Father mother daughter naked

2020.10.22 11:42 XZS2JH Mother daughter naked father

Greetings! Sapentia here, and I'm bringing to you guys a one shot campaign that I made and ran with my group, called 'The Hunt'. (DO NOT TELL THE PLAYERS THE NAME OF THE ONE SHOT). You can run this campaign as a one shot or weave it in to your campaign! I hope you enjoy it as much as my players and I did! I may make a part 2 of this one shot later on.
NOTE: I ran this with 3, level 8 party, each equipped with 1 rare weapon, 1 rare armor, 1 uncommon wonderous item, 2 potion of healing, and 1,000 gold. Make sure you balance this based on your party size, members, and magical items in possession.
Premise: The players receive an invitation to Count Valsurek (Vaal-Sue-Rec) Aamar's (Ah-Maar) Ball/Party, which is held on a paradise/tropical island within a Rod of Security. But the party soon finds out that it isn't all smiles and sunshine they hoped it to be.
Setting: The party members all know the Count one way or another for a long time and are on good terms with him (if you plan on introducing this one shot in your campaign, perhaps plant the Count in as an adventurer ahead of time). The party decide to accept the invitation. They all know that one point in time, the Count himself was one too, and perhaps is how they met and know him. The invitation letter is each personally addressed to each member and it explains how the Ball/Party will be held in the Rod of Security and is expected to be held for a few days and all your needs will be provided, within reason. As far as the city they are are all in, it can be a city of your choosing befitting your campaign, or you can use the city I used - the city of Immilmar of the Faerunian map. Immilmar is a human city harboring Lake Ashane. (NE of the Faerunian map; Immilmar is the capital city of Rashemen and seat of the Iron Lord).
Note-able locations: There is a shop named "Zelsune's (Zell-Sue-Nae) Trinkets and Wares", run by a human alchemist (artificer). He has up to 10 uncommon items of the DM's choice, and up to rare in potions.
Story: When the party gathers at the Count's manor, they show their invitation to gain entrance. Inside there is a crowd of people, nobles, friends, other adventurers that the Count met during his adventures that befriended him. In total, there is 42 people including the party members and the Count himself. After a few minutes after everyone has gathered, the Count will come down the stairs - a 5'11" handsome male human with short brown hair, brown eyes and a charming smile. He is wearing formal wear, and is holding a suitcase and a Rod. Read the players the following in the Count's voice: "My friends and everyone I hold dear, it is so good to see you all again! There are also some faces I haven't seen in a while and it brings me great joy to have you all here! Now who's all ready for some fun? Ah, right. I almost forgot! There are wonderful food and multitudes of different drinks from all around the world inside! However, they are only real while they are inside. If you try and bring it back out, they will simply disappear! Now, are you all ready to have some days of paradise and relaxation that you all deserve? If everyone is ready, without further ado, let's all have a fun time!"
After this the Count will activate the Rod of Security.
The players and everyone that was invited are transported into the Rod of Security. They all find themselves suddenly standing in a open field which is surrounded by a thick, dense, tropical forest. They can hear soft, gentle music (the type you can dance to) playing in the background, and they can see and smell delicious food cooking near a large bonfire in the middle. In a perimeter around the bonfire are tables set up with seemingly endless supplies of various drinks. People start to relax and enjoy themselves. The Count speaks up and says the following: "My dear friends, enjoy to your heart's content and let's enjoy our time here! About a 20 minute walk through the beautiful forest will lead you to the beach where camps are set up for you all to rest in, and they are set up all around this paradise island, so take your pick! If you need to find me, I will set myself up in the Northern section of this island! You are all like family to me and this is a dream come true for me! Let's party!" The island is somewhat small, only taking 45 minutes to get from one end to the other, cutting through the forest. It takes around 1 hour and 30 minutes if you walk around the parameter of the island.
List of races: 34 human males & females, 3 Half-Elf males, 1 Moon Elf Female, 1 Sun Elf Male.
This does not include the PC, so remember to add them to the headcount. The Count is added in the list already.
-1st day-
The entire day goes on without any problems. People are eating, drinking, dancing, singing, and having fun. The Count will go up to every single people and talk with them and laugh with them, reminiscing about old times. Night will fall and everyone goes to sleep eventually.
-2nd day-
Note: If the party tells the count about any of the deaths, he will explain that he wants the party to keep this down low, as to keep people from mass hysteria and panic. He will request the party to investigate what is going on and will actively attempt to help in any way he can. When requested to use the Rod of Security, he will attempt to do so, but it turns out to have malfunctioned somehow, and he will tell the party members that the timer will run out in 3 days time, and he will get it repaired. But little known to the party, the Count is trying to lead the party astray. If applicable, he will for the most part play the part of trying to keep the other people busy and oblivious to what's going on, by either making up games like hidden treasure or something similar hidden under the reasoning to stop them from mass hysteria. The Count is a 13th level Mastermind Rogue being controlled by a Insane Glabrezu. His stats and items are listed at the bottom of this page.
Morning rolls around and there are some fun events happening such as fishing, competitions, and so forth (be creative).
After 2:00 PM, if the party members decide to take a stroll through the woods in the South-Eastern part of the island, make them roll perception checks (DC 20) for every 10 minutes. Upon a success, they will look up to find a set of laid out planks of wood, about 70 ft. up in one of the trees, as well as a dangling part of some cloth material from the planks. Upon inspection of said trees (DC 10), they will find grooves in the trees which allows them to climb (DC 10 Athletics or Acrobatics check to make sure they don't fall. On a fail, they fall from about less than 10 ft., and take 1 bludgeoning damage). When they get to the top, they will find a blanket sheet covering something humanoid. Upon uncovering the blanket, they will find a dead body of a female human (adventurer) Upon a DC 15 Medicine check, they can find out she died from strangulation and it's been approximately 6 hours since her death. If the party leaves the body unattended, the body will have disappeared upon return.
After 6:00 PM, if the party members decide to be on search through the woods in the North-Western part of the island, make them roll an investigation check (DC 20) for every 10 minutes. Upon a success, they will find what seem to be drag marks through the bushes and plants, and on a successful survival check (DC 15) they can track the marks which after about 30 seconds of following, comes to an abrupt stop. When the players look up, they can see a male human's body, about 40 ft. in the air, his body twitching. Upon a successful perception check (DC 15), they will notice that he is being held in the air by seemingly nothing. If the party member does nothing for 1 minute, the body will drop to the ground. The human male is already dead - from the snapping of his neck. On a successful medicine check (DC 15), he has been dead or over 5 minutes. If the party member tries to get him down by either flying up there or other methods within the minute, they need to make a Athletics check vs. a Invisible Stalker. The Invisible Stalker will not attack the party at this point, and will simply go away after a minute, or if it gets attacked. This dead person (come up with a random name) is the eldest son of the human noble family: Waidell. The whole noble family is here (Father, Mother, 2 sons (one currently deceased), and 2 daughters). They are situated in the North-Eastern side of the island. The father, while in grief, is calm and collected and will keep things down low if requested. They will stay together from this point onwards and ask the party to bring the 3 friends that his son was with. The eldest son was with his friends (2 human female, 1 half-elf male) on the Eastern part of the island. When questioned, his friends will tell the party that he excused himself and hadn't returned and they are looking for him. After being questioned and answering truthfully (they know nothing), they will listen to Lord Waidell and stay with the noble family.
After 10:00 PM, there is another kill on the Western part of the forest. A human male adventurer who has died from strangulation. He can be found hidden between two bushes. (DC 18) THIS KILL DOES NOT HAPPEN IF THE PARTY MANAGED TO DEFEAT THE INVISIBLE STALKER AT 6:00 PM.
-3rd day-
This is where the killing starts to become more frequent.
After 7:00 AM, on the South-Western side of the forest (DC 20 investigation/perception) they can find a Ghillie-tarp covering two bodies - 1 half-elf male and 1 human female. Both are naked and were in the midst of making love when they were both strangled to death.
After 8:00 AM, on the Southern side of the forest, (DC 20 investigation/perception), the party can find 4 human adventurer party (1 female, 3 male) dead in a pit, which is covered by makeshift planks and covered with branches and leaves. Upon investigation, 2 of the males have side from a stab wound to the neck, the girl died from poison, and the other male died from suffocation.
After 1:00 PM, on the Western side of the forest, (DC 20 investigation/perception), the party can find bodies of 2 dead human bodies buried under a tree. The dirt is disrupted and is why it can be found.
After 6:00 PM, everyone is gathered in the middle and the Count is doing his best to keep people oblivious (if applicable depending on party's actions). After about 15 minutes, the party will notice 2 human males and a rather promiscuous moon elf female laughing and giggling as they make their way to the Northern part of the island. If he party tries to stop them, they will simply disregard and laugh off any attempt at persuasion or intimidation. If the party follows them, they will head into their tents and not long after moaning (sexual type) sounds can be heard coming from the tent. (RIP if you have one of 'suduce-bard' players, if you do, change this part to where they are just playing in the water or something. De-sexualize it really fast if your players cannot be mature about it). When the party heads back to the middle, they will notice that there are far less people there. When asked, the Count will mention that a group of 8 humans headed towards the North-Western side of the island. During this time, they will notice a sun elf drinking, staring at the bonfire, mumbling to himself. If a party member has the Observant feat., they can figure out that the sun elf is a guard and is complaining about why he has to guard the moon elf, and makes many remarks about his disgust at her open sexuality and how he wishes to be back home in Evereska (or a city name). If the Count is asked about the Moon Elf, he will tell the party that the moon elf, Alune (Ah-Loon), has always been promiscuous and he knows this from past personal experience. The sun elf acts as her guard and that's all he knows about him. The party will also notice the noble family group heading towards their camp. When asked, they will tell you they wish to turn in early and will travel to their camp. They can be persuaded otherwise (DC 15). After about 10 minutes after this conversation, there is a loud explosion that can be heard in the forest. When the party goes over to investigate (the Count will NOT follow the party here, come up with an excuse if needed), they will find 6 of the humans dead and the other two shooting spells (cantrips) at random places in the air (upward towards the gaps between trees). By the time he party can arrive to aid, one of the sorcerers gets slammed \yeet* to a nearby tree and fall down, dead. The remaining sorcerer puts up a fight (he is bloodied and is currently at 7 hp) and will be the next target of one of the 2 (1 if they party killed the other) Invisible Stalkers. (Combat). Spells such as revivify or other revival spells fail if casted on the three recently deceased sorcerers as their souls are unwilling to be returned. If one of the sorcerers survive, he will listen to the party's suggestions on what to do.*
When the party returns to the center of the island, read them the following:
"You walk to the middle of the island only to see the bonfire scattered everywhere, and lying on the ground, scattered everywhere as if by an explosion, are 9\ bodies, and from a glance you can tell that they are dead, except for one. The sun elf seems to be barely hanging on to life, but will die if nothing is done soon."*
\*(10, if the 10:00 PM kill on the second day was skipped).
If the party manages to stabilize/heal the sun elf, he will gain consciousness within the minute and immediately tell the party that the noble family are in danger. That the Count attacked and killed everyone here with one other person and headed in that direction. He will then get up, drink a potion of healing, and rush towards the direction of the moon elf.
Upon getting to the Waidell nobles' camp site, the party is too late as they find the corpses of all 8. (5 noble family members and the 3 friends of the deceased noble son). The party can easily find the tracks leading towards where the 2 human and moon elf (+ sun elf) are.
Upon arrival to the site, describe the following scene.
"You arrive at the camp site to see a naked human male running out of the tent only to have an arrow bolt shot through the back of his head, and he falls down, dead. To the left, you see another dead naked human, and you also see the dead body of the sun elf, with a sword through his chest, slumped against the trunk of the tree. Your attention is sharply turned towards the tent again as you hear distressed screaming coming from the inside of the tent, and soon after, a cloaked human with blood everywhere on his clothes walks out of the tent, shortly followed after the Count, who is holding a dagger in his left hand, made from a piece of jagged stone, whose blade is scribed with a maze-like pattern with no beginning or end. On his right hand, he drags out the struggling, naked moon elf by her throat and hold her in the air, suffocating her with his hand. He then looks over at you all and gives a sinister smile as speaks as he sinks the dagger into the lower abdomen of the moon elf. ' Well, look who finally caught up. I was saving you all for last. Isn't this a great party? Hahahahaha! Entertain me more!' As he spits those words, he takes the dagger out from the moon elf and drops her as he suddenly fades away. Roll Initiative."
When the Count reaches 0 hp, describe the following:
"As the Count's body slumps to the ground, the dagger lifts off from his hand, and pierces him with lightning speed. As this happens the Count's body start to rapidly deform and blow up to proportionate sizes as it starts to take a form of a fiendish crab looking creature with 2 giant claws and 2 arms. It laughs manically and gibbering in Abyssal ('a language you don't understand' if no one knows Abyssal)." (Arcana DC 18 to find out that it's a Glabrezu)
Roll new initiative for the Glabrezu, this is the final boss. Upon defeating it, his form turns spectral as it gets sucked back into the dagger, and drops next to the body of the Count.
Note: The Artifact is reduced back down to its dormant state after this and doesn't regain sentience for some time (for 50 years).
The party can visibly see the Count's chest rise and fall as if he is breathing. However, he is unconscious and has no idea where he is. He believes it to be (2 years and 4 months) before than it is currently, and the last thing he remembers is receiving a gift from his 'fan', with the initial of E.G. but does not know who's initial they are. Upon being explained of what is going on, the Count is visibly too stunned for words and all tears drip down his face. He will plead to be killed, not wanting to live with what have transpired, however, if the party lets him live, the following will happen in the following 3 days:
- The Count will forfeit all titles and sell everything he owns to pay enough gold to clerics to have everyone that was killed to be revived. Of the 41 dead, 3 of the souls (the sorcerers) will refuse to be revived. If the party does not mention or previously explain to the count that the assassin was working with him, he will attempt to revive him as well, but the spell will fail.
- After every one is revived, he turns himself in and a trial is set for him. Everyone involved shows up to trial. Here, one of two options will occur.
1: The party members will be called to the stand to explain the situation. If the party defends the Count on the basis that he was not himself and was being controlled, they will find him innocent as his actions afterwards proves to be true to the case. The Count's friends will end up forgiving him, but the Count does not forgive himself and will soon leave the city and never be heard from again.
2: The party members will be called to the stand to explain the situation. If the party leans towards guilty, the Count will be executed 2 days later.
In either case, the dagger is seized by the city with the promise to seal it within the secrets of the city.
-Le End-
-
STATS:
Count Valsurek Aamar
Variant Human, Chaotic Evil (Neutral Good - The actual Count)
AC: 19 (Glamoured Studded Leather + Minor Beneficial)
Hit Points: 82 (13d8+20)
STR: 10 / DEX: 20 / CON: 14 / INT: 16 / WIS : 16 / CHA: 12 (+10 to initiative; 40 ft. speed)
Saving Throws: Dex +10, Int +8
Ability (Expertise): Acrobatics +15, Stealth +15, Perception +13, Deception +11 (Advantage).
Ability (Proficiency): Insight +8, Persuasion +8, Investigation +8.
Senses: Darkvision 120ft., Passive Perception 23.
Languages: Common, Thieves' Cant, Elvish, Undercommon, Giant, Draconic, Dwarvish, Abyssal.
Challenge 12 (8,400 XP)
Spellcasting (Blade of Broken Mirrors): Once each per dawn - Fabricate, Hallucinatory Terrain, Major Image, Phantasmal Killer. (DC 17)
Cunning Action.
Uncanny Dodge.
Evasion.
Reliable Talent.
Alert Feat., Mobile Feat.
Magic Resistance. The count has Advantage on saving throws against spells. (Mantle of Spell Resistance).
Sneak Attack. (7d6)
Misdirection. When you are targeted by an attack while a creature within 5 feet of you is granting you cover against that attack, you can use your reaction to have the attack target that creature instead of you.
Master of Tactics. The count can use the Help action as a bonus action. Additionally, when the Count use the Help action to aid an ally in attacking a creature, the target of that attack can be within 30 feet of him, rather than 5 feet of him, if the target can see or hear the Count.
Insightful Manipulator. (Pre-fulfilled)
-
Actions
Invisibility. As an action, the count can becomes invisible as if the spell Invisibility has been cast on him. (Blade of Broken Mirrors).
Vicious Rapier. Melee Weapon Attack: +11 to hit, reach 5ft., one target. Hit: (1d8+6) piercing damage. Vicious. On a roll of 20, the weapon's attack deal an extra 2d6 damage of the weapon's type.
Blade of Broken Mirrors (Exalted). Melee Weapon Attack: +13 to hit, reach 5ft., one target. Hit: (1d4+8) piercing damage. Thrown. The Count can throw the dagger to a range of 20/60 ft. Immediately after you make a ranged attack with this weapon, it returns to your hand.
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Items
- Blade of Broken Mirrors (Attunement); [This item is cursed and is currently in its Exalted state. It has the following additional properties: (Minor Beneficial : 31-40 & 91-100); (Minor Detrimental : 31-35 & 61-65); (Major Beneficial: 21-30). Curse: The Count has been cursed by the Glabrezu that resides in the artifact and has been under it's control for approximately 2 years and 4 months. A Wish spell can end this effect.
- Vicious Rapier +1
- Mantle of Spell Resistance
- Glamoured Studded Leather
- 1 Potion of Superior Healing (8d4+8)
- 2 Potion of Speed (Haste spell)
- 1 Scroll of Freedom of Movement

