Bloxburg bed room ideas
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2012.09.01 19:59 IotaGamer We Redesign Rooms
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2023.06.05 15:18 nailooj I (18f) found my boyfriends (19m) piss bag
I usually stay at my boyfriends but i was going to meet my friend so i asked my boyfriend to drive me home. When i realised i forgot my phone in his room i told him he could wait in the car while i get it. I go into his room looking everywhere with no sign of it. That’s when i decide to look under his bed. His nephew (17m) was looking with me when i checked under the bed. That’s when it happened, there was a yellow ziplock bag that looked to be full of some unknown liquid, i poke it and then ask his nephew if he knows what it is. He picks it up and that’s the moment we realised this was most likely piss. His nephew is absolutely disgusted and so was i tbh, but i still wanted to give my boyfriend the benefit of the doubt. Because the idea of me sleeping above a bag of piss wasn’t something i found exciting. When i enter the car with no phone and a confused and grossed out expression my boyfriend ofc asks me what was on my mind. I tell him i found his little contraption and asked him if there was piss in the bag. He gets defensive immidatly. He tells me most men have a piss bag and that i’m being insanely dramatic for telling him to maybe not do that. I want to express how insanely disgusting this is but he’s absolutely convinced that i’m dramatic and he’s perfecly normal. How do i handle this?
submitted by nailooj to copypasta [link] [comments]
2023.06.05 15:17 Bubblebath102 26 [T4M] CD Looking for straight guys to suck off.
I’m looking to hang out with straight tops who are fit/in shape. I’m into giving sloppy head and my bubble butt. Also down for some cool ideas.
We can get to know each other via direct messages or instant messages! Discretion is a MUST as I am not out and want to stay that way. I can host in a motel room in Memorial city and Katy or somewhere nearby. I can also travel.
About me: 26 yo, 5'8" 130lbs, dark brow eyes, nice butt. Blonde or pink wig, young professional. I'm feminine. DDF & 3x vaccinated, on Prep.
submitted by Bubblebath102 to houstonr4r [link] [comments]
We can get to know each other via direct messages or instant messages! Discretion is a MUST as I am not out and want to stay that way. I can host in a motel room in Memorial city and Katy or somewhere nearby. I can also travel.
About me: 26 yo, 5'8" 130lbs, dark brow eyes, nice butt. Blonde or pink wig, young professional. I'm feminine. DDF & 3x vaccinated, on Prep.
2023.06.05 15:15 Salt_Lengthiness508 Master Room at M Vertica KL City Residences, Cheras
 | Virtual 601163816078 submitted by Salt_Lengthiness508 to u/Salt_Lengthiness508 [link] [comments] Whatsapp: https://appoin.me/virtual_xwYH Room Detail: https://appoin.me/rooms_v3HBn Comfortable Private Fully Furnished Room For Rent ✨ ROOM: ✅ Room With Aircond ✅ Complete Bedding Set ✅ Chair ✅ Table ✅ Wardrobe ✅ Personal Fridge ✅ Smart Meter (Room electricity in individual room (whole room) is measured based on smart meter) ✅ Attached Personal Bathroom COMMON AREA ✅ Washing Machine & Dryer ✅ Microwave & Induction Cooker ✅ Water Dispenser ✅ Main Door Smart Lock Rental included 🔴 Fully furnished 🔴 FREE High Speed internet WIFI 🔴 Common Area Cleaning Service 📍 Perfect Location 📍 ➡️ Sunway Velocity Mall ➡️ Walking distance to MRT ➡️ swimming pool, gym, cinema & other facilites Amenities: ➡️ 5 Minutes Walking Distance to LRT/MRT MALURI ➡️ 5 Minutes Walking Distance to AEON MALURI ➡️ 2 Minutes to SUNWAY VELOCITY MALL ➡️ 5 Minutes to IKEA & MyTownKL ➡️ 8 Minutes to ZOUK TREC ➡️ 10 Minutes to Pavillion ➡️ 15 Minutes to KLCC
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2023.06.05 15:15 0liPG37 House tour requested by some people, it's a bit messy but hope y'all like it :) if you wanna see it by yourself I have joins on and my house is always open. If anyone has any idea for new rooms I'll gladly build them! Thx everyone
 | submitted by 0liPG37 to AdoptMeRBX [link] [comments] |
2023.06.05 15:11 haroldkebba I Think My Village Was Haunted By God... [Part 1]
I hope this is the right place and someone can tell me what may have been going on in my village. I moved here a few weeks ago. It's a small village in the heart of Russia and my parents and I came here because things start to get really bad in Moscow and my father lost his job. I don't know why we had to move to this isolated village, so far away from civilization. Maybe my parents wanted peace and quiet? To escape the things in that city, the poisoned minds?
The houses here had all been far below average in price. Almost everyone who lives here has moved here recently.
But, there are crazy rumors about this village that people tell each other. It was found abandoned in the mid-nineties. Where everyone went, no one knows. They say that no signs of people were found at all, nothing. But... everywhere in and around the village… strange patches of earth had been discovered, circular and smooth. Not only in the forest or on the road, but also in the dilapidated wooden houses. At our new neighbors' house, one of the mysterious spots had supposedly been found right in the living room floor, where the floorboards had been just cut away.
These rumors scare me. I am afraid of this village. But yesterday... I was redoing the floor in my room with my father and there... I found a notebook under the old boards. I hid it from my father, I don't know why... Someone must have left it there.
Last night... that's when I read it. I read it and now I'm incredibly afraid of this house and this village. Of the fields and the woods that surround me. The notebook apparently belonged to someone called Ilya Vasiliev. I have tried to translate what he wrote, hoping that someone here can help me find an explanation for the rumors. For this uneasy feeling that I have since I moved here...
***********
I am fine. I want that to be clear from the beginning. My story is strange and in huge parts troubling, but I am still in the best state of mental health.
I am fine!
My story begins seven months ago, in December 1979, when deep winter was upon our village. We were preparing for Christmas, the first Christmas to be celebrated publicly throughout the village, after years of having to practice our faith in secret because the Soviet government did not allow religions. Only in the last few years did the Reds' view loosen and they allowed small islands of faith. One of them was my village, which finally dared to celebrate and praise the Lord.
I have been a believer all twenty years of my life, an exemplary Christian, just like my parents. Faith had kept our family line alive in times of terror and misery. Death had always been close to us, as the fields where most of the population of our village had worked for generations had once brought the end of hundreds of people. Many years ago, on those fields, atrocities had occurred that had finally given them their present name: The Fields of Death.
I myself had not been born back then, not by a long shot, but my grandparents had spent their childhood there, a childhood full of hunger and depravity. My grandfather Fomenko often told me and my sister the stories he had experienced and how faith had saved everyone. There had been a long, cold winter and the grain had been confiscated by the government to be taken to the cities for distribution. After all, the grain belonged to all the people, not just those on the farms who planted it, tended to it, and harvested it. And so, the only food of that time left my grandfather's village and never came back. Some of his neighbors had once tried to hold back some grain, to hide some sacks, but when they were caught, a hail of bullets determined their fate. People lived in fear, not daring to stop working, not daring to keep for themselves the food that was destined for the common good. In those days, horrors happened in my village that I cannot truly picture today, not even when I hear my grandfather's usually clear voice begin to tremble. When I see in his eyes that he would rather forget, in order to experience a peaceful sleep once again… someday.
He told us about those horrors to warn us of how quickly life can plunge from safety into infinite terror. Winter had reigned. The grain was being hauled away. They still shot all those who tried to keep back pieces of it, be it a sack or some husks that had fallen from a cart. In time, hunger began to drive people in our village insane. Parents locked up their children so they wouldn't be taken by neighbors to feed their hunger. Friends turned their backs on each other and killed each other in fights for the last livestock that was still breathing. The streets reeked of decay and death, of misery and suffering. One day, my grandfather told us, he had hidden in the back room of his house while his parents dragged themselves, emaciated, to the fields to pick the last scraps of grain from the furrows with their dirty, half-frozen fingers. He had come across a book there, a book that had saved his life.
The word of God. An old Bible.
My grandfather had learned to read at an early age, one of the sad advantages of living in the Soviet Union.
It was in the room I now live in that Grandfather Fomenko had found the dusty book. Actually, he had been looking for something to eat, the days before he had found some sawdust. But despite his hunger and the grumbling in his stomach, eating the book was out of the question. Books were sacred, and no book as sacred as this one. He had begun to read and learned about the greatness of the Lord. Of the miracles his Son had performed. And of the magic of faith. His stomach had growled, but he had ignored it. The words gave him comfort.
The next day he immersed himself in the book again, disappearing into better worlds and times, hearing wisdom and encouragement. But around noon there was a knock at the door. My grandfather emphasized each time that he had not been afraid, that he had known that the Lord would protect him, when the old neighbor gained entrance to our house armed with a cleaver. It was clear what he wanted: Meat. My grandfather told us each time about how the neighbor had looked more undead than human, stinking and with sunken eyes, smelling like death from his mouth, the cleaver trembling in his hand.
"I'm sorry, boy," was all the man could get out.
My grandfather tried to mimic this poor man’s voice at the end of his wits, to express his pain through words so that we understood that poor fellow a little.
The Lord's words had given courage to my grandfather in his most terrible moments. He had stood up and firmly said:
"Away with you, the Lord protects the inhabitants of this house!"
But the intruder did not care, coming closer. And so, my grandfather again sought comfort and prayed. He prayed for mercy and peace and for his life. He would serve the Lord for the rest of his days. Trust Him blindly.
Suddenly, like a gruesome miracle, the famished intruder let out an inhuman groan and collapsed, lifeless and debilitated. There had been no hunger for my grandfather and his family for a week after that. My grandfather had been praying to the Lord since that day, thanking Him for His mercy. The story spread around the village and out of desperation or hope, in the next few days everyone secretly knelt in front of small wooden crosses they had made themselves and prayed to the Lord. A week later, like a miracle, the long-awaited delivery of grain arrived, along with spring. There had not been another bad time since then.
These events are the reason for the faith in our village... and our family. The psalm my grandfather had prayed as the hungry neighbor attacked had become the guiding psalm of our faith. All these years we had not been able to celebrate Christmas with the other families, but since the restrictions on faith communities had been relaxed, we had all finally decided to celebrate the holy festival in the village square. And so, we started the preparations.
There, in those evening hours, my part of the story begins. I and my younger sister Zarina, together with other youths and young adults, were fetching wood for the fire that was to burn in the center of our village. So, we went out into the night, dressed with thick pelts, to fetch logs from the edge of the fields that some men had prepared.
My breath could be seen as an icy breeze in the dawning darkness and I was already looking forward to dancing around the fire with everyone later, drinking good drinks and eating sumptuously. I was glad that we didn't have to walk across the fields themselves, but could stroll along their edge to get the logs.
You can feel death when it has hit a place. I was glad that I didn't have to work the fields myself, and had learned the carpentry trade. Therefore, I was spared from having to wander around there every day, among the echoes of past atrocities and sadness.
We were all in good spirits, strolling over the muddy ground, when all at once Zarina pointed up and into the clear night sky.
"Look, an angel is descending!" she exclaimed excitedly.
We all looked to where her outstretched hand pointed. A round light glowed in the night sky, glaring yellowish and shining strangely cold.
"It's singing! At Christmas! The Lord puts our feast under his sign!" Zarina cried.
We stopped and listened into the silence of the night. At first, I could hear nothing, at first, everything remained quiet, and only the distant beating of axes and the rustling of the wind in the treetops were audible.
