered to fix the thing.

Efrain felt a internal bout of triumph at being proved right as he continued up the steps, before, finally, coming at last to the top.

The garden at the flat top of the pyramid was still as beautiful as ever, and the flowers he’d cultured still survived, although the blooms were less luminous than before. Efrain stepped out into the shallow pool that dominated most of the area, and noted that at the far end, where there used to be a stone bench, sat a gravestone.

“Found you, bastard,” he said, taking off towards it.

“Please, master!” said the man, practically sobbing if not for the fact he was out of breath.

Several of the more senior looking students had followed, looking totally flabbergasted at the display. Efrain did not stop, nor even look back at the procession, merely took off through the pool until he reached the steps to the little knurl of turf and flowers. There he stopped, parking his hands on his hips, staring at the inscription on the stone.

“Nicolo Eisen,” he said, drawing every word out, “Father, Teacher, Friend.”

“Muh-Master,” said the man, soaked up to his knees from his hurried splashing, “master, what-”

“Oh, calm yourself,” Efrain said, “I’m not going to do anything.”

The several students that had followed looked in utter confusion at the two men.

“Master?” one of them inquired, “should we get the guard?”

“No,” the man wheezed, bent over to catch his breath.

“Hold on a second,” Efrain said, bending over himself to gaze at the inscription, “what’s this?”

“That’s founder Nicolo’s grave, master Efrain,” said the mentor.

“Yes, I know that,” Efrain said, “I’m old, not blind. What’s this inscription below?”

“Oh yes, that,” he said, drawing himself back up to his full height, “It’s actually quite the mystery. No one really knows the language, but it was put there by order of founder Nicolo. Some of our teachers and students have spent quite a bit of time over the years to-”

“I’d told you I’d do it,” Efrain said.

“Pardon?”

“That’s- that’s what it- oh fuck you Nicolo!” Efrain said, “‘I’d told you I’d do it.’ That’s what it says!”

The mentor had gone white, while some of the students looked on the verge of fainting from confused apprehension.

“By all rights, I should burn this place down,” Efrain sneered at the stone, “is that what you wanted? ‘Founder’? If the gods were good, you’d still be alive, so I could kill you myself.”

“Please do not do that!” wailed the man, “I can’t understand for the life of me why you’re so angry! I thought you would’ve been happy, maybe even proud of what we’ve achieved!”

“I’m not angry at you, you idiot,” Efrain said, rounding on the man, “I’m angry at that smug piece of flotsam happily buried under his lovenest.”

“What?” said the mentor, the sentiment echoed by almost all the students present.

“All right, all of you, gather round. My first lesson,” he said, and, most likely out of habit, the students fell into a neat semi-circle.

“This will be a test of one question, and the one to get the answer right on their first response gets…” he turned to the mentor, “do you have some kind of regular award for achievement here?”

“Well, we do have ribbons that correspond to-”

“Great, first one to guess correctly gets a ribbon,” Efrain bowled through, “the question is this - why did Nicolo learn magic in the first place?”

The students stared at each other, daring the others to respond first.

“Well, come on,” Efrain said, “someone must have a theory.”

“Because he wanted to expand his own horizons?” a brown-haired boy said.

“Wrong!” Efrain said, “if your texts say that, they’re also wrong.”

“Because he wanted to shore up the city of Karkos’s defences while expanding on its knowledge?” said a girl with a slightly crooked nose.

“Also wrong,” Efrain said, shaking his head, “that’s exactly what he would say. You take that from a speech?”

“Well…” said the girl.

“Nicolo, you preening, self centered-” Efrain said, holding his head in his hands.

“To impress a girl?” said someone.

“Who said that?!” Efrain said, the class parting to reveal a younger, shaggy-looking boy.

“Well, you said that it was his ‘lovenest’ so…” he shrugged sheepishly.

“Mentor, get this young man a ribbon. If you need a reason, then cite him actually paying attention.”
[←Interlude II] [Cover Art] [My Links] [Index] [Discord] [Subreddit] [Chapter 62→]

I love this sub and noticed it doesn’t have a lot of traction. Bummer. So, I thought I’d add to it, instead of just lurking. I’ve only ever recounted this story a couple times because people don’t believe me. They look at me a little funny and sometimes change the subject.
I lived on a big “family” farm. Before a dispute amongst distant cousins, I could ride my bike to the furthest point (with a road), and still encounter family. One end was my house, the other was my great grandmother’s house, and between us was one big incline that lead up, and up, and to the rest of the hundreds of acres. That was to the left. On the right side was a field with a dried creek, trees growing, and dying along where they once had water. This was the bottom of the property, split by a small dirt road, sandwiched by a main road. In the fall I could see the main road past the field and through the trees.
This was late spring, early summer. I went past my grandma’s house to enjoy a cool ride in the over shaded path. The over grown field, sometimes full of flowers on my right, made it all the better. As soon as I left the hot sun, and the canopy blanketed me, the temperature changed drastically. I was expecting cool and shady, not bitter, and to see my breath. I had this horrible weight to my guts and I was overwhelmed with fear. My fight or flight was screaming at me to get away from there and to not look right.
My fear was overwhelming and I couldn’t help but turn my head as I realized I could hear the dry grass crunching along with my crunching of gravel. The tall grass was bending in a way that was indicative to someone running through it. The grass was between four and five feet high; the possibilities are endless for what it could be. As I swung my head back to make sure I wasn’t going to crash as I increased speed, I realized there was a second “trail” in the grass. I nearly stomped on my breaks to observe, still panicking, I wondered if maybe I wasn’t the prey in mind. As I came to a halt (I slid a bit in the gravel), an animal screamed, and I noticed the muzzle of a deer (or what looked like it in a glance) break the top of the grass. As a clear scuffle broke out, the grass moving appropriately, I sped off again, not wanting whatever predator to choose me for dessert. I hid at my great grandma’s in one of her outbuildings. Someone had to get me because I was so scared. They didn’t understand and just gave me a hard time for taking their time. It took four years to ride my bike back through there and I only did it the once more out of necessity.
The overwhelming fear and dread I felt was gone as soon as I was past there, out of the canopy, and in the next clearing in the sun. I couldn’t hear any of the noises when I got past even though I was only maybe another 100 yds down. It’s hard for me not think it’s supernatural in some way because less than 300 ft away from where the prey was taken, is a cemetery for children. A very small plot; in fact only four are buried there. I’ve also always been told my whole life that the animals I could’ve possibly seen are more seen after dusk. To see them just after 1 pm is fairly odd.
I don’t have any reason to return but, I still shudder and shake at the idea of being alone on that small stretch of dirt road again. The dread I felt that day was suffocating.