Combat Style:
The Count has Freedom of Movement ready and will fight alongside a human Assassin (CR 8). The Count from the start will down a Potion of Speed, and will always use his secondary action to turn invisible at the end of his turn and move. If anyone has see invisibility active, the Count will attempt to kill that player first. On the 9th round of combat, he will drink another potion of speed before going invisible, as he will be stunned on his next turn when the first potion wears off.
He will use his one use of Phantasmal Killer strategically, targeting the creature with the lowest Wisdom score.
The Count prefers to use his rapier, however, will use the dagger for ranged attacks.
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2020.10.20 02:57 RobertFitzroy Father mother daughter naked

His face was as buttery and oily as freshly gutted ambergris, and his hair was as wiry as a curry comb. He was one of the first Americans to ever be seen by the natives of the island. He shoved his ferry ticket deep into his waistcoat and entered the village. The natives stopped as they watched him pass their rough homes built primarily of soft clay. He had heard that the natives of the island were highly superstitious and had went there to sell his many perfumes, narcotics, and miracle elixirs to them.
“Fresh, untainted minds.” he whispered as he noticed their simple ways of life. There were wrinkly old women tying leaves together as children played obscure games of tag and hop-scotch. He had arrived from the big city. Everybody there was too busy to stop and shop his wares. But these people had never seen the likes of him, and would surely be willing to buy anything.
He unfolded his briefcase into a small stand. He had it specially designed for ease of use. Metal arms sprung forth at the push of a button, and with the flick of a wrist, the entire arm bent to hold the case aloft. This action had already attracted some strange patrons. The people sat and stared as he placed a small wooden sign on the edge that read Thomas Toomley's Tantalizing Tinctures and Things. Most of the natives knew the English tongue already, although most of them could not read the sign. The missionaries from the neighboring islands had been visiting the islands for decades.
A young boy approached the stand. He wore a coarse-knitted shirt and had no pants. His tan skin browned in the tropic sun. He put his lips together and whispered a strange word.
“Idenk?” he said strangely.
“What? I speak English, kid.” he waved his hands dismissing the lad.
“Candy?” he held out his dirty hands and repeated the word.
“I have candy...” he fiddled around in the briefcase and pulled out a small bag of gumballs, “10 cents.” the boy's eyes widened.
“Candy?” he reached for the bag.
“Money.” he repeated. The boy scratched his head and pulled out a strange orange flower. “What the hell is this?” he turned the flower over in his cracking thumbs, “A flower?”
“Money.” the boy chirped.
“Fine, money,” he stuffed the flower in his pocket, “Candy.” Thomas gave the boy one shiny red gumball. The boy popped it into his mouth and scuttled off to his grandmother, who was not far away.
“Oat idenk aloa!” he grinned at the woman. She hit the side of his head and pointed at the house.
Thomas hadn't thought of that. The people here didn't have American money. They didn't have real money. “It's not all bad, I suppose.” he placed the orange flower in his briefcase, “If anything, I'll just sell the useless junk these people give me to the saps back home.” he smiled and his yellowing grin caught the sunlight above.
A small crowd had formed around the traveler. He traded them strange bottles of dark liquid in exchange for hats, painted stones, and jewelry. One by one, they traded him their sweat-stained handicrafts for his frivolous wares. Most of the people treated him like a God-given medicine man. They asked him for cures, prayers, and blessings. Luckily for the villagers, he had enough divinity to spare.
“Sir Toomley, sir?” A small man approached with a young boy in his arms.
“Yes, my dear man? What can I do ya for?” He lifted his ‘miracle elixir’ to sun and polished its curvaceous vessel.
“It is my son. He has had the shiver past two moons. Can you help him, sir Toomley?” He felt the child's head. It was sticky with sweat. He hadn't dealt with a serious situation like this yet. He scrambled through his things and found a tiny pill.
“Here sir, this will cure the boy of what ails him.” The man stuffed a hand down his pants and returned with a bone tooth bracelet. “Oh sir, this magical rock is free!” the man nodded and smiled at him. “But-” he handed the man a bottle, “This will be extra.” he winked. The man's smile faded and he gave him the bracelet. “Swallow the rock, and your boy will be better by tomorrow.” The man nodded and walked off.
“Coca-cola...” The man squinted as he read the bottle and walked off. The sun was beginning to set and the traveling man found a shady tree to sleep under for the night. He had been told stories about insects the size of house cats here in the tropics, so he knew he would sleep uneasily that night. It wasn't that he was afraid of bugs, it was that he was afraid of death. He chuckled and wondered if he might have some miracle cola for his own infected insect bites. The moon descended as he drifted off to sleep.
Midnight dew moistened his dirty brow and sunk into his eyes. He woke up and wiped his face.
“Who would ever want to live in this hell hole?” he rustled around and found a less comfortable position. He closed his eyes once more when he heard a strange sound coming over the village. It sounded like the ground beneath him was popping and sizzling, yet nothing had changed. He felt the dirt and noticed that there were tiny black insects digging their way to the surface, he threw the dirt on the ground and walked himself to the center of the village. The was a torch still on inside of the one of the homes and he went to it. He was going to knock on the door when he realized that there was a woman staring back at him through a window.
“Excuse me, ma'am? What are these little bugs?” he was nearly shouting over their incessant crackling. She tilted her head to the side and twisted her mouth into a look of disdain. She went to open the door and invited him in. He accepted her offer and she gave him a blanket of fur and a stuffed animal hide. He laid down on the ground near a hearth and she brought him a bowl of brown water and he accepted it, but didn't drink it. She smiled and left him alone.
It was curious to him, that a complete stranger who didn't even speak his language could be so hospitable to a creature of his gaudy caliber. The popping noises outside continued into the night, but they didn't fill him with terror, they gently lulled him to sleep.
The sun flitted warmly around on his face. He opened one eye first, just so that he could get a little more sleep. Then he opened the other after falling back to sleep a few more times. The sounds of outside had been replaced with the murmuring of voices and he would occasionally hear merchants yelling. He fixed his thick black hair with greasy fingertips and made his way to the kitchen. He wanted to thank the kind woman who had let him stay there, but she was nowhere to be found. He grabbed his portmanteau and opened the front door. There was a crowd hovering outside of the small home and they had all let out a loud burst of excitement once he entered the sunlight.
He had never been welcomed with such praise and was speechless. He had done nothing to win their admiration, yet there were signs everywhere with his name and strange symbols. He waved at them and they waved back. They were enthralled with him and he had to understand why. He pulled a gentleman aside.
“Excuse me, sir, but what do these signs mean?” he gestured at the crowd
“Thomas kangasalam.” he beamed.
“Yes, but that's not my name.” he frowned. The man didn't understand and a woman came over.
“Thomas Kangasalam!” she screamed and embraced him.
“What does that mean?” he struggled to speak through her thick braids.
“You are the magic Thomas.” she gave him a flower and brought her friends over.
“Magic? I'm not magic!” the mass enveloped him and disagreed.
“You stopped the shivers, sir Thomas, sir!” They cheered.
“The shivers?” he whispered. “Of course, the little boy! They think I'm magic?”
“Please Thomas Kangasalam! Bring us your magic pebbles!” rang out a voice from the crowd.
“And the elixir of magic! Coca-cola!” The people who had the soft drink the day before raised their bottles into the air. The other members fell to their knees in admiration and chanted the magical words endlessly.
Thomas obliged and the people bought everything he had. They gave him fancy jewelry and shiny gems. One woman tried to trade her youngest daughter for some coca-cola. He declined graciously and continued the charade. He sold his last magic pebble as the sun was setting behind a large tropic tree on the horizon. He sighed and fiddled through his loot. He would be able to make quite the profit when he arrived back home, and smiled greedily at his rewards.
“Sir Toomley?” a soft voice quivered through the thick air. He wheeled around to see a pretty woman standing there.
“Yes? I am the fantastic and powerful Thomas kangrasalami!” He paused thinking that something didn't sound quite right, “What can I do ya for?” he smiled.
“There is something that I must ask of you.” she inspected the dirt and adjusted her linen shirt. He was surprised by her English and wondered what she could need. He couldn't possibly sell her anything; he hadn't anything to sell! (Though he thought of selling his own clothes and shoes).
“Yes, my dear?” his interest was genuine, although his intentions were rather wicked.
“I need some courage.” her hands turned into a fist. “I need some courage.” she looked him in the eye and quickly shifted her gaze once more.
“Courage?” he muttered absently. He hardly knew the word. He had never had any courage himself, and had never really wanted any of it. But the question was interesting. “For what?” he shook his head back and forth subconsciously.
“For the Watsche.” her face wrinkled and she looked as though she were in pain.
“The Watsche?” Thomas had never heard of such a thing.
“He comes to me in the night and-” her eyes leaked with brine, “I'm afraid of him, sir Toomley.” Her eyes flickered to his and then back to the dirt.
“Who is he? What is he?” He put a hand on her cheek. (A motion which he was rather proud of.)
“It is a very complicated story and I-”
“I have all the time in the world.” He checked his watch. She smiled and nodded gently.
“When I was a very young girl, my father was attacked by the Watsche. I was sleeping in my room when I heard the sound. It was the sound of something stepping on tongues. It was coming from my father's room and I went to see what it could be. I brought my flame from my room and illuminated his. My father's arm was in the air and it was bleeding. I went closer to him when I saw it. Its eyes were like muddy water. It dripped down the face and into nothingness. I tried not to look at it, but I couldn't help it. It was slowing skinning my father alive. It moved its long sharp fingers along his skin; they were like knitting needles and they pulled his flesh from his bone. I tried not to yell but I couldn't help it. The creature stopped and looked at me. It stared into my soul. My father awoke and the beast crawled through the window. It was like a spider. It had no mouth or nose. It was just a face with eyes.” Her eyes had glazed over with emotion and she breathed heavily.
“Did it ever come back?” Thomas tried not to smile. The idea of something so gruesome had to be some silly native myth.
“The Watsche never returned to the village. The people of the town regard my father and I as protectors. We scared them away. But I don't feel like a hero.”
“Then why do you fear them?” he questioned quite honestly. She ignored his statement and continued.
“The Watsche never harmed my father again, but he lives with his mutilation as a reminder of darker times.”
“Well, I'm afraid to say that I have no elixirs for courage. But, if it makes you feel better, I could stay with you tonight...” He leaned close to her and fixed his hair.
“Oh! Really Sir Toomley?! I would love that!” She swung her arms around him.
“Please! Please! Call me Thomas!” he grinned and walked her home.
She showed him the guest bedroom and he put his suitcase down in it. It was a modest commode. There were thatch pillows and thin blankets. He made himself at home for a few minutes and stared into the ceiling. His thoughts were focused intently on the young girl in the living room and he walked out to where the girl had been. She was on her knees and rubbing dirt into her hair.
“What are you doing?” he blurted without thought.
“Umi Umaata” she whispered. She continued the process. He watched in silence as she did this. It was so primitive- it was so primal. She didn't notice him. “The mother speaks to us. She keeps us forever; she keeps us in the mud.” She got up and opened all of the windows.
“The breeze is nice,” he attempted to make casual conversation, as he sat next to her on the floor.
“The air is nice.” she looked at him lazily and closed her eyes. Thomas restrained himself from staring at her skin. It had been ages since he had been with a woman. Her shirt was lifting on her hips and he saw a discoloration.
“What's that?” he motioned at that mark.
“Oh.” she murmured. “That's my fear.” she blinked and twisted her face.
“What do you mean?” he didn't try to understand. She lifted her shirt. She blushed and his eyes widened. Her skin was a crude quilt of flesh and bone. There were patches of skin missing and her bones could be seen through the thin film of her fresh skin. He pursed his lips and lost his nightly ambitions.
