Naked fat mother

Healing is doing what we came here to do in this life, no matter how distracting life becomes. Healing is following our gut, and pushing through our doubt and fear. Healing is changing the way we have always thought because it simply is not working anymore. Healing is taking care of ourself, giving ourselves what we need for the first time. Ep #80: Healing Isn’t Linear. The process of healing is one that can feel like a never-ending pendulum between pain and acceptance. The work of healing is not linear, and just because you’re doing this work doesn’t mean you’ll never experience the slings and arrows that life throws at us. Healing Is Not Linear. If you’ve ever taken a psychology class or scoured the internet searching for answers on how to cope with grief and loss, you’ve maybe come across the Kubler-Ross model often referred to as the “seven stages of grief.” It goes a little something like this: Healing Isn’t Linear AP Young 14 Nov 2019 2 Comments When we experience trauma in our lives whether emotionally,mentally or physically; somewhere in our minds we have the desire to get over or to heal from said trauma. Self help books, talk show therapists and self proclaimed gurus alike often tell us that we can get over our pain. Healing, whether it be from something physical or mental or even both, is not an easy 1-2-3 step system that automatically leads to 100% operating efficiency in your life. True healing is not linear. People who suffer with depression don't just wake up one day and decide "hey I suddenly don't feel like I want to die anymore!!!". Because that’s how we heal. Layer by layer. Gradual shift by gradual shift. That’s why healing isn’t linear. Because we can’t choose which layer heals. We can’t choose what heals when. We aren’t in control. But we can choose how we heal. And we can choose how hard we push or how much we allow. Pushing too hard will slow down healing. It’s just a reminder that healing doesn’t work in any linear way. Some days, the hurt is so far away from me, it’s like it didn’t happen. It’s like it happened to a different girl. Someone I can almost touch, but she’s so distant, I can’t claim her as mine. Healing isn't linear. TL;DR : Healing from a toxic relationship is more difficult than I ever thought. So, I dumped my extremely emotionally abusive bf last yr. I thought healing would be smooth as silk. But I guess that's far from the truth. Although I'm much better now it's still a bit difficult on some days. Accepting That Healing Is Not Linear in My Life With Chronic Illness ... This isn’t a post to explain how I got sick or to write out a chronology (I’ll write that later). Instead, this is to ... Healing Is Not Linear, So Don’t Rush The Process. I have always felt like I’m in a perpetual state of healing. What I mean by that is, I am constantly going through the motions of life, regenerating from any hurt that comes up and then repeating the cycle over again.

2020.10.20 11:08 eggbread123 Mother fat naked

TL;DR : Healing from a toxic relationship is more difficult than I ever thought. So, I dumped my extremely emotionally abusive bf last yr. I thought healing would be smooth as silk. But I guess that's far from the truth. Although I'm much better now it's still a bit difficult on some days.
List of things my ex said and did. 1. He lied about everything 2. He didn't think it was important to tell me he was going through a divorce (For being impotent)and yet claims to be brutally honest. (Which is funny) 3. He cheated n blamed it on me. 4. He cheated and described it to me, telling me how good it felt to cheat on me, he would say it's great to fuck tall girls, I'm just 5ft2. 5. He later started calling me smelly, I have dry earwax n no body odor. But this lie hurt me so much. 6. He said all the food I baked especially cookies tasted horrible and threw it to dogs n had the audacity to tell me that , it taste great, I know it because I follow a recipe from all recipes 7. He would say even if I stood naked in front of him he wouldn't feel anything because I was fat, I didn't become fat during the relationship infact I had already started to lose weight n all. 8. He would say that a mobile phone sale's woman who was a mother of 2 was much better than me because that woman would not ask for commitment. 9. When I got depressed because of all this he said you are depressed because of your own expectations, I only wanted him to treat me like a human being just for a day at least. 10 He would say, I love u but I can't marry u because I didn't let him have sex before marriage. ( I come from a conservative background, sex before marriage just isn't for me) 11. Also, I once told him that I was into kinky stuff, daddy kink mainly, he said it was disgusting and that it turns him off so I should not even think about.(imagine being such a stuck up prick) 12. Once we were outside n some guy was checking me out n I got uncomfortable n told him n he laughed, n said "eww why would he even look at u, I'm gonna tell him to get his eyes examined". 13. He kissed me n he was bad at it n when I told him I didn't enjoy it, he said it's because" you don't know how to keep me happy", which hurt a lot n didn't make sense at all. I tried to take my life, because I wanted out n saw no other way out of it. I'm happy I survived. I've not been in contact with him n will never be. But on some days I feel extremely angry. If only I had loved myself a little more I would have expected a little less from him. I wouldn't have stayed in a toxic place, even though for just a few months. I have stayed in toxic places my whole life, looking for light which I never seem to find. It's harder on some days with my depression still lurking in the corners. No one deserves to be treated so badly, I couldn't bring myself to do this to anyone even if I wanted to.
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2020.10.20 07:18 cleanyourbedroomboy Naked fat mother

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
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2020.10.19 14:13 USERNAME1-2-3- [Spoilers MAIN] Comparison dialogues of ASOIAF with the television series: Eddard I

A while ago, while rereading the books of The Song of Ice and Fire, I had the idea to compare the dialogues of the books with Game of Thrones. I already did some chapters from the first book and the differences were striking. It was planned to make a project of this and compare each POV chapter with the TV series. Unfortunately, I don't have the time to do it at a regular pace.
Here you will find the comparison with the TV series, as far as the chapter Eddard I is concerned.
Previously done: Will I, Bran I, Catelyn I, Daenerys I
Dialogues from A Song of Ice and Fire

ROBERT BARATHEON: Ned! Ah, but it is good to see that frozen face of yours. You have not changed at all.
EDDARD STARK: Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects.
ROBERT BARATHEON: I was starting to think we would never reach Winterfell. In the south, the way they talk about my Seven Kingdoms, a man forgets that your part is as big as the other six combined.
EDDARD STARK: I trust you enjoyed the journey, Your Grace?
ROBERT BARATHEON: Bogs and forests and fields, and scarcely a decent inn north of the Neck. I’ve never seen such a vast emptiness. Where are all your people?
EDDARD STARK: Likely they were too shy to come out. Kings are a rare sight in the north.
ROBERT BARATHEON: More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!
EDDARD STARK: Late summer snows are common enough. I hope they did not trouble you. They are usually mild.
ROBERT BARATHEON: The Others take your mild snows. What will this place be like in winter? I shudder to think.
EDDARD STARK: The winters are hard, but the Starks will endure. We always have.
ROBERT BARATHEON: You need to come south. You need a taste of summer before it flees. In Highgarden there are fields of golden roses that stretch away as far as the eye can see. The fruits are so ripe they explode in your mouth—melons, peaches, fireplums, you’ve never tasted such sweetness. You’ll see, I brought you some. Even at Storm’s End, with that good wind off the bay, the days are so hot you can barely move. And you ought to see the towns, Ned! Flowers everywhere, the markets bursting with food, the summerwines so cheap and so good that you can get drunk just breathing the air. Everyone is fat and drunk and rich. And the girls, Ned! I swear, women lose all modesty in the heat. They swim naked in the river, right beneath the castle. Even in the streets, it’s too damn hot for wool or fur, so they go around in these short gowns, silk if they have the silver and cotton if not, but it’s all the same when they start sweating and the cloth sticks to their skin, they might as well be naked.
EDDARD STARK: Your Grace. She is down at the end, with Father and Brandon. Here.
ROBERT BARATHEON: She was more beautiful than that. Ah, damn it, Ned, did you have to bury her in a place like this? She deserved more than darkness …
EDDARD STARK: She was a Stark of Winterfell. This is her place.
ROBERT BARATHEON: She should be on a hill somewhere, under a fruit tree, with the sun and clouds above her and the rain to wash her clean.
EDDARD STARK: I was with her when she died. She wanted to come home, to rest beside Brandon and Father.
ROBERT BARATHEON: I bring her flowers when I can. Lyanna was … fond of flowers.I vowed to kill Rhaegar for what he did to her.
EDDARD STARK: You did,
ROBERT BARATHEON: Only once. In my dreams, I kill him every night. A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.
EDDARD STARK: We should return, Your Grace. Your wife will be waiting.
ROBERT BARATHEON: The Others take my wife. And if I hear ‘Your Grace’ once more, I’ll have your head on a spike. We are more to each other than that.
EDDARD STARK: I had not forgotten. Tell me about Jon.
ROBERT BARATHEON: I have never seen a man sicken so quickly. We gave a tourney on my son’s name day. If you had seen Jon then, you would have sworn he would live forever. A fortnight later he was dead. The sickness was like a fire in his gut. It burned right through him. I loved that old man.
EDDARD STARK: We both did. Catelyn fears for her sister. How does Lysa bear her grief?
ROBERT BARATHEON: Not well, in truth. I think losing Jon has driven the woman mad, Ned. She has taken the boy back to the Eyrie. Against my wishes. I had hoped to foster him with Tywin Lannister at Casterly Rock. Jon had no brothers, no other sons. Was I supposed to leave him to be raised by women?
EDDARD STARK: The wife has lost the husband. Perhaps the mother feared to lose the son. The boy is very young.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Six, and sickly, and Lord of the Eyrie, gods have mercy. Lord Tywin had never taken a ward before. Lysa ought to have been honored. The Lannisters are a great and noble House. She refused to even hear of it. Then she left in the dead of night, without so much as a by-your-leave. Cersei was furious. The boy is my namesake, did you know that? Robert Arryn. I am sworn to protect him. How can I do that if his mother steals him away?
EDDARD STARK: I will take him as ward, if you wish. Lysa should consent to that. She and Catelyn were close as girls, and she would be welcome here as well.
ROBERT BARATHEON: A generous offer, my friend, but too late. Lord Tywin has already given his consent. Fostering the boy elsewhere would be a grievous affront to him.
EDDARD STARK: I have more concern for my nephew’s welfare than I do for Lannister pride.
ROBERT BARATHEON: That is because you do not sleep with a Lannister. Ah, Ned, you are still too serious. I had planned to wait a few days to speak to you, but I see now there’s no need for it. Come, walk with me. You must have wondered why I finally came north to Winterfell, after so long.
EDDARD STARK: For the joy of my company, surely? And there is the Wall. You need to see it, Your Grace, to walk along its battlements and talk to those who man it. The Night’s Watch is a shadow of what it once was. Benjen says—.
ROBERT BARATHEON: No doubt I will hear what your brother says soon enough. The Wall has stood for what, eight thousand years? It can keep a few days more. I have more pressing concerns. These are difficult times. I need good men about me. Men like Jon Arryn. He served as Lord of the Eyrie, as Warden of the East, as the Hand of the King. He will not be easy to replace.
EDDARD STARK: His son…
ROBERT BARATHEON: His son will succeed to the Eyrie and all its incomes. No more.
EDDARD STARK: The Arryns have always been Wardens of the East. The title goes with the domain.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Perhaps when he comes of age, the honor can be restored to him. I have this year to think of, and next. A six-year-old boy is no war leader, Ned.
EDDARD STARK: In peace, the title is only an honor. Let the boy keep it. For his father’s sake if not his own. Surely you owe Jon that much for his service.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Jon’s service was the duty he owed his liege lord. I am not ungrateful, Ned. You of all men ought to know that. But the son is not the father. A mere boy cannot hold the east. Enough of this. There is a more important office to discuss, and I would not argue with you. I have need of you, Ned.
EDDARD STARK: I am yours to command, Your Grace. Always.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Those years we spent in the Eyrie … gods, those were good years. I want you at my side again, Ned. I want you down in King’s Landing, not up here at the end of the world where you are no damned use to anybody. I swear to you, sitting a throne is a thousand times harder than winning one. Laws are a tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people … there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. They all want something, money or land or justice. The lies they tell … and my lords and ladies are no better. I am surrounded by flatterers and fools. It can drive a man to madness, Ned. Half of them don’t dare tell me the truth, and the other half can’t find it. There are nights I wish we had lost at the Trident. Ah, no, not truly, but …
EDDARD STARK: I understand.
ROBERT BARATHEON: I think you do. If so, you are the only one, my old friend. Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the King.
EDDARD STARK: Your Grace, I am not worthy of the honor.
ROBERT BARATHEON: If I wanted to honor you, I’d let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave. You know the saying, about the king and his Hand?
EDDARD STARK: What the king dreams, the Hand builds.
ROBERT BARATHEON: I bedded a fishmaid once who told me the lowborn have a choicer way to put it. The king eats, they say, and the Hand takes the shit. Damn it, Ned. You might at least humor me with a smile.
EDDARD STARK: They say it grows so cold up here in winter that a man’s laughter freezes in his throat and chokes him to death. Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Come south with me, and I’ll teach you how to laugh again. You helped me win this damnable throne, now help me hold it. We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done.
EDDARD STARK: Sansa is only eleven.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Old enough for betrothal. The marriage can wait a few years. Now stand up and say yes, curse you.
EDDARD STARK: Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Your Grace. These honors are all so unexpected. May I have some time to consider? I need to tell my wife …
ROBERT BARATHEON: Yes, yes, of course, tell Catelyn, sleep on it if you must. Just don’t keep me waiting too long. I am not the most patient of men.
Dialogues from Game of Thrones
CATELYN TULLY: Gods, but they grow fast. Brandon!
BRANDON STARK: I saw the king! He’s got hundreds of people!
CATELYN TULLY: How many times have I told you: No climbing!
BRANDON STARK: But he’s coming right now! Down our road!
CATELYN TULLY: I want you to promise me: No more climbing.
BRANDON STARK: I promise.
CATELYN TULLY: D’you know what?
BRANDON STARK: What?
CATELYN TULLY: You always look at your feet before you lie. Run and find your father. Tell him the king is close.
CATELYN TULLY: Where’s Arya? Sansa, where’s your sister?
EDDARD STARK (to ARYA): Hey,, hey, hey, hey. What are you doing with that on?
ARYA STARK (to BRAN): Move!
EDDARD STARK (to ROBERT): Your Grace.
ROBERT BARATHEON: You’ve got fat.
ROBERT BARATHEON (to CATELYN): Cat!
CATELYN TULLY: Your Grace.
ROBERT (to EDDARD): Nine years. Why haven’t I seen you? Where the hell have you been?
EDDARD STARK: Guarding the North for you, Your Grace. Winterfell is yours.
ARYA STARK: Where’s the Imp?
SANSA STARK: Will you shut up?
ROBERT BARATHEON: Who have we here? You must be Robb.
ROBERT BARATHEON (to SANSA): My, you’re a pretty one.
ROBERT BARATHEON (to ARYA) : Your name is?
ARYA STARK: Arya.
ROBERT BARATHEON (to BRAN): Ooh. Show us your muscles. You’ll be a soldier.
ARYA STARK: That’s Jaime Lannister. The queen’s twin brother.
SANSA STARK: Would you please shut up.
EDDARD STARK (to CERSEI): My queen.
CATELYN TULLY (to CERSEI): My queen.
ROBERT BARATHEON (to EDDARD): Take me to your crypt. I want to pay my respects.
CERSEI LANNISTER: We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Ned.
ARYA STARK: Where’s the Imp?
CERSEI LANNISTER: Where is our brother? Go find the little beast.
EDDARD STARK: Tell me about Jon Arryn.
ROBERT BARATHEON: One minute he was fine, and then … Burned right through him, whatever it was. I loved that man.
EDDARD STARK: We both did.
ROBERT BARATHEON: He never had to teach you much, but me … You remember me at 16? All I wanted to do was crack skulls and fuck girls. He showed me what was what.
EDDARD STARK: Aye.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Don’t look at me like that. Not his fault I didn’t listen. I need you, Ned. Down at Kings Landing. Not up here, where you’re no damn use to anybody. Lord Eddard Stark, I would name you the Hand of the king.
EDDARD STARK: I’m not worthy of the honor.
ROBERT BARATHEON: I’m not trying to honor you. I’m trying to get you to run my kingdom while I eat, drink, and whore my way to an early grave. Damn it, Ned, stand up. You helped me win the Iron Throne, now help me keep the damn thing. We were meant to rule together. If your sister had lived, we would have been bound by blood. Well, it’s not too late. I have a son, you have a daughter. We’ll join our Houses.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Did you have to bury her in a place like this? She should be on a hill somewhere with the sun and the clouds above her.
EDDARD STARK: She was my sister. This is where she belongs.
ROBERT BARATHEON: She belonged with me. In my dreams, I kill him every night.
EDDARD STARK: It’s done, Your Grace. The Targaryens are gone.
ROBERT BARATHEON: Not all of them.