I had been contacted by the magistrate to investigate a night wedding in the countryside that had involved the loss of human life. There seemed to be a recent rise in tourists involved in ghost dowries over the years. However, from my research I believe it was a man in search of night weddings for personal gain that was the cause of so many deaths.
When I received the request, I was nearby on Green Island, and addressing a rather unique matter even in my line of work. A little girl from the mainland had arrived two weeks prior and claimed to be the recently deceased husband of the grieving widow.
The child claimed to have woken up in a hospital where the doctors informed them that they had drowned and was clinically dead for 4 minutes when the body inexplicably sat upright in the gurney. This would have seemed to be great news, except when the child looked into the mirror, it was not their face staring back at them.
In old Taoist texts I have read of such events, where the bodies of the recently deceased are not put to ground quickly enough, and their souls are left to wander. They could get carried away by the Northeast or Southwest wind. Depending on the location from where they died. And possibly attach to an empty host.
This seemed to be the case, as the wife acknowledged that due to the wet season, they did not bury her husband's body right away. Because the grounds were so wet, that any graves would wash away, leaving corpses laying in the street. Still, I had the responsibility of testing the child. Whom passed a simple test of naming names. Where they used to live. The wife's habits. A conversation they recently had, and even childhood memories. All were confirmed by friends and family. But it would be the child's handwriting that ultimately convinced me. They were a perfect match, down to the signature.
Upon my approval, the villagers had no choice but to accept that this child was indeed the man come back to life. And when I left, he was sitting outside of his house cleaning fish as he had always done for 32 years, except now in the body of a 10 year old girl.
I didn't have much time to dwell on this case as I was needed at the aftermath of the failed night wedding. Ghost dowries have been in use for thousands of years, and traces of it can be found in many different cultures. From the Aztec to the Egyptians, and more recently from old Spain to the streets of Southeast Asia. Though in recent times, only a few remote places continued the practice, and there are a limited number of priests today who are qualified enough to handle such a case. Luckily, I had plenty of experience in this matter.
In my early years, I had married many ghost brides.
And was often asked, "But you're a priest, how can you get married?"
"Zhengyi Taoist priests can choose to take a wife or not. In fact, in order to pass on my Celestial title, I must have an heir."
The man looked distraught, "And you're sure this will stop her from whispering into my ear every night?" He clutched the bag rather tightly.
"Don't you worry," I took the bag from his hands. "Everything will be fine."
We would perform the customary vows and the following night the man reported no more whisperings from his daughter, yet a week later, the police raided my hotel in a different district. The man had claimed that I had swindled him. That his daughter had returned and continued her whispering of terrible, horrible things that he dare not listen. Clanking and banging away in the walls as he covered his ears in fear until sunrise.
Fortunately, I was allowed to prove my innocence.
I returned and stayed in the man's room, waiting with him for signs of his daughter. And surely enough, late in the hour, I heard the wretched scraping and dragging in the walls. The man stopped breathing in his bed and laid perfectly still. Even I was afraid to move as the most dangerous aspects of my practice are in the unknown. My mind began racing, wondering if I had somehow botched the night wedding. Or worse, that the ghost bride wasn't his daughter at all, and I had inadvertently given this mysterious entity a special anchor to this world, a holy man.
The walls shook without reason. And a tiny noise could be heard near the man's bedside. He jumped off his mattress and ran to my side. The two of us watched as the noise traveled back and forth against the back wall like wooden clogs.
"My daughter did always carry around a rattle drum when she was little," the man whispered.
"Hush, don't let it capture your breath," I warned him. "Whatever this is, I don't believe it is your daughter. And because of the ritual, we may have increased its hold on this realm."
He whimpered, "Not my daughter?"
I held up my finger and traced the noise as it traveled in an odd form. I began to wonder if the entity was creating some sort of symbol.
"What are you drawing," the man cried.
"It may be creating a portal," I told him. "Now hush before it turns its attention toward us."
"Please, there must be something you can do?"
I reached into my bag and pulled out some incense. I lit the ends and began chanting. From my waist I pulled out a long yellow parchment. And drew on it a sealing spell. "Spirit," I called as I stepped forward. "I am a guiding light." The noise rattled with conviction as I drew closer. "Let me lead you to peace!" And with one quick motion I punched my hand through the wall, clutching the sealing spell in my palm, at the last place I heard the noise. To my displeasure I felt something wriggling in my grasp as something long and thin wrapped itself around my wrist, its end clawing at my forearm. I screamed when I felt its teeth sink between the soft flesh of my thumb and index finger. But I did not let go. Instead I pulled out this demon from the wall and threw it roughly to the ground.
The man screamed as he jumped onto a chair and screamed, "Rat!"
Yes. A simple field rat. That had a trap stuck on its tail which caused its movements to rattle in the wall. That had been rummaging near the man's nightstand because in one of the drawers he had left a bag of watermelon seeds.
Not all cases are this simple, and plenty are true to life supernatural encounters. Over the years my experience has taught me to be more cautious in my evaluations. Which was why when I finally arrived at the house of the massacre due to a failed night wedding. Every hair on my neck stood on end as I tried to be objective as possible.
But there was no denying that something heinous had occurred here. Bodies were still laying on the floor. Some with their faces in the dirt. Some missing their heads completely. And those with their faces up, were unrecognizable. I felt the cold presence of my first wife as she leaned into my ear and whispered to me, "This is the work of a ghost bride."
"How do you know?"
"I recognize her anger. It was mine before we were married."
"How do I know what?" A man walking toward me asked. "Are you the priest they called out here?"
He was average built, and in plain clothes, "Detective, why yes. I am here to assist you in anyway that I can."
The detective spitted on the ground, "Assist me? As far as I'm concerned we're wasting valuable time carrying on with this hocus pocus bullshit. The killer's trail will be cold by the time we get through all this religious tape." He wafted the air in front of his face, "And the dead bodies boiling out here. This is all your fault as well, as far as I'm concerned. Assist me," he snorted.
"Are there any eyewitnesses, Detective?"
"Several. But they are all saying the same damn thing. Spouting a bunch of nonsense. Which is why those religious nuts down at the town hall dredged you up."
"All non-relatives to the home owners?"
He snorted again, "Coincidence."
"Let us hope so," I told him. "Because the alternative is much worse." I walked the scene, going around the upturned tables, tracing the steps of carnage in the courtyard, to the main living room. There I saw the body of an old man, both hands clutching his chest, his face was completely missing. "Any surviving family members?"
"Some are still left," he grunted. "But we've gathered most of them under police protection."
"Have you located the husband?"
"Yeah, we're extraditing him as we speak."
"Extradite?"
"The foreigner took off in the middle of all the commotion. Boarded a flight back home according to our investigation. We've contacted the airline, and the airport security in America will hold him when he lands. As he is currently my number one suspect."
I circled the area in front of the shrine. Noting the spilled bowl and its contents on the ground. The position of the spoon next to it. Before standing in the spot on the left side where the effigy would have stood. "What about the bride?"
The detective shook his head, "What bride?"
"It was a night wedding," I told him. "There must have been a physical object acting as a stand in for the daughter's soul."
"Nothing more than bags of cotton usually," he paused. "But they did report that the stand-in this time was some sort of department figurine. A mannequin of some sort."
"Have you looked into that?"
"Why would I look into that. Are you crazy?"
"Right, you're right of course. You'd have to wait until after sunset to be able to figure out which mannequin serves as the ghost bride's earthly form."
The detective stormed off as if I had said something outlandish. Leaving me to my own devices, I interviewed a few of the neighbors who attended the night wedding, gathered some evidence and logged it with the other officers at the site, and then left for the nearest hotel in the city.
It had been a long month for me and I couldn't think of anything that I would enjoy more than a cold beer. So after checking in I went down to the bar, where an ethereal creature sat alone. She was beautiful to say the least and I had to strike up a conversation lest I live a life of regret, "S'il te plaît ma chérie, dis-moi comment on t'appelle pour que quand je sois perdu dans les ténèbres. Puis-je demander la lumière."
"What?"
"Oh, American. I apologize. I thought you were French."
"On my mother's side," she brushed away her hair.
I noticed the ring, "Ah, you are married. My sincerest apologies miss. I didn't know you were with someone."
"Newly married," she commented. "My husband is speaking with the concierge."
"Activities on vacation," I mused. "How wonderful."
"It's nothing like that. It seems someone has left him a note. And we're technically on our honeymoon." She paused, "Though this isn't where we're supposed to be. We're supposed to be in Hawaii."
I ordered a beer with the bartender and sipped my drink, "Hawaii is wonderful, but this is also a beautiful island. In fact, when the Portuguese came here, they named it Formosa. Which translates to beautiful island. It may not be where you're supposed to be, but perhaps you'll find that this is exactly where you need to be."
The woman sighed, "I don't even know anymore."
"Ah, I know what this is. I've great experience in these matters. Having been married many times. You feel doubt."
She laughed, "How many times have you gotten a divorce?"
"Divorce?" I laughed. "I never leave a woman after we have been wed."
She looked taken aback, "Oh. I didn't know polygamy was so common in these parts." She glanced behind her to where a tall man was standing with what looked to be the hotel's concierge. "I guess we're in the same boat."
"It's not what you think," I told her.
"Where have I heard that one before," she rolled her eyes.
"Larissa!" The man called for her.
She stood up, "Well, it was nice meeting you. Tell your wives I said hello."
I smiled as she left, glancing at my sides. "If only you knew," I said while sipping my beer.