But then, there in the wind, I could hear it, briefly but clearly. It was a kind of melodic whisper, joyful, yet also strange and otherworldly. It was heard only very briefly, and soon died away as the glow flew out of sight and disappeared somewhere far away.
"Let's go find the angel! Let's..." Zarina cried, continuing excitedly, but I interrupted her.
"We have to get the wood. We can report back to the village later, if it hasn't already been noticed there too," I said.
"You heard the singing! Surely that was an angel. Shall we leave it there? It may have gotten hurt, it must have hit something!" Sasha murmured.
Sasha was my oldest friend and one of the boys who worked on the fields. He had always been very caring and had always tried to help where he could. His parents were long dead and the old lady who had raised him was no longer around, either. So, he struggled along, working the fields, but the rest of us looked out for him.
"Shouldn't we go and look for it, Ilya?", Sasha continued to urge me anxiously.
We thought about it for a long time but decided to leave the decision to the others in the village. Trusting the Lord to guide our actions, we quickly moved on in the direction of the woodcutters to complete our task.
We were not the only ones who had seen the glow. When we returned to the village square loaded with logs, everyone was in great excitement and full of joy that the Lord had sent us this sign of His greatness. Not everyone agreed whether it was an angel or a return of the poinsettia that had been witnessed, but everyone was sure that the Lord had sent us encouragement. So, we celebrated our first Christmas full of joy and pleasure, with good food, dancing and singing, full of happiness and under the protection of the Almighty Lord. I will always think back to those days, always keep in my heart how I glimpsed a part of the Lord in the sky.
We all talked about the event and even the older people were fascinated and inspired. Even my grandfather and the others who had witnessed the worst death and misery in the world seemed to slowly find a spiritual peace they would never have dreamed of otherwise. They were happy and strengthened in their faith. However, we were not sure if it had really been an angel who had come down and so we hesitated to go and look for the creature of God.
But in the night, after the light had shone in the sky, I was awakened by Zarina crying in her sleep. I straightened up and slowly paced over to her bed, where in the semi-darkness she began to squirm, shaken by spasms.
"No, no, no..." she moaned painfully.
I began to shake her to wake her up. Zarina did not respond to me. Her face was like a distorted mask hiding something bad underneath. Her breathing became shallow, and she began to whimper. I was terrified and began to pray. The Lord had to save her, He just had to save her!
Zarina twitched more and more, started coughing and whimpering louder and louder. Slowly, the rest of the family woke up and my parents and grandfather huddled tightly around her, praying for her to open her eyes.
"Please, don't take our child! She has only been in your world for fourteen years..." my father cried, as panicked and desperate as I had ever seen before.
His thick, black mustache trembled with fear.
Then, abruptly, Zarina stopped convulsing.
For a terrible moment she just lay there, her hair disheveled, her face pale in the glow of the candle my mother held over her.
"Mom, Dad, Ilya, Grandpa... what's wrong?" she suddenly asked sleepily.
For a moment it was as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn't just seen my sister almost die, but then she began to cry.
"What's wrong, dear?" my father asked, just as pale in the face as Zarina.
It took a while before she found some calm and was able to talk to us.
Finally, she croaked:
"I saw the angel. I was with him."
A revelation? Had the Lord touched my sister?
We all said another prayer and finally, filled with awe, I asked:
"Where did you see the angel? Is it here? With us?"
She looked at me briefly, seemed to hesitate for a little moment, and then reported:
"I was with it… in a dream. It was in a white village, a village made of angel dust. I saw it. It didn't have wings and that's why at first I wasn't sure if it was an angel. However, soon it spoke to me."
"What did it say, Zarina?", I asked tensely.
"It said it was not God, but 'the Witness'. It sounded like a man and a woman and a child and a baby and... It felt peaceful. Calm and carefree. Then I woke up."
"An angel. Angels are the witnesses of God, that's how it must be!" my father said enthusiastically.
Suddenly, everyone seemed to be talking at once.
No one knew what Zarina's words meant, but we were sure that they contained something incomprehensible that we, as ordinary people, could not understand. But everyone was delighted. Everyone was caught in a beautiful dream.
The next day, the adults sat together in the large barn near the edge of the village, which was used for community events. Most of them found seats on the lined up wooden benches and the rest stood crowded against the old walls, some of which were already rotten. Dimitri, probably the closest thing to a mayor, sat at a heavy pine table at the end of the room, staring at the crowd, while my parents and Zarina sat on old chairs in front of him. Tensely, the crowd looked at them, waiting for someone to say something. Finally, Dimitri cleared his throat thoughtfully.
"You... all saw or heard about the falling star. It was brighter than the others that keep crossing our sky and much more... melodic. Some even heard the singing. Whoever still doubted that the Lord sent us his messenger... doubts are now useless. Zarina has received a vision. She has seen how the angel, who was sent by God, walked on our earth, and visited a village and consecrated it with its grace. She has seen the angel marching to spread holiness in these lands..."
"Are we sure?"
Mary, the dressmaker, had stood up. She was still young, my age and Sasha's, and she always wore her blond hair carefully braided, her dresses self-made, blood red and flashy, with silver embroidery. As always, she wore makeup - a luxury not many could afford. In other places she would have been considered a lady, but she was also a skeptical person, and I had not liked her very much since childhood, because she often made insinuations that seemed to go against the Lord. Also, she had never played with us outside and had always thought of herself as someone… better. I was shocked that she now so obviously doubted the Lord's actions.
"Mary. Zarina has seen a vision. The Lord spoke to her through her dreams! An angel has joined us. How can you deny it?" my father asked coldly.
"I'm not denying it, I'm just saying, what if there is something dark that the angel was sent to fight? What if it is going into battle against some unknown evil? The angel may be spreading sanctities, but we have no idea if it is trying to redeem us or defend us..."
"It said it was a witness of God," I noted.
"That's what Zarina said when she woke up."
"Then it is benevolent to us! We must find it!" someone shouted from one of the back rows.
An excited murmur began to spread through the room.
"Silence!" Dimitri thundered.
His face looked hard but determined.
"We have to get to it! If it is a message from heaven that the angel wants to bring us, we must hear it! How many can we spare? Who would even want to voluntarily leave the village? We don't know how long the journey will be, and you yourselves know how dangerous this area can be..."
A loud commotion broke out. Everyone shouted at once and volunteered. I also jumped up and loudly offered to go out to look for it.
The angel. The Witness of the Lord.
I imagined meeting it in a clearing, under a full moon. Hearing its bright voice, gaze in awe at its graceful form, and fall to my knees in prayer before it.
"SILENCE!" Dimitri shouted.
"You can't all go. The kids wouldn't make it in the deadly cold out there. Let seven go. Seven is the Lord's number, there must be seven! Seven workers from the fields! We can't spare any more!"
"You can't be serious!" I cried out.
Cold anger boiled up inside me.
"I want to go, too. We all want to. You can't just stand there and make a decision like that!"
Others joined in.
"SILENCE," Alexeij now thundered, the master blacksmith.
"We need you! Daniil, Ilya, Nikita, you have a job to do! We can't get by without you! You can't go, be reasonable!"
"But if the Lord wills it, he will make sure that everything here will work out. That nothing will happen!", I tried to argue, still boiling with anger.
"No. Winter is tugging at our huts, we need you," my father said slowly.
"So do the others. Without you, it's going to be tight. The fields lie under the snow, but everything else will be weakened by time and storms. We can only spare the field hands. Besides, they're the ones most likely to withstand the cold and the wilderness; after all, they're constantly out on the Fields of Death, toiling in the wind and rain. They'll all make the trip!"
I tried to change his mind, and several came to my aid, all those who were also forced to stay.
"You can manage without a dressmaker! I want to go too!" Mary cried defiantly, her cheeks red with anger, her nose wrinkled.
This young woman really believed she deserved the sight of the angel! She really believed her hypocrisies would deceive the Lord, despite her obvious doubts about His divinity!
Others also complained, young and old, many who didn't deserve to go and even those who did.
But it didn't help.
Dimitri was in charge. Everyone knew that. If we started to contradict him, our village would soon end up in chaos. And deep down I knew that I had to stay. That I had to take care of my sister, who would not survive a trip in the snow. That I had to repair the huts that the storms would eat away at.
Sasha was a field worker, he was allowed to go. Sasha and Sofia, Anatoly and old Igor, Ivan and Yulia and Mikhail. When the decision was made, a decision many of us accepted only with heavy hearts and which brought out deep envy in several faces, some of the chosen ones began to cry. They were happy, fulfilled... satisfied. They would see the messenger of the Lord, hear its melodious voice, sing its hymns.
Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why was the world so unfair? I had always believed in the Lord, prayed to Him, been subject to Him and lived according to His will. Why hadn't he chosen me to see his messenger? I had been so proud back when I had been allowed to learn the carpenter's trade and thus had not to go to the Fields of Death to toil there. At that time, I had felt like someone better when I saw Sasha and Sofia setting out early in the morning with all the other workers, with their old-fashioned plows and thick, shabby clothes.
Was this the punishment for my arrogance?
The Lord knew everything. He had seen what repulsive thoughts I had had, how superior I had felt to the others. Perhaps it was my punishment that I was not allowed to go. Perhaps the Lord was no longer favorable to me and I would have to prove myself to Him.
The next day, the seven set out north. They were seen off with singing and dancing; they were the center of the village’s attention. Envy threatened to drown me.
Why not me? Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why did I have to stay here?
And I knew: it was because of these thoughts. I wasn't pure enough. I had to get better, work on myself.
As the others disappeared from sight, as the small group seemed to be swallowed up by a patch of forest between distant trees, an icy chill ran down my spine.
What if they really did encounter evil? What if Mary had been right?
I prayed to the Lord that they would return home safely: Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
He would bring them home safely, our pilgrims. I did not begrudge them their happiness. I was not a selfish person, was not complacent like Mary or some others in the village. I lived by the word of the Lord and I would not begrudge them.
They would all return home safely.
I continued to stare into the distance for a long time as my suppressed envy sought to consume me. But I was winning.
For darkness is as light to you.
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Even though the days and weeks passed, I never forgot to think of all those who had set out to witness the glory of the Lord. The cold winter had passed and frost and cold left the land, so that soon we could begin to prepare the fields for sowing. Since the sighting of the angel had caused us to let some of the farm workers leave, and they stayed away longer than we had expected, I had to join others in helping to plow the Fields of Death. The work was exhausting and made me physically very tired, since I still had to work in the carpenter's shop as well. We could not afford tractors, so we still had to resort to older tools. So, it happened that one day I was driving one of the hand plows through the dirty ground and was lost in my thoughts and full of sweat.
I was quite far away from the village, as the nearby surroundings had been worked shortly after the beginning of the thaw. The fields were extensive, partly reaching further than the eye could see. Only in one direction the dense forest extended, which introduced the beginning of a dark hilly landscape, that finally merged northward into high, alien mountains, whose white peaks rose high into the sky and, like once the tower of Babel, blasphemously tried to penetrate the heavens. But next to these distant giants there was only the plain, the vast plain that had to be tilled.
I hated the field work. And I hated the fields.
Every time I even thought about this piece of hell that had become reality long ago, my stomach turned. All the events that clung to this dark place, all the human lives and suffering that had sown the ground with death and blood here many years ago....
It was even worse when you stood in the fields yourself, truly being there on your own. It was as if I could smell it in the air, the rot of the starving and the hot blood that had watered the soil. It was as if I could still hear in the air the cries and wailing of the people who had met their end here, who had pleaded for their lives and the lives of their children and friends. It was as if I could see them in the early morning fog banks that lay on the Fields of Death, the shadows of people past, crawling and cowering, weak and starved. I had to pull myself together and look away, into the forest. A place does not forget, a place always remembers the days gone by and the cries that had been.