“The Watsche never returned to the villagers, but he returns to me. I'm afraid that he grows impatient with me; I'm afraid that he will mark me.” Her breath grew shallow and her eyes watered. The ground began to hiss and crackle outside.
“That noise! What is it?” Thomas went to the window and saw the ground shift and pulse.
“That's the noise of our ancestors. When someone passes on, the mother gives them the test of the dirt. Every night, our ancestors press through the soil to the surface above. Broken fragments of their once thriving bodies. Once they writhe through the rocks and sand, they will ascend to the Moon Kingdom; the kingdom of our creators.”
Thomas knew the answer couldn't be a serious one, but he didn't want to offend her.
“What's in the Moon Kingdom?” he tried to feign interest in her strange beliefs.
“We don't know. But to be with our great mother would be reason enough; reason enough to push through the soil for eternity.” She gazed out the window with him and admired the pulsating earth.
“I'll make a fire.” she touched his back and it made him tingle.
The night pressed on and she asked him about the place he came from. He told her about skyscrapers, democracy, and money. She was fascinated by his tales and he told her that he was a very important man back home. The moving muck outside gently rocked the two to sleep and she fell asleep on his chest. Her name was Oneika. His name was Tom.
A wail pierced through Thomas' head and jolted him out of his sleep. He jumped to his feet and stumbled across the floor. “What is it?” he looked for Oneika and rubbed his forehead. His head was pounding and he allowed his eyes to adjust before continuing. He tripped through her bedroom door and saw her standing there, shaking.
“The mark.” she cried out once more and fell to the floor.
“What mark?” he inquired just as he realized that she had no hair. Her skin was a paler and her eyes were hazy.
“He's marked me, Thomas,” she spoke something low in her native tongue.
“What are you talking about?”
She looked deep into his eyes.
Since the times of ash and rain, there had been creatures which served the great Mother of creation. They were messengers of her highness and would prepare her people for ascension. The creatures were without name, but the people of the village called them the Rippers. The Rippers would come to the chosen in the middle of the night and strip them of all impurities. They would awake; pale and hairless forms of themselves. In the times before the darkness, this was considered a gift of the mother. After the moon would pass three times, the great Rippers would return to skin the chosen ones. The skinless sacrifices would usually die in their sleep and be buried in the grounds beyond time. But when the darkness came across the village, the Rippers became insatiable, marking many people in the same night and harvesting them before morning. The people pleaded with the Mother, but their pleas were unheeded and the harvest continued. Those who were marked were ignored and many were tied up and thrown deep into the woods for the mother to finish them off before sunset. That was until Oneika had stopped it.
“I have three days, Thomas. By that time, the Watsche will return for me.”
“Why do you call it the Watsche?”
“That's his name. He told me that the night I stopped him from taking my father. I cannot forget.”
Thomas realized that Oneika was not just a strong believer in her peoples' beliefs- she was a victim. He placed his arms around her and reassured her that no harm would come to her. He knew there was nothing that a poor salesman could do for her, but he would wait the three days and see if the Watsche was real.
“When the Ripper is meant to return, I will stay awake all night. I will protect you.” He lifted his pant leg and revealed a pistol that he kept there.
“Thank you Thomas. You are a good friend.” she kissed him on the brow and went to find some clothes to cover her hairless condition. She found a strange hat made of an animal fur and a scarf of banana leaves.
For three nights, he sleeps by her side. The popping of souls outside seems to grow louder with each passing night, and on the third night, she takes him to a hill on the horizon.
“This place is where I grew up. My father and I used to play here.” she squeezes his hand. “Long ago, when this place thrived with life and existence.” She points towards the dead trees and greying brush. “The Mother lit this place aflame. She was angry at us. She wanted to teach us a lesson.” She looked at him and kissed him on the lips. “I have never been with a man. Would you be with me on my last night in this world?” Thomas realized that this is what he had been waiting for.
“I would love to.” He laid her down on the dirt and they made love on the hill. The two slept naked and Thomas tried not to fall asleep there. His eyes grew heavy and he carried her back to her home. He made a fire and covered her with a blanket. He gazed at her patchwork skin and sighed. His feelings were strange. For the first time in his life, he had someone he actually cared for. He pulled his pants back on and admired her on the floor. The ground began to sing once more and he waited for the Watsche to return.
He leaned against the wall and looked deep into the ceiling. His eyes drifted and he grew tired. The night was comforting. He closed his eyes for a few minutes and then opened them to check on Oneika. She was fine. He closed his eyes and folded his hands in front of him once more.
Gurgle. Squish. He picked his head up and looked around. That was the noise she had said; the noise of stepping on tongues. He didn't notice anything and stood up. He went to the window and thought that it must have been the ground, but then the noise came again. He spun around and saw a shadow with dripping orange eyes. Long spikes sprung from its many arms and it rubbed them gently across her back.
Thomas bent down to get his gun and realized that he hadn't loaded it. He couldn't believe that she was telling the truth. There it was, with its knitting-needle-fingers, and its murky eyes that drip like water. He pulled the shells out of his pocket and kept his eyes on the creature. It moved its fingers slowly and quietly. Slowly it lifted her skin from her back as if it hadn't been attached at all. He put the shells in the chamber.
Click. The Watsche turned to him. “You have no business here Traveler. Return to whence you came.” It had no mouth to speak, but its words echoed through the room. It went back to skinning his beloved. He pulled the hammer and aimed at the thing. He couldn't tell where he should aim, but he aimed for the dripping eyes. The shot rang out and went through monster. It wailed and Oneika awoke. She turned on to her back and looked deep into the eyes of her nightmare.
“Thomas!” she exclaimed as she felt her back, staining the floor with blood.
“Oneika!” He tried to run over to her but the Watsche blocked him. Orange ooze dripped through the wound and it laughed.
“Pathetic creatures. Always fighting. Always struggling.” It pushed Thomas back with one of its many tendrils. He could now see the full expanse of the thing. It hurt his eyes to look at it and he grew afraid. At the end of every leg were sharp needles. More legs grew out of the nothingness and lifted Oneika high into the air. It carried her out the window and didn't remove its hold on Thomas until it was out of sight.
He fell to the floorboards and gasped for air. It was real! It was all real. He trembled with horror and knew that he had to go after her. He had made a promise to protect her. He jumped through the window and felt the ground pushing up against him as he went. He had no idea where he was going, but he went to the summit of the burning hill and saw a glimpse of the creature crawling silently through the dead forest.
He tumbled down the hill and jumped back to his feet. He dodged the branches and ran for what seemed hours. Oneika had already stopped screaming and a dense fog rose from the earth. He pressed on until he noticed that the trees grew sparse. Eventually the ground was just a grey mass of nothingness. He kept running and could now see the black thing in a sea of grey. The moon above shifted uneasily and he tried not to be afraid. But he was afraid. And the creatures knew it. He turned to see if he could still see the forest behind him, but it had vanished. All around him was a blank world. He could still hear the writhing earth, but it was very far away.
He spun around a saw a wave of darkness coming from the horizon. It came silently and he could see it growing larger and larger. He tried to retreat but it was inevitable. The black wave was a torrent of black beetles and other insects. The darkness swallowed him and he was swept away with it. He choked on their shiny black hulls and tried not to breathe. They chewed and bit at him until he was fully infested. He went in and out of consciousness. Slowly, the insects retreated and left him on the blank canvas of grey.
“Hello Thomas.” A tepid voice washed over him. He looked up and saw the ivory skin of a massive creature. “I'm thoroughly impressed, traveler.” he sat up and his eyes adjusted to the strange amber light. The creature before him was a large faceless spider-like creature. Her arms were infinite and each of them ending in spikes. She had long trails of skin hanging all around her. Blood, fingernails, hair and bones adorned her body and she kept herself aloft with her many tendrils.
“Do you know who I am, Thomas?” she lowered her faceless face to his. He shook his head. “I am the great mother of creation- I am the seamstress of everything you see.” she paused and scratched his chin with her nails. “Do you know why I have allowed you here?” He shook his head once more. “You drown in ignorance and folly. Every orifice is dripping with anticipation.” She lifted Oneika and threw her down next to him. “This girl is nothing. She will join the earth and be renewed.”
“Oneika!” he struggled to yell her name.
“What a pretty name for such a pretty thing.” She peeled away Oneika's face and placed it over her facelessness. “Yes? My dear?” She roared with laughter and sighed. Thomas' eyes filled with tears as he saw the bloody mass lying next to him. “Oh don't worry, Thomas, her skin will be put to good use. After all, that's what I do...” She raised a nail in the air and spawned a horde of dark creatures from the dirt. “In your world, your people die from old age, but the people of this tribe don't die so easily. They are immortal and without coaxing will live forever. But they must be harvested. Your people slowly kill themselves with things of your own design. It really makes my job easier. That's why I brought you to the island. I knew that you would try to sell them your deadly poisons. Now that they enjoy the taste of your elixirs, they have been tainted and will perish with age. They have been a thorn in my side for so long. Oneika would have be immortal if we didn't kill her ourselves. Your people drown and drip with plague. My crawlers steal your guts and skin whilst you rot in the grave.” She whispered her words into his face.
“No!” he spit up blood as he spoke.
“Hush creature. You have done well.” She pet him gently with a needle-like hand. Thomas gritted his teeth and made his way for his gun once more. He fingered the triggered and with his last bit of strength lifted it to her head and shot it. She retracted and lifted herself far off the ground.
“You ungrateful swine!” a dagger shot through the ground and lifted him high into the air to her level. “I created you from the flesh of others! It is the great circle of existence, and with or without you it shall continue. You have performed your purpose.” He slipped down the spire and it dug itself deeper inside him. “You are now useless to me; you are now useless to the human race.” He vomited blood on her and sputtered as he tried to scream. She slowly peeled away his skin as he twisted.
“Please.” his lungs filled with fluid. “This isn't fair!” He exclaimed to the nothingness.
“Fair?!” she dropped him from the sky and he collapsed on the ground.
“Isn't there anything I can do?” he grasped at his chest.
“Sure. I'll give you a fighting chance. But only because it's oh so amusing to watch the helpless squirm. If you survive the Rippers, I'll let you go.” He fought to his feet and held his gun at his side. He nodded and she released the creatures down upon him.
They fell down upon him, their spikes and shards pushing deep into his flesh and bone. He shot one in the head and kicked another back away. But it was a useless battle. The Rippers dug him into the ground and stripped away his skin. He gazed helplessly as his skin came off in sheets and chunks and were draped around the neck of the great Seamstress.
“Nothing can give creation to nothing. When something loses its purpose it is meant to be disposed of; meant to be harvested and reused. Now you will return to the soil.” her body was cloaked in shadows once more.
With his last breath of air, he let out a wail, “But what about the Moon Kingdom?” She turned her head.
“There is no such thing. You will die here. You will be returned to the dirt from whence you were born.” His blood soaked the ground and he went in and out of consciousness. “Like lost creatures of the depths, all flesh must rot. Come now, my children, devour the tainted; devour the corrupt! For this abhorrent corpse shall now join your cause. He will now be one with your crusade of the mire!”
The black beetles crawled over his wet flesh and bore deep into him.
He opened his eyes. There was blackness. He felt the coarse gravel around his face and struggled back and forth against the grains. He followed the other black creatures that knew the way to the surface. Night after night they went forth, crackling and shifting as they went. His effort to reach the sky from his deep abyss a useless and meaningless endeavor.
submitted by RobertFitzroy to scarystories [link] [comments]