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2020.10.19 13:24 Which_Ad_5947 Fat mother naked

Me and my wife have been married for 7 years. I love her but I’m excited whenever she goes for weekend getaways to see visit her parents and other relatives because I get to have the house to myself and in the past, I’ve been disappointed from her having her weekend getaways plans cancelled or cut short. Like this weekend she went away Friday To see her parents because her mother just had surgery but wasn’t supposed to be back until Tuesday but she came back yesterday and I was quite disappointed.
When she goes away, I can basically do whatever I want in the house. I can use the speaker to listen to loud violent NSFW music, I can walk around naked without being insecure, (I’m not fat but I’m getting old and chubby and I reject my wife’s sexual advances) i can shower with the door open, I can cook however I want and what i like or not cook at all, i can invite friends over to have drinks and talk about life and our childhood, hopes and dreams and talk about dramas and our occasional wifey issues. We talk about how annoying and demanding wives can be often times. Specially when they are on their periods. And we order pizza.
Do you get excited when or if your spouse goes away for weekends?
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2020.10.18 17:49 cleanyourbedroomboy Skeletons Of Winter Part I

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
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2020.10.18 17:47 cleanyourbedroomboy Mother fat naked

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
submitted by cleanyourbedroomboy to MrCreepyPasta [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 17:46 cleanyourbedroomboy Naked fat mother