The plow pulled through the ground, ripping a furrow behind it. It was almost a bit comforting to imagine I was gutting this place of horror with my labor, inflicting deep wounds. Hypnotized, I stared down over and over again, watching the ground swirl to one side, smelling the fresh earth being pushed to the surface. But never could I escape my terrible feelings and the forebodings, never could I forget what kind of place I was at.
The few times I looked to the forest beside me, my thoughts wandered enviously to all those who had set out to find the angel. Had they reached it yet? Had they already learned from it what needed to be done for God's power on earth to be strengthened so that false prophets and promises could be swept away? How to drown the selfishness of the state? What needed to be done to serve the Lord?
Oh, how I would have loved to be there! How I would have loved to go with them, but I also understood the decision not to send everyone, and I understood my family's objections. I was needed here. I could serve the Lord here by tilling the fields and taking care of the soil and the sowing. I had to care for my sister.
I had already made several furrows when noon came. The sun was almost not visible, just a murky spot behind the clouds, and the fog had not lifted either. The world looked pale and apathetic. But amongst all the desolation I could suddenly hear something, something that seemed to come out of the forest.
It was at first just like a rustling in the wind that sounded a bit too regular, such that it triggered a natural uneasiness in me. I looked into the forest, but could hardly make out anything through the dense plants and the still lingering fog. That is why it was left to my own thoughts to imagine what was there, what was producing this strange noise.
I could not remember any animal that made similar sounds, was at a loss.
Suddenly, a bang echoed through the forest, accompanied by a panicked scream that broke inhumanly from the trees and spread across the fields.
Then, something new joined the sounds in the air.
The trees and bushes rustled, almost seemed to be torn apart.
Something was running through the forest, something seemed to be... coming right at me.
Was it perhaps a startled bear, an elk, or a wild boar?
Had one of the hunters from the village accidentally startled an animal, scared it in the wrong direction and now wanted to warn us with their cry? But then, why this panicked sound...?
I paused, took my hands off the rusty handles of the plow, and turned toward the forest. Still, I could only see fog, I could only hear rustling, but slowly I could also make out grunts and groans coming to me from the fog. It sounded heavy and panic-stricken.
Was I in danger? I began to pray to the Lord and ask him for assistance. I was not a fighter and so I had to hope that nothing would reach me from the depths between the trees that could easily tear me apart.
Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
My baptismal motto gave me courage. The Lord saw me, even in my darkness, and would be with me.
For darkness is as light to you.
Then, someone burst out of the bushes and the fog and rushed toward me.
It was Sasha.
I almost didn't recognize him. His skin was pale, almost snow-white. His black hair stuck to his sweaty face. His pants and jacket were almost completely torn, so I could see his dirty shirt and his cut and bruised legs through the holes. There were also some small cuts on his face that worried me. Sasha's eyes twitched searchingly, panicked, and in his hand, he held the rifle that he had taken with him when he had once set out. Apparently, he had run through brush and thorns, had gotten scrapes and wounds from stones and branches.
When he saw me and looked at me with his big, panic-filled eyes, I became horridly afraid.
It was as if… behind his eyes there was no Sasha anymore, but only an animal. As if instinct had taken over his thoughts when an unnamable terror had entered his world. An animal inside him, which had enabled him to escape from... something.
Sasha staggered out of the forest, it was almost as if all strength left him now that he was back home. The rifle fell from his hand and dug into the mud beneath his feet. He limped slowly toward me, not taking his eyes off me. Then, suddenly, he wheeled around and looked back into the forest and the mist.
Only for a moment.
Again, he let out a shrill scream and sprinted the last few meters. When I looked into the forest myself, I saw nothing, only the fog.
But, didn't I feel a presence there, in the bushes? Between the trees?
I didn't see anything.
Sasha had reached me and collapsed. I quickly knelt down next to him and called for help. But the other field workers had already rushed over, obviously attracted by the rifle shot. I was in a trance, seeing only Sasha lying there, supporting his head. His eyes were still twitching around and despite my proximity he didn't seem to recognize me. He looked at me, confused.
"Sasha, what happened?", I asked, feeling his forehead.
Despite his paleness, he was uncomfortably hot.
A fever raged in his body. Who knew how long he had been running around there among the trees, his protective, warming jacket torn? With wounds that had not been tended and some of which were still bleeding?
Then another horrible thought occurred to me.
"Sasha, where are the others? Sasha, where are the others?"
This question apparently brought back some clarity that his gaze had not possessed before.
"They... they took them. Took all of them... All of them. All our brothers, all our sisters... all of them," he gurgled.
*********
So, this is the first part of what I found. I will hurry to translate the rest! But I will definitely stay out of the woods for now... They are still as creepy as described by Ilya in this document and fog ist still around every morning... Also, I don't know what to make of Ilya himself as well, is he just a religious nut and that is the explanation? I just don't know...
submitted by haroldkebba to nosleep [link] [comments]
The houses here had all been far below average in price. Almost everyone who lives here has moved here recently.
But, there are crazy rumors about this village that people tell each other. It was found abandoned in the mid-nineties. Where everyone went, no one knows. They say that no signs of people were found at all, nothing. But... everywhere in and around the village… strange patches of earth had been discovered, circular and smooth. Not only in the forest or on the road, but also in the dilapidated wooden houses. At our new neighbors' house, one of the mysterious spots had supposedly been found right in the living room floor, where the floorboards had been just cut away.
These rumors scare me. I am afraid of this village. But yesterday... I was redoing the floor in my room with my father and there... I found a notebook under the old boards. I hid it from my father, I don't know why... Someone must have left it there.
Last night... that's when I read it. I read it and now I'm incredibly afraid of this house and this village. Of the fields and the woods that surround me. The notebook apparently belonged to someone called Ilya Vasiliev. I have tried to translate what he wrote, hoping that someone here can help me find an explanation for the rumors. For this uneasy feeling that I have since I moved here...
***********
I am fine. I want that to be clear from the beginning. My story is strange and in huge parts troubling, but I am still in the best state of mental health.
I am fine!
My story begins seven months ago, in December 1979, when deep winter was upon our village. We were preparing for Christmas, the first Christmas to be celebrated publicly throughout the village, after years of having to practice our faith in secret because the Soviet government did not allow religions. Only in the last few years did the Reds' view loosen and they allowed small islands of faith. One of them was my village, which finally dared to celebrate and praise the Lord.
I have been a believer all twenty years of my life, an exemplary Christian, just like my parents. Faith had kept our family line alive in times of terror and misery. Death had always been close to us, as the fields where most of the population of our village had worked for generations had once brought the end of hundreds of people. Many years ago, on those fields, atrocities had occurred that had finally given them their present name: The Fields of Death.
I myself had not been born back then, not by a long shot, but my grandparents had spent their childhood there, a childhood full of hunger and depravity. My grandfather Fomenko often told me and my sister the stories he had experienced and how faith had saved everyone. There had been a long, cold winter and the grain had been confiscated by the government to be taken to the cities for distribution. After all, the grain belonged to all the people, not just those on the farms who planted it, tended to it, and harvested it. And so, the only food of that time left my grandfather's village and never came back. Some of his neighbors had once tried to hold back some grain, to hide some sacks, but when they were caught, a hail of bullets determined their fate. People lived in fear, not daring to stop working, not daring to keep for themselves the food that was destined for the common good. In those days, horrors happened in my village that I cannot truly picture today, not even when I hear my grandfather's usually clear voice begin to tremble. When I see in his eyes that he would rather forget, in order to experience a peaceful sleep once again… someday.
He told us about those horrors to warn us of how quickly life can plunge from safety into infinite terror. Winter had reigned. The grain was being hauled away. They still shot all those who tried to keep back pieces of it, be it a sack or some husks that had fallen from a cart. In time, hunger began to drive people in our village insane. Parents locked up their children so they wouldn't be taken by neighbors to feed their hunger. Friends turned their backs on each other and killed each other in fights for the last livestock that was still breathing. The streets reeked of decay and death, of misery and suffering. One day, my grandfather told us, he had hidden in the back room of his house while his parents dragged themselves, emaciated, to the fields to pick the last scraps of grain from the furrows with their dirty, half-frozen fingers. He had come across a book there, a book that had saved his life.
The word of God. An old Bible.
My grandfather had learned to read at an early age, one of the sad advantages of living in the Soviet Union.
It was in the room I now live in that Grandfather Fomenko had found the dusty book. Actually, he had been looking for something to eat, the days before he had found some sawdust. But despite his hunger and the grumbling in his stomach, eating the book was out of the question. Books were sacred, and no book as sacred as this one. He had begun to read and learned about the greatness of the Lord. Of the miracles his Son had performed. And of the magic of faith. His stomach had growled, but he had ignored it. The words gave him comfort.
The next day he immersed himself in the book again, disappearing into better worlds and times, hearing wisdom and encouragement. But around noon there was a knock at the door. My grandfather emphasized each time that he had not been afraid, that he had known that the Lord would protect him, when the old neighbor gained entrance to our house armed with a cleaver. It was clear what he wanted: Meat. My grandfather told us each time about how the neighbor had looked more undead than human, stinking and with sunken eyes, smelling like death from his mouth, the cleaver trembling in his hand.
"I'm sorry, boy," was all the man could get out.
My grandfather tried to mimic this poor man’s voice at the end of his wits, to express his pain through words so that we understood that poor fellow a little.
The Lord's words had given courage to my grandfather in his most terrible moments. He had stood up and firmly said:
"Away with you, the Lord protects the inhabitants of this house!"
But the intruder did not care, coming closer. And so, my grandfather again sought comfort and prayed. He prayed for mercy and peace and for his life. He would serve the Lord for the rest of his days. Trust Him blindly.
Suddenly, like a gruesome miracle, the famished intruder let out an inhuman groan and collapsed, lifeless and debilitated. There had been no hunger for my grandfather and his family for a week after that. My grandfather had been praying to the Lord since that day, thanking Him for His mercy. The story spread around the village and out of desperation or hope, in the next few days everyone secretly knelt in front of small wooden crosses they had made themselves and prayed to the Lord. A week later, like a miracle, the long-awaited delivery of grain arrived, along with spring. There had not been another bad time since then.
These events are the reason for the faith in our village... and our family. The psalm my grandfather had prayed as the hungry neighbor attacked had become the guiding psalm of our faith. All these years we had not been able to celebrate Christmas with the other families, but since the restrictions on faith communities had been relaxed, we had all finally decided to celebrate the holy festival in the village square. And so, we started the preparations.
There, in those evening hours, my part of the story begins. I and my younger sister Zarina, together with other youths and young adults, were fetching wood for the fire that was to burn in the center of our village. So, we went out into the night, dressed with thick pelts, to fetch logs from the edge of the fields that some men had prepared.
My breath could be seen as an icy breeze in the dawning darkness and I was already looking forward to dancing around the fire with everyone later, drinking good drinks and eating sumptuously. I was glad that we didn't have to walk across the fields themselves, but could stroll along their edge to get the logs.
You can feel death when it has hit a place. I was glad that I didn't have to work the fields myself, and had learned the carpentry trade. Therefore, I was spared from having to wander around there every day, among the echoes of past atrocities and sadness.
We were all in good spirits, strolling over the muddy ground, when all at once Zarina pointed up and into the clear night sky.
"Look, an angel is descending!" she exclaimed excitedly.
We all looked to where her outstretched hand pointed. A round light glowed in the night sky, glaring yellowish and shining strangely cold.
"It's singing! At Christmas! The Lord puts our feast under his sign!" Zarina cried.