2020.10.20 02:56 RobertFitzroy Daughter mother naked father

His face was as buttery and oily as freshly gutted ambergris, and his hair was as wiry as a curry comb. He was one of the first Americans to ever be seen by the natives of the island. He shoved his ferry ticket deep into his waistcoat and entered the village. The natives stopped as they watched him pass their rough homes built primarily of soft clay. He had heard that the natives of the island were highly superstitious and had went there to sell his many perfumes, narcotics, and miracle elixirs to them.
“Fresh, untainted minds.” he whispered as he noticed their simple ways of life. There were wrinkly old women tying leaves together as children played obscure games of tag and hop-scotch. He had arrived from the big city. Everybody there was too busy to stop and shop his wares. But these people had never seen the likes of him, and would surely be willing to buy anything.
He unfolded his briefcase into a small stand. He had it specially designed for ease of use. Metal arms sprung forth at the push of a button, and with the flick of a wrist, the entire arm bent to hold the case aloft. This action had already attracted some strange patrons. The people sat and stared as he placed a small wooden sign on the edge that read Thomas Toomley's Tantalizing Tinctures and Things. Most of the natives knew the English tongue already, although most of them could not read the sign. The missionaries from the neighboring islands had been visiting the islands for decades.
A young boy approached the stand. He wore a coarse-knitted shirt and had no pants. His tan skin browned in the tropic sun. He put his lips together and whispered a strange word.
“Idenk?” he said strangely.
“What? I speak English, kid.” he waved his hands dismissing the lad.
“Candy?” he held out his dirty hands and repeated the word.
“I have candy...” he fiddled around in the briefcase and pulled out a small bag of gumballs, “10 cents.” the boy's eyes widened.
“Candy?” he reached for the bag.
“Money.” he repeated. The boy scratched his head and pulled out a strange orange flower. “What the hell is this?” he turned the flower over in his cracking thumbs, “A flower?”
“Money.” the boy chirped.
“Fine, money,” he stuffed the flower in his pocket, “Candy.” Thomas gave the boy one shiny red gumball. The boy popped it into his mouth and scuttled off to his grandmother, who was not far away.
“Oat idenk aloa!” he grinned at the woman. She hit the side of his head and pointed at the house.
Thomas hadn't thought of that. The people here didn't have American money. They didn't have real money. “It's not all bad, I suppose.” he placed the orange flower in his briefcase, “If anything, I'll just sell the useless junk these people give me to the saps back home.” he smiled and his yellowing grin caught the sunlight above.
A small crowd had formed around the traveler. He traded them strange bottles of dark liquid in exchange for hats, painted stones, and jewelry. One by one, they traded him their sweat-stained handicrafts for his frivolous wares. Most of the people treated him like a God-given medicine man. They asked him for cures, prayers, and blessings. Luckily for the villagers, he had enough divinity to spare.
“Sir Toomley, sir?” A small man approached with a young boy in his arms.
“Yes, my dear man? What can I do ya for?” He lifted his ‘miracle elixir’ to sun and polished its curvaceous vessel.
“It is my son. He has had the shiver past two moons. Can you help him, sir Toomley?” He felt the child's head. It was sticky with sweat. He hadn't dealt with a serious situation like this yet. He scrambled through his things and found a tiny pill.
“Here sir, this will cure the boy of what ails him.” The man stuffed a hand down his pants and returned with a bone tooth bracelet. “Oh sir, this magical rock is free!” the man nodded and smiled at him. “But-” he handed the man a bottle, “This will be extra.” he winked. The man's smile faded and he gave him the bracelet. “Swallow the rock, and your boy will be better by tomorrow.” The man nodded and walked off.
“Coca-cola...” The man squinted as he read the bottle and walked off. The sun was beginning to set and the traveling man found a shady tree to sleep under for the night. He had been told stories about insects the size of house cats here in the tropics, so he knew he would sleep uneasily that night. It wasn't that he was afraid of bugs, it was that he was afraid of death. He chuckled and wondered if he might have some miracle cola for his own infected insect bites. The moon descended as he drifted off to sleep.
Midnight dew moistened his dirty brow and sunk into his eyes. He woke up and wiped his face.
“Who would ever want to live in this hell hole?” he rustled around and found a less comfortable position. He closed his eyes once more when he heard a strange sound coming over the village. It sounded like the ground beneath him was popping and sizzling, yet nothing had changed. He felt the dirt and noticed that there were tiny black insects digging their way to the surface, he threw the dirt on the ground and walked himself to the center of the village. The was a torch still on inside of the one of the homes and he went to it. He was going to knock on the door when he realized that there was a woman staring back at him through a window.
“Excuse me, ma'am? What are these little bugs?” he was nearly shouting over their incessant crackling. She tilted her head to the side and twisted her mouth into a look of disdain. She went to open the door and invited him in. He accepted her offer and she gave him a blanket of fur and a stuffed animal hide. He laid down on the ground near a hearth and she brought him a bowl of brown water and he accepted it, but didn't drink it. She smiled and left him alone.
It was curious to him, that a complete stranger who didn't even speak his language could be so hospitable to a creature of his gaudy caliber. The popping noises outside continued into the night, but they didn't fill him with terror, they gently lulled him to sleep.
The sun flitted warmly around on his face. He opened one eye first, just so that he could get a little more sleep. Then he opened the other after falling back to sleep a few more times. The sounds of outside had been replaced with the murmuring of voices and he would occasionally hear merchants yelling. He fixed his thick black hair with greasy fingertips and made his way to the kitchen. He wanted to thank the kind woman who had let him stay there, but she was nowhere to be found. He grabbed his portmanteau and opened the front door. There was a crowd hovering outside of the small home and they had all let out a loud burst of excitement once he entered the sunlight.
He had never been welcomed with such praise and was speechless. He had done nothing to win their admiration, yet there were signs everywhere with his name and strange symbols. He waved at them and they waved back. They were enthralled with him and he had to understand why. He pulled a gentleman aside.
“Excuse me, sir, but what do these signs mean?” he gestured at the crowd
“Thomas kangasalam.” he beamed.
“Yes, but that's not my name.” he frowned. The man didn't understand and a woman came over.
“Thomas Kangasalam!” she screamed and embraced him.
“What does that mean?” he struggled to speak through her thick braids.
“You are the magic Thomas.” she gave him a flower and brought her friends over.
“Magic? I'm not magic!” the mass enveloped him and disagreed.
“You stopped the shivers, sir Thomas, sir!” They cheered.
“The shivers?” he whispered. “Of course, the little boy! They think I'm magic?”
“Please Thomas Kangasalam! Bring us your magic pebbles!” rang out a voice from the crowd.
“And the elixir of magic! Coca-cola!” The people who had the soft drink the day before raised their bottles into the air. The other members fell to their knees in admiration and chanted the magical words endlessly.
Thomas obliged and the people bought everything he had. They gave him fancy jewelry and shiny gems. One woman tried to trade her youngest daughter for some coca-cola. He declined graciously and continued the charade. He sold his last magic pebble as the sun was setting behind a large tropic tree on the horizon. He sighed and fiddled through his loot. He would be able to make quite the profit when he arrived back home, and smiled greedily at his rewards.
“Sir Toomley?” a soft voice quivered through the thick air. He wheeled around to see a pretty woman standing there.
“Yes? I am the fantastic and powerful Thomas kangrasalami!” He paused thinking that something didn't sound quite right, “What can I do ya for?” he smiled.
“There is something that I must ask of you.” she inspected the dirt and adjusted her linen shirt. He was surprised by her English and wondered what she could need. He couldn't possibly sell her anything; he hadn't anything to sell! (Though he thought of selling his own clothes and shoes).
“Yes, my dear?” his interest was genuine, although his intentions were rather wicked.
“I need some courage.” her hands turned into a fist. “I need some courage.” she looked him in the eye and quickly shifted her gaze once more.
“Courage?” he muttered absently. He hardly knew the word. He had never had any courage himself, and had never really wanted any of it. But the question was interesting. “For what?” he shook his head back and forth subconsciously.
“For the Watsche.” her face wrinkled and she looked as though she were in pain.
“The Watsche?” Thomas had never heard of such a thing.
“He comes to me in the night and-” her eyes leaked with brine, “I'm afraid of him, sir Toomley.” Her eyes flickered to his and then back to the dirt.
“Who is he? What is he?” He put a hand on her cheek. (A motion which he was rather proud of.)
“It is a very complicated story and I-”
“I have all the time in the world.” He checked his watch. She smiled and nodded gently.
“When I was a very young girl, my father was attacked by the Watsche. I was sleeping in my room when I heard the sound. It was the sound of something stepping on tongues. It was coming from my father's room and I went to see what it could be. I brought my flame from my room and illuminated his. My father's arm was in the air and it was bleeding. I went closer to him when I saw it. Its eyes were like muddy water. It dripped down the face and into nothingness. I tried not to look at it, but I couldn't help it. It was slowing skinning my father alive. It moved its long sharp fingers along his skin; they were like knitting needles and they pulled his flesh from his bone. I tried not to yell but I couldn't help it. The creature stopped and looked at me. It stared into my soul. My father awoke and the beast crawled through the window. It was like a spider. It had no mouth or nose. It was just a face with eyes.” Her eyes had glazed over with emotion and she breathed heavily.
“Did it ever come back?” Thomas tried not to smile. The idea of something so gruesome had to be some silly native myth.
“The Watsche never returned to the village. The people of the town regard my father and I as protectors. We scared them away. But I don't feel like a hero.”
“Then why do you fear them?” he questioned quite honestly. She ignored his statement and continued.
“The Watsche never harmed my father again, but he lives with his mutilation as a reminder of darker times.”
“Well, I'm afraid to say that I have no elixirs for courage. But, if it makes you feel better, I could stay with you tonight...” He leaned close to her and fixed his hair.
“Oh! Really Sir Toomley?! I would love that!” She swung her arms around him.
“Please! Please! Call me Thomas!” he grinned and walked her home.
She showed him the guest bedroom and he put his suitcase down in it. It was a modest commode. There were thatch pillows and thin blankets. He made himself at home for a few minutes and stared into the ceiling. His thoughts were focused intently on the young girl in the living room and he walked out to where the girl had been. She was on her knees and rubbing dirt into her hair.
“What are you doing?” he blurted without thought.
“Umi Umaata” she whispered. She continued the process. He watched in silence as she did this. It was so primitive- it was so primal. She didn't notice him. “The mother speaks to us. She keeps us forever; she keeps us in the mud.” She got up and opened all of the windows.
“The breeze is nice,” he attempted to make casual conversation, as he sat next to her on the floor.
“The air is nice.” she looked at him lazily and closed her eyes. Thomas restrained himself from staring at her skin. It had been ages since he had been with a woman. Her shirt was lifting on her hips and he saw a discoloration.
“What's that?” he motioned at that mark.
“Oh.” she murmured. “That's my fear.” she blinked and twisted her face.
“What do you mean?” he didn't try to understand. She lifted her shirt. She blushed and his eyes widened. Her skin was a crude quilt of flesh and bone. There were patches of skin missing and her bones could be seen through the thin film of her fresh skin. He pursed his lips and lost his nightly ambitions.
“The Watsche never returned to the villagers, but he returns to me. I'm afraid that he grows impatient with me; I'm afraid that he will mark me.” Her breath grew shallow and her eyes watered. The ground began to hiss and crackle outside.
“That noise! What is it?” Thomas went to the window and saw the ground shift and pulse.