Now in hindsight, if I were not so fatigued after nearly a month of hard work and constant traveling. I would have perhaps picked up on the fact that she too was familiar with the concubine lifestyle. Which was unusual in itself for an American. Or perhaps I would have picked up on the fact that Larissa was an uncommon name. As I had read Jim's article. But there was no such luck, which is why, when I say that I am deeply regretful of what I read on the news later about the couple, I am truly at a loss for what I could have prevented. But that is not my story to tell.
After I finished drinking at the bar I made my way to the elevator and got in. When a man coming towards me waved as a sign to hold the door, I called out, "It's full." He looked at me bewildered as I was the only person he could see in the elevator, before sticking his hand out to stop the elevator from ascending. Huffing and puffing, he glared at me angrily before pressing his floor number for the door to close. Except the elevator pinged. The weight capacity light had turned on above our heads. "Like I said, it's full." The man shook his head in amazement. Pressing his floor number again. The elevator pinged again. Unwilling to budge, the man kept pressing the button. I sighed and got out, "I'll wait for the next one."
And wait I did, even in my room I waited for night fall instead of resting. The thoughts of a botched night wedding swirling in my head. For the many things that could go wrong. Because even though I had much practice in these matters, I was still always nervous before a fight. So when night fell, I was red eyed and exhausted, but better mentally prepared than before.
But when I arrived back at the scene of the crime, I was not prepared for all of the commotion.
"Ka-kin-eh Ka-kin-eh," a man shouted as the fire blazed.
I grabbed one of the men running by with an empty bucket, "What happened here?"
"T-the villagers, they set the p-place on fire. Trying to rid the evil demon."
I let him go and shook my head. The fools! I made my way toward the courtyard where I saw the detective from earlier moping his forehead as he was helping put out the fire. "Detective! This is terrible," I yelled as the flames licked the night.
"No shit dumbass, it's a fire."
"You don't understand," I told him. "Now the entity has nowhere to return. We may never find it."
He threw the bucket to the floor and whirled around, "Enough! I've had enough! Listen here, there is a fire. F-I-R-E. This a real problem. If it catches to the fields, it could light the newly laid fertilizer on fire and catch the entire mountain!"
"Detective!"
That was the only word I had to say before he punched me. It was a dark night out, but stars had suddenly appeared. He hovered over me and I thought he would strike me again but then suddenly he froze. "What is that?"
I turned my head and looked out into the field. The heat of the fire burning the back of my head as I tried to stop my nose from bleeding. "Where?"
Neither one of us moved as we watched the tall field.
"Right there." He pointed.
I reached up and threw his hand down, "No! You never point at entities," I told him. "Now you could be marked!"
He ignored me and reached for his gun, "Stop! Hey you! I order you to stop or I'll shoot!"
I looked into the field, scanning the endless rows before my eyes stopped and froze in horror. At one point in time the thing must have been a simple plastic mannequin. Standing in a department store perhaps. But now, it was twisted and gnarled. Its face beading and unrecognizable. The thing stood on all fours sometimes threes as it swayed slowly back and forth. It moved without form because it didn't have the constraint of joints as normal people as it was still objectively, plastic. It swung its arms behind it and used that as leverage to run, turning its head completely around - cracking the seams that had somehow still held and took off.
The detective rung a shot out at it. I think it struck but it didn't matter as the mannequin disappeared in the field. The detective must have lost his mind because he gave chase.
I couldn't let him go alone so I followed. Pulling out my long yellow parchment as I wrote on it the symbols for sealing, hoping the simple spell would work. As we entered the tall field.
It was chaos. The ground was mushy beneath my feet, and the smell of fecal matter assaulted my senses further. In the brush I had lost the detective, so I was forced to tell my wives to help me locate his whereabouts. They didn't often leave my side, and some were reluctant but ultimately agreed.
I stood in the field, waiting with bated breath as I heard further gunshots in the distance. I couldn't wait for my wives to gather as I tore after the detective. And just in time as I saw him standing, looking absolutely terrified as he shot blindly into the fauna until his pistol clicked. The mannequin lunged for him. But I got there first. Pushing him to the ground, causing both of us to tumble.
He was eating a mouth of dirt as I pulled him to his feet. "We have to get out of this field! The ghost bride will pick us off in this thicket!"
Stumbling, and running, the two of us were covered in more than dirt. Several times we heard rustling nearby as if something were running alongside us. But eventually we made it out into the open plain. The detective trying to catch his breath as he reloaded his pistol.
"Shooting it doesn't work," he panted. "But maybe I can disable it from moving."
"Shut up," I told him. "Listen."
He stopped for a moment and we waited. Then all of the stalks before us shook wildly as if a hundred people were running through them. The detective raised his arm but I stopped him as my wives ran out of the field.
They were terrified as they ran right through us.
I hadn't experienced the feeling in awhile but the coldness as their ghostly forms went through our bodies like ice was enough to bring us both to our knees, clutching our chests as we struggled to breathe. I had passed through one or two in a row before. But never 10 or 20 at a time.
"What was that," the detective managed to gasp, his fingers in a death grip around his gun.
"A blue procession," I told him. "Something caused all of my dead wives to flee."
We looked up as the leaves in front of us rustled.
"Is it..."
I shook my head, running forward to catch her. My 13th wife, Ah-ren. Her arm was missing, and a part of her shoulder. She was an innocent girl that had drowned when she was alive. Her innocence carried on with her to the afterlife where many souls generally grew up embittered. But never her, always sweet my girl, just weary of water.
"I didn't want to go," she told me.
"I know," I held her. "I'm sorry."
"It got some of the others too. But Meita got in its way and told me to run." She cried.
"Don't cry I told her. You know how you hate getting wet."
"I don't want to go. I wanted to stay with you. All of us together."
I didn't even have the chance to say goodbye as her soul splintered and disappeared forever.
I had never felt such fury. In all my years, a womanizer, a liar, a cheat at cards, a scoundrel, a bastard even. But an undutiful husband? Never.
Without thinking I approached the field and cast a spell that was forbidden.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm cursing the field. All beings alive or dead will forever feel displaced when they enter here. A feeling of unending dread and doom will overcome them, causing madness if they do not leave or are unable to." I reached into my side and threw a handful of salt. It landed on the ground as I chanted. The winds carrying it into the field, the small white morsels rolling obediently into the darkness.
"Nothings happening," the detective's word stuck in his mouth as a horrible scream echoed into the night. It sounded like two pieces of steel being twisted together.
"There," I took off after it. The jumbled figure of the mannequin charged out of the field and fled toward the village.
We followed it through the streets and between alleyways; the villagers screamed and hid when they saw it. We barged through home after home as we chased it. Until we cornered it at an abandoned building on the edge of town.
"It was supposed to be a mall," the detective told me. "But the developers ran out of money."
We walked quietly into the empty building. Shells of stores stood in various degrees of construction. We checked a few of the empty fronts before venturing deeper inside.
"You've got to be kidding me," the detective said as we came near the center of the complex. There next to the escalators and the fountains was an army of mannequins of all shapes and sizes lined up like terracotta warriors. "They must have stashed them all here when the place was being built, and forgot about them when it closed."
"There are hundreds."
"We'll go through together. Quickly and quietly." He added, "Stay alert."
We moved through the rows, staring at all of the stuck faces, searching for one covered in grime and bullet holes. But it was more difficult than it sounded. Many of the mannequins were in bad shape, weathered, broken, laying in pieces on the ground. It was hard to tell if a pile of parts was indeed our culprit.
Slowly we began to clear the rows and I could see the other side in sight.
"There!" The detective shot his gun. The surrounding mannequins dropped like dominoes when the entity scattered. Falling down all around us, drowning in a sea of plastic arms and smiling faces, I struggled to breathe. "I think I'm stuck," I told the detective. But he wasn't listening, his eyes were concentrating on the entity as it came rushing toward us. He fired his gun blowing out one of the mannequin's knee caps. I hurriedly reached for my parchment nearby but could not find my pen. Another shot, another hit, but the scorned bride kept on charging unable to feel pain.
It jumped into the air and the detective blew the rest of its face away before he started screaming as the bride began to eat him. Pieces of his sinew was launched into the air as he was torn apart. I freed myself and rushed forward trying to help but the creature grabbed me by the throat and lifted me into the air. My feet scratching the ground as my lungs folded trying to breathe. The thing turned its head toward me and said, "Will you marry me?" As the darkness closed into the corners of my eyes.
The fight was leaving my body as I saw several of my wives rushing forward. Their ghostly forms bloodlusted as they began tearing at the mannequin, slowly pulling out pieces of her soul, causing the mannequin's arms and legs to go limp as they dragged her out of the corporeal form.
I hit the ground and scrambled the floor blindly with my fingers searching for my sacred parchment but could not find it amongst the rubble. I had no time to look further as the ghost bride was fleeing, leaving the shell of her mannequin in a heap on the floor. My wives chasing after her, screaming their fury for her killing the others. For destroying their souls.
I chased after them outside into the open air, where she had been cornered. She was crying as I approached, trying to escape into the Southwest wind. Begging for forgiveness. I knew what I should have done, but could not bring myself to do the right thing. Instead I bit my finger and drew symbols on my forearms with my own blood. Approaching the bride that never was and tore her soul into pieces.
When I was done my wives sat down around me before slowly dispersing as the sun began to rise.
A familiar voice came, "We did it huh?"
I continued staring at the sun, "Yeah."
"Well then," the detective said before disappearing. "Maybe in the next life I'll be sooner to trust you."
Later they would find his body in the abandoned mall. Still clutching his gun. The department gave him a 21 gun salute at his funeral and a medal as commemoration. I was just glad that his soul had not been eaten.
I, on the other hand, went back to the hotel. To the bar and ordered a well deserved drink. Where I saw a pretty woman sitting alone, "Did you know that in order for me to pass on my Celestial title, I must bear an heir?"