We stopped and listened into the silence of the night. At first, I could hear nothing, at first, everything remained quiet, and only the distant beating of axes and the rustling of the wind in the treetops were audible.
But then, there in the wind, I could hear it, briefly but clearly. It was a kind of melodic whisper, joyful, yet also strange and otherworldly. It was heard only very briefly, and soon died away as the glow flew out of sight and disappeared somewhere far away.
"Let's go find the angel! Let's..." Zarina cried, continuing excitedly, but I interrupted her.
"We have to get the wood. We can report back to the village later, if it hasn't already been noticed there too," I said.
"You heard the singing! Surely that was an angel. Shall we leave it there? It may have gotten hurt, it must have hit something!" Sasha murmured.
Sasha was my oldest friend and one of the boys who worked on the fields. He had always been very caring and had always tried to help where he could. His parents were long dead and the old lady who had raised him was no longer around, either. So, he struggled along, working the fields, but the rest of us looked out for him.
"Shouldn't we go and look for it, Ilya?", Sasha continued to urge me anxiously.
We thought about it for a long time but decided to leave the decision to the others in the village. Trusting the Lord to guide our actions, we quickly moved on in the direction of the woodcutters to complete our task.
We were not the only ones who had seen the glow. When we returned to the village square loaded with logs, everyone was in great excitement and full of joy that the Lord had sent us this sign of His greatness. Not everyone agreed whether it was an angel or a return of the poinsettia that had been witnessed, but everyone was sure that the Lord had sent us encouragement. So, we celebrated our first Christmas full of joy and pleasure, with good food, dancing and singing, full of happiness and under the protection of the Almighty Lord. I will always think back to those days, always keep in my heart how I glimpsed a part of the Lord in the sky.
We all talked about the event and even the older people were fascinated and inspired. Even my grandfather and the others who had witnessed the worst death and misery in the world seemed to slowly find a spiritual peace they would never have dreamed of otherwise. They were happy and strengthened in their faith. However, we were not sure if it had really been an angel who had come down and so we hesitated to go and look for the creature of God.
But in the night, after the light had shone in the sky, I was awakened by Zarina crying in her sleep. I straightened up and slowly paced over to her bed, where in the semi-darkness she began to squirm, shaken by spasms.
"No, no, no..." she moaned painfully.
I began to shake her to wake her up. Zarina did not respond to me. Her face was like a distorted mask hiding something bad underneath. Her breathing became shallow, and she began to whimper. I was terrified and began to pray. The Lord had to save her, He just had to save her!
Zarina twitched more and more, started coughing and whimpering louder and louder. Slowly, the rest of the family woke up and my parents and grandfather huddled tightly around her, praying for her to open her eyes.
"Please, don't take our child! She has only been in your world for fourteen years..." my father cried, as panicked and desperate as I had ever seen before.
His thick, black mustache trembled with fear.
Then, abruptly, Zarina stopped convulsing.
For a terrible moment she just lay there, her hair disheveled, her face pale in the glow of the candle my mother held over her.
"Mom, Dad, Ilya, Grandpa... what's wrong?" she suddenly asked sleepily.
For a moment it was as if nothing had happened, as if I hadn't just seen my sister almost die, but then she began to cry.
"What's wrong, dear?" my father asked, just as pale in the face as Zarina.
It took a while before she found some calm and was able to talk to us.
Finally, she croaked:
"I saw the angel. I was with him."
A revelation? Had the Lord touched my sister?
We all said another prayer and finally, filled with awe, I asked:
"Where did you see the angel? Is it here? With us?"
She looked at me briefly, seemed to hesitate for a little moment, and then reported:
"I was with it… in a dream. It was in a white village, a village made of angel dust. I saw it. It didn't have wings and that's why at first I wasn't sure if it was an angel. However, soon it spoke to me."
"What did it say, Zarina?", I asked tensely.
"It said it was not God, but 'the Witness'. It sounded like a man and a woman and a child and a baby and... It felt peaceful. Calm and carefree. Then I woke up."
"An angel. Angels are the witnesses of God, that's how it must be!" my father said enthusiastically.
Suddenly, everyone seemed to be talking at once.
No one knew what Zarina's words meant, but we were sure that they contained something incomprehensible that we, as ordinary people, could not understand. But everyone was delighted. Everyone was caught in a beautiful dream.
The next day, the adults sat together in the large barn near the edge of the village, which was used for community events. Most of them found seats on the lined up wooden benches and the rest stood crowded against the old walls, some of which were already rotten. Dimitri, probably the closest thing to a mayor, sat at a heavy pine table at the end of the room, staring at the crowd, while my parents and Zarina sat on old chairs in front of him. Tensely, the crowd looked at them, waiting for someone to say something. Finally, Dimitri cleared his throat thoughtfully.
"You... all saw or heard about the falling star. It was brighter than the others that keep crossing our sky and much more... melodic. Some even heard the singing. Whoever still doubted that the Lord sent us his messenger... doubts are now useless. Zarina has received a vision. She has seen how the angel, who was sent by God, walked on our earth, and visited a village and consecrated it with its grace. She has seen the angel marching to spread holiness in these lands..."
"Are we sure?"
Mary, the dressmaker, had stood up. She was still young, my age and Sasha's, and she always wore her blond hair carefully braided, her dresses self-made, blood red and flashy, with silver embroidery. As always, she wore makeup - a luxury not many could afford. In other places she would have been considered a lady, but she was also a skeptical person, and I had not liked her very much since childhood, because she often made insinuations that seemed to go against the Lord. Also, she had never played with us outside and had always thought of herself as someone… better. I was shocked that she now so obviously doubted the Lord's actions.
"Mary. Zarina has seen a vision. The Lord spoke to her through her dreams! An angel has joined us. How can you deny it?" my father asked coldly.
"I'm not denying it, I'm just saying, what if there is something dark that the angel was sent to fight? What if it is going into battle against some unknown evil? The angel may be spreading sanctities, but we have no idea if it is trying to redeem us or defend us..."
"It said it was a witness of God," I noted.
"That's what Zarina said when she woke up."
"Then it is benevolent to us! We must find it!" someone shouted from one of the back rows.
An excited murmur began to spread through the room.
"Silence!" Dimitri thundered.
His face looked hard but determined.
"We have to get to it! If it is a message from heaven that the angel wants to bring us, we must hear it! How many can we spare? Who would even want to voluntarily leave the village? We don't know how long the journey will be, and you yourselves know how dangerous this area can be..."
A loud commotion broke out. Everyone shouted at once and volunteered. I also jumped up and loudly offered to go out to look for it.
The angel. The Witness of the Lord.
I imagined meeting it in a clearing, under a full moon. Hearing its bright voice, gaze in awe at its graceful form, and fall to my knees in prayer before it.
"SILENCE!" Dimitri shouted.
"You can't all go. The kids wouldn't make it in the deadly cold out there. Let seven go. Seven is the Lord's number, there must be seven! Seven workers from the fields! We can't spare any more!"
"You can't be serious!" I cried out.
Cold anger boiled up inside me.
"I want to go, too. We all want to. You can't just stand there and make a decision like that!"
Others joined in.
"SILENCE," Alexeij now thundered, the master blacksmith.
"We need you! Daniil, Ilya, Nikita, you have a job to do! We can't get by without you! You can't go, be reasonable!"
"But if the Lord wills it, he will make sure that everything here will work out. That nothing will happen!", I tried to argue, still boiling with anger.
"No. Winter is tugging at our huts, we need you," my father said slowly.
"So do the others. Without you, it's going to be tight. The fields lie under the snow, but everything else will be weakened by time and storms. We can only spare the field hands. Besides, they're the ones most likely to withstand the cold and the wilderness; after all, they're constantly out on the Fields of Death, toiling in the wind and rain. They'll all make the trip!"
I tried to change his mind, and several came to my aid, all those who were also forced to stay.
"You can manage without a dressmaker! I want to go too!" Mary cried defiantly, her cheeks red with anger, her nose wrinkled.
This young woman really believed she deserved the sight of the angel! She really believed her hypocrisies would deceive the Lord, despite her obvious doubts about His divinity!
Others also complained, young and old, many who didn't deserve to go and even those who did.
But it didn't help.
Dimitri was in charge. Everyone knew that. If we started to contradict him, our village would soon end up in chaos. And deep down I knew that I had to stay. That I had to take care of my sister, who would not survive a trip in the snow. That I had to repair the huts that the storms would eat away at.
Sasha was a field worker, he was allowed to go. Sasha and Sofia, Anatoly and old Igor, Ivan and Yulia and Mikhail. When the decision was made, a decision many of us accepted only with heavy hearts and which brought out deep envy in several faces, some of the chosen ones began to cry. They were happy, fulfilled... satisfied. They would see the messenger of the Lord, hear its melodious voice, sing its hymns.
Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why was the world so unfair? I had always believed in the Lord, prayed to Him, been subject to Him and lived according to His will. Why hadn't he chosen me to see his messenger? I had been so proud back when I had been allowed to learn the carpenter's trade and thus had not to go to the Fields of Death to toil there. At that time, I had felt like someone better when I saw Sasha and Sofia setting out early in the morning with all the other workers, with their old-fashioned plows and thick, shabby clothes.
Was this the punishment for my arrogance?
The Lord knew everything. He had seen what repulsive thoughts I had had, how superior I had felt to the others. Perhaps it was my punishment that I was not allowed to go. Perhaps the Lord was no longer favorable to me and I would have to prove myself to Him.
The next day, the seven set out north. They were seen off with singing and dancing; they were the center of the village’s attention. Envy threatened to drown me.
Why not me? Why wasn't I allowed to go? Why did I have to stay here?
And I knew: it was because of these thoughts. I wasn't pure enough. I had to get better, work on myself.
As the others disappeared from sight, as the small group seemed to be swallowed up by a patch of forest between distant trees, an icy chill ran down my spine.
What if they really did encounter evil? What if Mary had been right?
I prayed to the Lord that they would return home safely: Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
He would bring them home safely, our pilgrims. I did not begrudge them their happiness. I was not a selfish person, was not complacent like Mary or some others in the village. I lived by the word of the Lord and I would not begrudge them.
They would all return home safely.
I continued to stare into the distance for a long time as my suppressed envy sought to consume me. But I was winning.
For darkness is as light to you.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Even though the days and weeks passed, I never forgot to think of all those who had set out to witness the glory of the Lord. The cold winter had passed and frost and cold left the land, so that soon we could begin to prepare the fields for sowing. Since the sighting of the angel had caused us to let some of the farm workers leave, and they stayed away longer than we had expected, I had to join others in helping to plow the Fields of Death. The work was exhausting and made me physically very tired, since I still had to work in the carpenter's shop as well. We could not afford tractors, so we still had to resort to older tools. So, it happened that one day I was driving one of the hand plows through the dirty ground and was lost in my thoughts and full of sweat.
I was quite far away from the village, as the nearby surroundings had been worked shortly after the beginning of the thaw. The fields were extensive, partly reaching further than the eye could see. Only in one direction the dense forest extended, which introduced the beginning of a dark hilly landscape, that finally merged northward into high, alien mountains, whose white peaks rose high into the sky and, like once the tower of Babel, blasphemously tried to penetrate the heavens. But next to these distant giants there was only the plain, the vast plain that had to be tilled.
I hated the field work. And I hated the fields.
Every time I even thought about this piece of hell that had become reality long ago, my stomach turned. All the events that clung to this dark place, all the human lives and suffering that had sown the ground with death and blood here many years ago....