“Once upon a time, in a cold, dark land, there was a king who lived on tall mountains of ice. A king without a castle, who sat on a throne of blood and skin; from the top of his mountain, he watched over his kingdom of skeletons; roaring loudly for his subject skeletons on the arrival of winter, cautioning them of the impending icy winds.”
“The skeleton kingdom was home to all kinds of skeletons. Tall skeletons, short skeletons, fat skeletons and thin skeletons, old skeletons and younger, fresher skeletons.”
“When they were old enough, a skeleton started to grow skin, or had blood flowing through its body. Every time that happened, they would go to the king, and bow in front of him”
““My lord of flesh and blood” A skeleton would say, “Here I give to you a humble offering, so you may make it one with your throne.” And with that, the skeleton would offer the king all the flesh and blood it had, and the king would find a place of it on his throne.”
“Every day, offers were made, and the throne grew bigger and bigger, taller and taller, fatter and fatter, and the king went up higher and higher.”
“More and more skeletons would come in every day and every night, and they would keep giving more and more flesh and blood to the king’s chair.”
“The king’s throne eventually grew so tall; his voice became faint, and soft to the ones who stood below. But the skeletons did not stop; like obedient subjects, they making their humble contributions to the throne.”
“Every day they added.”
“And every night they added.”
““My lord I come to offer you more of my own flesh and blood, and I hope my humble gives more strength to your throne.”, and in reply, they heard just a distant mumble from high up.”
“The throne eventually went so up high, the throne became a living tower, covered in flesh, with veins of blood flowing through it. If you were still enough, a faint heartbeat could be heard from within the tower.”
“The tower went so high up, the skeletons believed that it might have pierced through the skies.”
“One day, a skeleton bowed in front of the tower. Fresh blood dripping from his bony white hands, and a handful of extracted flesh tied neatly with ropes on his back. After his words of offering, he stood up, waiting for the king’s reply. And he waited, and waited. Not a sound. He said his words a second time. He was yet again, met with silence.”
“And then he looked up, to the vast throne he and his fellow skeletons had built, and on top of it…he froze. He could not locate the top.”
“He felt like a sailor on a boat, trapped in the still, windless of the ocean of time. A few moments felt like ages in this uncertain stillness he found himself in. And then, like a gentle breeze of hopeful wind, his skull was kissed by the dropping snow.”
“He waited for the king’s roar, knowing full well that it may never come. The king was lost in the skies.”
“The skeletons rejoiced that day. They had finally gotten themselves rid of the fleshed king that ruled over this land of bones. They had found freedom,”
“The skeletons sang all day. And they sang all night. They danced till their bones came apart, and fell on the icy terrain below; but they put it back together and danced some more.”
“They sang wildly while the moon watched silently. They continued their songs even when the moon had hidden under the blankets of a sunless winter day.”
“And as time went on, the skeletons had found themselves used to this life without a leader, and lived life free and happy.”
“Eventually, their skins began to grow back, and blood began to flow into their veins.”
“The snowfall never stopped. And the winds grew ever colder. And with the growth of their skins, the cold finally touched them. But the cold was not so gentle. It was a fierce, with icy teeth, aimed on their skins. Wanting to bite through their skins, and freeze their blood. And bite it did.”
“The skeletons had never felt the cold before. They had no understanding of it. But with the growth of their skins, they felt the harsh cold for the first time. And with this new agony, they had to live.”
“The old ones died first. And then the youngest ones found themselves frozen in the cold.”
“The skeletons fought against each other, accusing each other of being at fault for this unescapable cold of the harsh winter. And with that, eventually the skeleton kingdom found itself buried in the snow.”
“The few that lived now, found themselves slaves to the ice. By this time, they could not find a way to rid themselves of their skins either. The flesh had found roots in their bones now, and were an eternal part of them.”
“Every summer they lived in peace, but that was only before. Now, with summers, they found themselves preparing themselves for the winter, and with the winters, they prayed for the summer’s return.”
“They had tried to get their king back, readying themselves for heavy and heartfelt words of apologies, and for the punishment that might follow. Yet, the living tower had been darkened and withered by the icy winds of winter, and they king lay trapped on this tower of rot.”
“And so, with heavy hearts, the skeletons finally accepted their fate of agony and hardship, and are now subjects of the winter.”
My mother stood up straight, looking down on me as she smiled warmly, thinking I had fallen into a deep slumber, as she cautiously paced in a gentle manner to the door, and gently shut it, leaving only a tiny sliver of light seeping into my room.
Sleep hadn’t taken me yet, and I opened my eyes, to the dark room. The tiny amount of light that the door allowed in formed a line on the font wall of the room, vertically reaching from the top of the window to the floor.
I had made sure the windows had been kept covered by the blinders as tight as possible, so that I couldn’t accidentally find myself looking out of it. Or anything accidentally looking in.
I shivered at the thought.
When I was seven years old, my mother had been in the hospital, giving birth to my sister, and I had been staying with my aunt Greta at the time. I had been watching T.V. late at night; Aunt Greta didn’t care much about me going to sleep at the time my parents had set for me. But she herself, exhausted, and possibly maybe even slightly drunk, had found rest on the couch, sitting next to me, while the television flickered with various colours, illuminating her skin, edging towards the moment a light bright enough would jerk her out of her sleep. Aunt Greta won that battle, and managed to keep her sleep. But not me, I was on the loosing side, and sleep had finally begun to tug at me.
I tried distracting myself my shaking my head, and then looking around the room. That’s when I made the grave mistake of looking at the front window next to the staircase in the living room.
Two eyes stared back at me, shining white with a touch of red in them. A demonic horned outline stood out, sinisterly grabbing hold of my gaze with the hellish stare it had locked me into.
I don’t remember the exact moment I let go, but my aunt was there to comfort me, calming me down, and the thing outside the window just stood still, flinching a little.
“It’s just a cat!” Aunt Greta said comfortingly, yet slightly irritated; shooing the horrid thing away by tapping the window lightly. It pounced through the window and out of my sight.
Innocent as that encounter had been all those years ago, it had instilled in me a heavy fear of cats and looking through windows in the dark of the night.
Yet tonight, I felt a different kind of heaviness. One that came with feelings of gloom and sadness. The story my mom told me about the skeletons was not a stranger to me. Yet, it was one story I could not find myself to bear. I felt like an idiot, asking to hear that story again. My mom had told it to me a few months back, and I felt the same melancholia back then. I felt that I had grown stronger within to be able to bare that dark tale again, yet, I had only found myself feeling bad about the skeletons. Even a tiny bit of guilt for keeping their suffering alive by asking that tale to be spoken again.
I had pretended to fall asleep in hopes of my mother leaving the story undone, and walking out alone, leaving me to face only my silly fear of the dark, and not this heavy air of sadness that had been left behind.
What was the point of that story? I asked myself. There was no moral attached, not a wholesome outcome. It was a story that tied an iron chain around my tiny eleven-year-old heart, and tossed it on the bottom of a river. I still feel the same way after all these years anyway.
And the way she would tell it, it made the whole experience even more depressing. So vivid, and indifferent her narration was, it was unsettling.
But thankfully, that night was not a snowy night. It was not even winter yet. The night was a rainy one.
There was no storm, not like I would have minded that anyway, but it was a calm, gentle rain with distant soothing rumble of thunder.
I closed my eyes to sleep through the gloom I felt, but the moment I did, images of skeletons building a tower of extracted skin and blood, and dancing to the moonlight filled the darkness.
I tried to think of other things, but the skeletons had already wrapped their body fingers all around my imagination.
I didn’t want to open my eyes and look around (and seeing risk the blinders on the window somehow opened), so I buried myself in the covers, and shut my eyes. My main concern was to just get to fall asleep somehow.
Slowly, I opened my eyes,
Just a tiny peek. Just a tiny peak and nothing would go wrong.
I looked out the covers, and scanned the room. The tiny line of light was gone. My mom had probably already gone to sleep.
My eyes then moved a slightly left, to the drawer, the pile of unread books on top of it, and then…. the window.
Nope!
I got of the covers, and ran to the door, all the while imagining eyes of that horrid thing in the window, I saw all those years ago following me.
I shut the door behind me, and decided to sneak to my parents’ room. I knew I wasn’t supposed to sneak out this way, my mom had a strict bedroom curfew at 9:00 p.m. for us kids. Of course, she would send us to bed earlier, but it was pretty clear she did not want us out of our rooms after nine.
But tonight, she had told me that story again, and hearing that led to a series of events that had led me to loose all of my bravery.
The rain did provide some comfort to me, calming and soft it was, I still dared not look at any windows of the hall.
Shielding half my field of vision by cupping my palm around my right eye, I went across the hall. The faint creaks of the wooden flooring making me painfully aware of my loneliness in the now dark hallway.
There was a corner up front, the left of which were some stairs leading down to the living room, and right of the corner, in a distance worth just a tiny few step was a turn, which led to the door to my parents’ bedroom, and the bathroom.
Now here, I stood still for a moment. I was trying to peak into the corner, and at the same time, trying to focus elsewhere.
If I wasn’t fast enough, something would come out of that corner, and grab me. There was so much darkness in that corner, it almost looked like a dark cloaked man sat there, concealing himself into that place with slow and even breaths.
The dark cloaked man breathed the light in and exhaled the dark. He was darkness itself. If I wasn’t quick enough, he would grab me with those long tendrils of his, and swallow me whole.
A rumble of thunder came, but not before a flash of lightning, lifting the veil of the dark from that corner, revealing… absolutely nothing. No cloaked men, no skeletons. But as soon as the light went away, I saw something there.
It was just for a tiny moment, but I swear I saw a big crawling mass of darkness. It was alive, and moving, with a thousand, or millions of appendeges, tendrils or even legs. Like a spider, or a squid, or some grotesque insect from the deep.
And when the thunder followed this time, it didn’t feel like the soothing, calming touch of my mother’s hands either; rather, it felt like a witch’s cackle, loud and hideous! Piercing through my soul and getting ever closer. A cackle from the depths of a throat with crawling maggots and rotting skin.
I bolted as fast as I can, almost tripping on my own feet, and somehow, I reached the room, and burst right through it. It was unlocked, and there I looked around in the dark, scanning frantically for my mother’s presence.
And there, standing in the dark, in front of the mirror stood someone. Hoping it was my mom, I tried to make out its features, but my heart was also infested with fear and I felt it clawing at my chest, pleading to be let out.
It was as tall as my mother, and was built like a woman. Yet…it was, naked. I could make the outline of bare, sagging breasts. Lighting struck again, this time bringing light to the entire room, and the thunder screamed a blood curdling scream as I saw the figure for what it was. The wrinkled, leathery and aged skin, along with a barren scalp. It’s lip, twisted and the jaws shut so closely, indicating a lack of teeth.
The naked old woman opened her mouth to say a few words, but I felt the world go dim around me, with a bright flash of light, before I was plunged into complete darkness.
Danny? Dan? Yeah…he’s opening his eyes…
The sound of my dad’s voice was the rope I pulled on to come out of my darkness, and I woke up with a jump.
My mother came up to the bed and wrapped her arms around me.
“I was so worried about you!” She said. “How are you feeling baby?”
Her arms around mine, I checked her for wrinkles, and suddenly feeling a bit stupid I turned a bit red.
My dad let out a laugh and punched me in the arm softly, and stood up, rubbing his bald head.
“I told you he’s a strong one. Aren’t you?”
I gave a hesitant nod.
My mother put her hands on my shoulders, sat back and looked me in the eye.
“Now, tell me what happened child. And tell me everything. It’s alright baby, mommy and daddy are here.”
I misliked the way she seemed to baby me, but I did not think to complain.
I looked at the window, the sun was rising up, and the sky seemed clear.
“Well I-“
I remembered what I saw the night before. The crawling mass of darkness, and the naked old lady.
It’s silly now that I think of it, but at that time, I was too embarrassed to tell my
parents that I saw a naked old woman, “NAKED” old woman in our house.
“I just had a bad dream… and I got scared.”
My mom stood up. Telling me words of comfort that were meaningless to me, and walked out, holding my sister’s hand and walking out the room downstairs.
“Dad.” I told my dad as he came down to sit next to me. “I think I want to sleep a bit.”
My dad nodded, “Do you want mom?” He asked me.
I refused and shut my eyes. I was too sleepy to care or think much.
I brushed the old lady off as a bad dream, and nothing more…during the day. At night, as much as I didn’t want to, I believed with all certainty that it was real. Our house was haunted by an old lady’s ghost. I had been sleepless the first few nights, even though I had mom next to me for three days. I kept a lookout at times, peeking out the sheets to see if the old lady had come back (making sure the blinds were shut first), but I didn’t see her.
A few weeks passed and I figured it was just a bad dream, and a year or two later, I pushed it in the rear end of my mind.
It was winter, and the first batch of snow had made its way to my hometown. Flecks of snow buried themselves in my hair, and their cousins and made their place on the ground, forming a white path home.
My sister and I usually walked home from school together. I usually was on my own while my sister talked to one of her friends, I didn’t really know any of them. She and I had never been close, and during school, we drifted apart even more.
She was in middle school, and she already knew what an enormous looser I was. I used to sneak out the school from the back, as to avoid Zackary Levitt and his “Henchmen”.
They never put a hand on me; and that’s how they got away with it. I felt ashamed, unable to stand up to them. Their words bit into me like rows of sharpened teeth.
The trouble began when a white cat had found itself in front of the school, and it got too close to me, and I cried because it kept hissing at me. A lot of people happened to see that. A lot.
Zachary rode past us in one of his friend’s car. I averted my eyes so as to not attract any attention, but the more I tried to look away, the surer my chances of being harassed were.
One of them poked their head out the window, making hissing sounds. That wasn’t so bad, but then I saw my sister and her friend turn back to look at me, and they chuckled a bit.
That hurt me even worse.
That encouraged them even more. They slowed the car a bit, now all of them started meowing and hissing at me while my sister and her friend looked straight ahead, probably trying to conceal their broad grins.
In my mind, I hid in a shell like a turtle, only hearing faint echoes of their taunts. Every time I got mad enough and yelled a few colourful words of my own, they pulled their fists, ready for a fight, and the scrawny, skinny kid I was, I thought it wiser to back away.
I never cried myself to sleep. I didn’t even think about it all that much to be honest. It had become such a normal occurrence; I didn’t feel much about it.
At nights, I stayed awake, staring up to the ceiling. The only source of light in the room was the tiny sliver that creeped in from outside, as my mom stayed up much later.
The blinds as usual, had to remain shut. My fear of cats and windows were the only two things I carried, other than my shame and constant feeling of emptiness. I didn’t care I didn’t have many friends, nor did I care much about school or anything… what I cared about was, seeing through this gloomy fog that surrounded me.
Knock
The sound of my door creaking open made me sit up.
“Happy birthday to you!” My mom sang, holding up a metal tray.
My sister and my dad followed behind, turning the lights on and mom sat in front of me on the bed, placing a tiny chocolate cupcake with a skinny red candle on it, right next to me.
I looked at the clock, it had struck 12.
I put on a smile, and accepted mom’s embrace. I still remember it vividly. She wore no perfume, yet she had a soothing motherly scent to her. Her arms were skinny, and yet she had a firm hold of me. The fabric of her sleeves felt slightly rough on my neck but I didn’t care.
She planted a kiss on my cheek.
“You’re a man now son!” My dad said. He still wore his uniform. He probably got the cake while patrolling, and he would probably have to go back to patrolling after this.
“Eighteen years!” Mom said smiling, “I can’t believe I’m that old now!” She laughed a bit, “Ellen, wish your brother!”
Ellen came to me, giving a forced, loose hug and wishing me awkwardly and moving next to mom.
“You know the rules…. You get the big cake tomorrow… and the gifts too.” Mom said.
“Well…” Dad cut in, adding to this playful act they put up, “Maybe except this.”
My dad handed me a white, unmarked box.
“Open it!” He said with a grin.
A lamp. A lamp that gave off a blue light. Nice.
“Well it isn’t much, but like your mom said, you get the real gifts tomorrow. We have to keep it exciting you know…” My dad gave me a wink. “But…I figured you’d probably have more use of this thing tonight.”
I thanked all of them, and they eventually departed for the night.
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was trying to get myself excited for tomorrow, but I felt nothing but emptiness. I felt like the best of my life had been over sometimes, and tonight was one of those times.
I flicked the light on, giving the room a blue tint, and creating a million shadows with the dim nightlight. And then turned it off, sending the room back into the darkness. It was better this way. The shadows formed strange shapes that I didn’t not want to see. Yet my thumb decided to flick the switch, creating an army of shadows in the room once more. And so, it went for a long while.
Tomorrow was Sunday, so I could stay up a bit later. My own room had begun to make me uncomfortable, so I decided to go downstairs and watch some T.V. Lamp in hand, I left the room.
I walked straight to the hall. The window tapped slightly as tiny snowflakes touched it on their way down, and yet, I could not bring myself to look that way. Like I said, the fear was one of the things I carried with me.
The bathroom lights were on, my mom was in there, her bedroom door was wide open. She sang a soft tune in the bathroom, and it just confirmed her presence in there. I would never forget that tune. It sounded like something old and gloomy. It provoked strange imagery in my mind, but only vague shapes that I couldn’t place. Coupled with the winter winds outside, it would form almost a haunting scenery.
The dark corner was still there, the light from the closed bathroom had not reached far enough. I was peeking at me, threating to show me horrid things in itself. Thankfully, I had the lamp in my hand for that. The light my mom and dad had given me, and I flicked it on, sending all terrible entities in the dark fleeing away and leaving behind an innocent corner.
I went down the stairs and to the living room, and watched 10 minutes of mindless television and my eyes began to get drowsy. Turning it off, I went back upstairs, readying myself for the sweet hold of a restful sleep.
I took the final step, looking down to flick the light on to scare the darkness in the corner away, and when I did, the blue light fell on the aged and wrinkled skin of a naked old woman.
I froze in fear. The light held still in my hands. The woman walked, straight past my parents’ bedroom, which was still wide open and in complete darkness, and to the bathroom.
I hear no singing from my mother, no sounds at all except the splashing of water. I stood there frozen. Blue light my only company, while that thing went inside with my mother.
The splashing grew intense, and yet, all I could do was stand still, my eyes wide open and my jaws clung tightly together. I was afraid. But, so afraid, I didn’t feel it. I became it. My body had forgotten it’s own self, and decided to accept whatever horrid end it awaited.
Splish. Splash.
I pictured nothing. It was just the of splashing water to me, nothing more. But I knew there was something far more sinister at hand. I awaited my consciousness to leave, and go far away from me, and yet, it stayed with me, holding my head firmly and making me experience the dreadful reality.
The light of the corner eventually faded, and I remember watching my dad banging at the bathroom door, while my sister stood crying in the corner. My dad yelled too but they were distant, and faint to me. I was trapped within my own shell of fear.
My dad kicked the door down, and there we found her. She lay still in the bathtub, now just a sack of pruned meat and not the person I remember as mom. Just flesh and bones. Flesh….and bones…
And then I realised the irony of it, and it seemed morbidly funny and I let out a slight chuckle. My lips quivered, not knowing whether to laugh or to mourn. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I fell on the floor, my throat threatening to tear as I cycled between crying and laughing, and crying and laughing and then … just weeping.
Mom was dead. And it was my fault as well. I should’ve entered. I could’ve helped her. If it wasn’t for my stupid fucking fears.
I ate my birthday cake while my dad spoke to other officers who’d come during the morning hours. His eyes had been bloodshot read, and it seemed like he was done crying, yet, he sat, putting on a strong face.
My dad helped me dress up for the funeral, I was in shock since her passing, and I barely spoke or got anywhere on my own.
On our way, watching the snowy winter land that our hometown was now transformed to, I remembered the old lady. I hadn’t told anyone about that. How could I? It had been just a nightmare, right? And even if it wasn’t, was I to tell them that I let a ghost drown my mother in a bathtub, even though the cause had been as an accident?
I embraced myself, the funeral was going to be hard on me, but I had to face it.
After walking through the few early arrivals, my grandparents and some uncles (all from my father’s side), I stood next to my dad, but my sister wanted to have some time alone with mother, so dad let her go first, silently patting her on the shoulder.
I stood next to him, hearing him talk in whispers as I saw down to the ground. I looked at the entrance of the church, turning my head away from the grim atmosphere, and there, I saw the outline of a person, a woman. I tried to make out which aunt or neighbour she was, but then she just walked out in a hurry.
I chalked it up to an honest mistake, and began to turn back, just when I heard my sister scream. I froze up for a moment, but I decided to fight through this time, following after my dad and his elder brother as they ran into the room.
My uncle reached first, and I slowed my pace seeing she was okay, he knelt down to my sister and exchanging a few words, before she pointed to my mother’s casket. He stood up abruptly as he saw within and shielded my sister’s eyes as well.
My dad looked into it, and gasped, covering his mouth with his roughened hands, and turned away.
My stomach began to drop, as I got closer, expecting the worst. I looked within.
She was completely naked. The dark gown she was supposed to be clad in was gone. A large cut had been made in her back, and blood, it was clean and dry. Mom no longer even looked like mom. I came to a horrible realisation, as the contents of my stomach began to rise up to my throat.
All that was left of her, was flesh and blood.
submitted by cleanyourbedroomboy to TheDarkGathering [link] [comments]