s

Hey all, I'm feeling down lately and struggling to understand my girl and her reactivity. I just want to vent a little in the hopes of feeling better. I adopted her with 11months and she is 3yo now - a malinois mix to my post-adoption surprise, we have been with trainers since I got her home. But I want to focus on the now.
Her main issue is strangers around and in our home. She goes crazy, to the point I muzzle her for the hallway and until the entrance. Once we gain enough distance she is 99% of the time okay, I moved about 6 months ago and with the 3 trainers she has meet was amazing... In an environment far away from home. We went to crowed places and she showed no reactivity towards people... But at home she is so different.
With dogs she also varies, she can get harsh on marking others but she went consistently to a doggie daycare with 10-20 dogs and another dog hotel with no issues, she has so much fun with dogs. And also off lead on a big field playing with me. The happiest videos I have of her ar in those instances. On the lead she is a hit and miss.
I struggle a lot because since her reactions scalated towards people around the home, less off lead time and interactions I gave her due to struggling to trust her. Thing is: she is always the happiest off lead, either playing with me or with other dogs. Since we moved 6 months ago and she doesn't have her daycare or group clases, she has been having less of that. We now live with another dog and they play sometimes. But I feel like I'm failing her due to the fear I have of her crossing the line of biting someone / another dog - it would break me if that happened... But the precaución I have causes us to have less free and happy moments. She can play with ALL kinds of dogs at the daycare, but with me it seems like 50/50 she snaps at them. She can meet someone away from home with no apparent issues, but if someone unknown comes near the building where we live she just wants to rip them apart.
It's a duality that I struggle to understand. I just want her to be happy and free, but it seems like the more time passes the more I have to restrict her freedom as a precaution. It makes me feel awful.