It was even worse when you stood in the fields yourself, truly being there on your own. It was as if I could smell it in the air, the rot of the starving and the hot blood that had watered the soil. It was as if I could still hear in the air the cries and wailing of the people who had met their end here, who had pleaded for their lives and the lives of their children and friends. It was as if I could see them in the early morning fog banks that lay on the Fields of Death, the shadows of people past, crawling and cowering, weak and starved. I had to pull myself together and look away, into the forest. A place does not forget, a place always remembers the days gone by and the cries that had been.
The plow pulled through the ground, ripping a furrow behind it. It was almost a bit comforting to imagine I was gutting this place of horror with my labor, inflicting deep wounds. Hypnotized, I stared down over and over again, watching the ground swirl to one side, smelling the fresh earth being pushed to the surface. But never could I escape my terrible feelings and the forebodings, never could I forget what kind of place I was at.
The few times I looked to the forest beside me, my thoughts wandered enviously to all those who had set out to find the angel. Had they reached it yet? Had they already learned from it what needed to be done for God's power on earth to be strengthened so that false prophets and promises could be swept away? How to drown the selfishness of the state? What needed to be done to serve the Lord?
Oh, how I would have loved to be there! How I would have loved to go with them, but I also understood the decision not to send everyone, and I understood my family's objections. I was needed here. I could serve the Lord here by tilling the fields and taking care of the soil and the sowing. I had to care for my sister.
I had already made several furrows when noon came. The sun was almost not visible, just a murky spot behind the clouds, and the fog had not lifted either. The world looked pale and apathetic. But amongst all the desolation I could suddenly hear something, something that seemed to come out of the forest.
It was at first just like a rustling in the wind that sounded a bit too regular, such that it triggered a natural uneasiness in me. I looked into the forest, but could hardly make out anything through the dense plants and the still lingering fog. That is why it was left to my own thoughts to imagine what was there, what was producing this strange noise.
I could not remember any animal that made similar sounds, was at a loss.
Suddenly, a bang echoed through the forest, accompanied by a panicked scream that broke inhumanly from the trees and spread across the fields.
Then, something new joined the sounds in the air.
The trees and bushes rustled, almost seemed to be torn apart.
Something was running through the forest, something seemed to be... coming right at me.
Was it perhaps a startled bear, an elk, or a wild boar?
Had one of the hunters from the village accidentally startled an animal, scared it in the wrong direction and now wanted to warn us with their cry? But then, why this panicked sound...?
I paused, took my hands off the rusty handles of the plow, and turned toward the forest. Still, I could only see fog, I could only hear rustling, but slowly I could also make out grunts and groans coming to me from the fog. It sounded heavy and panic-stricken.
Was I in danger? I began to pray to the Lord and ask him for assistance. I was not a fighter and so I had to hope that nothing would reach me from the depths between the trees that could easily tear me apart.
Even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.
My baptismal motto gave me courage. The Lord saw me, even in my darkness, and would be with me.
For darkness is as light to you.
Then, someone burst out of the bushes and the fog and rushed toward me.
It was Sasha.
I almost didn't recognize him. His skin was pale, almost snow-white. His black hair stuck to his sweaty face. His pants and jacket were almost completely torn, so I could see his dirty shirt and his cut and bruised legs through the holes. There were also some small cuts on his face that worried me. Sasha's eyes twitched searchingly, panicked, and in his hand, he held the rifle that he had taken with him when he had once set out. Apparently, he had run through brush and thorns, had gotten scrapes and wounds from stones and branches.
When he saw me and looked at me with his big, panic-filled eyes, I became horridly afraid.
It was as if… behind his eyes there was no Sasha anymore, but only an animal. As if instinct had taken over his thoughts when an unnamable terror had entered his world. An animal inside him, which had enabled him to escape from... something.
Sasha staggered out of the forest, it was almost as if all strength left him now that he was back home. The rifle fell from his hand and dug into the mud beneath his feet. He limped slowly toward me, not taking his eyes off me. Then, suddenly, he wheeled around and looked back into the forest and the mist.
Only for a moment.
Again, he let out a shrill scream and sprinted the last few meters. When I looked into the forest myself, I saw nothing, only the fog.
But, didn't I feel a presence there, in the bushes? Between the trees?
I didn't see anything.
Sasha had reached me and collapsed. I quickly knelt down next to him and called for help. But the other field workers had already rushed over, obviously attracted by the rifle shot. I was in a trance, seeing only Sasha lying there, supporting his head. His eyes were still twitching around and despite my proximity he didn't seem to recognize me. He looked at me, confused.
"Sasha, what happened?", I asked, feeling his forehead.
Despite his paleness, he was uncomfortably hot.
A fever raged in his body. Who knew how long he had been running around there among the trees, his protective, warming jacket torn? With wounds that had not been tended and some of which were still bleeding?
Then another horrible thought occurred to me.
"Sasha, where are the others? Sasha, where are the others?"
This question apparently brought back some clarity that his gaze had not possessed before.
"They... they took them. Took all of them... All of them. All our brothers, all our sisters... all of them," he gurgled.
*********
So, this is the first part of what I found. I will hurry to translate the rest! But I will definitely stay out of the woods for now... They are still as creepy as described by Ilya in this document and fog ist still around every morning... Also, I don't know what to make of Ilya himself as well, is he just a religious nut and that is the explanation? I just don't know...
2023.06.05 15:11 Secure-Television-82 eye for an eye
If I react to the abuse does that make me an abuser? I try my best to get away when it starts. I try to avoid getting cornered but sometimes it’s impossible. I only fight back when the pain gets too bad or if he is over doing it and won’t stop. When I do hit him back he calls me the abuser and threatens to turn me in. He threatens me a lot and that is one of the big reasons I haven’t reported him. I get so angry sometimes that it’s happening again. Sometimes i feel like his behavior is not real, like this can’t be happening again. It often starts when I’m in bed or taking a bath I guess because I’m most defenseless. He will come into my room while I’m sleeping and rip my blankets off or scream at the top of his lungs. He is sleeping on the couch this morning because he is afraid I’m going to take his cameras down. When I walked by him I couldn’t help but rip his blankets off. I don’t like acting like that and i know it’s wrong. I just want him to suffer, just like i suffer. When he breaks something of mine i break something of his. When I treat him the way he treats me my hope is that he will see how ridiculous it is and stop his behavior. It doesn’t work.. lol I should know by now that I can’t help him or teach him how to be a normal loving peaceful kind person. My abuser was out of town over the weekend. This is the first time in three years he has left me alone in the house. It was very hard for me to relax and I was very jumpy all weekend. I convinced myself that if he comes home to a spotless house and mowed yard and animals that have been brushed and bathed and cared for. I thought this would make him happy. I cleaned non stop for 3 days. That didn’t work either. He threw his beer at me within 3 mins of him getting home. I guess I’ll be cleaning again today. Every time I go out of town I invite him but he rarely goes. He likes to stay home and abuse me over the phone. Calls and calls at all hours wants to FaceTime so he can see who is around me. When he was gone I thought he would come home fresh and renewed. He didn’t. It’s been awful. He is angry because the internet went out for an hour and he couldn’t see me on the cameras. I used to forgive him and take him back so quick and easy but that spark that I have clung to is finally gone. I don’t hate anyone but I’m starting to despise him to the point of no return. I don’t like being this person. I ask him if he ever gets tired of being the way he is but there is nothing wrong with him of course. I just had to rand this morning. I hope that everyone has a great week and that we make changes and find peace.
submitted by Secure-Television-82 to abusiverelationships [link] [comments]
2023.06.05 15:09 verturesort Middle Room with queen size bed at vertu Resort Condominium Batu Kawan
 | RoomNow 60102327656 submitted by verturesort to u/verturesort [link] [comments] Whatsapp: https://appoin.me/roomnow_AvzJ Room Detail: https://appoin.me/rooms_LUkJy 🏠 Description 🥰 Co-living community 🛁 Shared Bathroom 🛋️ Fully Furnished 🌐 Free Wi-Fi (500mbps) ❌ Zero Deposit ❌ NO Agent Fee 🧹 Scheduled Cleaning services in common area every week 🔐 Safety & Security - CCTV in common area ✅ Monthly Rental Details RM(650) + RM50 (Monthly Utility) 🎉 VRC Facilities 🏠 Description: 💪🏻 Gym 🍀 Newly renovated Unit 🥰 Co-living community 🛁 Shared or Private Bathroom 🛋️ Fully Furnished 🌐 Free Wi-Fi 🏊🏼 Swimming Pool 🎱 Game Room 🎤 Karaoke Room 🏡 Landscaped Garden 🍗 Barbeque Area 📚 Library 🏁 Playground Around 25 facilities covering 200,000 sq.ft 📍 Super Strategic Location 🚶🏻♀️ 5min walk to IKEA & Utropolis 🚶🏻♀️ 1min walk to Ulala Mini Market 🚶🏻♀️ Surrounded by Mini Market, Korean Food, Nasi Kandar Bistro, Japanese Food, Vervea, Shunka (Japanese restaurant), Pan Pan restaurant. 🚗 3min to UOW Malaysia KDU College 🚗 5min to Second Bridge and Batu Kawan Industrial Park 🚗 2min to Design village & McDonald’s 🚗 5min to Cassia ... |
2023.06.05 15:04 larryb78 3 months later I still have no idea what to do
You left us 3 months ago. It didn't have to be this way. Late 2019 we told you & mom that your first grandchild was on the way - you barreled down the driveway that day when you saw us talking to her outside, hadn't seen you move that quickly in years but it was great to know you still had it in you. Then covid hit - you succeeded in never catching it, but you let it kill you anyway. In a matter of months we went from all that energy to me having to help you navigate three small steps on our stoop just to get in the house and visit your grandson. Was it worth it? Did hiding in the house, refusing to get out & go anywhere other than my place occasionally, sitting in the car while mom shopped, did it pan out the way you hoped?
In case you can't tell, I'm still angry. I'm angry that you allowed yourself to deteriorate this way in your early 70's. I'm angry that you waited a week to tell me you fell in the house and hadn't left the 2nd floor because you fucked up your shoulder trying to get off the floor stubbornly on your own and then couldn't support yourself to even make it down the stairs. I'm angry that you did it twice more, got yourself stuck in a chair, finally had no choice but to let the fire department come in, and then still refused to go to the hospital. I'm angry that when it happened again the next day and you had no choice but to go to the hospital because you couldn't even get out of the chair they left you in you became quite possibly the worst patient in the history of that hospital. I'm angry that you refused the testing they wanted to do - I know you hated confined spaces, but they were willing to sedate you. Was a few hours without food or water before they put you out really so bad? I'm angry that you called me in a panic and expected me to leave my napping son to rush to the hospital, telling me you were going to die if I didn't get there. I drive all that way to find out it was because you didn't like the hospital bed they gave you. I'm sorry that you couldn't get comfortable, I did all I could to make it better for you - when you fell asleep I spent an hour combing over diagrams I found online trying to figure out how to adjust the stupid thing so that you'd feel better. Then you spring on me your genius plan that I should help you sit sideways on the bed with no support and your legs dangling. You were labeled a fall risk for a reason! If I did that you'd have zero support behind you and if you fell I'd have no way to get you back up. I'm angry that if I'd gone with this plan of yours I could've gotten in a lot of trouble if something happened to you. I'm angry that you called mom at all hours of the night expecting her to run up to the hospital and wait on you. She's older and has mobility issues too, that wasn't fair. If you didn't think the nurses were doing enough (they were) you should've hired an aide to be there with you to tend to whatever it is you wanted. And when i told you as much, your next genius plan to be transferred to the nursing home was even worse. I know you worked there for 30 years, I know you felt you could smooth talk your way into anything you wanted there because they all liked you so much, but what did you expect them to do for you? They couldn't keep you monitored the way the hospital did. They weren't equipped to have you hooked up that way. And what happened? 15 hours after you arrived you stopped breathing. Was it worth it? Did your usual attempts at schmoozing your way into whatever you want pan out as you planned?