“That's the noise of our ancestors. When someone passes on, the mother gives them the test of the dirt. Every night, our ancestors press through the soil to the surface above. Broken fragments of their once thriving bodies. Once they writhe through the rocks and sand, they will ascend to the Moon Kingdom; the kingdom of our creators.”
Thomas knew the answer couldn't be a serious one, but he didn't want to offend her.
“What's in the Moon Kingdom?” he tried to feign interest in her strange beliefs.
“We don't know. But to be with our great mother would be reason enough; reason enough to push through the soil for eternity.” She gazed out the window with him and admired the pulsating earth.
“I'll make a fire.” she touched his back and it made him tingle.
The night pressed on and she asked him about the place he came from. He told her about skyscrapers, democracy, and money. She was fascinated by his tales and he told her that he was a very important man back home. The moving muck outside gently rocked the two to sleep and she fell asleep on his chest. Her name was Oneika. His name was Tom.
A wail pierced through Thomas' head and jolted him out of his sleep. He jumped to his feet and stumbled across the floor. “What is it?” he looked for Oneika and rubbed his forehead. His head was pounding and he allowed his eyes to adjust before continuing. He tripped through her bedroom door and saw her standing there, shaking.
“The mark.” she cried out once more and fell to the floor.
“What mark?” he inquired just as he realized that she had no hair. Her skin was a paler and her eyes were hazy.
“He's marked me, Thomas,” she spoke something low in her native tongue.
“What are you talking about?”
She looked deep into his eyes.
Since the times of ash and rain, there had been creatures which served the great Mother of creation. They were messengers of her highness and would prepare her people for ascension. The creatures were without name, but the people of the village called them the Rippers. The Rippers would come to the chosen in the middle of the night and strip them of all impurities. They would awake; pale and hairless forms of themselves. In the times before the darkness, this was considered a gift of the mother. After the moon would pass three times, the great Rippers would return to skin the chosen ones. The skinless sacrifices would usually die in their sleep and be buried in the grounds beyond time. But when the darkness came across the village, the Rippers became insatiable, marking many people in the same night and harvesting them before morning. The people pleaded with the Mother, but their pleas were unheeded and the harvest continued. Those who were marked were ignored and many were tied up and thrown deep into the woods for the mother to finish them off before sunset. That was until Oneika had stopped it.
“I have three days, Thomas. By that time, the Watsche will return for me.”
“Why do you call it the Watsche?”
“That's his name. He told me that the night I stopped him from taking my father. I cannot forget.”
Thomas realized that Oneika was not just a strong believer in her peoples' beliefs- she was a victim. He placed his arms around her and reassured her that no harm would come to her. He knew there was nothing that a poor salesman could do for her, but he would wait the three days and see if the Watsche was real.
“When the Ripper is meant to return, I will stay awake all night. I will protect you.” He lifted his pant leg and revealed a pistol that he kept there.
“Thank you Thomas. You are a good friend.” she kissed him on the brow and went to find some clothes to cover her hairless condition. She found a strange hat made of an animal fur and a scarf of banana leaves.
For three nights, he sleeps by her side. The popping of souls outside seems to grow louder with each passing night, and on the third night, she takes him to a hill on the horizon.
“This place is where I grew up. My father and I used to play here.” she squeezes his hand. “Long ago, when this place thrived with life and existence.” She points towards the dead trees and greying brush. “The Mother lit this place aflame. She was angry at us. She wanted to teach us a lesson.” She looked at him and kissed him on the lips. “I have never been with a man. Would you be with me on my last night in this world?” Thomas realized that this is what he had been waiting for.
“I would love to.” He laid her down on the dirt and they made love on the hill. The two slept naked and Thomas tried not to fall asleep there. His eyes grew heavy and he carried her back to her home. He made a fire and covered her with a blanket. He gazed at her patchwork skin and sighed. His feelings were strange. For the first time in his life, he had someone he actually cared for. He pulled his pants back on and admired her on the floor. The ground began to sing once more and he waited for the Watsche to return.
He leaned against the wall and looked deep into the ceiling. His eyes drifted and he grew tired. The night was comforting. He closed his eyes for a few minutes and then opened them to check on Oneika. She was fine. He closed his eyes and folded his hands in front of him once more.
Gurgle. Squish. He picked his head up and looked around. That was the noise she had said; the noise of stepping on tongues. He didn't notice anything and stood up. He went to the window and thought that it must have been the ground, but then the noise came again. He spun around and saw a shadow with dripping orange eyes. Long spikes sprung from its many arms and it rubbed them gently across her back.
Thomas bent down to get his gun and realized that he hadn't loaded it. He couldn't believe that she was telling the truth. There it was, with its knitting-needle-fingers, and its murky eyes that drip like water. He pulled the shells out of his pocket and kept his eyes on the creature. It moved its fingers slowly and quietly. Slowly it lifted her skin from her back as if it hadn't been attached at all. He put the shells in the chamber.
Click. The Watsche turned to him. “You have no business here Traveler. Return to whence you came.” It had no mouth to speak, but its words echoed through the room. It went back to skinning his beloved. He pulled the hammer and aimed at the thing. He couldn't tell where he should aim, but he aimed for the dripping eyes. The shot rang out and went through monster. It wailed and Oneika awoke. She turned on to her back and looked deep into the eyes of her nightmare.
“Thomas!” she exclaimed as she felt her back, staining the floor with blood.
“Oneika!” He tried to run over to her but the Watsche blocked him. Orange ooze dripped through the wound and it laughed.
“Pathetic creatures. Always fighting. Always struggling.” It pushed Thomas back with one of its many tendrils. He could now see the full expanse of the thing. It hurt his eyes to look at it and he grew afraid. At the end of every leg were sharp needles. More legs grew out of the nothingness and lifted Oneika high into the air. It carried her out the window and didn't remove its hold on Thomas until it was out of sight.
He fell to the floorboards and gasped for air. It was real! It was all real. He trembled with horror and knew that he had to go after her. He had made a promise to protect her. He jumped through the window and felt the ground pushing up against him as he went. He had no idea where he was going, but he went to the summit of the burning hill and saw a glimpse of the creature crawling silently through the dead forest.
He tumbled down the hill and jumped back to his feet. He dodged the branches and ran for what seemed hours. Oneika had already stopped screaming and a dense fog rose from the earth. He pressed on until he noticed that the trees grew sparse. Eventually the ground was just a grey mass of nothingness. He kept running and could now see the black thing in a sea of grey. The moon above shifted uneasily and he tried not to be afraid. But he was afraid. And the creatures knew it. He turned to see if he could still see the forest behind him, but it had vanished. All around him was a blank world. He could still hear the writhing earth, but it was very far away.
He spun around a saw a wave of darkness coming from the horizon. It came silently and he could see it growing larger and larger. He tried to retreat but it was inevitable. The black wave was a torrent of black beetles and other insects. The darkness swallowed him and he was swept away with it. He choked on their shiny black hulls and tried not to breathe. They chewed and bit at him until he was fully infested. He went in and out of consciousness. Slowly, the insects retreated and left him on the blank canvas of grey.
“Hello Thomas.” A tepid voice washed over him. He looked up and saw the ivory skin of a massive creature. “I'm thoroughly impressed, traveler.” he sat up and his eyes adjusted to the strange amber light. The creature before him was a large faceless spider-like creature. Her arms were infinite and each of them ending in spikes. She had long trails of skin hanging all around her. Blood, fingernails, hair and bones adorned her body and she kept herself aloft with her many tendrils.
“Do you know who I am, Thomas?” she lowered her faceless face to his. He shook his head. “I am the great mother of creation- I am the seamstress of everything you see.” she paused and scratched his chin with her nails. “Do you know why I have allowed you here?” He shook his head once more. “You drown in ignorance and folly. Every orifice is dripping with anticipation.” She lifted Oneika and threw her down next to him. “This girl is nothing. She will join the earth and be renewed.”
“Oneika!” he struggled to yell her name.
“What a pretty name for such a pretty thing.” She peeled away Oneika's face and placed it over her facelessness. “Yes? My dear?” She roared with laughter and sighed. Thomas' eyes filled with tears as he saw the bloody mass lying next to him. “Oh don't worry, Thomas, her skin will be put to good use. After all, that's what I do...” She raised a nail in the air and spawned a horde of dark creatures from the dirt. “In your world, your people die from old age, but the people of this tribe don't die so easily. They are immortal and without coaxing will live forever. But they must be harvested. Your people slowly kill themselves with things of your own design. It really makes my job easier. That's why I brought you to the island. I knew that you would try to sell them your deadly poisons. Now that they enjoy the taste of your elixirs, they have been tainted and will perish with age. They have been a thorn in my side for so long. Oneika would have be immortal if we didn't kill her ourselves. Your people drown and drip with plague. My crawlers steal your guts and skin whilst you rot in the grave.” She whispered her words into his face.
“No!” he spit up blood as he spoke.
“Hush creature. You have done well.” She pet him gently with a needle-like hand. Thomas gritted his teeth and made his way for his gun once more. He fingered the triggered and with his last bit of strength lifted it to her head and shot it. She retracted and lifted herself far off the ground.
“You ungrateful swine!” a dagger shot through the ground and lifted him high into the air to her level. “I created you from the flesh of others! It is the great circle of existence, and with or without you it shall continue. You have performed your purpose.” He slipped down the spire and it dug itself deeper inside him. “You are now useless to me; you are now useless to the human race.” He vomited blood on her and sputtered as he tried to scream. She slowly peeled away his skin as he twisted.
“Please.” his lungs filled with fluid. “This isn't fair!” He exclaimed to the nothingness.
“Fair?!” she dropped him from the sky and he collapsed on the ground.
“Isn't there anything I can do?” he grasped at his chest.
“Sure. I'll give you a fighting chance. But only because it's oh so amusing to watch the helpless squirm. If you survive the Rippers, I'll let you go.” He fought to his feet and held his gun at his side. He nodded and she released the creatures down upon him.
They fell down upon him, their spikes and shards pushing deep into his flesh and bone. He shot one in the head and kicked another back away. But it was a useless battle. The Rippers dug him into the ground and stripped away his skin. He gazed helplessly as his skin came off in sheets and chunks and were draped around the neck of the great Seamstress.
“Nothing can give creation to nothing. When something loses its purpose it is meant to be disposed of; meant to be harvested and reused. Now you will return to the soil.” her body was cloaked in shadows once more.
With his last breath of air, he let out a wail, “But what about the Moon Kingdom?” She turned her head.
“There is no such thing. You will die here. You will be returned to the dirt from whence you were born.” His blood soaked the ground and he went in and out of consciousness. “Like lost creatures of the depths, all flesh must rot. Come now, my children, devour the tainted; devour the corrupt! For this abhorrent corpse shall now join your cause. He will now be one with your crusade of the mire!”
The black beetles crawled over his wet flesh and bore deep into him.
He opened his eyes. There was blackness. He felt the coarse gravel around his face and struggled back and forth against the grains. He followed the other black creatures that knew the way to the surface. Night after night they went forth, crackling and shifting as they went. His effort to reach the sky from his deep abyss a useless and meaningless endeavor.
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2020.10.18 09:38 Wild-Ad8874 Father mother daughter naked