2020.10.18 17:25 creature_fear12 Naked fat mother

Need to clear out some space so I've got the following MASSIVE list of titles available for sale today. Pick ANY 5 titles from below for $20 shipped (US only) - LPs are a combination of original US presses, early reissues and the occasional foreign press - no modern reissues here. Payments through PayPal only please. All items ship via USPS media mail with tracking.
All items grade at VG/VG or better unless otherwise noted
Here's the list!
Rock/Pop/Etc.
America - Holiday
Angel - On Earth As It Is In Heaven
Adam Ant - Strip
April Wine - The Nature Of The Beast
April Wine - First Glance
Joan Armatrading - S/T
Bachman-Turner Overdrive - S/T
Bad Company - Run With The Pack
John Baldry - It Ain't Easy
Bangles ‎– All Over The Place
Bangles - Bangles
Bangles - Everything
The Beatles - Sgt. Peppers (Cover ONLY; Original US stereo cover)
The Beatles - Let It Be (Cover ONLY)
Jeff Beck With The Jan Hammer Group - Live
Pat Benetar - Precious Time
Pat Benetar - Tropico
Pat Benetar - Seven The Hard Way
Pat Benetar - Crimes Of Passion
Pat Benetar - In The Heat Of The Night
Billion Dollar Babies - Battle Axe
Blood, Sweat & Tears - 3
Bloomfield/KoopeStills - Super Session
Tommy Bolin - Teaser
Jackson Browne - Hold Out
Jackson Browne - Lawyers In Love
Roy Buchanan - You're Not Alone
Jimmy Buffett - Volcano
The Jon Butcher Axis - Along The Axis
The Byrds - Greatest Hits
The Call - Reconciled
The Call ‎– Into The Woods
Cheap Trick - Standing On The Edge
Cher - S/T 2LP
Chicago - Chicago
Chicago - VI
Eric Clapton - S/T
The Dave Clark Five - Weekend In London
The Dave Clark Five - Best Of
Climax Blues Band - FM/Live
Climax Blues Band - Lucky For Some
Climax Blues Band - Gold Plated
Cold Blood - Sisyphus
Cold Blood - Cold Blood (Vinyl VG-)
Cold Blood - Thriller (Cover VG-)
Cold Blood - First Taste Of Sin
Judy Collins - Recollections
Chi Coltrane ‎– Chi Coltrane
Ry Cooder - Into The Purple Valley
Ry Cooder - The Border
Ry Cooder - Bop Till You Drop
Country Joe And The Fish - Together
Country Joe And The Fish - I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die
Crosby, Stills & Nash - CSN
Jackie DeShannon ‎– Laurel Canyon
Neil Diamond - Touching You Touching Me
Thomas Dolby - The Golden Age Of Wireless
Doll By Doll ‎– Gypsy Blood
The Doobie Brothers - Stampede
Ian Dury & The Blockheads - Laughter
John Entwistle - Whistle Rhymes
John Entwistle's Ox - Mad Dog
John Entwistle's Rigor Mortis Sets In - S/T
Marianne Faithfull ‎– Marianne Faithfull
Fanny - Rock n Roll Survivors
The Fixx - Walkabout
The Fixx - Phantoms
Flash And The Pan - Headlines
Foghat - Night Shift
Foghat - Energized
Frank Chickens ‎– We Are Frank Chickens
Art Garfunkel - Watermark
Art Garfunkel - Angel Clare
Art Garfunkel - Fate For Breakfast
Judy Garland ‎– Judy Garland
Geils - Monkey Island
Godley & Creme - The Histroy Mix Volume 1
The Barry Goldberg Reunion - S/T
Grand Funk Railroad - Survival
Grand Funk Railroad - Shinin' On
Grand Funk Railroad - Live Album
Grand Funk Railroad - Caught In The Act
El Grupo Sexo - Mom's Home
Debbie Harry - KooKoo
Heart - Magazine
Heart - Bebe Le Strange
Honk ‎– The Original Sound Track from Five Summer Stories
Hot Tuna - Burgers
Hot Tuna - Yellow Fever
Humble Pie - Smokin'
The Indigo Girls - Strange Fire
It's A Beautiful Day ‎– Choice Quality Stuff / Anytime
Jan & Dean - Anthology Album
Jan & Dean - Golden Hits
Jefferson Airplane - Volunteers
Jefferson Airplane - Crown Of Creation
Jefferson Airplane - Bless Its Pointed Little Head
Jefferson Starship/Paul Kantner - Blows Against The Empire
Jefferson Starship - Dragon Fly
Jefferson Starship - Spitfire
Jefferson Starship - Red Octopus
Jethro Tull - Bursting Out - Live
Jethro Tull - A Passion Play
Joan Jett & The Blackhearts - Fake Friends 12"
Jo Jo Gunne - S/T
Jo Jo Gunne - Jumpin' The Gunne
Jo Jo Gunne - Bite Down Hard
Howard Jones - Dream Into Action
Howard Jones - One To One
Rickie Lee Jones - Pirates
Rickie Lee Jones ‎– Rickie Lee Jones
Rickie Lee Jones - Flying Cowboys
Rickie Lee Jones - Girl At Her Volcano
Jorma Kaukonen & Vital Parts - Barbeque King
Carole King - Welcome Home
Carole King - One To One
The Kinks - State Of Confusion
Lone Justice - Lone Justice
Lone Justice - Shelter
The Lovin' Spoonful - Hums Of The Lovin' Spoonful
The Mama's And The Papa's - Deliver
Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Get Your Rocks Off
Manfred Mann's Earth Band - S/T
Manfred Mann's Earth Band - Angel Station
Dave Mason - Let It Flow
Paul McCartney - Ram
Don McClean - Homeless Brother
Michael McDonald - If That's What It Takes
Christine McVie ‎– The Legendary Christine Perfect Album
Lee Michaels - S/T
Lee Michaels ‎– Barrel
The Steve Miller Band - Brave New World
Steve Miller Band - Number 5
Steve Miller Band - Your Saving Grace
Missing Persons - Rhyme & Reason
Joni Mitchell - Miles Of Aisles
Joni Mitchell - Shadows And Light
Molly Hatchet - Flirtin' With Disaster
Montrose - Warner Bros Presents
Gary Moore - Corridors Of Power
The Motels - Little Robbers
Mott The Hoople - Mott
Mr. Mister - Welcome To The Real World
Elliot Murphy - Aquashow
Graham Nash - Wild Tales
Randy Newman - Sail Away
Laura Nyro ‎– Nested
Laura Nyro - The First Songs
Ted Nugent - Weekend Warriors
Ric Ocasek - Beatitude
Roy Orbison - More Greatest Hits
Robert Palmer - Secrets
Robert Palmer - Sneakin' Sally Through The Alley
Peter And Gordon - The Best Of
The Pirates - Out Of Their Skulls
Grace Pool - S/T
The Pretenders - Pretenders
The Pretenders - Extended Play
Suzi Quatro - Suzi... And Other Four Letter Words
Quicksilver Messenger Service - Shady Grove
Rainbow - Jealous Lover EP
Gerry Rafferty - Can I Have My Money Back?
Gerry Rafferty - North And South
Rare Earth - One World
R.E.M. - Fall On Me 12”
The Rolling Stones - Love You Live
The Rolling Stones - Let It Bleed (Cover ONLY)
Romeo Void ‎– Benefactor
Romeo Void ‎– Never Say Never
Todd Rundgren - Todd (G+)
Todd Rundgren - Back To The Bars
Todd Rundgren - A Capella
Todd Rundgren’s Utopia - Another Live
Todd Rundgren's Utopia - Ra
Bobby Rydell ‎– We Got Love
Mitch Ryder - Naked But Not Dead
Santana - S/T
Savoy Brown - A Step Further
Boz Scaggs - Down Two Then Left
Boz Scaggs - The Boz Scaggs Sampler
Seatrain - S/T
Carly Simon - S/T
Simon & Garfunkel - Greatest Hits
Paul Simon - Hearts And Bones
Siren ‎– All Is Forgiven
Grace Slick And Paul Kantner - Sunfighter
Split Enz - Time And Tide
Split Enz - Waiata
Spooky Tooth/Pierre Henry - Ceremony
Steppenwolf - Early Steppenwolf
Steppenwolf - Monster
Cat Stevens - Back To Earth
Cat Stevens - Foreigner
Cat Stevens - Izitso
Cat Stevens - Catch Bull At Four
Cat Stevens ‎– Footsteps In The Dark - Greatest Hits Volume Two
Rod Stewart - Blondes Have More Fun
Rod Stewart - Foot Loose & Fancy Free
Rod Stewart - A Night On The Town
Rod Stewart - Every Picture Tells A Story
Al Stewart - Year Of The Cat
Sting ‎– The Dream Of The Blue Turtles
Stoneground - Stoneground
James Taylor - Mud Slide Slim
James Taylor - Never Die Young
James Taylor - Dad Loves His Work
Mick Taylor - S/T
Ten Years After ‎– Watt
Thompson Twins - Into The Gap
George Thorogood And The Destroyers - Maverick
Three Dog Night - Naturally
Pete Townshend - Who Came First
Pete Townshend - Deep End Live!
Pete Townshend-Ronnie Lane - Rough Mix
Traffic - Welcome To The Canteen
Robin Trower - Bridge Of Sighs
Robin Trower - For Earth Below
The Tubes - What Do You Want From Live
The Tubes - Outside Inside
The Turtles - Turtle Soup
The Turtles - More Golden Hits
Tommy Tutone - Tommy Tutone-2
Dwight Twilley - Wild Dogs
Uriah Heep - Wonderworld
Uriah Heep - Innocent Victim
Uriah Heep - Fallen Angel
Various - The Anthology Of British Blues
The Ventures - Swamp Rock
The Ventures - Rock And Roll Forever
Joe Walsh - You Bought It You Name It
Edgar Winter's White Trash - Roadwork
Yankees ‎– High 'N' Inside (Great Private press Power Pop LP)
Neil Young - Trans
Neil Young - Sample And Hold 12"
The Youngbloods - The Best Of
Zebra - Zebra
Prog Rock/Art Rock, Etc.
Mike Batt With The London Symphony Orchestra ‎– Schizophonia
Brand X ‎– Moroccan Roll
Brand X - Livestock (Cover VG-)
Keith Emerson - Nighthawks OST
Keith Emerson with The Nice - S/T
Keith Emerson & The Nice - Attention!
Emerson, Lake & Palmer - S/T
Emerson Lake & Palmer - In Concert
Emerson Lake & Palmer - Welcome Back My Friends..
FM - Black Noise
Genesis - Invisible Touch
Steve Hackett ‎– Please Don't Touch!
Kansas - Masque
Kansas - Vinyl Confessions
Kansas - Audio Visions
Kansas - Monolith
Kayak - Royal Red Bouncer
Man - Slow Motion
Marillion - Brief Encounter
The Moody Blues - Seventh Sojourn
The Moody Blues - A Question Of Balance
The Moody Blues - The Present
The Moody Blues - To Our Childrens Children
Patrick Moraz - The Story Of i
Patrick Moraz - S/T
Patrick Moraz - Human Interface
The Alan Parsons Project - Pyramid
Renaissance - Prologue
Sky - Sky 2LP
Sky ‎– Sky 3
Andy Summers & Robert Fripp - I Advance Masked
Thee Image - Thee Image
Rick Wakeman - Criminal Record
Zon - Astral Projector
Jazz
Airto - Virgin Land (Cover G+)
Ronnie Aldrich - The Romantic Pianos Of
Ronnie Aldrich - The Magic Mood Of
Ronnie Aldrich And His Two Pianos - That Aldrich Feeling
Ronnie Aldrich And His Two Pianos - Where The Sun Is
Nestor Amaral And His Continentals - Brazil
Brian Auger's Oblivion Express ‎– Happiness Heartaches
Gato Barbieri - El Pampero
Warren Barker And Frank Comstock ‎– TV Guide Top Television Themes
Count Basie - Good Morning Blues
George Benson - Breezin'
Earl Bostic - 14 Hits
The Bob Brookmeyer Quartet - Oslo
The Les Brown Story - Greatest Hits In Today's Sound
Barbara Carroll - Plays The Best Of George & Ira Gershwin
Barbara Carroll - Satin Doll
June Christy - This Is June Christy!
Michael Colina - Shadow Of Urbano
Jackie Coon - Jazzin' Around
Martin Denny ‎– Exotic Night
Ella Fitzgerald - Montreux 1975
Ella Fitzgerald And Oscar Peterson - Ella And Oscar
Roy Fox And His Band - At The Monseigneur Restaurant
Benny Goodman - Francaise
Dave Grusin ‎– A Jazz Version Of The Broadway Hit Subways Are For Sleeping (VG-)
Dave Grusin ‎– Mountain Dance
The Bobby Hackett Quartet Plus Vic Dickenson - S/T
Lionel Hampton - Live At Midem
Lionel Hampton - Hamp's Golden Favorites
Wayne Henderson - Big Daddy's Place
Jon Hendricks & Company ‎– Love
Paul Horn - Inside
Paul Horn & Steven Halpern - Connections
Lena Horne/Harry Belafonte - Porgy And Bess
Jackie & Roy - Time & Love
Milt Jackson, Count Basie - Vol 1
Keith Jarrett - Changes
Antonio Carlos Jobim - Love, Strings and Jobim
Tom Justice - Justice Makes Love
Yank Lawson And Bob Haggart - The World's Greatest Jazz Band
Peggy Lee - Greatest Hits
Meade Lux Lewis - Barrel House Piano
Ramsey Lewis - Live At The Savoy
The Manhattan Transfer - Best Of
Herbie Mann - New Mann At Newport
Ann-Margret - Kitty Kallen - Della Reese ‎– 3 Great Girls
Mark-Almond - S/T
Mark-Almond - II
Mark-Almond - Rising
Jay McShann - The Man From Muskogee
Red Mitchell - Red Mitchell (VG-)
Wes Montgomery - California Dreaming
Turk Murphy's Jazz Band - San Francisco Jazz
Turk Murphy's Jazz Band - San Francisco Memories
Jimmy Noon & Earl Hines - At The Apex Club
Red Norvo, Teddy Wilson, Gene Krupa.. - Jazz Concert
Billy Oskay And Michael O Domhnail - Nightnoise
André Previn, Gerry Mulligan, Carmen McRae ‎– Performing Music From The Subterraneans - Original Sound Track Album (Cover VG-)
George Russell & The Living Time Orchestra - The African Game
Pee Wee Russell - S/T
Diane Schuur - Schuur Thing
Diane Schuur - Timeless
Bud Shank/Shorty Rogers - California Concert
Frank Sinatra - S/T
Bessie Smith - The Bessie Smith Story Vol III w/ Joe Smith & Fletcher Henderson's Hot Six
Cal Tjader - The Shining Sea
Various - Round Midnight OST
Sarah Vaughan - The George Gershwin Songbook
Lou Watters' Yerba Buena Jazz Band - S/T
Nancy Wilson - Broadway My Way
Nancy Wilson - For Once In My Life
Zaccarias And His Orchestra - Dance The Bossa Nova
Soul/R&B/Funk/Disco/Gospel
Marian Anderson With Franz Rupp ‎– Spirituals
Marian Anderson - The Lady From Philadelphia
Automatic Man - S/T
Blue Magic - Thirteen Blue Magic LAne
Bus Boys - Minimum Wage Rock & Roll
Ray Charles - His All Time Great Performances (2LP)
Chocolate Milk - We're All In This Together
Commodores - Natural High
Commodores - Heroes
The Crusaders - Chain Reaction
The Crusaders - Crusaders I
Godfrey Daniel ‎– Take A Sad Song...
Tyrone Davis - Turning Point!
Fats Domino ‎– Sings Million Record Hits
Fats Domino - Twistin' The Stomp (Cover VG-)
Dobie Gray - Drift Away
Jester Hairston And His Chorus ‎– A Profile Of Negro Life in Song
Alberta Hunter - The Glory Of
Ink Spots - Vol 2
Mahalia Jackson - The World's Greatest Gospel Singer
The Jacksons - Triumph
J.O.B. Orquestra ‎– Open The Doors To Your Heart
Grace Jones ‎– Warm Leatherette
Kongas ‎– Africanism
O.B. McClinton - Album No. 2
The Persuasions - Comin' At Ya
The Pointer Sisters - Energy
Lea Roberts - Lady Lea
Smokey Robinson - Yes It's You Lady
Diana Ross - Lady Sings The Blues 2LP
Diana Ross & Lionel Richie - Endless Love
The Shirelles - Sweet Soul From 2LP
Silver Convention - S/T
Donna Summer - A Love Trilogy
Donna Summer - She Works Hard For The Money
Donna Summer - Donna Summer
The Supremes - A Bit Of Liverpool (Cover VG-)
The Sylvers - The Best Of
Johnnie Taylor - Super Taylor
The Temptations - Christmas Card
Various - The Big Chill OST (Marvin Gaye, Temptations, Miracles, Aretha..)
War - Deliver The Word
Dionne Warwick - Friends
Bobby Womack - So Many Rivers
Folk/Country/Southern Rock
A Goodly Company Of Dulcimer Artists ‎– Pastime With Good Company - Dulcimer Music For The Christmas Season
Chet Atkins & Les Paul - Chester & Lester
Joan Baez - Recently
Joan Baez - David's Album
Joan Baez - Any Day Now
Bobby Bare - Hard Time Hungrys
Black Oak Arkansas - High On The Hog
Black Oak Arkansas - Keep The Faith
J.D. Blackfoot - Southbound And Gone
Glen Campbell - The Artistry Of 2LP
Harry Chapin - Heads & Tails
Patsy Cline - Today Tomorrow & Forever (Top seam unglued)
Malcolm Dalglish & Grey Larsen ‎– The First Of Autumn
The Charlie Daniels Band - Whiskey
John Denver - I Want To Live
John Denver - Autograph
John Denver - Whose Garden Was This
John Denver - Spirit
John Denver - Farewell Andromeda
Nelson Eddy - Stour-Hearted Men
Joe Ely - Honky Tonk Masquerade
Joe Ely - Musta Notta Gotta Lotta
Kinky Friedman - Sold American (Cover VG-)
Norman Greenbaum - Petaluma
Norman Greenbaum With Dr. West's Medicine Show And Junk Band
Arlo Guthrie - S/T
Arlo Guthrie - Amigo
Tim Hardin ‎– Suite For Susan Moore And Damion - We Are - One, One, All In One
Burl Ives - More Folksongs By 10"
Waylon Jennings And The Kimberleys - S/T (VG-)
Leo Kottke - Leo Kottke
Sleepy LaBeef - It Ain't What You Eat It's The Way How You Chew It
k.d. lang ‎– The Making Of Shadowland
Peter Lang - Back To The Wall
Gordon Lightfoot - Summertime Dream
Mama's Pride ‎– Mama's Pride
Mother Earth - Living With The Animals
Tracy Nelson - S/T
The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - All The Good Times
The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - The Rest Of The Dream
The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Ricochet
Outlaws - Ghost Riders
Jim Post ‎– Slow To 20
Mason Proffit ‎– Wanted
Redwing - Redwing
The Roches ‎– Keep On Doing
Kenny Rogers And The First Edition ‎– Ruby, Don't Take Your Love To Town
Linda Ronstadt & The Stone Poneys - Stoney End
Linda Ronstadt - Hand Sown Home Grown
Linda Ronstadt - Greatest Hits
Linda Ronstadt - S/T
Linda Ronstadt - Different Drum
Linda Ronstadt - Silk Purse
Linda Ronstadt - Heart Like A Wheel
Tom Rush - Tom Rush
John B Sebastian - S/T
John Stewart - California Bloodlines
The Stone Poneys Feat. Linda Ronstadt - S/T
Various - White Mansions - A Tale From The American Civil War 1861-1865 (Jessi Coulter, Waylon Jennings, John Dillon, Steve Cash)
Various - The Legend Of Jesse James (Levon Helm, Johnny Cash, Emmylou Harris, Charlie Daniels)
Wet Willie - The Wetter The Better
Hank Williams Jr - Country Shadows (Cover G+)
Jesse Colin Young ‎– The Soul Of A City Boy
Jesse Colin Young - Love On The Wing
Jesse Colin Young - Light Shine
Jesse Colin Young - Songbird
Jesse Colin Young - Song For Juli
New Age/Ambient
William Ackerman ‎– Conferring With The Moon
Darol Anger - Barbara Higbie ‎– Tideline
Scott Cossu - Wind Dance
George Cromarty - Wind In The Heather
Alex de Grassi - Southern Exposure
Steven Halpern - Georgia Kelly - Ancient Echoes
Steven Halpern - Prelude
Mannheim Steamroller - Fresh Aire III
Michael Manring - Unusual Weather
Shadowfax ‎– The Dreams Of Children
Vangelis - Heaven And Hell
Vangelis - Opera Sauvage
Vangelis - Spiral
Vangelis - Beaubourg
Vangelis - Mask
Vangelis - Invisible Connections
Vangelis - See You Later
Vangelis - China
Various - Soul Of The Machine -- The Windham Hill Sampler Of New Electronic Music
Andreas Vollenweider ‎– ... Behind The Gardens - Behind The Wall - Under The Tree ...
Paul Winter ‎– Canyon
Hawaiian/Pacific
Alfred Apaka - Aloha Apaka
Bill Kaiwa - Paniolo Country Western
Danny Kapoi Trio - At The Sheraton Maui
Soundtracks
Beauty and The Beast / Of Love and Hope (Music and Poetry)
The Blue Lagoon
Buck Rogers In The 25th Century (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)
Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Dirty Dancing In Concert
Earthquake
Electra Glide In Blue
Fame
Jesus Christ Superstar
Light Of Day
Lisztomania
The Man From Snowy River
The Music Of Cosmos
The Natural (Randy Newman)
Pippin
The Razor’s Edge
The Rocky Horror Show: Original Australian Cast Album
Saturday Night Fever
Shock Treatment Cast ‎– Shock Treatment / Overture
Silent Running
Stand By Me
Superman (Cover VG-)
Times Square
To Sir, With Love
The London Symphony Orchestra And Chambre Choir ‎– Tommy / As Performed By The London Symphony Orchestra And Chambre Choir With Guest Soloists Boxset
Various ‎– Fonzie Favorites
Comedy/Spoken Word
Cheech And Chong - S/T
Cheech And Chong - Get Out Of My Room
The Firesign Theatre - I Think We're All Bozos On This Bus
The Firesign Theatre - Waiting For The Electrician..
The Firesign Theatre - The Giant Rat Of Sumatra
Dick Gregory - At Kent State 2LP
Tom Lehrer - Songs By Tom Lehrer
The Monty Python Instant Record Collection
National Lampoon - White Album
Orson Welles - The Begatting Of The President
Children's
The Chipmunks - Chipmunk Punk
Maurice Evans Reads A. A. Milne ‎– Winnie-The-Pooh
Maurice Evans Reads A. A. Milne ‎– More Winnie-The-Pooh
Pete's Dragon - Disney
The Rescuers (Disney)
Miscellaneous
Boniface Bonnie ‎– Night & Daylight Yeibichei (Native American)
Bonzo Dog Band ‎– Beast Of The Bonzos
Bonzo Dog Band - THe History Of The Bonzos 2LP
Tomita - The Planets
submitted by creature_fear12 to VinylCollectors [link] [comments]