Now here I am, mourning your loss and stuck wearing two pairs of shoes. I still have my own responsibilities at home, and now I have yours too. Mom still can't drive, still can't see so good, and shouldn't be having to take an uber everywhere. We need to get her out of that house because the stairs are no good for her and it's in disrepair since you let so many things go for so long. She can't live like that, especially on her own. It's taking a lot longer than I wanted it to because you never bothered writing a will. Now we have to get all the finances in order before we can find her an independent living facility. I hope she remains safe during that time. You know that I don't have a spare room for her to stay in with us, and even if I did her having to get in and out of the bathtub would be a big risk every single day. And once she's safely in a new place, guess who will be stuck clearing out the house? More time I don't get to be with my son, your grandson, because it's not safe for him to be in that house either. I hope we can find a way to get it all done.
I'm at a loss for what to do - there's so much to be done, but I feel so overwhelmed that all I want to do is absolutely nothing. You kept everything such a damn secret that I don't even know where to begin
All this while planning for the arrival of our second child. Yes, you heard that right, he's going to be a big brother. You'll never be there to meet #2, they'll only know of you through stories and pictures. Again I ask, was it worth it?
I hope you're at peace, I really do. But boy did you leave me in a bad way.
submitted by larryb78 to DadForAMinute [link] [comments]
In case you can't tell, I'm still angry. I'm angry that you allowed yourself to deteriorate this way in your early 70's. I'm angry that you waited a week to tell me you fell in the house and hadn't left the 2nd floor because you fucked up your shoulder trying to get off the floor stubbornly on your own and then couldn't support yourself to even make it down the stairs. I'm angry that you did it twice more, got yourself stuck in a chair, finally had no choice but to let the fire department come in, and then still refused to go to the hospital. I'm angry that when it happened again the next day and you had no choice but to go to the hospital because you couldn't even get out of the chair they left you in you became quite possibly the worst patient in the history of that hospital. I'm angry that you refused the testing they wanted to do - I know you hated confined spaces, but they were willing to sedate you. Was a few hours without food or water before they put you out really so bad? I'm angry that you called me in a panic and expected me to leave my napping son to rush to the hospital, telling me you were going to die if I didn't get there. I drive all that way to find out it was because you didn't like the hospital bed they gave you. I'm sorry that you couldn't get comfortable, I did all I could to make it better for you - when you fell asleep I spent an hour combing over diagrams I found online trying to figure out how to adjust the stupid thing so that you'd feel better. Then you spring on me your genius plan that I should help you sit sideways on the bed with no support and your legs dangling. You were labeled a fall risk for a reason! If I did that you'd have zero support behind you and if you fell I'd have no way to get you back up. I'm angry that if I'd gone with this plan of yours I could've gotten in a lot of trouble if something happened to you. I'm angry that you called mom at all hours of the night expecting her to run up to the hospital and wait on you. She's older and has mobility issues too, that wasn't fair. If you didn't think the nurses were doing enough (they were) you should've hired an aide to be there with you to tend to whatever it is you wanted. And when i told you as much, your next genius plan to be transferred to the nursing home was even worse. I know you worked there for 30 years, I know you felt you could smooth talk your way into anything you wanted there because they all liked you so much, but what did you expect them to do for you? They couldn't keep you monitored the way the hospital did. They weren't equipped to have you hooked up that way. And what happened? 15 hours after you arrived you stopped breathing. Was it worth it? Did your usual attempts at schmoozing your way into whatever you want pan out as you planned?
Now here I am, mourning your loss and stuck wearing two pairs of shoes. I still have my own responsibilities at home, and now I have yours too. Mom still can't drive, still can't see so good, and shouldn't be having to take an uber everywhere. We need to get her out of that house because the stairs are no good for her and it's in disrepair since you let so many things go for so long. She can't live like that, especially on her own. It's taking a lot longer than I wanted it to because you never bothered writing a will. Now we have to get all the finances in order before we can find her an independent living facility. I hope she remains safe during that time. You know that I don't have a spare room for her to stay in with us, and even if I did her having to get in and out of the bathtub would be a big risk every single day. And once she's safely in a new place, guess who will be stuck clearing out the house? More time I don't get to be with my son, your grandson, because it's not safe for him to be in that house either. I hope we can find a way to get it all done.
I'm at a loss for what to do - there's so much to be done, but I feel so overwhelmed that all I want to do is absolutely nothing. You kept everything such a damn secret that I don't even know where to begin
All this while planning for the arrival of our second child. Yes, you heard that right, he's going to be a big brother. You'll never be there to meet #2, they'll only know of you through stories and pictures. Again I ask, was it worth it?
I hope you're at peace, I really do. But boy did you leave me in a bad way.
2023.06.05 15:03 Due-Cranberry9114 First Night
Hello! We are getting a puppy in a month or so and I'm looking for some advice about crate training and the first nights at home.
First of all, we have an older dog - a lab who sleeps on my bed. We did crate train him when he was a puppy but he's almost 100 pounds now and we ended up getting rid of the crate when he got bigger because he didn't really need it and it took up the whole living room. When we first got him I put him in a small crate next to my bed so I could kind of talk to him and comfort him while he was in his crate. Eventually we moved his crate downstairs.
So I was thinking of doing the same with the new puppy, but Charlie, the old guy will be in my bed. Will the puppy be distracted/afraid by that? Should I start the puppy out downstairs? Should I let the puppy out when he cries? Or get up every few hours to let him out?
I know about crate-training in general, but what is the best thing to do those first few nights before we've had a chance to create positive associations with the crate? The pup will come home with a blanket with his mother's scent on it and we do plan on getting a snuggle puppy.
submitted by Due-Cranberry9114 to puppy101 [link] [comments]
First of all, we have an older dog - a lab who sleeps on my bed. We did crate train him when he was a puppy but he's almost 100 pounds now and we ended up getting rid of the crate when he got bigger because he didn't really need it and it took up the whole living room. When we first got him I put him in a small crate next to my bed so I could kind of talk to him and comfort him while he was in his crate. Eventually we moved his crate downstairs.
So I was thinking of doing the same with the new puppy, but Charlie, the old guy will be in my bed. Will the puppy be distracted/afraid by that? Should I start the puppy out downstairs? Should I let the puppy out when he cries? Or get up every few hours to let him out?
I know about crate-training in general, but what is the best thing to do those first few nights before we've had a chance to create positive associations with the crate? The pup will come home with a blanket with his mother's scent on it and we do plan on getting a snuggle puppy.
2023.06.05 15:02 DifferenceFuture3610 I [M36] am considering divorce from my wife [F31].
So, I've (m36) been together my wife (f33) for 7 years, married for 6. We have a 3 year old daughter. Ever since the beginning I've felt petty much pressured into both marriage and later having a child. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter to bits! And I know I'm an adult so I take responsibility for everything I have done. But I don't think it was a good idea to do neither, as much as that pains me to say.
I'm a very chill guy who abhors conflict, while my wife (partly due to tough childhood and toxic ex) is volatile to say the least, easily gets extremely angry and says very hurtful things as some kind of reflex. My reaction is to withdraw, become resentful, and often even cry - mostly due to the unfairness of the situation, not exactly the words used. This obviously leads to a relationship where, even when things are good, it isn't exactly flourishing. I'm not even sure what we have in common any more and we spend a lot of time apart (like on phones if we are home, or with friends) , or if together, things like watching movies and stuff where we don't interact much. Even when things are good and we are both happy, she can - out of nowhere - completely snap and when I try to tell her that it hurts or please don't talk like that, things escalate quickly. This tells me it's just a part of her..
I fully recognize that I'm an adult and have accepted to be in my current situation. It's just been unfathomably difficult to fully touch base with myself in these situations. Looking back it strikes me as insane how my wife has trampled through my doubts about both marriage and having a child. Perhaps I'm just overly sensitive to other peoples emotions, but if someone expressed doubt about either of those, I would do a full stop and spend time figuring out how come we aren't aligned, talk it through, etc. etc.
For years I have had these thoughts, but like 70-80% of the time things are pretty stable, and then I super quickly revert to "well it's probably not that bad, is it?" (though that still means its like a day a week that SUCKS, sometimes more) It's just been so long that I feel like I'm just a walking shell. Even writing this post is something I've thought about for years. We have had many "talks" about our state of affairs but I have been the only one trying to repair, look forward, come with concrete suggestions for how we can change the dynamic etc. I've grown tired now. Then we have a nice weekend with friends, and everything seems rosy again. All of my family absolutely LOVE her, and my friends have a great view of her too. This makes it so difficult for me to figure out what I actually feel and should do! Is it just me? should I just deal with the occasional flare-up?
Once in a while I visit /narcissisticSpouses and I definitely recognize some things, but I don't think she's a full on "narc". The most absurd thing though, is that we can have zero talk about anything introspective. It's actually wild to observe. Asking any questions such as "why did you say that" / "can you see it from my side" / "that's hurts my feelings to listen to, please stop" etc etc, leads no where at all. I can't describe it, but she gets around giving any answer, and gets angry if pressured. Therefore we also can't have any real conversation about difficult topics at all. Actually we can't really have conversions in general, unless about extremely plain things. It's like she shuts down if anything becomes remotely theoretical/abstract.
My wife isn't happy either but I think divorce is unthinkable for her. She is mainly frustrated by the lack of romance and engagement from me. I, on the other hand, feel like I've come to some sort of end where I must fully confess just how incredibly jaded I've become. I feel like I can't see myself ever be happy here. That may lead to a real talk of actual divorce..
We have tried couples counseling twice, but both times she found it too intense to listen to how I describe my situation and the questions she had to answer. We have both been in individual therapy as well for a long while, though none of us are currently.
My question is basically : any advice for how to bring up such a conversation? Is it possible to go back afterwards, even if we both want to, or will it forever be in the background? If we end up finding out there isn't much to do, what's even the process forward? I can't imagine sleeping in the same bed afterwards etc etc. Damn I feel sick just thinking of what's on the other side. What's the process for initiating divorce if we get to that? We live in Scandinavia, where I don't think it's as common as in the US to lawyer up, but I will definitely seek advice locally as well. Has anyone got experience with divorcing with a toddler?
If you mad it to this: thanks for reading!
TLDR: Married for 7 years with a 3 year old. Considering divorce, but no idea how to proceed and what to expect. I think we are incompatible, but I'm doubting myself about everything here.
submitted by DifferenceFuture3610 to relationships [link] [comments]
I'm a very chill guy who abhors conflict, while my wife (partly due to tough childhood and toxic ex) is volatile to say the least, easily gets extremely angry and says very hurtful things as some kind of reflex. My reaction is to withdraw, become resentful, and often even cry - mostly due to the unfairness of the situation, not exactly the words used. This obviously leads to a relationship where, even when things are good, it isn't exactly flourishing. I'm not even sure what we have in common any more and we spend a lot of time apart (like on phones if we are home, or with friends) , or if together, things like watching movies and stuff where we don't interact much. Even when things are good and we are both happy, she can - out of nowhere - completely snap and when I try to tell her that it hurts or please don't talk like that, things escalate quickly. This tells me it's just a part of her..
I fully recognize that I'm an adult and have accepted to be in my current situation. It's just been unfathomably difficult to fully touch base with myself in these situations. Looking back it strikes me as insane how my wife has trampled through my doubts about both marriage and having a child. Perhaps I'm just overly sensitive to other peoples emotions, but if someone expressed doubt about either of those, I would do a full stop and spend time figuring out how come we aren't aligned, talk it through, etc. etc.