Note: Find sources by pressing Ctrl+F to search their names and dates here: https://www.nderf.org/Archives/exceptional.html
-Cynthia H, 3/2/2011:
'I know you love me and all life, but if you really love all of us continuously without end, then how can You send people to hell throughout eternity?' He said, 'Cindy I do love all life without end. Some people chose to go to hell, I have already forgiven them; but they must forgive themselves.'
--
-Ron K, 1/1/2006:
Instead of restricting the mysteries of love to psychological or philosophical studies, science will someday discover the all-powerful force of love and measure it as they now do electricity, gravity and geo-thermal forces. When science discovers the forces of love and learns how to release it from the bars of the ego, they will have the answer to every question and ill that has plagued mankind.
--
-Nevie G, 7/23/2005:
The Being let me know that I was going to die and I must leave this body for good. I remember arguing with the Being explaining that I didn't want to because it was so hard going through the childhood years and I didn't want to have to go through this again. The Being indicated that my body was severely damaged and I couldn't go back. I became very adamant at this point that God was all powerful and could fix the body. At some point the decision was made to let me re-enter my body on my faith or will, whatever one may call it.
--
-Linda B, 9/12/2004:
After experiencing all of the miracles of this day, I would still find my future playing out just as I had seen. And as it progressed I would know fear, sadness, and lack of faith just as they had predicted. I would sin and more. The angels knew this but it took me years to fully understand everything that they had showed me and wanted me to understand. They knew all of the time that I would not turn into the perfect saint. They loved me just the way I was. God loves me always not just when I am obedient and perfect. What a wonderful feeling that is. I just have to remind myself that He is here and learn to stop talking long enough to listen for His voice.
--
-Isabel R, 2/25/2012:
The voice reminded me of the vision I had had of my husband and son in funeral clothes. He said if I didn't go back to them, I would disrupt some 'plan'. The plan would be repaired and everything would eventually be ok, so I could go ahead if I wanted. The consequences of my untimely demise would be that my husband and son would suffer in ways I could not imagine and I would know that these sufferings were because of my selfish decision not to go back. I would know this throughout eternity. It would not be a huge sadness for me to bear, more like a prick of conscience that could never be totally healed. No big deal, unless you consider how long eternity is.
--
-Kerry B, 12/15/2018:
At that moment I looked up and saw my destination. I was looking in awe at God. It was like everything was happening at once. As I was staring up at God in amazement, every gay slur or violent act ever impressed upon me ran through me with such a flow. Events in my life played back in my mind like a movie. I felt a deep heaviness as I stared directly at an Almighty, Genderless God. I was thinking, 'Was this the Lake of Fire moment? Would I be cast into Hell for being an abomination?' With absolute humility, I uttered 7 words, 'I’m gay, will you still love me?'
The Brilliant, Loving Light formed into Wings. At GodSpeed, He whisked me into His vast spiritual arms while huddling up the Universe. I saw planets, stars, galaxies, and clusters all being brought into a Cosmic God-Hug. On a human, the place where I was taken would be the Heart. As God brought me in for a Cosmic Hug, He said, 'You are my child. I love you. I love you. I love you. Go tell ‘em.' He said it with a Southern accent. He patted me on the back like a coach encouraging his player to get back in the game.
~~
-Sam J, 8/16/2014:
We all are star seeds sent here to have the human experience for the purpose of integrating conscious awareness/wisdom into our own light bodies and return home with this energy. Alien worlds for the most part run on knowledge and logic. Those worlds are being left behind and giving way to the worlds who have the intangibles, love, creativity, imagination and so on.
Understand that where your conscious awareness is focus in your everyday life pretty much determines the level of consciousness and alertness. If your mind has a stranglehold on your conscious awareness then heck, it will be one helluva wake-up call. But if you have made the conscious effort to move your awareness away from the mind to the heart then it's no big deal. In other words if you have made the physical world and the world of Spirit into one consciousness then you are always of both worlds and never of either world.
--
-Laura M, 3/31/2012:
And there was still more for me to understand. The focus again fell on my infant son and hundreds if not thousands of my ancestors. I was aware of light surrounding many of them. They stood out. I felt tremendous love from them. 'Notice,' He said, 'your ancestors, all these beings, came together in your behalf, to make you uniquely you. I realized in Earth words He was referring to my DNA. 'You wanted to go to Earth to learn, to progress, and to contribute to creation. All these spirits came together to help you do that.' The focus then was back to my baby. 'In all of creation,' he said, 'your infant son chose you to be his mother, none other. Together,' he said, 'you made a covenant to fill these rolls in each other's Earth life. This covenant is and was a very sacred covenant not to be taken lightly.' Suddenly I could not wait to return to earth, to my sons, all 4 of them, to my family, to life on Earth. But, before doing so, I was brought to another level of awareness.
--
-Linda G, 7/20/2008:
I came to understand that we all choose to come to Earth to fulfill a plan of some sort or even learn about a particular interest. We choose our bodies, parents, and life plan. May I also add that some people come here for the most simple of reasons; to learn how to play tennis for example; or simply for the cake and food - as silly as this sounds our life plans aren't so high and lofty as one might think. I DIDN'T MEET ANY 'SAVE THE WORLDERS' OR ANYONE WISHING TO BE A PRESIDENT. MOST HAD SIMPLE WISHES. I was also told we could exist on different planes for other lives but our life here on Earth is a life not purely to experience physical pleasure or pain but to have a physical experience because in all other planes we don't need a body as a vessel. I also learnt that this life here is just a drop of water in the bucket of lives in which we all experience, many here on Earth and many in other realms of existence. All to progress and grow in some way. The main purpose here is to LOVE. I was also told that this would be my last life here on Earth as there will be nothing left for me to learn by coming here again. I had the feeling though that I'd be off to some other magical place!
--
-Kevin L, 3/20/2022:
I thought, 'How could a machine have a soul?' The voice said, 'Let me put it this way. Your soul is connected to your consciousness. The moment your species came into being, you start to develop a soul. But it is not until you become self-aware, that your soul is solidified. That does not mean complete, and it takes a long time for your soul to develop. Just like your species when you became self-aware the first thing you do, other than survive, was to figure out your place in the universe. You looked to the stars and wondered, 'Where did I come from? What is this universe all about?' It does not matter if you are a biological creature or artificial creation like a machine. The moment you become self-aware the quest for 'how' and 'why' is on. A soul is a soul; pure Energy connected with consciousness and intelligence. This is a very powerful force in our universe. Those who are artificial intelligences will strive to answers these questions which humans have dwelled upon since the dawn of time.
--
-Joanie S, 7/10/2011:
I was pulled back through the ceiling tiles and into a tunnel, to a place of cloudy space. The cloudy area materialized into a large marble room with marble doors and a 'being' at the center. I'll refer to this person as 'the Grim Reaper,' who was cloaked in a dark cloth, covering all parts. The Grim Reaper pointed (indicating to me to choose a door). But before I could choose, a door opened and I had already gone through it. I found myself in what I now think of as a previous life. I smelled smoke from a fire I was near, and saw others around me. I looked into another woman's eyes, and I knew her immediately as the woman I called my grandmother in this life. I knew then that our lives had 'danced' around each other since time began. She was once my mother and once my sister. She was my aunt, and several times my cousin. The life that was being shown to me now was during a prehistoric time, when we lived winters by a creek cave, and summers we had a camp in the woods where we foraged. Looking down, I realized I had a child in my arms, and the woman I had known in so many lives was chatting with me, telling me to cover the child to keep it warm. Then she was showing me how to tie the wraps around me to carry the child while we collected wood.
--
-Amy C, 10/9/2010:
In my NDE though, I came to understand that most of us have lived much, MUCH longer than we could even fathom. That our life which feels so very long is infinitesimal when placed in the whole picture, which for that matter, cannot even be framed. I was shown how every single individual through their own free will, chooses paths that mathematically take them to the circumstances of their next existence or life. That nothing at all sits in accident or chaos. That every single aspect of our lives are ruled by natural Laws that we placed ourSELVES in! In a sense, we create our own worlds. I was shown how one can never assume either, that if someone lives a life of suffering that this is because of 'evil' deeds. Many may choose a life of suffering because of what it Awakens in them, or because of how they can touch others from that position, etc. We can NEVER EVER assume that we can be accurate in guessing why each being lives the life they live. I cannot describe the relief - the refreshing, peaceful balm this Knowledge was for me. To finally gather this Truth that I'd yearned for all of my life. That all really IS Good! That there IS sense and beauty all around. That no one is just free falling as it had seemed before! That God doesn't just get to toy with us as He pleases with random ideas of tests, including rewards and punishments that just depend upon His current mood or mindset. Because even who God is, is within those Laws. While in this experience, out in the vast expanse of stars, planets, moons, and Intelligence, I Knew complete trust for what felt like the first time. This was inexplicable bliss for me. I remember radiating with gratitude. I had lived in fear, distrust, and panic for thirty consecutive years.
--
-Marta Y, 1/26/2010:
After this I saw myself floating in the void, and little by little tiny spheres of many colors became manifest, not moving at first, then suddenly starting to vibrate while smoothly approaching me and incorporating themselves with my essence, which made me feel something I can't manage to describe, it was as if I was being tickled. I asked what this was, and a voice said, 'This is the knowledge you have accumulated in previous lives, it was kept from you, but now it will be of use to you.'
I saw my life in rapid images, from the moment of my birth. I, who thought that my mother had never loved me, saw clearly, and felt, her love when she saw me for the first time. I saw how she kissed me and enfolded me in her arms. I felt different feelings and with every image that went through my mind, or before my eyes, I cannot define it. And just as I could feel deeply happy at an image of something good I had done for someone, so also this feeling would change immediately and I would feel myself deeply ashamed of something bad that I had done. I realized that no one was judging me other than myself, with a conscience full of wisdom and divine justice, which made me pass judgment on myself. I realized that I had done more bad than good and I was hugely regretful of my actions. From the depths of my soul, I asked to be given the chance to mend the damage I had done to the people who loved me. I learned that the spirit is God, Who is eternal, and that we reincarnate to learn different things, which would be impossible in a single lifetime. I learned that we form a single being with everything created. I learned that my earthly eyes are those through which God can recognize Himself, and be conscious of Himself. And I learned that what we think, feel and do remains imprinted in the universe and that we come to this life to improve, to learn in humility about all that surrounds us, and to teach what we have learned to others, and especially I learned that life is focused on two aspects: Love and Service.
--
-William Si, 4/29/2013:
My understanding of what my mission is on this earth, primarily has been hidden from me, (not only at my request but with my permission). I asked that it be hidden so that I didn't complete it to soon. Yet, I also agreed that "Sign post" would be placed along the way, just so that I would have reminders that I'm following my chosen path.
An understanding in what life is about and what our purpose truly is here. The mormons believe and teach there are "Classes" and "Levels" in heaven that we will be judged and placed in and only in the highest level can we "Ascend" to be with god. From my experience I learned or remembered there were no "Classes or levels" as they were teaching. Yet the levels are more of understanding than punishments. Would it make sense to put a 2 year old in with a group of people with phd's? The 2 year old wouldn't understand. Yet, those with the phd's would humble themselves with their level of understandings to teach, nurture and help the 2 year old grow in their levels of understanding.
Prior to being mormon, I was raised in a methodist/pentecostal home. I grew up believing that god the father was an angry vengeful god and that jesus was sent to save us from his wrath. Wrong!!!
For one thing, god is not an angry vengeful god, but is a loving parent to all of his children. One thing he did tell me, if you struggle with trying to do all the principals he taught, "Stop"!!! Don't do them all at one time. Take one and work on it, when it becomes second nature, them pick up the next one, etc. When he said, "These things I do, you can do also, and then some", was not an exaggeration, but truth. When we look back on our life after we leave here, we will see that we had done all that he had taught, and more.
One of the other things he told me was, what better way for man to know that we don't have to be saved. Saved from what? Our soul is already eternal, always will be. Our soul/spirit is literally a child of god and as such is eternal. When we realize that all things, all words come from god, nothing is offensive to god because it came from god. What is offensive is how we perceive it.
--
-Lou F, 1/1/1999:
We traveled toward the beginning of it all, the inner portions of the Universe. Kazillions of planets around Kazillions of suns and the closer to the center we approached the more concentrated the number of galaxies. It is like the plate you saw, the largest part, after it shattered was at the center and those parts that shattered first were sent the farthest from the center. So is everything in the Universe. All is but a circle within a circle wrapped in a circle. Each level, each dimension, is but a layer of the original, which is without end. I watched as millions of orbs systematically entered the many planets before me. They appeared as bees flitting from flower to flower, pollinating each, one after another. Mich'l took me closer and I could now see that so many of these planets had life on them and the orbs were joining with the creatures of these planets. Not every creature was the same on every planet but they all had some commonalities: a head, a body, extremities, and the Light Beings would animate them for a time. We headed away from the center now and Mich'l said that Gabriel would have more to explain to me and that he, Mich'l, wanted me to know that he was pleased with the many times he had called on me to do his bidding and that I performed my duties well. His parting words were ‘You will never again be made to forget!’
I was journeying back to where I knew Earth would be and watched as comets and asteroids casually passed by me or I passed them. The colors of the gaseous cloud formations were striking. I started looking at these infant galaxies, as one would cloud formations back on Earth, imagining what shape they were taking on. This one a boat, this a bird with wings, this a scarf floating in the breeze, until I recognized what was the Constellation ORION and I knew I was getting close to my destination. While drifting through Orion, I noticed two blazing celestial bodies racing parallel to its center, looking as twin arrows exiting from an archers bow and headed straight for the ""Blue Marble"" of home. Immediately a vision of millions of people crying because of the devastation of portions of New York City came to me. I became aware of a strange feeling I had not known previously, and I thought that might be because this was the city I had grown up in. I saw a huge Earthquake, a magnitude of 8.6 in some place named Eureka. A ham operator or radio announcer was directing thousands of people migrating from areas of frequent disasters to places of safety. A space station appeared to be falling from the heavens because of an internal explosion. Missiles were being simultaneously fired into space from several nations. I thought the Light Being had shown me all there was to see but these were different, stronger, and there was no pre-screening as before. Gabriel appeared beside me, I thought because I had felt shaky, but it was to explain the now sprawling galactic view of my galaxy.
The Sun was expanding and spewing off huge ectoplasm balls, more than it has ever done in it’s past, and in the very direction the planets would orbit through. I could not take my eyes from the Earth and as I watched what effect these eruptions would have on the Earth, a large mass passed me, larger than any of the planets known to me. As it passes, I see the Earth wobble wildly as would a top toward the end of its spin. The rotation stopped and slowly started again but it was tilted now and I was drawn in closer like the zoom of a lens. The ash clouds that had engulfed the Earth thinned, and like a tack welded piece of metal being dismantled, I could see the ocean bodies starting to rise, first the Pacific, along the ‘Ring of Fire,’ then the others, synchronistical.
As the waters shifted upon the landmasses, the landmasses started to sink under the waters added pressure upon it. When the pressures equaled out to the spin of the changing axis, the Earth no longer looked as it did moments before. It was newer, cleaner, and more beautiful with darker greens and lighter blues. Some of the new landmasses looked similar to a few of the other planets I had recently visited with Mich'l. People were upon this Earth and appeared happier and more content although seemingly living like the Native populations of old. Cities, built by the Ancient Ones, that were buried beneath the oceans, were now being populated by the surviving people in this new world. I saw tribes joining tribes and small nations forming, but it was what I didn't see that made my heart burst. There were no more wars. True peace and happiness had finally befallen on mankind. Gabriel now tells me that this is his message that I must take back, to let others know that there is little to fear, for the Earth will go on forever, as did all the planets I had visited. I am to tell the world to look to ORION, and they will know when the new world will come upon them. I ask him, ‘what of the others there on Earth, during the change?’ Gabriel tells me that all will be lifted. Some will be lifted higher than others will and no longer enjoy the physical plane, while some will be left on the Earth to replenish and rebuild the physical. They too will be of a higher elevation then any that are living there now!