2020.10.17 03:51 myrishfire He Dreams of Lions

He Dreams of Lions
"I'm the pirate king!" Young Embar proclaimed over his cobblestone court, with a mock sword, more like a glorified stick, tucked in his father's old leather belt. The Lyseni tutor next door, Daraxones, only taught him the names of dead men, languages and mathematics. Boring shit. The boy couldn't wait to learn sword fighting proper, like one of the roving men from Braavos clad in black.
Embar Jēnenson sat on a wall and let his legs dangle over the edge. He was small for a ten-year-old boy and deeply tanned from the sun, indistiguishable from a street rat if not for the traditional golden bulla around his neck. All boys in Myr wore them until they became men to ward off evil spirits. But any adult that looked at him for more than a few minutes could see past that and sense the air of neglect he carried; a face pinched from not quite enough food, scrapes and bruises on his arms that couldn't all be accidental.
His father's villa was located in the Topaz District though they were a family of common blood. The pack of half dozen boys he ran with all came from places dirtier and lower. A natural leader Embar commanded them with the toy one of his father’s business partners had given him. Their mission: knocking over animals in the market in their tiny cages and pelting old men with stolen fruit. It was an even jollier good time for the Myrish youth to harass slaves, knock their burdens from their arms or throw rocks at them because they couldn't fight back. A few girls were in their pack so if things went bad they could simper and cry.
"If you see anyone from Lys, give them a good whack, your Majesty.” One of the six scruffy boys who went by the name of Rang commented, kicking at the pigeon he had shot with his slingshot. The thing fluttered pathetically in the dirt. "When my little brother disappeared, it was the Lyseni that got 'em. "
"He ran away on a ship, he did." insisted another of the boys.
"it's no matter what's true, they do the same thing to little boys on ships." Another one of the boys told Rang, joining in on the pigeon-stomping.
Laughing ferociously they saved the poor thing's skull for last.
When he wasn’t being a nuisance or leading others to cause a ruckus Embar would go down to the biggest dock in the entire city. He went there not to watch the ships go out but the pirates come in. They were so much more fascinating than any of the city's nobilty, so much more... shiny. He’d seen a she-pirate with long gilded fingernails shaped into talons and a black-skinned man with pants entirely covered in coloured feathers.
Bored of the bird the boys started off in a cluster to go and try to steal some Myrish firewine or beer. Last time they'd gotten their hands on some wine they'd all tried a slurp and then fallen alseep in a heap. Amongst the spicesellers, the red priests, and even a fearsome pair of Unsullied Embar thought he recognized a hooded figure- too late, his father's concubine spotted her stepson and sent her fish-carrying guards after him.
"Where have you been?!" Vorira Hestah, the grumpiest of his father's concubines, snapped as the two burly men seized Embar by the collar of his shirt and wrist.
"Gerroff-"
"Masters Vonto and Hespeth are coming for dinner and your father wants you there-"
Embar spat when she said 'your father', causing the woman to slap him so hard it made his teeth rattle.
"No respect, for the man that feeds you, gives you a roof and clothes. If I had my way we'd have given you to the red temple to be a soldier or worse."
On their route back they passed a vertiable parade of crossbowman streaming down the road. The men and occasional woman were instantly set upon by various craftsmen hawking gloves that gave a better grip, bolts that were lighter and flew faster.
There were high walls surrounding the compound of red tile roof and stucco walls. Olive trees painstakingly maintained by slaves created shade and flowered vines made the air cloyingly sweet in spring. A naked woman made of marble cavorted in fountain along with an obese baby. In other words, it would have been a peaceful home if the man that owned it had chosen to make it so.
Case in point as Embar, Vorira and the two guards entered a woman was weeping from one of the open windows on the second floor. His father's concubines were Vorira, Erinora and Mirza. The only one he'd been anything bordering on close to was Orara. The brown-haired woman from Qohor had given him a kitten and held his hand when they went to the market... but she disappeared when Jēnen found out she had gotten with child. When Embar, six at the time, was serving his father and the women food that week the fare was extra luxurious.
When the polished wooden gates were opened for them he half-hoped to see Daraxones waiting for him, to whisk him away. The old slave was really the only person in the world who cared for him. Perhaps a lifetime of being treated like property was what motivated the man to make sure the same fate didn't befall the little boy next door when he had the birth advantage. No, through his lessons and teaching Embar languages, history, mathematics and court manners Daraxones was determined to keep him from falling through the cracks.
Embar's father and his associates were set up in the atrium with refreshments. The most comely slaves of their household stood obediently by with fans and refreshment.
"Quit bothering us, bastard boy." Jēnen was almost as fat as the chaise he lounged upon and his fingers dripped with jewels. Surrounding him were two of his regular business partners, a Pentoshi and a Lyseni man, the Lyseni being prone to trying to treat Embar like one of his little slave boys from time to time.
Just arriving Embar already made to leave them but his toy sword knocked over the pedestal that held his father's flagon of wine and bowl of grapes, making the other man sigh with annoyance. He channeled his rage into a sharp whack of his ebonwood cane to the back of Embar's knees that knocked his son flat. The boy hit the cool stone floor with a jolt and tears burned in his eyes.
Embar retreated to the room of the villa that was his and curled up on the bed, crying into the threadbare blanket. His knees were bleeding from where he'd fallen and they throbbed with every heartbeat. He had a few toys typical of Myrish youth: board games, books and little painted mechanical soldiers. A wicker chair was in the otherwise spartan room along with a few other things fit for a boy of his age. He'd stopped playing with toys ages ago once he started roaming the street in search of activities more dangerous.
He'd given up on hoping that someone would ever sing for him when he was sick or hurt, as the people that were supposed to do it were sick and often the ones that hurt him.
When Jēnen let Embar be his son was irregular. Most days he ate with the household slaves and wore little better than them, working the same long hours in one of his father's warehouses. It looked like today he was allowed to be part of the family, for now scrunched under him on the bed was a starched white tunic. Curious about what kind of food they'd be having he scrubbed his face in an actual mirror and tamed his raven-coloured hair with a comb of bronze. It would have been ragged and shoulder-length like a girl's if Daraxones hadn't seen to it. There was an angry red welt on his cheek where the woman had hit him. Such was the origin of the marks on his arm that weren't the result of street scuffles. At least his father tried making him look loved; there were also brand-new sandals in the room, leather encrusted with semiprecious stones.
The quasi- drunk voices wafted from the triclinium. "His mother was a Dornish princess that I seduced on her own wedding night. The slut chose me, me! Over whatever lord she was meant to bed." Every time he told the story it became more and more.... 'impressive' to whatever rich men he had over for dinner. In truth his son had been told that his mother was a loose, teenaged Essos fetishist that had been looking for a way to spite her family after they made her an undesirable match.
"Prepare to be a grandfather in the next ten years or so." The perverse Pentoshi shoveled a large forkful of lamb drizzled with a thick creamy sauce into his mouth. "You know what they say about bastards in Westeros."
None of them seemed at all concerned that they were speaking like this about a young, innocent child. The Lyseni glanced over at the boy as if he were another thing on the table. "He could use a little fattening up… then I could put him in one of my pleasure houses. I'd send him back to entertain your guests once his best days are behind him." Again, this was a boy they were talking about as if he were a horse. "You also wouldn't have to worry about bastards then. You see, it's just a little cut.."
Embar nearly choked on the eel he was taking a bite out of when he felt the clammy hand of the Lyseni on his knee, surely meaning to climb up his thigh. With not a moment of hesitation the boy jammed his fork as hard as he could into the man's hand. The perfumed man screeched and his ridiculous tiara fell off. "You little fucker!"
For good measure Embar picked up the man’s polished plate and slung it into his powdered face with all his strength. Blood spurted over the table and over the glorious food, making his father roar with fury. The ebon wood stick came whistling through the air but his son dodged.
He bolted down the road, bejeweled leather sandals slapping on the streets. He only stopped when he saw the unsullied walk by, guarding some fancy lady's litter. Myr was as alive at night, but not as alive as he only remaining refuge, the sea.
submitted by myrishfire to u/myrishfire [link] [comments]