For years I have had these thoughts, but like 70-80% of the time things are pretty stable, and then I super quickly revert to "well it's probably not that bad, is it?" (though that still means its like a day a week that SUCKS, sometimes more) It's just been so long that I feel like I'm just a walking shell. Even writing this post is something I've thought about for years. We have had many "talks" about our state of affairs but I have been the only one trying to repair, look forward, come with concrete suggestions for how we can change the dynamic etc. I've grown tired now. Then we have a nice weekend with friends, and everything seems rosy again. All of my family absolutely LOVE her, and my friends have a great view of her too. This makes it so difficult for me to figure out what I actually feel and should do! Is it just me? should I just deal with the occasional flare-up?
Once in a while I visit /narcissisticSpouses and I definitely recognize some things, but I don't think she's a full on "narc". The most absurd thing though, is that we can have zero talk about anything introspective. It's actually wild to observe. Asking any questions such as "why did you say that" / "can you see it from my side" / "that's hurts my feelings to listen to, please stop" etc etc, leads no where at all. I can't describe it, but she gets around giving any answer, and gets angry if pressured. Therefore we also can't have any real conversation about difficult topics at all. Actually we can't really have conversions in general, unless about extremely plain things. It's like she shuts down if anything becomes remotely theoretical/abstract.
My wife isn't happy either but I think divorce is unthinkable for her. She is mainly frustrated by the lack of romance and engagement from me. I, on the other hand, feel like I've come to some sort of end where I must fully confess just how incredibly jaded I've become. I feel like I can't see myself ever be happy here. That may lead to a real talk of actual divorce..
We have tried couples counseling twice, but both times she found it too intense to listen to how I describe my situation and the questions she had to answer. We have both been in individual therapy as well for a long while, though none of us are currently.
My question is basically : any advice for how to bring up such a conversation? Is it possible to go back afterwards, even if we both want to, or will it forever be in the background? If we end up finding out there isn't much to do, what's even the process forward? I can't imagine sleeping in the same bed afterwards etc etc. Damn I feel sick just thinking of what's on the other side. What's the process for initiating divorce if we get to that? We live in Scandinavia, where I don't think it's as common as in the US to lawyer up, but I will definitely seek advice locally as well. Has anyone got experience with divorcing with a toddler?
If you mad it to this: thanks for reading!
TLDR: Married for 7 years with a 3 year old. Considering divorce, but no idea how to proceed and what to expect. I think we are incompatible, but I'm doubting myself about everything here.
2023.06.05 15:00 dreemcos Extreme regret over buying a house with issues
My husband and I recently bought a house and I am absolutely beside myself with regret. Please do not reply that we shouldn't have bought this house, I already know that and the regret I have is debilitating to the point that I feel I need to get psychological help and prescribed medication just to function as a human being and go to my job. The house has sloping floors which I barely noticed when we saw the house (had rosy colored glasses on because I was excited to buy and make something our own). It had been on the market for a while (initially had been priced super high) and was in the perfect location for what we wanted. Inspection went okay, he pointed out the sloping floors (which are literally everywhere) and that the crawl space was very low (8-10 inches) but that it was common. He recommended we have a contractor look at the floors to give an estimate to level the sloping and then factor that in to our decision to move forward, which came back at ~$5K (he said it would be ballpark $ just so we'd have something to show the sellers to try to negotiate). I had asked the inspector if we should hire a structural engineer but he said a general contractor could do it just fine. Now that we're in the house, the floor sloping is extreme. It basically feels like I'm taking a step down to go into the bathroom and the utility room in the back has a 2-3 inch gap between the floor and the wall because of the sloping. To add to it, there is no attic access so the inspector was not able to inspect that (huge red flag, I know now). It was an investor flip and I should have ran from the first time we saw it but the location was ideal and we liked certain aspects. The contractor who originally gave us the quote to fix the floors didn't know how small the crawl space was so now can't do that work and said we'd need to have tunnels dug up in the crawl space or pull up the floors to fix it from above. I'm including pictures from the inspection for reference. There's some cracks which I included too, inspector said it was cosmetic and wasn't concerned.
It appraised for the price we bought it at and with the inspector basically saying all houses have their issues, we felt comfortable moving forward. It is without a doubt the biggest mistake I've ever made and I have no idea why we bought it. It doesn't help that we don't have any prior experiencing buying. Something about the way I was feeling before we closed felt like regret/dread but I chalked it up to cold feet and was just was going off what I knew and thinking $5K wasn't worth it to walk away.
At this point, I have no idea what to do or who to talk to about attempting to salvage it. I'd be more than willing to take whatever loss on it to just sell it and get out, but know there's no way we'd be able to sell it given all these issues and the fact that we literally just bought it 3 months ago.
I'm willing to do whatever I have to do to fix it but I just don't even know where to start. I'm so beside myself with grief/regret and wish I could go back in time and not buy this house. Please please any advice on how to help us get through this is recommended. I also hope this serves as a warning to everyone out there to trust your gut and walk away if something doesn't feel right about a home purchase. I really wish I did but it's too late now.
https://preview.redd.it/2hy6yd6u774b1.png?width=1170&format=png&auto=webp&s=a7f9762f3d230b4238fb695763cec396b4ae121a
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submitted by dreemcos to FirstTimeHomeBuyer [link] [comments]
It appraised for the price we bought it at and with the inspector basically saying all houses have their issues, we felt comfortable moving forward. It is without a doubt the biggest mistake I've ever made and I have no idea why we bought it. It doesn't help that we don't have any prior experiencing buying. Something about the way I was feeling before we closed felt like regret/dread but I chalked it up to cold feet and was just was going off what I knew and thinking $5K wasn't worth it to walk away.
At this point, I have no idea what to do or who to talk to about attempting to salvage it. I'd be more than willing to take whatever loss on it to just sell it and get out, but know there's no way we'd be able to sell it given all these issues and the fact that we literally just bought it 3 months ago.
I'm willing to do whatever I have to do to fix it but I just don't even know where to start. I'm so beside myself with grief/regret and wish I could go back in time and not buy this house. Please please any advice on how to help us get through this is recommended. I also hope this serves as a warning to everyone out there to trust your gut and walk away if something doesn't feel right about a home purchase. I really wish I did but it's too late now.
https://preview.redd.it/2hy6yd6u774b1.png?width=1170&format=png&auto=webp&s=a7f9762f3d230b4238fb695763cec396b4ae121a
https://preview.redd.it/bx61xe6u774b1.png?width=1170&format=png&auto=webp&s=b046fa476900727cdcecd58829e031587ff9995a
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https://preview.redd.it/4m04hb6u774b1.png?width=1170&format=png&auto=webp&s=88a22accce4be1a9eb4a3a84d1adf0bc0323a88e
https://preview.redd.it/ucfieh6u774b1.png?width=1170&format=png&auto=webp&s=477314720bd62e21823ec7c4bb3baa595a99a420
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https://preview.redd.it/q46o6l6u774b1.png?width=1170&format=png&auto=webp&s=d2d6c57c62aca15fd9b17621658dc4205a93f2af
2023.06.05 15:00 ARedHarvest Good, Fine and Why? (A home for minireviews)
Hey!
In the interest of stirring the pot in the room and making this more than just a sale post room, I thought we would do a regular, Good, Fine and Why post.
The idea is simple. What have you tasted recently that was good? What have you had recently that was just OK/fine? Lastly, tell us why for each.
Needless to say, let's keep it civil and recognize that everybody has different taste buds and likes different things.
For example:
Good: Rebel Yell! I visited my folks and picked up a few bottles I had left there as they were going to pour them out as they're not big drinkers. One of the bottles was Rebel Yell. I haven't had it in maybe a year. It's not bad! I thoroughly enjoyed it. It's fine on its own and will work fine as a mixer.
Fine: Epoch Whiskey Batch 5 finished in Pineau De Charentes: It's fine. I'm a big fan of Epoch's regular rye and cask strength. I haven't been wowed by the last couple of special releases and this is no exception. It's a bit too sweet for me. Still a fan of the brand, but this was just OK to me.
submitted by ARedHarvest to BmoreBourbonSociety [link] [comments]
In the interest of stirring the pot in the room and making this more than just a sale post room, I thought we would do a regular, Good, Fine and Why post.
The idea is simple. What have you tasted recently that was good? What have you had recently that was just OK/fine? Lastly, tell us why for each.
Needless to say, let's keep it civil and recognize that everybody has different taste buds and likes different things.
For example:
Good: Rebel Yell! I visited my folks and picked up a few bottles I had left there as they were going to pour them out as they're not big drinkers. One of the bottles was Rebel Yell. I haven't had it in maybe a year. It's not bad! I thoroughly enjoyed it. It's fine on its own and will work fine as a mixer.
Fine: Epoch Whiskey Batch 5 finished in Pineau De Charentes: It's fine. I'm a big fan of Epoch's regular rye and cask strength. I haven't been wowed by the last couple of special releases and this is no exception. It's a bit too sweet for me. Still a fan of the brand, but this was just OK to me.
2023.06.05 14:57 NickSS38 Advice on first Sonos set up
Hey Everyone. Newbie here looking for advice on my first set up. We have a pretty compact living room, dining room, and kitchen area. We watch a lot of movies and I would like to connect a turn table (have not purchased yet). I also like the idea of smaller speakers in the kitchen area while we eat and cook
Our living room is about 15 x 15 with vaulted ceilings. I have a 55" OLED LED TV. I used to have a sound bar but to be honest, the TV sound is better.
My budget is flexible but I don't want to break the bank.
Thanks in advance.
submitted by NickSS38 to sonos [link] [comments]
Our living room is about 15 x 15 with vaulted ceilings. I have a 55" OLED LED TV. I used to have a sound bar but to be honest, the TV sound is better.
My budget is flexible but I don't want to break the bank.
Thanks in advance.
2023.06.05 14:56 TheHorribleSis AITA for loosing my mind at my sister
Long story very abbreviated, my sister and I (we are not close at all) had to make a trip to see a sick relative. The trip was basically arranged around her work and kids schedule. It was also arranged roughly 2 months in advance.
The project she was working on ran over time, so finished several hours after we were on our flight to another state. She wanted to change flights and accommodation etc. I had organised time off work, a baby sitter, pick ups etc. Nothing could be changed at such late notice plus it would cost money to do so.
So the whole time away she was complaining how bad it was she was not there for the end of the project, how I guilted her into coming, how she didn’t want to be there. I didn’t say anything, just kept going on with what we had to do. I had recently had surgery on my throat, and had a cold, so I snored through the night, which woke her up, so she woke me up ( we were sharing a hotel room to save costs). This happened several times during the night. I said I would buy some kind of cold medication to try and clear my sinuses so we could both sleep the following night.
Anyway, we are in an unfamiliar town, I didn’t know where there was a chemist and when we did go past one there was no parking for miles. I said I would find one later as this was in the morning. As the day progressed the nagging about cold medication, continued and continued and the whining about not wanting to be there was constant. I was at the end of my tether and I snapped. Like completely snapped. I admit, what I said to her and my reactions were over the top, and pretty atrocious, however she wouldn’t stop all day. I did apologise, it was as sincere as I could be but I was seething. I am not one to hold a grudge, so got over it and got on with it.
This all happened about 8 months ago, like I said we are not close, so do not keep in contact that much. I received a text from her in the last day or so, saying basically I need to look at myself and find what is wrong with me, that she doesn’t accept my apology, as it was insincere.