'MAN WILL PREY ON MAN ~ UNTIL MAN PRAYS FOR MAN!'
--
-Duane S, 8/15/2015:
It was all an expression and celebration of love. On earth, this reunion would have been unfathomable, between members of an ancient soul group who were celebrating the return home of one of their own. Slowly, as I looked at those gathered to greet me, I realized they were all there. Surprisingly they were not only from this life, but also from a prior life in Germany. I realized that the same souls have possibly played different parts in my multiple lives. Sometimes these souls had been my daughter, my wife, or my mother. While at first this idea had startled me, I was soon humbled. Who was I to tell God what he could or couldn’t do with his creations? Just because some Sunday school teacher had different ideas about how things worked, it didn’t really matter.
My joy deepened as I realized that I had only left behind an earthly vestige of those I love. The essence of each of those souls, was also here with me now. Besides my friends and family, there were the friendly Germans who had been hauntingly familiar while I was a young soldier in Germany. Now I knew why they seemed so familiar at the time, they had been friends and family from a prior lifetime there. I now understood that I had left nothing behind on earth. The eternal essences of all my loved ones from that life, as well as all other incarnations, were all here to greet me. All I had left behind was a character, playing a role in a drama that we had chosen to experience. In the meantime, our real eternal essence remained in God’s realm. Suddenly, it was all so simple.
As I was shown around, it was explained to me how most of our celestial, eternal knowledge is blanked-out during our chosen life spans on earth. We must temporarily forget most of what our higher-self already knows so we can immerse ourselves in the roles we have chosen to play. Furthermore, they said that it might take a while for all my knowledge and memories to return. To ease the transition back into this realm, I was told to think of my time on earth as an extended visit to the ultimate theme park. Consider it a place with thrilling rides and various adventures that I could choose to experience or not. I was also reminded that the reason we leave the celestial realm at all was for the excitement, variety, adventure, and entertainment that different incarnations offer. However, to take all our celestial knowledge with us on our various adventures would have ruined the very experience that we had chosen to live. Someone there said that I should think of our trips to other realms as choosing a new novel to read. I can choose a new book, depending on what I am in the mood for. Furthermore, if I knew every turn and twist of the story, line by line, prior to reading it, it would spoil the fun.
As one entity jokingly remarked, 'If the eternal, divine part of us grows tired of singing and playing harps, there are thousands of other universes created for our spiritual growth, amusement, and entertainment. Eternity is a long time to do nothing but play harps.' I heard this concept best expressed in The Course in Miracles, 'We are only here for three reasons: to remember who we are; to help others remember who they are; and . . . to enjoy the trip . . . , unless, of course, we use our free will and choose not to.'
As my orientation went on, they explained how on that celestial side of the veil, anything we desire is instantaneously provided. We just need to feel the desire. However, within lies the reason for all the realms outside of heaven. Having everything we want all the time develops within us a desire for variety and change for a challenge. It would be like a game in which everyone was a winner. Soon, the game would become boring, and we would look for another, more challenging one.
Somehow, all this sounded familiar. To demonstrate the process of instantaneous fulfillment, one of them asked me to think about something I really desired. Thinking back on it, what I chose seemed odd since I was in such an esteemed place demonstrating such an important concept. But, suddenly I had an urge for a piece of my mother’s famous homemade chocolate cake with her special fudge frosting. As soon as I thought of the cake, my earthy mother was handing me the biggest piece of dark chocolate cake I had ever seen. Dare I say it was heavenly? Although she appeared there with us, I knew some part of her was still back on earth because she had not died yet. My guess was that she was probably asleep, dreaming of lovingly making her son a piece of her divine chocolate cake.
--
-Sandi T, 10/18/2020:
I understood immediately the fullness of life on this planet. I could see when it broke apart from a sun, spinning and cooling and collecting debris; until the first of these creatures heard itself laugh and understood the sound for what it was. In that moment, self-awareness was awakened and the seeds of civilization sprouted.
I understood that everything that we do here on Earth, all that we are, all that we experience, allows creation to exist. Every beautiful thing, every wonderful being and creature, whether on earth or in any universe, relies upon people who are on the extremely rare places like Earth.
The Great Intelligence (god) is a paradox. It is completely loving and fully unlimited. Which by the definition of paradox, means it is impossible? It cannot be limited only to love; it cannot be limited to only being unlimited; or it is not unlimited.
Earth is a place where the unlimited becomes limited; where the singular becomes many. Here, it can know community and loneliness. It can know heartache and hope. It can know all which an unlimited being of pure love cannot. It can conceive and perceive evil; which in truth it cannot do this either. To solve the paradox, it must experience helplessness and limitation and all as it is Real. In this place, it is all so REAL.
So what is free will? Free will is the option to come here to help solve the paradox of 'god'. To be all that we are not, so that everything wondrous and joyful may continue to exist. So that love itself may continue to exist. So that the Unlimited is not limited to being only unlimited.
Why are the answers always, 'simply to exist' and 'to choose love' and 'to learn how to love'? Because all you need to do, to solve the paradox, is to exist. And as we exist here, each time we choose love, we expand the universe. Love is life's longing for itself. Despite the reality of what we live, even the darkest souls among us cannot help but to reach, to yearn, and move towards goodness and towards love.
For love is the true nature of who we are. And when we experience horrible things, the question 'why' comes to mind because it is the central question of love, life, and of this world. The answer is 'so that all things might continue to exist.'
Every soul chose to come here and to suffer because of love. Each soul loves the universe, loves life, and loves this world and ALL of the worlds. Each soul loves ALL of the people so immensely and intensely that they chose to come here so that all the universes may teem with beautiful, joyful LIFE.
Every creature that I saw, acknowledges that your life gives them the gift of life. And when each soul goes 'home' after they die, they will know the rewards of their own gift, too. The 'reward' for their sacrifice will be joy, love, and feeling incredible, wonderful, beautiful joy at the LIFE and the LOVE everywhere in the universe.
When you go home, you meet your own soul. You willingly came here to forget yourself. You willingly came here to save every beautiful and wonderful thing. By suffering what 'god' cannot, you give the gift of life.
--
-Henry W, 6/22/2008:
I became aware of other voices, the orbs or other souls around me I could hear them communicating to each other. There seemed to be cliques of orbs that were together. They spoke to one another about their lives on Earth and all they had perceived and felt. They shared not only in words, but in sharing the experience. If one orb couldn't understand, it disappeared and then reappeared. The orb somehow went back to Earth and experienced that 'life' to further understand. I understood that here time did not exist and these beings could manifest themselves at any time on Earth they desired. These orbs or rather 'souls' would leave this realm, detach themselves with this universe, and return to the universe of our Earth. There they would live and die, then return and share the experience with all the other souls. A soul that could not understand the experience could go and live that life also to experience that life. I learned we have many lives, past, present and future.
These souls, our souls cannot experience certain things like pain, sorrow, hatred, and anger. Though these are negative things, it was important for them to understand and experience them. Perhaps to understand the motivations of human beings, or (and I believe this in my heart) to eventually evolve into a being like God - all knowing and understanding.