2020.10.16 08:33 dcvarela Fat mother naked

If you had told the piano man, “in a week life's gonna change for the better,” he would have finished his whiskey and chuckled at the very notion of better. He knew that his show was just about over and that the third act wasn't going to get any better. He had long ago given up on the idea of better for himself. He had seen better, he knew it was real, and hell he even hoped that some people got that better they wanted or needed, but for him hell he was content with the stability that he had. He had his apartment, his car, and his bourbon. He didn't really think he needed anything else other than that. The piano man was content to tickle the ivory and serenade the betties as he’d always done.
And there he sat at the piano on a Sunday in the smoky quiet room playing over the din of relaxed conversation. The room was so abuzz that you'd mistake the sound for silence at times, but he knew if you focused the still room was abuzz with people talking, drinks shaking, and glasses clinking in toast. The piano man knew that if he fiddled with these keys just right he could change the whole feeling of the room. Make the crowd rowdy or lull them to rest. He could make everyone want to take their partners home or just piss them off. But tonight, he just wanted his people to dance, so picking up the keys he played a jig that he knew would get the cute bartender moving, and when she started swinging her hips there was no one that could resist dancing. It’ll go on like that all night, the piano man playing songs to get the people dancing until the late hour demanded a slower and slower tune.
Soon it was just him, and the cute bartender. The piano man had a way with bar maidens, but he never turned his charm on her and he could never really tell you why other than he just hadn't. She was too young and sweet to be prowling around with an old cat like him. As the tune died out and he drained his last whiskey of the night, he shrugged on his coat and donned his hat giving the lovely girl a wink as he made his way out so she could lock up. It was a usual night and a good night, and like on every night that was good and usual he threw a cigarette between his lips and fumbled with his lighter. However unlike every night a smartly dressed woman approached with a lighter. The piano man accepted the light tilting his head toward her and catching a whiff of lavender perfume right before the smell of burning tobacco filled his lungs.
“Hello I’m Tiffany,” she said with a warm voice that knew the taste of bourbon tonight. “Funny thing, I asked the staff what your name was and they all just called you the piano man.”
“Well maybe that's the way I like it.” He replied, flashing his heart melting grin. “What’s a fine number like you asking about a washed up piano man?” He pulled the sweet blue smoke in, and watched the light off the cherry dance of her emerald irisus.
“Well I like the way you play.” She pulled a card out of her purse handing it to him between her middle and index finger. “I’m a talent agent.” He took the card and looked over the details and he took another pull with a slow exhale.
“Well Mrs. Tiffany,” He started.
“It’s Miss.” she interrupted flashing a coy smile of her own. The piano man chuckled as he put the card in his back pocket, and pulled out his pack of strikes offering her the pack.
“Well Miss Tiffany,” he started again as she pulled a smoke from the pack and lit it. “What are you doing scouting out a crusty old lounge singer on this side of town?”
“I was actually just out for a drink,” she said leaning against a wall. “Just happened to stumble into the right place at the right time I suppose.”
“Well lucky me I suppose,” he replied while leaning his back against the same wall. Taking a long pull off his smoke he took some time to remember all the times talent agents came nosing around looking to make his life “better”. He sighed and pulled a flask from his back pocket and offered it to the talent agent. “Do you like ham and cheese sandwiches?” the non sequitur caught Tiffany off guard.
“I’m sorry?” she replied visibly confused.
“There's this diner around the corner,” Piano man continued, and taking a draw from the flask since she hadn't taken the opportunity. “Make these great ham and cheese sandwiches with this thick sweet white sauce and a fried egg. Are you hungry?” The fine woman smiled and nodded her head, so the piano man took her arm and walked them to the diner humming a tune as they walked.
As they walked into the diner the host recognized the piano man, and she guided them to the usual booth he sat in the corner. She stopped to take Tiffany’s drink order, and sent a knowing wink in the piano man's direction. The host returned shortly with their coffees and asked if Tiffany needed cream or sugar, but she shook her head, and the girl left the two to talk things over.
“I’ll take it you come here often,” Said the agent , obviously knowing. “Still have that flask?” the piano man smiled and retrieved the flask, and watched her pour a generous amount into her coffee and he did the same.
“Few times a week,” the piano man replied while sipping the warm brew in the porcelain cup. “It's close to the bar and close to home.”
“A man of routine?”
“More of a man who knows the good things when they are near.” he replied brushing dust off of his hat on the table.
“But what if there was more?” she said eyeing him with a sultry eye. He’d heard this pitch before and knew where it was going. His eyes drifted off at this point toward the kitchen window as she talked. She was talking about opportunities and the illustrious “better”, but he just watched the cooks slinging out bacon and eggs for the late night customers on the restaurant floor.
“Am I boring you?” She asked after a while. He snapped his attention back to the lovely lady across from him. “Look I can tell you've heard the pitch before.” She played with her hair and penetrated him with her eyes.
“I apologize,” he replied, taking another drink of his coffee. “I’ve heard this pitch many times before darling. This same pitch has floated my way a few times with the same promises time and time again. You're gonna tell me about the record deals and the money and the clothes. And coming from your lips, the words will sound like honey, but that all they will be, just words. I don’t blame you for it, and I'm sure you have done good for your clients, but you misunderstand the fundamentals of better for myself.”
“And what would this fundamental i don't understand be?” she asked all ears. She leaned forward as the food arrived at the table. Piano man tucked into his sandwich breaking the egg yolk with a fork and starting into the late night meal.
“You should eat before it gets cold.” He said when she hadn't touched her sandwich yet. She copied him, breaking the egg and mixing it around, and took a bite enjoying the creamy sweet and savory of the dish. He watched her face as it melted into bliss at the taste and she slightly moned in enjoyment. “Good right,” he said and she nodded her head in agreement. “I’ve been coming to this joint since I first started playing piano.” Nostalgia spread across his face ah he first remembered tasting this ham and cheese sandwich.
“How long ago was that?” asked Tiffany, only half paying attention engrossed in her sandwich.
“About twenty five years ago.” He watched her eat while he reminisced about learning chords and finger exercises for the first time. “My first instructor used to bring me here when we would finish practice.”
“Your instructor, who was he?” She asked picking at the last bits on her sandwich.
“Come on I’ll tell you over a nightcap.” He said standing from the table, and affixing his hat.
“What about the check?” she asked, confused as he laid down a ten spot.
“Me and the owners have an arrangement, come on my pad is close by.” He said offering his left arm as they walked from the table, and as they exited the diner he tugged his hat a little while passing the host who blushed a little. “My place is close by.” He said guiding her down the street. As the few cars passed on the sleepy little street he started to hum again, as he again pulled the cigarettes from his pocket and offered her a smoke. She took one and he drew out a white stick for himself as he again fumbled with his lighter, and lit both of their cigarettes at the same time. He smelled her lavender as it stirred something within him.
“So how far is this your place?” she asked, and he couldn't help but notice a blush forming in her cheeks.
“Not far,” he said, opening a glass door to a dark set of stairs on the side of the diner. “After you madam.” he said bowing a little. Tiffany gave the piano man a quick look up and down as she entered the hallway, taking a puff from her smoke, and climbed the stairs. He couldn’t help but notice the pronounced switch in her step. As she approached the top of the stairs she noticed that there was only one door at the top, and piano man snuggled close to her as he unlocked the door into a dark apartment. She stepped through with some scepticism, but was taken aback when he flipped on the light revealing a beautifully appointed apartment.
“Well, you certainly have a beautiful place.” She said, as he took her coat, while taking a drag off of her cigarette.
“Thank you,” he replied as he hung the coat by the door. He then moved to the cabinet in his kitchenette and retrieved two glasses, and prepared a generous pour into each tumbler. “Been living here since I was eighteen.”
“Here?” she replied slightly astonished. “Why have you been here so long.”
“Well it's always been a good deal.” He said, handing her the glass. He killed his cigarette and ashed the butt in an ashtray on the coffee table while setting the bottle by it and sat on an old, but comfortable coach while she did the same opposite him. “My instructor helped me get this place way back when.”
“You still haven’t told me who he is.” she said, propping an elbow on the back of the coach to look at him. He took a long pull and did the same resting his hand by her elbow.
“His name was Carlo.” his smile faltered a little bit remembering the man. “He was a tough New York Italian man, who pushed me to be better. He died of cancer about five years back.” She took a long pull as she listened to him talk, hearing the growing passion in his voice. “He helped me all through my youth, from shaving for my first date to helping me pick out a suit for prom, always giving me little tips and pointers. He even entered me into my first piano competition, without me knowing until we pulled up to the concert hall of course.”
“He sounds great, but what about your parents?” The more she learned about this strange piano man the more confused she became.
“I’ve never met them.” he took another pull as she rested her hand against his forearm. It was soft as satin. “I came up in a foster home, and my instructor was one of the few stable figures in my life until I turned eighteen, and the closest thing to a father I’ve ever had.”
“Have you ever tried to track down your birth parents?” Piano man couldn't help but roll his eyes and laugh at the question that seemed to plague every one who found out he grew up in the system.
“I have not tried to find my birth parents.” he said looking into her crystal blue eyes. “ I always figured they had a reason for giving me out, and I’m going to respect it until life sees otherwise.” She looked at the man sitting across from him and drained her glass. Piano man refiled their glasses. “What about your parents. What was family life like for you?”
“Things were normal I guess.” she looked off toward the one window in the apartment. “Dad worked as a mechanic and was busy all the time. Mom was a music teacher at the high school I went to.”
“So your daddy loves music.” he took a slug of bourbon, and brushed a lock of hair from her face. Her gaze fell back to him.
“He loves Jazz, and my mother wanted to be a jazz musician, but she was never able to break in and became a teacher.”
“Do you play?”
“Not as good as you.”
“Show me,” He said while standing and offering a hand. Taken aback she looked over to the piano in the corner of the room and back at him. A smile creeped onto her face, as she took his hand.
“I haven’t played in ages.” she protested as they moved toward the piano. Setting their drinks down on top of the piano they sat, and the piano man tinkled a few keys, then nudged her to play. She nervously placed her hands on the keys and started to play, as he got the melody the piano man started to improvise rifing off her and keeping time even when she changes speed. Occasionally she would have a misstep and he would give her tips or move her hand getting in close to smell her aroma of lavender, whiskey and cigarettes. He wrapped an arm around her and began to play around her, and as the two got closer the music slower, until the two were cheek on cheek, and sharing the same air. Tiffany stopped playing and reached up a hand to touch his face, and tilted his head toward hers. Their lips touched and they sank into each other.
They woke the next morning still tangled around one another. Tiffany kissed him as the effects of sleep began to wear off. Piano man touched her face and ran his hand up and down her naked form. And they stayed like that for a long time just feeling each other.
“I need coffee.” she eventually said breaking the silence. Piano man laughed as he got out of bed and put on a shirt and shorts. Making his way to the kitchen he put a kettle on the stove and prepared a french press with grounds and two porcelain cups. As the kettle began to whistle Tiffany made her war to the kitchenette bar wearing her underwear and a white tee shirt. He poured the coffee into the french press and let the flask sit. The two sat in comfortable silence as the piano man dropped a pan onto the four burner stove. He made his way over to the fridge and retrieved a packet of bacon and four eggs. As the pan began to smoke he dropped four slices of bacon into the pan and dropped the heat. As the bacon browned he turned to tiffany.
“How do you like your eggs?” he asked as he cracked two eggs into a bowl and started to beat them.
“Scrambled,” she replied saddling up to a bar stool. She watched him crack two more eggs into the bowl, and add cream and salt while still beating until the eggs were frothy and stiff. He removed the bacon and placed them into a cacoo of paper towel and added the egg to the pan directly into the bacon fat. Further lowering the heat of the pan, the piano man grabbed two plates from a cupboard and set them in front of Tiffany placing two pieces of bacon on each plate. As the eggs finished he portioned the egg into the plates as even as possible and nodded to Tiffany to take the plate she wished to have while pouring the coffee into the mugs. He watched her start into her bacon, eggs, and coffee as she again moned over the food in front of her.
“These are some of the best eggs i've ever eaten.” she said, as she watched him pour a shot of lesser bourbon into his cup. Giving him the eye he proceeded to add a shot to her cup.
“Carlo taught me how to cook eggs,” he said, taking a bite of the bacon. “Very french he used to say” taking a pull from his coffee.
“What do you mean french?” she asked, eating the eggs and taking a bite of bacon.
“I honestly have no clue.” he replied, taking a bite of his own plate. The both chuckled as they ate. “Carlo was a funny guy, he always had these little jokes and sayings that lightened the mood.”
“Yeah, let me hear one.” she said taking a drink and playing with her eggs.
“Okay,” he said, taking a drink and trying to remember a good one. “Oh, so there is a plane about to crash. It had four people on board, but only three parachutes. The first guy grabs a pack saying i'm the smartest man in the world, and I need to continue my research. He jumps out of the plane. The next guy just so happens to be the pope, so he grabs a pack and says I need to survive for my flock. He jumps out of the plane. Then it's just the pilot and a kid, so the pilot says to the kid, you're just a kid, and you have your whole life ahead of you, so take the last pack. Then the kid says, We still have two shoots, because the world's smartest man took my backpack.” Tiffanylaughed chocking a bit on her coffee.
“That was a dumb joke,” she said through a smile.
“You still laughed.” he replied, finishing his coffee.
“Well thank you for a good time and the breakfast, but I have to go.” she said standing and placing a peck on his lips. “I have to atleast make an appearance at the office.”
“Going to tell them about your piano man.” he joked following her to the bedroom and watched as she dressed.
“Nah I think i’m going to keep you all to myself.” she smiled, buttoning her blouse. “Besides now I have a new favorite bar, and i'd rather keep it less crowded.”
“So When do I get to see you again?” He asked while massaging his hands.
“When do you want to?” she asked sidling up to him and placing a hand on his chest.
“How about tonight?” He grabbed her hips. “Swing by the bar and get a front row seat to the show.” She smiled and kissed him while moving around him, retrieved her purse and pulled a business card out, placing it on the counter. He watched her leave through the door sending a wink in his direction. Piano man moved over to the counter and picked up the card, tapping it against his finger and smiling while clipping it to the fridge. He did the dishes then sat at his piano and began to play a song letting the music flow out of him.
As he played he pondered the term better again he couldn’t tell if this was indeed better. It was new and interesting, and Tiffany certan was fetching. Time would tell if it was him though, but for now in this moment it was just him and piano tinkling away the day.
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2020.10.12 12:04 FollowtheAlmightyGod Naked fat mother