This is a very important point, because it gets to the heart of the distinction between justice and vengeance. The problem is that Doran, and the Dornish more generally, have extended the grudge beyond the perpetrators of the crime. They want the downfall of House Lannister generally. They are greedy.
Martin makes this point very clear with the Cassandra-like figure of Ellaria Sand, apparently the only person in Dorne who perceives the folly of what is transpiring. In a long dialogue between Ellaria and the Sand Snakes, she eloquently and accurately points out their bloodthirstiness and stupidity:

Obara bristled. “I never did and never shall.” She gave the skull a mocking kiss. “This is a start, I’ll grant.”“A start?” said Ellaria Sand, incredulous. “Gods forbid. I would it were a finish. Tywin Lannister is dead. So are Robert Baratheon, Amory Lorch, and now Gregor Clegane, all those who had a hand in murdering Elia and her children. Even Joffrey, who was not yet born when Elia died. I saw the boy perish with mine own eyes, clawing at his throat as he tried to draw a breath. Who else is there to kill? Do Myrcella and Tommen need to die so the shades of Rhaenys and Aegon can be at rest? Where does it end?” (ADWD AREO I)
Ellaria sees where things are headed — in trying to avenge the terrible crime against Elia, the Dornish will commit a new terrible crime themselves. And on and on it will go. Note how her anguished question of where it ends, is later echoed by this later discussion between Jaime and Hoster Blackwood:
“The Old King’s Peace lasted half a century. But then some fresh quarrel broke out, and the old wounds opened and began to bleed again. That’s how it always happens, my father says. So long as men remember the wrongs done to their forebears, no peace will ever last. So we go on century after century, with us hating the Brackens and them hating us. My father says there will never be an end to it.”“There could be.”“How, my lord? The old wounds never heal, my father says.”“My father had a saying too. Never wound a foe when you can kill him. Dead men don’t claim vengeance.”“Their sons do,” said Hoster, apologetically.“Not if you kill the sons as well. Ask the Casterlys about that if you doubt me. Ask Lord and Lady Tarbeck, or the Reynes of Castamere. Ask the Prince of Dragonstone.” For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar’s children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks. (ADWD JAIME I)
As one considers what’s going in Dorne, it’s clear that Jaime is wrong. The specific example he thinks of — the murder of Rhaegar’s children — is what’s motivating Doran to claim vengeance right now. Yet Hoster’s words, which he heard from his father, point to the folly of the Dornish as well. After seventeen years of peace, they are tossing it aside to claim vengeance, because they can’t forget the wrongs done to their forebears. So, Hoster answers Ellaria’s question of “where does it end” — it never ends.
Back in Dorne, Nym Sand has a different answer for Ellaria:
“Where does it end?”“It ends in blood, as it began,” said Lady Nym. “It ends when Casterly Rock is cracked open, so the sun can shine on the maggots and the worms within. It ends with the utter ruin of Tywin Lannister and all his works.”“The man died at the hand of his own son,” Ellaria snapped back. “What more could you wish?”“I could wish that he died at my hand.” Lady Nym settled in a chair, her long black braid falling across one shoulder to her lap. She had her father’s widow’s peak. Beneath it her eyes were large and lustrous. Her wine-red lips curled in a silken smile. “If he had, his dying would not have been so easy.”“Ser Gregor does look lonely,” said Tyene, in her sweet septa’s voice. “He would like some company, I’m certain.” (ADWD AREO I)
The savage Sand Snakes can’t be appeased. They will help lead Dorne into a self-destructive war. Ellaria knows it, and dreads it. It won’t just be Myrcella and Tommen who suffer — many Dornish will die too. So here, Ellaria gives a powerful speech on the folly of war and the emptiness of vengeance, calling to mind Hoster’s words again:
Ellaria’s cheeks were wet with tears, her dark eyes shining. Even weeping, she has a strength in her, the captain thought.“Oberyn wanted vengeance for Elia. Now the three of you want vengeance for him. I have four daughters, I remind you. Your sisters. My Elia is fourteen, almost a woman. Obella is twelve, on the brink of maiden-hood. They worship you, as Dorea and Loreza worship them. If you should die, must El and Obella seek vengeance for you, then Dorea and Loree for them? Is that how it goes, round and round forever? I ask again, where does it end?” Ellaria Sand laid her hand on the Mountain’s head. “I saw your father die. Here is his killer. Can I take a skull to bed with me, to give me comfort in the night? Will it make me laugh, write me songs, care for me when I am old and sick?” (ADWD AREO I)
But though Doran praises Ellaria, he nevertheless sends her away and ignores her advice. While doing so, he makes a promise he can’t truly be sure of keeping — that no harm will come to her girls.
“Our enemies are in disarray. The time is ripe.”“Ripe for what? To make more skulls?” Ellaria Sand turned to the prince. “They will not see. I can hear no more of this.”“Go back to your girls, Ellaria,” the prince told her. “I swear to you, no harm will come to them.”“My prince.” Ellaria kissed him on the brow and took her leave. Areo Hotah was sad to see her go. She is a good woman. (ADWD AREO I)
After she’s gone, in response to more Sand Snake bloodthirstiness, Doran gives his speech about the lessons of the Water Gardens. He chides them for attempting to start a dumb war, with the implication that he, Doran, has a better way. It is all premised on his assumption that the power of the dragons will soon be on his side.
“We could kill him, to be sure,” said Tyene, “but then we would need to kill the rest of his party too, even those sweet young squires. That would be … oh, so messy.”Prince Doran shut his eyes and opened them again. Hotah could see his leg trembling underneath the blanket. “If you were not my brother’s daughters, I would send the three of you back to your cells and keep you there until your bones were grey. Instead I mean to take you with us to the Water Gardens. There are lessons there if you have the wit to see them.”“Lessons?” said Obara. “All I’ve seen are naked children.”“Aye,” the prince said. “I told the story to Ser Balon, but not all of it. As the children splashed in the pools, Daenerys watched from amongst the orange trees, and a realization came to her. She could not tell the high-born from the low. Naked, they were only children. All innocent, all vulnerable, all deserving of long life, love, protection. ‘There is your realm,’ she told her son and heir, ‘ remember them, in everything you do.’ My own mother said those same words to me when I was old enough to leave the pools. It is an easy thing for a prince to call the spears, but in the end the children pay the price. For their sake, the wise prince will wage no war without good cause, nor any war he cannot hope to win.“I am not blind, nor deaf. I know that you all believe me weak, frightened, feeble. Your father knew me better. Oberyn was ever the viper. Deadly, dangerous, unpredictable. No man dared tread on him. I was the grass. Pleasant, complaisant, sweet-smelling, swaying with every breeze. Who fears to walk upon the grass? But it is the grass that hides the viper from his enemies and shelters him until he strikes. Your father and I worked more closely than you know … but now he is gone. The question is, can I trust his daughters to serve me in his place?” (ADWD AREO I)
In attempting to use the Sand Snakes, Doran seems to be making the same mistake that Arianne did in trying to use the ruthless and unscrupulous Darkstar. Can Doran truly believe that he can restrain their behavior once they head to King’s Landing?
Doran then discloses the existence of a new plot by Cersei against Trystane’s life. This leads to some amusing Sand Snake hypocrisy — after all that discussion of their desire to murder Tommen, and the discussion just moments ago of murdering “those sweet young squires,” they just can’t believe that someone would want to murder a young boy! Outrageous!
Areo Hotah would not have believed it possible to shock the Sand Snakes. He would have been wrong.“Seven save us,” whispered Tyene. “Trystane? Why?”“The woman must be mad,” Obara said. “He’s just a boy.”“This is monstrous,” said Lady Nym. (ADWD AREO I)
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2020.10.15 04:23 CoyoteRevolutionary Father mother daughter naked

Particularly with family. I would never let my mother see my body or my father as they abused and shamed me so much. I taught my daughter to be okay changing in a locker room, that felt important. But she's still small so she still sees me naked occasionally.
In a department store one time I overheard an older woman and her adult daughter in a dressing room trying on a bra together. It seemed perfectly healthy and benign.
What do you all think?
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2020.10.14 16:21 Ninjaponics_420 Father mother daughter naked

I’m kind of nervous putting this out into the world, but I’ve been stuck trying to move this prologue forward! Any help would be appreciated.
The Prodigal Brother
Prologue

On a clear unusually warm spring afternoon, villagers are running through the streets. A good many of them are carrying baskets or pushing carts filled with an assortment of pelts. Another villager, using ropes as makeshift leashes, leads his goats past the baker, who is handing three small children of various ages baskets filled with bread. The butcher does the same for another group of children. This basket is heavy enough to need to be carried by all three of them. “Hurry, go!” both shop owner exclaims in unison to the children. Time is running out short and the event they’ve all been waiting for is going to happen soon. A boy, barely three years of age, sits on an outside bench. His father is giving him a tattoo of half-faced owl on his right hand. His older sister, four years his senior, sits on another bench opposite her brother and father. She is getting the same tattoo of her left, courtesy of her mother. Such excitement would normally mark the beginnings of the village’s spring festival. But the girl can’t help but think that something feels different this time. “Ow,”! The girl-child’s voice barely cracks over the sting of the needle.” She reflexively jerks her hand from her mother’s grasp, not truly getting away from the firming yet gentle grasp. “Hold still, dear heart, I’m almost finished.” the mother says, not looking up from the delicate needlework being stitched upon her child’s hand. To ignore the pain, the girls ask her mother, “Why do we need markings, Mama?” Her mother ignores the question, all her concentration centered on finishing the tattoo. It’s the only thing she knows to do in order to keep her precious daughter from seeing the panic and tears in her eyes. 
No sooner does she finish with her work than she hears the shout she has been expecting: “They’re coming!” The other villagers began screaming, running in a blind panic. Normally, today would mark the start of the spring festival…but, not this day. The mother looks at the tattoo one last time. Then, deciding that it would have to, she looks at her daughter in the eye. “Ari, promise me, …if anything happens to me or your father--” The words catch in her throat, sitting like great stones that refuse to budge. She clears her throat to finish what needs to be said. “If anything happens to us, Ari…protect your brother…whatever it takes.” Aris can’t understand why her mother’s eyes are filling up with water, some of it spilling down her cheeks. It scares her. Still, she has always been a good girl, which is why she looked her in the eye and says, “Yes, Mama.” Her mother looks up at her husband. She sees the tears coming out of his own eyes in silent streams. But his gaze at her is rocksteady as he nods. Their son’s hand tattoo is every bit as complete as their daughter’s. She looks back down at Ari and tousles her hair. “That’s my good girl. Now take your brother and go.” When the pair of them have gone beyond their sight, her husband tosses her a quarterstaff with his left hand, bearing one of his own in his right. This time, his wife is the one who nods as they go to meet their expected guests.
*
Like an unstoppable crimson tide, the red-caped and cowled Ashmadai cultists rush into the village with weapons drawn. Some are astride horses, others carrying torches, while still others still had naked blades drawn that thirst for fresh blood. Each member wears the regalia that marks them as followers of their dark-god Asmodeus. As they had done to so many other villages before this one, they have come to steal its children while razing the village itself to the ground. One cultist astride his horse strikes at a fleeing villager from behind, sending the poor man flying. He is dead before he hits the ground, his eyes wide open in terror, his lifeblood flowing freely as the river during the spring thaw. The same Ashmadai turns to another peasant, his palpable bloodlust unsated. With more mighty swings of his sword, he sends all the villagers in his path flying into nearby baskets of food, water, and clothing. The wrecked bodies breathed their last once they land. And still, the Ashmadai continue to pour into the village, driven by an insatiable need to kill any and all who are brave or foolish enough to hinder their mission of “recruiting” new members for their unholy order. Some resist, some flee, some even commit suicide. But in the end, they all die. 
*
Arianna runs as far and as fast as her tiny seven-year-old legs would allow into the nearby forest. By contrast, poor Zenji’s stubby little three-year-old legs can barely keep pace. Their breeches are in tatters, legs scratched and bloodied from the thick heavy brush. She would play here during the spring and summer months with the other village children, chasing chipmunks and catching other not-so-cute woodland creatures. Now they were running for a different reason, and it terrified them. It felt like they had already run for hours. When Arianna and Zenji are far enough in the woods to not be easily spotted from the village outskirts, they stop to catch their breath, their legs almost numb from the exertion. 
Ari could feel the tears begin to swell in her eyes as she thought back to those not-so-long-ago days. The knowledge that she may never see her friends after today made her sad. But the realization that she may never see her beloved parents either brought the seven-year-old child to the edge of panic. Her breathing begins to change from long, slowly drawn breaths to short and frantic bursts. The ground rises up to swallow her whole as her legs give out and she collapses to her knees. Beads of cold sweat start to form and flow from her forehead. Her chest tightens, her heart beating so fast she felt as if it would explode into the open air for everyone to see. Seeing his big sister in such a frightened state, Zenji wraps her into as tight a hug as his short tiny arms would allow. The sudden embrace nearly makes Arianna jump from her skin. Her breathing begins to slow, her eyes slowly coming back into focus until they rested upon the deep sapphire-colored eyes of her baby brother. “I’m the one that’s supposed to make you feel safe, Zeni,” she mutters, calling him by the pet name her Ma and Da had given him. She returns the hug and lovingly thumped his forehead. Zenji reflexively rubs it as he flashes his big sister his adorably contagious smile. The smile disappears just as quickly as it came when the faint sounds of fighting and screaming coming from the village reach their ears. Ari locks her brother’s hand in a vice-like grip before rising to her feet and running towards the sound in one fluid motion. The movement was so sudden that Zenji’s feet no longer touched the ground, like a leaf caught in a wind.
* The body of the baker hit the sandy ground with a soft thud, his head rolling several feet from and settling on the form that used to be his body. Legend has it that with a perfect, swift cut and a quick acolyte the beheaded man might still be conscious just long enough to see his own headless corpse. The legend proved itself true as the bakers’ face contorted into an expression of the purest most exquisite form of agony, shock, and horror. The villagers screamed all the louder. “Beautiful,” Mathias muttered sarcastically to Overseer Tremel flanked by his two other acolyte brothers. Tremel had given the baker and a few other village captives the opportunity to “win” back their lives, they didn’t need to land a killing blow against the seasoned warrior, no, all they had to do was survive long enough against the blindfolded combatant, not truly understanding the battle prowess and sadism of the acolyte trainer. “Shall I go find the great Overseer Tremel a more worthy opponent? A blind painter, a sickly widow, or a newborn babe perhaps. Surely one of those would prove to test your mettle.” Every word dripped with venom. Tremel turned to the insolent whelp, the intensity of his murderous glare and jaw locked on Mathias could turn lumps of coal into diamonds, Mathias had broken the levy and matched the Overseer’s stare with one just as fierce. Only one would walk away when the hated student and even more hated instructor finely clashed steel. As if they were in a schoolyard the other two goaded their arrogant brother and brutish teacher into the long-awaited confrontation. Mathias was the only one to notice the movements in the back alley
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2020.10.13 13:16 hawkslover96 Father mother daughter naked

Ok, I know how this sounds, but i need help.
Let me preface this: I was heavily abused growing up with my mother (mom and dad divorced when I was like 1 and we were given to mom full time. She kept dad from us for years while she abused me and my sister.) I was sexualized as a small child, put naked on webcams for men to view for money, made to hold a man's erect penis, beat, and threatened with a knife if I said anything.
Now, im still getting over all that, despite leaving that situation in 2005. My dad came and got my sister and I from foster care and has put up with so much SHIT. He has become the person I can turn to, no matter what, and I know that I won't be judged or belittled.
I'm now 24 and happily married. Regardless, I find myself thinking about my father sexually all the time. I decided while tipsy to tell my father about these feelings because I certainly wasn't going to tell my husband. Talking to him, he revealed that he, too, finds me sexually arousing and all its done is take over my thoughts when I masterbate. Afterwards, I feel dirty and guilty. My sex life with my husband is top-notch, and I love my husband very much. I dont plan on following through with the desire to sleep with my father.
However, I feel weird now talking to my dad like I always have. Like, I no longer feel like his youngest daughter, which Is weird. I mean, I could talk to my dad about anything, and, growing up, he was who I asked about sex because asking my step mom was too awkward for me. He always answered my questions and was there for me when I was raped in high school, making sure I knew that I was whole regardless of what that dude did to me. That I was still valued and worthy of both emotional and physical love. I used to be able to crawl into my dads bed at 18 and have a mental breakdown against his chest. I still COULD but now... I don't feel like I can anymore without it being filled with extra tension.
I wholeheartedly regret saying anything and wish it could all go back to the way it was. I have talked to him about this, but I still feel weird around him and I hate it. I miss being able to call him and just goof off and not have to worry about whether it sounds inappropriate.
What do I do? Just pretend like I kept my mouth shut? Distance myself? (I don't want to distance myself; I don't think I could handle it, mental-health wise.) Help me. Please.
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2020.10.13 02:18 Torvosaurus428 Father mother daughter naked