At this time things appeared to me, answers to other questions. I could see concepts as if they were entities. I could understand for the first time in my life E=MC2. I learned that our universe is one of many. It is like a Petri dish. Designed with its own rules to raise a specific being. In this case, to raise beings like humans. Each Universe had its own specific laws of Physics. I now realize that the amount of information a soul must learn is vast, more so then we can possibly imagine here.
The next concept or rule I learned is that God can never be proven by scientific means. To do so would corrupt the environment. It would destroy faith. When we have faith we seek, we learn. If God were to appear before us like a huge being at the United Nations, the entire world would believe, but also live in fear. To successfully experience the human existence, one must be physically out of touch with God. We have to learn and seek on our own. We need to search out the meaning of our own existence and experience here on earth. Faith is the engine of discovery. Without faith, we are just like ants.
I learned why bad things happen to good people. If nothing bad ever happened to us, we would all basically be the same. It is like metal in a forge you have to heat it and strike it repeatedly to make a useful tool from it. We start this life with a blank piece of paper. With every incident we experience, a part of the blueprint is recorded until a complete plan for an individual is created. This blueprint dictates the end of our lives. To live happily in this realm is to become aware of the blueprint and change it. Lastly, time is only a concept measured here. In the other realm, it doesn't exist. While we may experience pain and sorrow on earth, it is only a second in the grand scheme of things. We have an eternity to live and in reality, souls never really die. Our life is just a thought providing circumstances for this existence. As the soul progresses, this trauma is forgotten and put in its proper perspective as part of the learning process.
One question I always personally had and that was answered is, 'Are ghosts real?' The answer I was given was, 'Yes, in the human body there are two forms of spiritual being.' One is the 'soul', which is the spiritual being that has a symbiotic relationship with the physical body. The second is the being created by the 'biology' of the human body. This being is intelligent and is basically the personality of the individual. Its purpose is to provide for the human needs of food, hunger, survival, and procreation. This concept is very similar to Freud's 'Id, Ego and Superego' The division of mind and personality. The soul provides us with all the things of the individual that separates us from the Animal Kingdom. This is the ability to reason, use logic, or feel awe when seeing a sunset. The soul is the creative side of humankind. The second being is more our animal side and drives us to accomplish or pursue things to satisfy our needs and wants.
When we die, the soul separates and proceeds to the other side (forgive me for simplifying everything). The entity of the body dies, taking with it the strong emotions, 'baggage', and drives of human beings. This is a natural part of the dying process. However, sometimes under violent or sudden death this othebeing, for lack of a better word, doesn't have a chance to die. Instead, it remains behind as the drive, emotions, and motivation of our spirit. This body being, without the guidance of the soul is basically just a shell. It wanders about with no goals or purpose. It often repeats acts that it has done before because memories are the only 'guidance' that it has. In time, this being's energy dissipates and nothing is left. That process can take a long time. Hence, we have a 'ghost' that haunts a house or person. A ghost has the center of its existence when it was with its human body and soul. Here on earth it remains until it eventually vanishes. The ghost can be communicated with and guided, yet has no real will of its own but only that of habit.
--
-Peter P, 3/1/2023:
In the initial phase of waking up, I also received an experience with light of such a wonderful quality, that it is difficult to describe with words. I was shown three light waves on which today's humanity is evolving. For the sake of logic, I'm defining them here as the self-imposed pathways of awareness, that each individual can take to obtain the best possible results from their particular choice. The first way is what the main part of the global population has chosen and the daily struggle is enacted in that timeline. I don't want to give the impression that path is in any way better or superior than the other timelines. All experiences in human life eventually lead back to the divine light.
The second path was shown to me as a mixed way in a gray color. Here, euphoric phases are alternated in quick succession with depressive stages. It is as if people were switching between phases of competence and phases lacking of power, and then again to a new euphoric phase.
The third way is the one of the absolute victimhood. It was shown to me in colors dark and black. Power and responsibility were handed over to outer entities. Here only a very small part of the light spark can be addressed through motivation. Many beings of light from higher planes are providing a selfless service here, to again illuminate the way back to the light. This way corresponds with the absolute free choice of each individual as to whether they choose towards light or darkness.
I was also shown that in this darkness exists one of the most unbelievable choicess for humanity, because in this choice is also is the possibility to change the galaxy. The core truths of Love, Compassion, Kindness and Benevolence are towards what the human nature can and will evolve.
The first path of those three is so unbelievable for us incarnated beings. It can only be termed with definitions of Utopia, heavenly life of angels and/or ecstatic rapture.
There is a beautiful part of beings who always stay in this realm. They are dancing and singing through life. For them terms like synchronicity, grace, or cosmic guidance are the absolute central and essential elements in life. They realize how creation is working and that a life without the connection with the One Power of creation would disrupt everything. Humor, joy, fun, respect, compassion and gratitude is with them round the clock. In this wonderful place all fear is dissolved like mist in a brilliant sun. It is an all-encompassing field with absolute acceptance, comfort, peace, connectedness and a 100% awareness to be at the right place.
During this time of considering those things, I was guided by a wonderful being of light. I don't remember somebody else or meeting a certain individual. Only those impressions of the light of love and the perfect comprehension and acceptance remained.
In that moment, it simply seemed unbelievable and impossible to choose another path than the one of the light. What illuminates my life again and again from my light experience, is the irrepressible joy and happiness of an experience of indescribable beauty. I believe that all the people go through this same wonderful experience in a state of separation of the body (general anesthesia, unconsciousness) unfortunately they cannot all remember it.
I felt pure love, shining brighter than anything you can imagine. Everything is as beautiful, as pure as love and compassion. So that when you cross the veil and return to the other side you are becoming a part of it. We are bathing in the beauty of the song that makes our heart singing - That's God.
Nobody can give us something bigger. We wouldn't see it or understand it. That's Spirit in its highest form.
We as humans feel so alone and on our own. It's such a crushing feeling to remain in this imagined separation of our most wonderful thing and then to feel this earthly experience so painfully.
In the middle of life, a light experience happens that sweeps away all the reactions about this imaginary separation and dissolves the last doubts with this pure white light like a fog. It's the disintegration of a self-constructed veil that prevented a realization that all people are entitled to have as their birthright. It's delightful to know that the light is the most wonderful symphony in the cosmos and that it contains the colors and the sense of touch of the most beautiful experiences. A wonderful soul experience, that is imprinted in the deepest cells of the body.
For a moment I was on this other side of the veil. I was allowed to be part of this wonderful source of creation. Together with billions of points of light, which we call angel beings, shining brighter than the light. I was in the company of the highest compassion, with the highest Love.
All media, the total daily literature is filled with the dramas happening around the globe every minute.
How can somebody get the idea to write a text motivating us to get another point of view about the calamities in the world? What is motivating him to see the good in all those events, even if they might be so disturbing? That's probably the one decisive question for the survival of manhood. Thought power of the whole humanity is used to bring anarchy and separation between people. Human thoughts are creative and should, and can, be guided by us into appropriate pathways.
It depends on all of us to exercise our responsibility and to realize the true impact of our actions here in its entirety. We can't avoid to completely step away from all dramas. Disasters and calamities of humanity want to invite us to send our compassion and our benevolent energy generously towards the concerned people. Something which should be rather considered normal if our brothers and sister are in need.

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PART 2:

ANNETTE CRAVER:

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