By Li Zhi, Liaoning Province
In the year 2000, I was fortunate enough to hear the kingdom gospel of Almighty God. By reading God’s words, I came to understand the mystery of God’s names, the mystery of God’s incarnations, and the truths regarding things such as how God’s three stages of work save mankind, and how they thoroughly change, purify and perfect man. I became certain that Almighty God is the Lord Jesus returned, and I gladly accepted God’s kingdom gospel. After that, I actively joined in with the church life, and with spreading the gospel and bearing witness for God. In 2002, I became known around the local area for preaching the gospel and was in constant danger of being arrested by the CCP police. I had no choice but to flee my home so that I could continue to perform my duty.
The CCP government has always used telephones as a means to monitor and arrest Christians, so I didn’t dare call my family after I left home. By early 2003 I had been apart from my family for almost a year, so I went to my mother-in-law’s home to see my husband because I missed them so much. When he saw that I had gone back my husband’s younger brother called my mom and told her that I was at my mother-in-law’s house. To my surprise, three hours later, four policemen from the Municipal Public Security Bureau came to my mother-in-law’s house in a police car. The moment they entered the house, they said to me fiercely, “We’re from the Municipal Public Security Bureau. You’re Li Zhi, right? You’ve been on our wanted list for almost a year, and now we’ve finally got you! You’re coming with us!” I was incredibly afraid; and I prayed to God in my heart nonstop: “O Almighty God! The CCP government is arresting me today by Your permission. But I’m of such small stature, and I feel timid and afraid. Please guide me and protect me, and grant me faith and strength. No matter how they treat me, I wish to rely on You and stand witness. I’d rather go to prison than be a Judas and betray You!” After praying, I thought of these words from God: “His disposition is the symbol of authority, the symbol of all that is righteous, the symbol of all that is beautiful and good. More than that, it is a symbol of Him who cannot be[a] overcome or invaded by the darkness and any enemy force …” (“It Is Very Important to Understand God’s Disposition” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). “That’s right,” I thought to myself. “God holds sovereignty and rules over all things. Over the past few years, the CCP government has done all it can to disrupt and obstruct the spreading of God’s kingdom gospel, and yet those of every religion and denomination who sincerely believe in God and hear God’s voice have returned before His throne to accept His salvation in the last days. It’s clear from this that no force can halt God’s work, and no human being can stand in its way. Although I have now fallen into the hands of the CCP police, they themselves are in God’s hands, and with God by my side there is nothing to fear!” God’s words gave me faith and strength, and I gradually began to calm down.
I was escorted to an interrogation room after we arrived at the Municipal Public Security Bureau. The police took away my belt, removed my clothing, shoes and socks, and then searched me. Afterward, one of the policemen shouted, “You just be quick and tell us everything you know. How many years have you been a believer? Who preached it to you? Who are your church leaders? How many people have you preached it to? What do you do in the church?” I didn’t answer his questions, immediately embarrassing him into anger, and he yelled, “If you don’t start talking, then we have plenty of ways to make you talk!” While saying this he aggressively dragged me from the chair down onto the floor. Two officers treaded on my legs while two others stomped hard on my back. My head was nearly slammed into the floor and I was finding it hard to draw breath. One of the policemen then took a pencil and lightly drew it back and forth along the arches of my feet, hurting and tickling me at the same time. It was unbearable; it was so hard to breathe that I was on the verge of suffocating, and the fear of death came upon me. One of them proceeded to threaten me: “Are you going to talk or not? If not, we’ll torture you to death!” I felt really afraid in the face of the torment and intimidation of this police gang; I was worried that they would torture me to death. All I could do was keep praying to God, asking Him to grant me faith and strength, and to protect me so that I might stand witness and never become a Judas and betray Him. After praying, these words of God came to mind: “Faith is like a single log bridge, those who cling abjectly to life will have difficulty in crossing it, but those who are ready to sacrifice themselves can pass over without worry. If man has timid and fearful thoughts, they are being fooled by Satan. It fears that we will cross the bridge of faith to enter into God” (“Chapter 6” of Utterances of Christ in the Beginning in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Inspired by God’s words, I immediately felt strength rise up within me, and I realized that my timidity and fear of death were the result of being toyed with by Satan. The CCP government was vainly hoping to subject me to cruel torture as a way to force me to give in to its despotic power, to make me sell out the church and become a God-betraying Judas because I was afraid of dying or I didn’t want to suffer any pain. There was no way I could allow Satan’s cunning plot to succeed, and I decided I would stand witness for God even at the cost of my own life. The police continued torturing me the same way, but I no longer felt so afraid. I knew then that this was God showing me His mercy and protection, and I felt incredibly grateful to Him.
Two of the policemen then cuffed me back on the chair and sternly asked me the same questions again. Seeing that I still made no answer, they intensified the torture. They pulled my arms out straight and then forcefully pulled them back and up behind me. Instantly, they felt like they were going to snap and the rending pain of it made me break out in a full-body sweat; I couldn’t help but let out a scream. They then pulled up my legs so that my feet were above my head, and then pulled my legs in opposite directions. The tearing agony of it caused me to almost black out. In my heart, I just kept praying to God: “O Almighty God! Please grant me faith and strength and the determination to endure this pain. May You be my staunch backup that gives strength to my spirit. No matter what cruel tricks this gang of demons uses on me, I will always rely on You and stand witness.” After I’d prayed, a hymn of God’s words appeared in my mind: “While undergoing trials, it’s normal for people to be weak, or have negativity within them, or to lack clarity on God’s will or their path for practice. But in any case, you must have faith in God’s work, and not deny God, like Job. … This way, what is perfected are people’s faith and aspirations. You cannot touch or see it; it is under these circumstances that your faith is required. People’s faith is required for when something cannot be seen by the naked eye, and your faith is required for when you cannot let go of your own notions. When you are not clear on God’s work, what is required is your faith and that you take a firm stance and stand witness. When Job reached this point, God appeared to him and spoke to him. That is, it is only from within your faith that you will be able to see God, and when you have faith God will perfect you” (“Trials Call for Faith” in Follow the Lamb and Sing New Songs). God’s words gave me great faith and strength. I thought of the immense trials Job went through, when his whole body was wracked with painful boils and he suffered terrible pain. And yet, despite his pain, he was still able to seek God’s will; he didn’t sin with his words or deny God, but instead he obeyed God and extolled God’s holy name. Job possessed true faith and reverence for God, and that is why he was able to stand witness for God and utterly shame and defeat Satan—ultimately, God appeared and spoke to him. The adversity and trial that had now befallen me had also been permitted by God. Although I didn’t fully understand God’s will and my flesh was suffering extreme pain, yet it was God who had the final say on whether I lived or died, and without His permission, the police could never take my life no matter how much they tortured me. These policemen looked ferocious on the outside, but before God they were just paper tigers, just tools in God’s hands. God was using their brutality and persecution to perfect my faith, and I wished to stay loyal to God, to hand myself over completely into His hands, and to rely on God to overcome Satan and no longer to fear the policemen.
The police tortured me repeatedly. Seeing that I still wasn’t talking, one of the policemen picked up a white steel ruler about 50 cm long and began to viciously hit me across the face with it. I’ve no idea how many times he hit me with it; my face swelled up and it was burning with pain. All I could see was stars floating before my eyes and my head was buzzing. Two of the policemen then used the heels of their leather shoes to stomp down on my thighs. Each blow left me wracked with excruciating pain. In my suffering, all I could do was call out to God in earnest in my heart, asking Him to protect me so that I might overcome the cruel torture inflicted on me by the CCP police.
At 8 a.m. the next morning, the head of the Criminal Police Brigade entered the interrogation room. Upon learning that the police hadn’t been able to get any information out of me, he said fiercely, “You’re refusing to talk, aren’t you? Hmph! We’ll see about that!” And then he left. That afternoon, a fat officer with an ID card in his hand came up to me and asked, “Do you know this person?” I immediately saw that it was a church sister from the same village as me. I thought to myself: “No matter what, I must not sell out my sister.” And so, I responded, “No, I don’t know her.” His eyes narrowed, and he picked up an electroshock baton that was lying on the table. Waving it before my face, threateningly he said, “You’re a stubborn one. We know you’re a leader in the church, so fess up! How many members are there in your church? Where is the church’s money? If you don’t tell me, I’ll give you a taste of this electroshock baton!” Looking at the policeman’s malevolent face, I felt extremely afraid and hurriedly said a silent prayer to God. Just then, God’s words came to mind: “Do not fear, Almighty God of hosts will surely be with you; He has your back and He is your shield” (“Chapter 26” of Utterances of Christ in the Beginning in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Possessed of authority, God’s words gave me faith and strength and I instantly felt like I had something to lean on. I thought to myself: “God is almighty, and no matter how fiendish Satan and demons are, are they not also in God’s hands? With Almighty God as my staunch backup, I have nothing to fear!” I therefore replied casually, “I don’t know anything.” The fat policeman said maliciously, “This is what you get for not knowing anything!” As he said this, he touched my handcuffs with the electroshock baton and a powerful surge of electric current shot through my whole body in an unbearably painful wave—the agony was indescribable. The policeman continued to shock me with the baton, and just when I nearly couldn’t stand it any longer, a miracle happened: It ran out of power! I had witnessed God’s almightiness and sovereignty, and moreover I had experienced the fact that God is always by my side, watching over me, protecting me, and taking my weakness into consideration. My faith grew and my resolve to stand witness for God was strengthened.
The police later saw that I still wasn’t going to talk, and so in twos they took it in turns to watch me. They wouldn’t let me eat, drink or even sleep. The moment I began to doze off, they would beat and kick me, hoping that this would break my will. God guided me to see through their cunning scheme, however, and I prayed silently to God, sang hymns in my mind and contemplated God’s words and, before I knew it, my spirits rose. These policemen, on the other hand, were constantly drinking coffee and yet were still so tired that they kept yawning. One of them said in astonishment, “She must have some kind of magical power keeping her going, otherwise how else is she finding all this energy?” Hearing the policeman say this, I praised the great power of God over and over, for I knew well in my heart that all of this was down to the guidance of God’s words, and that it was God’s own life force holding me up and granting me faith and strength. Although I didn’t then know what other kinds of cruel torture the police had in store for me, I had the faith to rely on God to face the interrogations to come, and I resolved: I will never submit to the despotic power of the CCP government, but will stand witness for God!
On the evening of the third day, the head of the Criminal Police Brigade poured me a cup of hot water and, feigning concern, said, “Don’t be stupid now. Someone else has sold you out already, so what’s the point in enduring all this for other people? Just tell me everything you know and I promise to let you go. Your son is still young and needs his mother’s love. You could have a good life, and yet you waste it believing in some God! God cannot save you, but we can. We can help you with any difficulty you may have, and we can help you find a good job when you get out of here….” As I listened to him talk, I couldn’t help but think of my young son, wondering how he had been since my arrest. Would my unbelieving friends and relatives mock him? Would his classmates at school bully him? Just as I was beginning to weaken, God enlightened me with a passage of His words: “You must be awake and waiting at every moment, and you must pray more before Me. You must recognize the various plots and cunning schemes of Satan, know the spirit, know people and be able to discern all kinds of people, matters and things …” (“Chapter 17” of Utterances of Christ in the Beginning in The Word Appears in the Flesh). Inspired by God’s words, I came to the clear realization that Satan was using my feelings for my family to lure me into betraying God. Satan knew that I loved my son most of all and was using the police as its mouthpiece to attack and tempt me, and to make my love for my son cause me to sell out my brothers and sisters. I would then become a God-betraying Judas who would ultimately end up being cursed and punished by God—Satan is so insidious and malicious! I thought about how I couldn’t be with my son to look after him, but wasn’t it all because the CCP government was the enemy of God, and because it frantically arrests and persecutes Christians? And yet the police were saying that it was because I believed in God. By saying this, were they not turning the truth on its head and distorting the facts? The CCP government is so shameless and wicked! And so, no matter what the policeman said, I paid him no attention whatsoever. Seeing that I couldn’t be swayed either by the carrot or the stick, he stalked off in a huff. Under the guidance and protection of God, I had once again overcome Satan’s temptations.
It was after 8 p.m. that evening when the fat policeman returned with a large electroshock baton in hand and three underlings trailing along behind him. They took me to a gym and stripped my clothes off (leaving me just in my underwear), then tied me to a treadmill with a rope. Looking at their faces, each one more malevolent than the last, left me feeling incredibly fearful and helpless, and I had no idea what cruel torture they were going to inflict on me next or how long it would go on for. I felt so weak at that moment and began to have thoughts of death. But straight away, I knew that these thoughts were wrong, and so I hurriedly prayed and called out to God: “O Almighty God! You know my heart, and I don’t want to be a Judas who betrays You and go down in history as a traitor. But my stature is so small, and I feel so pained and weak in the face of this torment—I’m afraid that I won’t be able to stand it and will betray You. O God! Please protect me and grant me faith and strength. Please be with me, guide and lead me, and enable me to stand witness through this cruel torture.” After praying, I thought of God’s words that say: “Thus, during these last days you must bear testimony to God. No matter how great your suffering, you should go on to the very end, and even at your last breath, still you must be faithful to God, and at the mercy of God; only this is truly loving God, and only this is the strong and resounding testimony” (“Only by Experiencing Painful Trials Can You Know the Loveliness of God” in The Word Appears in the Flesh). God’s words brought me comfort and encouragement. They allowed me to understand that God was permitting this cruel torture to be inflicted upon me so that true faith and love might be wrought within me, so that I might continue to stay loyal to God through my suffering, submit to God’s orchestrations and arrangements, and stand witness by leaning on God’s words no matter how great the trial or how terrible the pain. Having understood God’s will, the courage and resolve to fight Satan to the bitter end instantly arose within me, and I made this resolution: No matter what torture I still have to go through, I wish to keep on living, and no matter how great my suffering becomes, I will follow God till my very last breath!