Hypothesis: Bigfoot is not Gigantopithecus nor a Hominin
https://preview.redd.it/xd7jowsjuus51.png?width=1200&format=png&auto=webp&s=b20bfb044819f7ad188d2176e6e386d40891cba5
The debate over the identity of certain reported unidentified, large, bipedal, furry primates has ensued for as long as the possibility of such beings existing was debated. Whether or not entities like Sasquatch exist or not is beside the point of this exercise. Rather this is a thought based deep dive into the subject meant to speculate as to the identity of such creatures as if they were real animals that were verified tomorrow and my prediction on what they would turn out to be if we could genetically test them or uncover their fossil record. Frankly, I’m much of an agnostic on the whole thing, always open to the possibility while giving everything multiple grains of salt; but I will be treating it quite seriously both because of the respectability owed to some of the individuals involved such as Lyle Blackburn, Loren Coleman, and Dr. Jeff Meldrum among other men and women, and my own personal fascination with the subject matter.
For the sake of simplicity, I will be working off several assumptions.
Firstly, contrary to some hypotheses I will assume that there is only one species of unidentified large bipedal primate, of which they are a type of ape. I know many have posited the suggestion of multiple Sasquatch types, but I will be working on the assumption reports seeming to indicate wildly divergent body types were a result of mistakes in recollection by the witnesses. Under stress and surprise, the brain is very shoddy at making accurate recollections, as psychological testing on first responders, soldiers, and people involved in armed robbery among other stressful situations all show. This is not me calling any of these witnesses liars, just that the brain is not a perfect repository for information. It’s just not how memory works. Secondly, I will be calling all of the unknown bipedal primates Sasquatch and focusing on North America for the sake of brevity. In theory, this would apply to many places around the world, but I only have so much time in the day.
Now the two main hypotheses I put forth as to the identity of Sasquatch, should it be a real unknown entity, is that it is either a relic hominin or a descendent of Gigantopithecus. Both of these have perks, however, I feel both of them have glaring weaknesses very few think to delve into. As well as traits in conflict with what is reported in Sasquatch most commonly.
First off for the relic hominin hypothesis. This thought posits that Sasquatch is a species very close to mankind and possibly even in the same genus, Homo. The problem here is a difference in brain activity and physicality. While Sasquatch has human-like features, many of these features can be chalked up to shared traits found across all apes. Moreover, there are multiple traits never seen within that group, such as a well-defined midtarsal break. Within most Hominins, the foot has a degree of rigidity passed the most basal members like Ardipithecus. This allows the foot to take a lot of abuse by walking long distances over relatively flat terrain. It’s a very useful trait for navigating the African savanna and really grew into prominence after we departed from the trees into a more open country. Essentially it trades flexibility and speed for stamina, reducing the amount of energy needed for walking long distance over flat terrain. Sasquatch footprints however show clear flex in the midline of the foot, something also seen in multiple witness reports describing it as having ‘floppy’ feet. Another problem is the size. With no real exception, Hominin don’t get any bigger than your average modern human. There were a few very short-lived populations of noticeably tall Homo erectus and Homo heidelbergansis, however, these were aberrations and the average height really wasn’t all that big. In fact, modern people are typically noticeably taller than a vast majority of Hominins. Your average Australopithecus would barely come up to a typical American man’s chest.
Hominins also lack multiple features frequently mentioned with Sasquatch reports, such as a very well-defined sagittal crest and large canine teeth. These traits had actually left the human genome very early on, and are one of the reasons we were able to grow a much larger brain. Paranthropus was the only Hominin to have any form of a sagittal crest and even there’s were extremely small. Not to mention the diet really would match up as a vast majority of Hominins are herbivores whereas many Sasquatch reports pretty clearly show it’s omnivorous. The only omnivorous Hominins are those that are fairly close to humanity, which means they would have no sagittal crest, very humanlike builds with well defined midtarsal break past the very earliest forms, and most noticeably they wouldn’t have any fur. Hominins largely ditched body fur as far back as 2 million years ago at the very start of the Homo genus proper. Aside from maybe Homo habilis, every other member of our genus has been just as naked as we are.
Sasquatch being a Hominin also doesn’t make much sense when you consider they also lack clearly defined Hominin mental faculties and necessities such as mastery of fire and advanced tool use. If they had these ‘vestiges of humanity’ if you so call them, they would be reported far more often.
Gigantopithecus is the other most common culprit for a possible Sasquatch ancestor. And to some degree, it does make a bit more sense. As a non-Hominin ape, Gigantopithecus of course would be covered in thick fur. As a very large ape, it would almost certainly have a sagittal crest as such features are common on large apes. It did live in Asia which did have a land bridge connection to North America. At one point it was thought that it was a biped. And as its name implies, the genus was certainly a very large ape and would be more than big enough to fit the reported size range of 7-9 feet for most sightings.
This however is where the similarities stop and the problems start stacking up.


Processing img 0n8y850utrs51...
Firstly Gigantopithecus was a Ponginae member, or Asiatic great ape. What this means is it is very closely related to the orangutan, and given certain traits we see in orangutans appear distributed across the whole of the Asiatic great ape family, we can assume Gigantopithecus what had similar traits. This means probably having those big gigantic cheeks flanges male orangutans are so commonly known for; something I have never seen reported in a Sasquatch sighting. Orangutans also have a very distinct nasal shape that is different than other apes, a side effect of their sinus cavity is arranged uniquely. Fun fact, they actually suffer from sinus infections far less commonly than African apes because they can more effectively discharge and eject infected mucus rather than risking clogs.
Another problem is the notion that Gigantopithecus was a biped has encountered more and more problems over time. While the full body is not known, in no small part thanks to scavengers destroying most of the remains, the shape of the jaw shows a condition far more like that of quadrupedal apes than bipedal forms. Essentially the shape of the lower jaw can indicate the shape and alignment of the throat, which is going to be different between the two locomotion forms and stances. All known Asiatic great apes are quadrupedal and there is no real reason to think Gigantopithecus was any different.
The biggest hurdle however is diet. Gigantopithecus is essentially a bigger Asiatic version of a gorilla. Purely vegetarian, with a variety of foods including fruits like figs as well as forestry grasses like bamboo. While the diet was varied enough that it did enjoy a range of different plans all studies indicate it was only consuming low-lying plans found in tropical and semitropical environments; shunning more temperate zones. Essentially Gigantopithecus didn’t like the cold and didn’t eat anything that grew where it got cold. While it wasn’t a bamboo specialist as some previously hypothesized, it certainly wasn’t living in many areas away from tropical bamboo forests. The depiction of King Louis from the 2016 jungle book remake as a tropical forest-dwelling Gigantopithecus is, timing aside, quite accurate to how the real creature probably looked and behaved… No word yet if they had voices like Christopher Walken however.


https://reddit.com/link/ja4nlj/video/1x3z9jowtrs51/player

And thus we come to the avenue I have considered. Now this one I fully admit is not without flaw and there are perks to the previous two hypotheses I did not discuss for the sake of brevity, however, there are some noticeable perks I haven’t witnessed others considering. It is thus in my conclusion that if Sasquatch is indeed real, genetic testing which shows it is not a great ape (Hominidae) at all. Rather it would be an extraordinarily large member of the other branch to the modern apes, the world’s biggest Hylobatidae. And in this scenario where the new largest living ape is discovered, it would actually be the smallest living apes, the gibbons, that our Sasquatch’s closest kin.
Gibbons, the Hylobatidae group of apes, diverged away from the ancestor of great apes roughly 16 million years ago in Asia. For apes in descending order of relation to man have chimpanzees and bonobos as our closest cousins, followed by gorillas as fellow African apes (Homininae), then the rest of great apes with the Asiatic orangutan (Ponginae), and only outside of great apes proper you have the “Lesser Apes” called gibbons. They are called that more in relation to size as the largest gibbon, the siamang, weighs only about 30 pounds.
However if one looks past size and arboreal habits, one might start to notice telling similarities between the reported North American ape and the gibbon.
Exhibit A: The Walk
All apes are capable of bipedal locomotion to some degree or another. However aside from man, all of the great apes noticeably struggle staying upright for any long length of time. And when they do, they can’t exactly run with a good stride and often need to resort to a side to side shuffling. One can see a gorilla doing such in this comical video.

https://i.redd.it/rexbs3e7yrs51.gif
Gibbons however are capable of keeping up a good pace on the ground with a full stride free of such wobbles.

https://reddit.com/link/ja4nlj/video/xzdk8450urs51/player
In fact, Gibbons are the only living apes aside from humans that exclusively move around bipedally went on the ground, they do not knuckle walk or fist walk like other apes. And they managed to walk bipedally even with having flexible feet with a metatarsal break. Sound familiar?

https://preview.redd.it/tteifj91urs51.jpg?width=682&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c33750611e8a7cf81dc5c8fb4a1ccb396b6ccad6
Now you might notice the gibbon in this video does not swing his arms back and forth, however, there is a simple explanation for this with size. Gibbons are very light and thus they don’t have much inertia when undergoing movement at moderate speed. This means they don’t have to swing their arms back and forth to compensate for balance like we often do when moving at a brisk pace. If you were to make a gibbon the size of a man they would have to do this too.
Exhibit B: The Body
The lack of a sagittal crest in Gibbons is also explainable by size. Sagittal crests are not seen in all but the absolute biggest chimpanzees and bonobos, and are even missing in the smaller individuals of the gorilla and orangutan species. It’s just a matter of observation that once apes reach a certain size they start needing to have sagittal crests to anchor the enlarged jaw muscles. Comparing the skull of the smaller Lars Gibbon to the larger Siamang Gibbon can also show the latter does half the startings of a raised sagittal ridge. So once again hypothetically, if a gibbon were much larger they would also have a sagittal crest because of the enlarged jaw muscles.

Lar gibbon (5kg) skull

Siamang gibbon (14kg) skull

Another factor is sexual dimorphism or lack thereof. Many reports with both male and female Sasquatch present typically state there’s only a moderate size difference between the two. More often the main difference would be coloration with females often reported as being lighter in color and only moderately smaller. This runs completely contrary to great apes, whereas outside of humans there are substantial size differences between males and females. Male gorillas might weigh twice as much as their female compatriots. A big reason for this is the reproductive strategy employed.
Orangutans are largely solitary, with one male roaming a big territory where he might have several females intersecting his domain and he defends his claim from rival males as well as aggressive females; should he feel the need. Chimpanzees and bonobos live in mixed-gender social groups were both sexes might compete quite vigorously for mates and polygamy and polyandry are quite common. Gorillas live in mostly female harems of one silverback and a few subordinate blackbacks tending to a group of females' needs in exchange for reproductive success.
Gibbons however are almost exclusively monogamous or practice only very limited polyandry or polygamy in a trio. This means there isn’t intense competition for mates one way or another, which is what drives the sexual dimorphism in great apes. Without that drive, Gibbons don’t need to be very dimorphic and thus females are only marginally smaller than males. One thing they are however is they almost always are a different color, with males typically being much darker and females being lighter. This also means family groups usually never exceed four individuals, they don’t move about in big troops like gorillas and chimpanzees do and thus population densities are very small even over big areas. And unlike other apes aside from man, the father gibbon plays a constant and very large role in raising his sons and daughters. A family unit, when in the same location, often consists of the parents, the growing juvenile or subadult from a prior mating cycle, and perhaps a youngster from a later year.
Sound familiar? It should because this is precisely the system described in encounters of families of Sasquatch, such as that of Albert Ostman.


A typical gibbon family. Mother (left), father (right), and baby

Gibbons also have far less-protruding faces than great apes, more closely resembling humans unless inspected closer. They do still however have noticeable canine teeth with big blocky incisors. This once again more closely matches up with reports of Sasquatch, versus the extremely large jaws and protruding semi-muzzle found in great apes living and extinct. In fact, at a distance it would make them look even more human, explaining why eyewitness reports frequently state they have very humanlike faces. Gibbons also typically have a short mane of fur growing over the collar and shoulders, which hangs down over a similarly furry chest, meaning they don’t have the bare pectorals great apes do. This further matches descriptions of Sasquatch, including the infamous Patterson film which does not show bare breasts on males or females.