Just then, the fat policeman, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, came over and asked, “Will you talk or not?” Resolutely, I replied, “You can beat me to death, but I still don’t know anything.” In a fury, he flung his cigarette onto the floor and, seething with rage, he jammed the electroshock baton into my back and thighs over and over again. The excruciating pain made me break out in a cold sweat all over my body, and I just kept wailing pitifully. While jamming the baton into me, he roared, “This is what you get for not talking! I’ll make you scream, and we’ll see how long you last!” The other officers in the room standing off to the side laughed raucously and said, “How come your God doesn’t come to save you?” They also said many other things blaspheming God. Seeing their demonic faces, I called earnestly on God to grant me the faith and strength so that I might endure the pain and wipe that smile off Satan’s face. After praying, I clenched my mouth shut and refused to make another sound no matter how they tormented me. They electrocuted me constantly. When one electroshock baton ran out of power, they swapped it for another, and I was tortured to the point that my mind was all a blur and death seemed preferable to life. I couldn’t move a muscle and, seeing me become still, they thought I’d passed out. They threw cold water over me to wake me and then continued to electrocute me. In my pain, I thought of God’s words that say: “This gang of accomplices![1] They come down among the mortals to indulge in pleasures and stir up disorder. Their disturbance causes fickleness in the world and brings panic in the heart of man…. They even wish to assume power as tyrants on earth. They impede the work of God so that it can barely move forward and close off man as if behind walls of copper and steel. Having committed so many sins and caused so much trouble, how could they expect anything other than to wait for chastisement? Demons and evil spirits have been running amok on earth and have closed off the will and painstaking effort of God, making them impenetrable. What a mortal sin! How could God not feel anxious? How could God not feel wrathful? They cause grievous hindrance and opposition to the work of God. Too rebellious! Even those demons big and small become haughty on the strength of the more powerful devil and begin to make waves” (“Work and Entry (7)” in The Word Appears in the Flesh).
The enlightenment of God’s words allowed me to see clearly the true face of the CCP government. It utterly hates the truth and God, and it is terrified of Almighty God’s words spreading far and wide. To maintain its rule forever, it does all it can to stop God’s kingdom gospel from spreading, and it stops at nothing to arrest, torture and brutalize God’s chosen ones. The CCP government ravages and persecutes us believers like this because it wants to destroy God’s work in the last days. It does this in an attempt to utterly eradicate religious belief, to stop people from believing in and following God, and to turn China into an atheistic zone, thereby achieving its insane objective of controlling the Chinese people forevermore. Despite the fact that the CCP government proclaims to the outside world that there is “freedom of belief” and “the citizens of China enjoy lawful rights,” in truth, these are all outright lies intended to cheat, dupe and ensnare people, and they are ploys to conceal its evil ways! The CCP government behaves perversely and acts contrary to Heaven, and its essence is that of the devil Satan, of an enemy of God! Right at that moment, I absolutely had to silently make a resolution: I must not allow the painstaking price God has paid for me to have been in vain; I must have determination and a conscience, and no matter what cruel torture I have yet to endure, I will always stand witness for God. Just then, an awesome feeling of justice and righteousness rose up within me, and I felt God by my side, giving me strength. Afterward, no matter how the policemen electrocuted me, I felt no pain. I had once again witnessed God’s wondrous deeds; I became profoundly aware of God’s presence, that it was God protecting me and watching over me. The policemen tortured me for four hours but still obtained no information from me. Out of options, they could do nothing but untie me from the treadmill. I had not an ounce of strength anywhere in my body and I flopped down onto the floor. Two policemen dragged me back to the interrogation room and put me in a chair, then handcuffed me to a central heating pipe. Seeing them look so deflated, I couldn’t stop myself from expressing thanks and praise to God: “O Almighty God! I have experienced Your almightiness and sovereignty, and I see that Your life force can defeat all other forces. Thanks be to God!”
On the fourth day, five policemen came into the interrogation room. One of them carried an electroshock baton and made it crackle with electricity. Days of brutal torture had filled me with terror at the sight of a baton emitting that terrible blue light. An officer who hadn’t questioned me before came and stood before me, jabbed me with the electroshock baton and said, “I hear you’re a tough nut to crack. Today, I’ll see exactly how tough you are. I don’t believe we can’t fix you. Are you going to talk or not? If not, then you’ll meet your end this very day!” I replied, saying, “I don’t know anything.” This embarrassed him into a rage, and he violently dragged me off the chair onto the floor and held me there. Another policeman shoved the electroshock baton up under my shirt, yelling as he shocked my back, “Are you going to talk or not? If not, we’ll kill you!” Faced with their brutality and their hideous, leering faces, I couldn’t help but slip down into a state of terror, and hurriedly I called out to God: “O Almighty God! Please guide me! Please grant me true faith and strength!” The police continued to electrocute me while I wailed nonstop. It felt as though all the blood in my body was running into my head, and it hurt so much that I was covered in sweat and almost blacked out. Seeing that I still wasn’t going to talk, the police began to curse me in their rage. A little later when I was on the verge of passing out, they dragged me back up and cuffed me to the chair again, after which two of them took it in turns to watch me to make sure I didn’t fall asleep. By that time, I hadn’t eaten any food, drunk any water, or had any sleep for four days and nights. Adding to that the cruel torture they were inflicting on me, my body had reached its weakest state. I was both cold and hungry, and the pain of being both starving and freezing cold joined with the throbbing pain of my wounded body—I felt as though my life was nearing its end. In my extremely weakened state, a line of God’s words appeared in my mind: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God” (Matthew 4:4). Pondering this, I understood that only the words of God could be my support to carry on living in such a situation as this, while at the same time I also realized that it was precisely this situation that God was using to perfect my entry into this aspect of the truth. As I contemplated this over and over, I unknowingly forgot all about my suffering, my hunger and the cold.
On the fifth day, the police saw that I was remaining steadfastly silent, and began to threaten me maliciously, saying, “You just wait until you’ve been sentenced. You’ll get seven years at least, but there’s still a chance to avoid it if you start talking now!” I then silently said a prayer to God: “O Almighty God! The CCP police say they will sentence me to seven years in prison, but I know that they don’t have the final say, as my fate is in Your hands. O God! I would rather be imprisoned for the rest of my life and stay on the true way than ever betray You!” After that, the police tried to lure me into betraying God by bringing in my unbelieving husband. When he saw me wearing handcuffs with cuts and bruises all over my whole body, he said miserably to me, “I’ve only ever seen handcuffs on TV. I never thought I’d see them on you.” Hearing him say this and seeing his sorrowful expression, I hurriedly prayed to God, asking Him to protect me so that I wouldn’t be caught by Satan’s trap because of my feelings for my family. After I’d prayed, I said calmly to my husband, “I believe in God, I don’t steal things or rob people. I just go to gatherings and read God’s words, and try to be an honest person as God requires. I haven’t committed any crime, but they want to sentence me to prison.” My husband replied, “I’ll find you a lawyer.” Seeing that my husband wasn’t trying to get me to hand over information about the church and my brothers and sisters, but was instead offering to hire me a lawyer, the policemen dragged him out of the room. I knew that this was God protecting me, because my feelings for my family ran very deep, if my husband had said anything that showed concern for my physical state, I don’t know whether I would have been able to stay strong. It was the guidance and protection of God that enabled me to overcome Satan’s temptation.
The police saw that they hadn’t caught me out and, spluttering with rage, they said, “We’ll give you an injection in a minute which will drive you mad. Then, we’ll let you go, and you won’t even be able to die!” This immediately threw me into a state of anxiety, and terror gripped me once again. I thought about how cruel and evil the CCP government is: Once they arrest someone in charge in the church, and when they still can’t get anything about the church out of them after vicious beatings and torture, they forcibly inject them with drugs that drive them mad and cause them to become schizophrenic—some brothers and sisters have been cruelly tortured and persecuted in this way by the CCP government. My heart began to pound in my chest at that thought, and I wondered: “Will I really be tormented by these CCP minions until I lose my mind and end up wandering around like a lunatic?” The more I thought about it, the more afraid I became, and I couldn’t stop the cold sweat from soaking my body. Hurriedly, I prayed and called out to God: “O Almighty God! The CCP minions want to inject me with drugs to drive me mad, and I’m afraid I’ll become a lunatic. O God! Although I know that I’m supposed to stand witness for You, I feel so timid and fearful right now. O God! Please protect my heart, and grant me true faith so that I might entrust my life and my death to You, and submit to Your orchestrations and arrangements.” Just then, the Lord Jesus’ words came to mind: “And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matthew 10:28). The Lord’s words gave me faith and strength. “Yes,” I thought. “These devils may be able to kill and maim my body, but they cannot kill or maim my soul. Without God’s permission, I will not go crazy even if they do inject me with those drugs.” I then thought of God’s words that say: “When people are ready to sacrifice their lives, everything becomes trifling, and no one can get the better of them. What could be more important than life? Thus, Satan becomes incapable of doing any more in people, there’s nothing it can do with man” (“Chapter 36” of Interpretations of the Mysteries of God’s Words to the Entire Universe in The Word Appears in the Flesh). As I pondered God’s words, the fear I felt deep inside me slowly vanished and I no longer felt that terror. Instead, I became willing to place myself in God’s hands and submit to God’s sovereignty whether I lived or died, and whether I became a lunatic or a simpleton. Just then, a policeman brought over the needle and the drug, and threatened me, saying, “Will you talk or not? If you don’t talk, I’ll inject you with this!” Utterly without fear, I said, “Do what you want. Whatever happens is on you.” Seeing that I wasn’t afraid, he said cruelly, “Go fetch the one with the AIDS virus! We’ll inject her with that.” As I still showed no fear, he clenched his teeth in anger, and said, “You bitch. You’re tougher than Liu Hulan!” He then threw the needle onto the table. I felt elated. Having witnessed how God’s words had guided me to once again humiliate Satan, I couldn’t help but offer up a prayer of gratitude to God. In the end, the police realized that they wouldn’t get the information they wanted out of me, so they walked away dejectedly.
Having played all their cards to no avail, the police could do nothing but send me to a detention house. As soon as I got there, the prison guards incited the other prisoners, saying, “She’s a believer in Eastern Lightning. Give her ‘a warm welcome’!” Before I’d even had a chance to react, several of the prisoners surged toward me and dragged me to the toilet and then, after stripping me of my clothes, proceeded to wash me in freezing cold water. Every pot of cold water poured over me felt like a rock hitting my body, freezing cold and painful, and I became so cold that I was shivering all over. I squatted down on the floor, my head in my hands, calling out to God over and over within my heart. After a while, one of the prisoners said, “OK, OK, that’s enough. Don’t want her getting sick.” The prisoners who were meting out this punishment on me only stopped when they heard that prisoner say this. When she learned that I hadn’t eaten anything in five days, at dinnertime she gave me half of a bun of steamed cornbread. I was well aware that this was God’s consideration for my weakness, moving this prisoner to help me. I saw that God was with me always, and from the bottom of my heart I thanked God for His mercy and salvation.
Inside the detention house, I lived together with all sorts of other prisoners. Every one of our three meals consisted of a piece of steamed cornbread and two strips of salted turnip, or else it was a bowl of cabbage soup with bugs floating in it with hardly any cabbage at all. Once a week, we were given a meal of fine grain, which was still just one steamed bun the size of a fist—it didn’t fill me up at all. Besides reciting the prison rules, every day in that place we were given work quotas for making small handicrafts that were impossible to meet. Because my hands had been damaged by the tight handcuffs and had been electrocuted to the point where I’d lost all feeling in them, and on top of that the handicrafts we had to make were so small, I couldn’t hold them, and was incapable of completing my overload of work. One time, because I hadn’t completed my work, the prison guards made the other prisoners watch me all night to prevent me from falling asleep. I was also frequently punished by being made to stand sentry duty, and was only allowed to sleep for four hours a night. During this time, the CCP police kept questioning me constantly. They had even put my son up to writing me a letter, trying to trick me into betraying God. But under the protection and guidance of God, I was able to see through Satan’s cunning schemes and stand witness time and time again. Despite the fact that they hadn’t managed to obtain anything incriminating, they still charged me with “disrupting public order” and sentenced me to three years of reeducation through labor.
On December 25, 2005, my sentence was served in full and I was released. Having experienced this struggle between justice and wickedness, though I had suffered in both body and mind, I still came to understand many truths, and I saw clearly the God-opposing, demonic essence of the CCP government. I also came to have some real understanding of God’s almightiness, sovereignty, wondrousness, and wisdom, and I truly experienced God’s love for me and His salvation. While those devils were torturing and persecuting me, it was the timely enlightenment and guidance of God’s words that formed my staunch support and that gave me the resolve and the courage to fight with Satan to the bitter end. When Satan was trying all manner of cunning schemes to tempt me and lure me into betraying God, it was God who used His words in the nick of time to caution me and guide me, and to wipe clean the dust from my spiritual eyes so that I could see through Satan’s schemes and stand firm in my testimony; when those demons inflicted terrible torture on me to the point that death seemed preferable and my life hung by a thread, God’s words became the foundation of my survival. They bestowed tremendous faith and strength on me, and enabled me to break free from the hold death had on me. All of these things allowed me to truly see God’s beautiful and kind essence—only God most loves mankind. The CCP government, on the other hand, this gang of Satan and demons, can only corrupt, harm and devour people! Today, in the face of the increasingly savage attacks inflicted upon The Church of Almighty God by the CCP government, I am steadfastly resolved to utterly forsake this old devil the CCP government, to give my heart to God, and to do my utmost to pursue the truth and seek to love God. I will spread God’s kingdom gospel and bring back before God all those who sincerely believe in God, who yearn for the truth, and who have been so deeply deceived by the CCP government, so that I may repay Him for gracing me with His salvation!
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