Compare the faces of a gibbon and orangutan

Exhibit C: The Habits
Another thing that set Gibbons apart from most apes is how vocal they are. All apes emit sounds, but Gibbons are especially talkative. This is because they are living in mated pairs that need to keep communication over a long distance, as they patrol a territory for both resources as well is keeping away rivals. Such communication typically entails long, wailing, siren-like calls or whoops which can carry for a very long distance. Calls that great apes are largely not known to make. However, if you take those calls and modify them as if they were coming out of a much larger animal, which entails slowing them down and adding some reverberation, observe….
Audio Link It starts sounding very familiar to some things that other people have reported hearing. This also corroborates with many reports stating they heard an initial call and then a response from a distance away, which is very common in forests with Gibbons with one partner calling out and then its mate replying.
Gibbons also match up with diet as they are the most omnivorous of all apes besides humans. While they do mostly enjoy plant matter such as fruits and softer leaves, they will also consume large insects, bird eggs, lizards, and even birds or bats they can catch in the treetops. And while they don’t catch them given they very rarely to send to the ground where they are at risk of predators, they will readily accept fish or raw meat offered to them by humans should they feel the desire. In this way, they are the most generalized apes when it comes to diet, something that would be very handy in adapting to different climates.


https://i.redd.it/xe35gcghurs51.gif
Now does this necessarily mean Sasquatch is a “Giant Ground Gibbon”? Not necessarily. Gibbons are very clearly extremely specialized animals adapted for living in the canopy, with maneuverability and speed unmatched in the treetops outside of flying animals. This is one of the reasons they don’t go on the ground that often is they are just much better in the trees. Rather what I am implying is a hypothesis that Gibbons and Sasquatch share a common ancestor. This common ancestor was an ape that might have lived some 15-10 million years ago, a very generalized early Hylobatid, who was fairly adept in the trees already but could also move about on the ground quite easily in its bipedal stance. Some of these animals’ descendants doubled down on living in the treetops, becoming more and more specialized swinging through the canopy and thus reduced in size so they put less strain on the trees they could then move through more swiftly. These descendants became modern Gibbons.
However, what if there was another descendant line that didn’t go extinct? Living in eastern Asia, the northern fringes of this line would be confronted with climate change and competition from great apes over time in the tropical forests. To avoid this competition, it became better and better at living in colder regions such as deciduous forests and mountains. Its bipedal stance suited it well for both intimidating rivals, scaring predators, reaching resources, and getting up uneven terrain with its metatarsal break giving it flexible feet. This Hylobatid, in reaction to the colder climates of the oncoming ice ages, started to get larger and larger because bigger animals can better insulate themselves against the cold. This way they could remain in the more temperate regions without fear of being driven back into the tropics where competition with great apes might complicate things. A larger size might also be further promoted as a reaction to predation since they might now be too big to easily climb up trees and would then have to stand and confront an attacker. This choice in habitat also is why the fossils would be extremely rare or unrecognizable, as deciduous forests and mountains are infamously bad at creating fossils due to a combination of factors, not the least of which include acidic soil corroding bone long before it has a chance to petrified.
These Hylobatid apes essentially became the primate version of bears, being generalist omnivores that can tolerate even snowy climates. With this cold tolerance, crossing the Bering land bridge wouldn’t be all that difficult several million years later. They very well could have arrived at roughly the same time the likes of bison and mammoth did, being the first apes in the New World several hundreds of thousands or millions of years before humans.
However in the New World, while resources were ample, predators were also in abundance with both the homegrown New World variety and the influx from the Old World. Even a 7 to 9-foot tall ape would best be very wary of a pride of Smilodon sabretooths, or the 13+ foot Arctodus bears, or the large packs of dire wolves. Not to mention there would be large amounts of competition in the more open country these predators dwelt in, because it was occupied by a large menagerie of big herbivores. So, the solution would be obvious. Go where competition is less intense and the predators don’t get that big, back into the mountains, and the thicker deciduous forests and adopt avoidance strategies to be as reclusive as possible. There predators were smaller, competition was lessened, and it could remain safe and content.
This strategy might meet good success even if population numbers never become very dense. It would certainly be successful enough that when another bipedal ape immigrated into the New World with their canine companions some 22,000 years ago, the native apes were evasive enough to avoid humans even if they were outright hostile one way or another. And when the Pleistocene ended with the mass extinction event, most likely caused by a combination of ecological upsets humans were part of contributing to the disastrous effects of mass climate change, the giant Hylobatids managed to survive. In fact, they actually would find their home ranges expanding because the warmer, wetter climate was creating more dense forests where there had once been scrubby grassland.
Encounters between these hypothetical giant Hylobatids and humans would be rare, enough for plenty of native folklore to kick off from all manner of interactions, but the two would largely keep to their own domains. These First Nation storytellers would nonetheless recognize the similarity between themselves and their mysterious neighbors, and observation that is actually quite common across the world in Asia where Gibbons dwell. Ancient Chinese writers among others noticed the convergence similarities between gibbons and mankind, in contrast to monkeys and other great apes.
As a matter of fact, until concrete fossil evidence firmly established humans had their origins in Africa amongst the same great apes that gave rise to the gorilla and chimpanzee branches, many early paleontologists thought the similar skull sape and bipedal locomotion of gibbons and humans had to come from close relation and common origin. The skullcap of a Homo erectus discovered in Java was actually taken to be a giant gibbon skull for a short time by some until more complete remains were discovered.
And because staying in seclusion was a winning strategy, these giant, speculative Hylobatid made it a priority to avoid other threats if they could. Using a keen awareness and problem-solving intelligence that apes are adept at while humans are at a deficit (in exchange for better toolmaking and long-term memory intelligence), they would know when human was approaching long before the human would notice them unless they were taken by surprise. By the time the human approached, the ape would already know an escape route.


https://preview.redd.it/cof5pz9jurs51.png?width=587&format=png&auto=webp&s=4d10268ce1cb9ccf05be85a4c7671e0a22b8e4a5
Hylobatid evolution is infamously poorly studied among primatology and paleontology. I’ve had professors that considered it a ‘black hole’ of information in both subjects. So much detail is very poorly understood even in comparison to the relatively atrocious record some other apes like gorillas have. And if great apes could diversify to such an amazing degree in just a little over 10 million years, to the point the human line alone generated over half a dozen genera and dozens of species, who’s to say what was going on with the other side of a family?
Perhaps, just perhaps, something pretty big.
submitted by Torvosaurus428 to bigfoot [link] [comments]


2020.10.07 00:56 south_carolina_23 Daughter father mother naked

Broken, depressed, alone, dead, sad, failure, and she's “okay” and “fine.” She says. This was her life. Feeling all of these emotions that never seemed to go away. She lays silently crying at two in the morning. She is exhausted from her life and her mother. Though she has loving friends, she still feels alone. Though she has Jesus, she feels like she can’t be saved. All things that would make most people break, but not her. The panic, the cutting, they all scream help me, but her mom always thinks she is just exaggerating. Her mom beats everything out of her with her words and actions. The hitting, the pulling, the name calling. Her mom does it all, but thinks that her daughter is the one that is crazy. She has called the police on her mom but they never check under the clothes for cuts and bruises. The emotional and physical pain she has is overwhelming to the people at her school. Having this is hard because everyone seems to run away, but when you have a broken bone or a cast everybody comes running to sign it and help you. When you say you have depression or a mental illness people tend to run the other way. Knowing this, she has one best friend, but she lives three hours away. Through all of this she wants to die. She says she is already mentally dead but physically still suffering. She decides one night that she is done with everything and starts typing. She types a letter on messages to her best friend...me... Dear Caroline, You are so amazing and I love you so much. You are more than a best friend, but a sister. You look out for me and make sure I don’t do anything stupid. You have made me so strong for so long that I can’t keep being a burden to you. You are loved, beautiful, and so strong for me and yourself. But I think I’m better off gone. Away from where people can hurt me and break me even more than I break myself. I have nothing left to live for. Please understand. I love you and please don’t miss me because I’m not worth it. You are the sun in so many people's lives including mine. Except in mine it just wasn’t enough. The counselors, the teachers, the people say to breathe and it will get better. They said that 4 years ago and now look at me. I am worse than before. How can someone say that and think it is magically going to make people feel better? But I’m done. I love you. Don’t try to save me. Just leave me be, okay? Okay. I love you to the moon and back. I hope to see you soon. With all my love, Your best friend I am all out of hope. I start panicking and try to call her mom and she doesn't answer. No one is picking up. I sneak downstairs and out the door with the keys and start driving to her. “Please be okay, please be okay.” I say to myself over and over again. I get to my house and open her window because I know all the ways inside. All I can see is darkness. I reach for the light and flip the switch. All I see is blood, blood, and more blood. Nothing else, nothing different. I start to walk the path of the blood to find my best friend in the tub, naked, with slit wrists. I scream horrified and her parents come running in. The father pulls me away from her body and I sit there crying like there is no tomorrow. I am confused and worried and I don’t know what to do. I start screaming again and I can’t stop because even though my best friend didn’t know it, I was going through the same thing and the only thing keeping me alive was her. I say to myself not knowing her parents were listening, “well, I guess I finally have nothing to live for anymore as well.” Her parents turn around as I say that and say no and that they can’t lose another daughter. I run up the stairs and climb out of the roof. The roof is high like the sky and flat on top like a wall. I start running towards the edge when her father yells, “NO!” I stop there in my tracks and turn around to look at him and he is sobbing like me. I step closer toward the edge and step up. Everything seems to be blocked out and I can barely hear her father’s footsteps behind me. I quickly think of my life without her and realize I can’t live in that world. I jump. I fall to the ground realizing what I have done to the people I care about. I say to myself, “I wish I had thought about that before i jumped.” But I didn’t because that is the thing. I wasn’t thinking. I was only doing. This is what would have happened if I had actually lost my best friend, Arielle that night. Since this didn't happen, we lived on. Though we both had each other, we both felt alone. Though we both had Jesus, we both felt like we could not be saved. This continued for a while and only got better for one of us. We both still have rough patches, but we have each other to make it easier. After all of this, we expressed our feelings and emotions to each other. It got better just to get bad again. This summer will be hard like most because while I’m going to camp and going on vacations she is being held in a treatment center. We will have no phone contact, no physical contact, nothing. I hope we see each other and are able to contact one another, but I’m not keeping my hopes up that high. I guess it is goodbye to my best friend for a while.
submitted by south_carolina_23 to u/south_carolina_23 [link] [comments]


2020.10.06 19:50 Fumorikato Tahm Kench, the nice man

Tahm Kench, the nice man
Once upon a time, there was a huge monster, without clothes, called Tahm Kench who was walking in the river. He saw a small couple on the bank and decided to approach them and asked:
-What are your human names?" he asked.
The couple were startled when they saw the horrible creature. He told them not to be afraid of him.
-Don't worry, I don't want to hurt you. I'm only going to ask you one question. Do you want to become a happy couple?
The frightened couple answered with a brief yes to the question. Then he asked:
-May I ask you two more questions than if you don't mind?
The couple, who were scared but surprised to see a monster talking to them, replied that they agreed.
-So here you are, what are your names?
The couple replied that their names were Victor and Amber.
-I see then for the last question I am going to give you 3 choices and you will only have to choose between these three:
-The first is love until you die, without any jealousy or temptation.
-The second is money, I can get you as much money as you want.
-And finally the third is to have two children for a happy family.
(You can choose the choice you want, each one with a different purpose)
-The first choice? Okay, that's even the best, least selfish and easiest choice.
Suddenly he opened his huge mouth and swallowed the couple.
-Because of this gesture, he said, you will never have temptation or jealousy and you will both die as lovers.
End of the first choice.
The second choice?" said Tahm Kench, "So in two years you'll have as much money as you need, you can be part of the elite of the country, or you can eat as you like.
Then the creature returned to the dark waters of the river.
Two years to the day, a miracle happened to the couple. Victor returned home with a note shouting: HURRAH!
Amber asked him the question so that she would understand why they were shouting so loudly.
-We have earned an inheritance and thanks to that we are rich! But then he was telling the truth. Remember 2 years ago the monster told us that he would make us rich, he kept his promise!
- Should we see him again to thank him for this miracle? She asked.
-To be honest I'm not sure that's a good idea," said Victor, "he's still a creature and even if our wish was granted thanks to him we don't know where he lives.
-That's true," she replied disappointed by his answer.
A month ago, after receiving this gift, he had so much wealth that he didn't know what to do with it. They still wanted to go back to where they had met the monster. And after returning to the shore where he had met them as if the creature had heard them, Tahm Kench came out of the water.
-Mr. Monster, it has been a long time.
-Hello Victor, hello Amber. I see you have appreciated my gift.
-Yes, and that's why we came back here to thank you, Ambre replied.
-But you're welcome, it's only natural. But, can I ask you a second question before you leave, would you have liked to take another choice than wealth?
The couple, astonished by this question, looked at each other and answered a no to their heads.
So if all is said and done, I can go.
-Wait a minute, Ambre said suddenly, could we at least do something to thank you?
-Hmm, yes I might have something you could do for me. Could you give me your jacket and your Victor top hat and also your amber jacket so that I can get dressed?
Because remember, Tahm Kench is a nice man but no nice man goes out naked. So they had the two jackets tied around him so that it would fit, because Tahm Kench was twice the size of a human being and could not put on a jacket without tearing it off.
-I thank you for that," he says with a sincere air, "I felt a bit naked like that.
And so it was that every time we had to describe the creature we were talking about a head and a body twice as big as a human, with a top hat and two jackets tied between them.
End of the second choice.
The third choice? Says the creature, okay, you'll have children in two years, a boy and a girl.
And while he was saying this he was going back to the dark waters of the river. At sixteen he had, as the creature had said, a boy and a girl, both aged fourteen and thirteen respectively. One day someone knocked on the door and the little boy opened it. He shouted and panicked and ran to his mother. Then the father and mother saw the creature that he hadn't seen for a very long time.
-What are you doing here and what are you doing here creature, said the frightened man, his daughter in his arms.
-I had been coming to watch from those years how the children had grown up. But the purpose of my visit is a question for you, the children and your parents. Did the children love your father and mother?
Henry and Rachel, always trembling, said a shy yes that could only be heard by getting very close to them. Then Tahm Kench asked the couple.
Would Victor and Amber be willing to die for your children?
There was silence in the room. The mother understood what was going to happen and answered:
-We are...
-NO!" said the father, shouting, so frightened by the monster that he could have fallen in the wind.
The children stared at him terrified but also disturbed by the father's answer.
-Then your choice is made.
And in less than a second he devoured the little boy, and a second later devoured the little girl.
The mother, in shock, cried with all those tears while the father, so frightened, ran to another room in the house.
-I'm sorry madam, but I'm going to have to leave.
And as he stepped outside he turned to the mother and said to her:
-Before I left I forgot to tell you. Don't count on the support of your family, I don't think you'll ever be able to see her again.
End of third choice
submitted by Fumorikato to leagueoflegends [link] [comments]