I don’t get why this is coming up now. I apologised at the time, as best I could for my reaction and what I said, but not for actually giving her the bollocking. But apparently there is something wrong with me???? She has no idea that she was nagging, couldn’t see that she was irritating me incredibly with the whining and then says I am the bad person in all of this. AITA?
submitted by TheHorribleSis to AmItheAsshole [link] [comments]
The project she was working on ran over time, so finished several hours after we were on our flight to another state. She wanted to change flights and accommodation etc. I had organised time off work, a baby sitter, pick ups etc. Nothing could be changed at such late notice plus it would cost money to do so.
So the whole time away she was complaining how bad it was she was not there for the end of the project, how I guilted her into coming, how she didn’t want to be there. I didn’t say anything, just kept going on with what we had to do. I had recently had surgery on my throat, and had a cold, so I snored through the night, which woke her up, so she woke me up ( we were sharing a hotel room to save costs). This happened several times during the night. I said I would buy some kind of cold medication to try and clear my sinuses so we could both sleep the following night.
Anyway, we are in an unfamiliar town, I didn’t know where there was a chemist and when we did go past one there was no parking for miles. I said I would find one later as this was in the morning. As the day progressed the nagging about cold medication, continued and continued and the whining about not wanting to be there was constant. I was at the end of my tether and I snapped. Like completely snapped. I admit, what I said to her and my reactions were over the top, and pretty atrocious, however she wouldn’t stop all day. I did apologise, it was as sincere as I could be but I was seething. I am not one to hold a grudge, so got over it and got on with it.
This all happened about 8 months ago, like I said we are not close, so do not keep in contact that much. I received a text from her in the last day or so, saying basically I need to look at myself and find what is wrong with me, that she doesn’t accept my apology, as it was insincere.
I don’t get why this is coming up now. I apologised at the time, as best I could for my reaction and what I said, but not for actually giving her the bollocking. But apparently there is something wrong with me???? She has no idea that she was nagging, couldn’t see that she was irritating me incredibly with the whining and then says I am the bad person in all of this. AITA?
2023.06.05 14:54 Unlikely-Coffee-3077 the warner bros animation creepypasta hidden tom and jerry DVD
i'm total of tom and jerry fan i like all the episodes i don't think glitchy DVDs anymore i had it
it started on a summer back in 2012 i was watching Nick Jr on cable television i want to see this something in my mailbox only thing the mailbox there was the DVD i took it inside
i looked at the note in 3 days i did it
this is how is voice of the DVD
Seth
i can't take it anymore i had to get rid of the DVD before it was too late if you don't destroy the video disc you can pop the DVD too
it is not true
destroy this DVD please don't even watch that you don't destroy it
well that ones weird i have it seen in 3 days the reason how DVDs can talk just a video disc i was wrong about that
anyway i look at the case and it is look like the regular tom and jerry DVD it had black marker on it written Tom And Jerry Lost Episode like a DVD store when i saw Tom And Jerry Lost Episode on the writing of the DVD i wanted to watch it
i went up to my room and insert DVD in the play station 3 and then the TV screen showed mgm logo but the lion was red and the music so creepy then it went to the main menu the DVD menu was empty it is true menu button called Dream Mouse no credits no extras no nothing then when the music was finished the THE END sign didn't appear nothing but the blue background
when the father came the black hand came out the DVD menu with a mouse trap causing him to die causing the main menu to smashed my TV
then the DVD menu tries to go on bonus features menu one at the bedroom then the DVD menu jumping the bed the ambulance arrived and carried my mother to the hospital the DVD menu breaks the computer with a keyboard i was so scared
the DVD menu destroys the play station 3 and DVD menu destroys the wall with a iPad he said oh no my house is gone the DVD menu was evil laugh the DVD menu shouted said MOTHERFUCKER!
first my house and the traffic lights this is reason how DVD menu was really angry
submitted by Unlikely-Coffee-3077 to u/Unlikely-Coffee-3077 [link] [comments]
it started on a summer back in 2012 i was watching Nick Jr on cable television i want to see this something in my mailbox only thing the mailbox there was the DVD i took it inside
i looked at the note in 3 days i did it
this is how is voice of the DVD
Seth
i can't take it anymore i had to get rid of the DVD before it was too late if you don't destroy the video disc you can pop the DVD too
it is not true
destroy this DVD please don't even watch that you don't destroy it
well that ones weird i have it seen in 3 days the reason how DVDs can talk just a video disc i was wrong about that
anyway i look at the case and it is look like the regular tom and jerry DVD it had black marker on it written Tom And Jerry Lost Episode like a DVD store when i saw Tom And Jerry Lost Episode on the writing of the DVD i wanted to watch it
i went up to my room and insert DVD in the play station 3 and then the TV screen showed mgm logo but the lion was red and the music so creepy then it went to the main menu the DVD menu was empty it is true menu button called Dream Mouse no credits no extras no nothing then when the music was finished the THE END sign didn't appear nothing but the blue background
when the father came the black hand came out the DVD menu with a mouse trap causing him to die causing the main menu to smashed my TV
then the DVD menu tries to go on bonus features menu one at the bedroom then the DVD menu jumping the bed the ambulance arrived and carried my mother to the hospital the DVD menu breaks the computer with a keyboard i was so scared
the DVD menu destroys the play station 3 and DVD menu destroys the wall with a iPad he said oh no my house is gone the DVD menu was evil laugh the DVD menu shouted said MOTHERFUCKER!
first my house and the traffic lights this is reason how DVD menu was really angry
2023.06.05 14:54 mranoneemoose Having hallucinations when waking?
It's been a common occurrence to hallucinate an incredibly gigantic spider (the size of a plastic plate) either on my wall, ceiling, or in my bed upon waking up, and it looks so real I get out of bed screaming and running. For the first few minutes I will believe it's real, I will even look around the room for it again, until I fully awake and realize it was all in my head. Does anyone know why this happens??? Am I going crazy???
submitted by mranoneemoose to sleep [link] [comments]
2023.06.05 14:54 ememruru Is it safer to go to a guy’s house or them come to yours?
I’m always in two minds about this. Here are my pros and cons (basically just opposites):
His: Pro - doesn’t know where you live, knowing his address could be used for ID if anything goes very south Con - unfamiliar surroundings, anyone or anything could be inside
Yours: Pro - familiar surroundings Con - he’ll always know where you live, can suss out your situation and find out personal things
I usually go to his because I don’t like the idea of him knowing where I live. Also, I don’t really like the idea of having a few guys in my bed (not at once 😉)
Any thoughts much appreciated!
submitted by ememruru to TwoXChromosomes [link] [comments]
His: Pro - doesn’t know where you live, knowing his address could be used for ID if anything goes very south Con - unfamiliar surroundings, anyone or anything could be inside
Yours: Pro - familiar surroundings Con - he’ll always know where you live, can suss out your situation and find out personal things
I usually go to his because I don’t like the idea of him knowing where I live. Also, I don’t really like the idea of having a few guys in my bed (not at once 😉)
Any thoughts much appreciated!
2023.06.05 14:52 Exidose the RNG nature of the ciphers is leaving a sour taste in my mouth regarding this game.
I bought it on release, but as I do with most games I play them for a while then end up dropping them, but about a month ago I come back to this game and have been playing it ever since, completed the game all acts and finished the survey for 4 out of 6 biomes, but on biome 2 and 6 I have 3 ciphers left on both.
I've done plenty of offline runs on both Biomes and think I have an idea of what ones I need (rooms) by working out the ones I already have, but searching for these is really making my thoughts of this game decline, and I know trophies aren't everything and you can just play the story and leave it at that, I wish I had now, but I've already started and I'm close to the finish line.
Don't even know what I think I'm getting out of making this post I just wanted to vent.
submitted by Exidose to Returnal [link] [comments]
I've done plenty of offline runs on both Biomes and think I have an idea of what ones I need (rooms) by working out the ones I already have, but searching for these is really making my thoughts of this game decline, and I know trophies aren't everything and you can just play the story and leave it at that, I wish I had now, but I've already started and I'm close to the finish line.
Don't even know what I think I'm getting out of making this post I just wanted to vent.
2023.06.05 14:51 OpaceWeb Create SEO-led AI blog posts using GPT-3 and GPT-4 using a free WordPress plugin (AI-Scribe)
 | ey everyone, I just wanted to share our free WordPress plugin called AI-Scribe 😄 It uses models like GPT-3, 3.5 and 4 to generate powerful SEO-friendly blog content. submitted by OpaceWeb to ChatGPT [link] [comments] It took a while to get approved and I know there are other tools like this out there like this now, but this one's got some really great prompt engineering built in to make sure the content is created and optimised for SEO from the outset! Instead of providing an input/output type article creator, it guides users using a step-by-step wizard with fully editable customisable prompts to make sure they have total control over each stage of the content creation process. As we all know, the power of ChatGPT lies in the quality of the prompts and that's the philosophy behind AI-Scribe! Brainstorm title ideas You can download the plugin directly from WordPress here: https://wordpress.org/plugins/ai-scribe-the-chatgpt-powered-seo-content-creation-wizard/ Remember, this is a free, non-commercial plugin, and it's just the beginning. So please keep any feedback friendly and constructive, focusing on helping each other out. I know there might be a few bugs and some room for improvement. Can't wait to hear your thoughts, and thanks in advance for your input! |
2023.06.05 14:50 glasspiano Sick Tomato and Basil Seedlings
 | I have multiple tomato and basil plants I started from seed some weeks back. I transplanted them to 3" plastic pot after they formed true leaves. I'm using MiracleGro Raised Bed Soil. I been top watering every 2-3 days depending on the weather. submitted by glasspiano to plantclinic [link] [comments] They all have white marks on the leaves that seems to be getting worse as the weeks progress. I've tried to see if I could wash it off without luck. Any idea what's going on? |
2023.06.05 14:49 kiplet1 [City of Roses] no. 27.1: the Blue room – Bottles & Cartons & Tubs & Boxes
![[City of Roses] no. 27.1: the Blue room – Bottles & Cartons & Tubs & Boxes](https://external-preview.redd.it/qYRyXUWWQABRdxlpUwAdHKEY2WTFbpJX4iX5eV6evSw.jpg?width=640&crop=smart&auto=webp&s=c3d3d20ce92d53d951021fdc145ae09b16cbff40 "[City of Roses] no. 27.1: the Blue room – Bottles & Cartons & Tubs & Boxes") | Patreon submitted by kiplet1 to redditserials [link] [comments] previous Table of Contents tends to crumble The room is blue, and dark, and very quiet. At the foot of the pallet mounded with white pillows under the angled ceilings he’s sitting, and dark hair eaves his shoulders, a great beard brushes his chest, his back and upper arms are hatched with more hair curling with the curves of sagging muscle, down to his thick round waist. His legs are folded tailor-fashion, bare feet tucked under bare thighs, hands held loosely open on his knees, his cock a-jut, tip of it darkly swollen, glistening, there before his thick-furred paunch. Mustache wide in a simple smile beneath eyes simply, gently closed, there between his beard, his hair, serenely still, so very quiet. Explosions rip the television screen, chatter of gunfire, Angels comin thick an fast Sarge, and the guy on the beanbag leans back and forth, thumbs and fingers frantically working the controller in his lap. The view on the screen wheels, jerks, dials and meters in the corners whirling, flashing, galloping along in a tight-packed herd of wildly colored centaurs, garish pastel zebra stripes, neon leopard spots, Appaloosa rainbows, all wrapped in khaki saddlebags, human torsos draped in bandoliers, big guns in their outsized hands, Get to cover! Under the cable! Your six, your six! and another explosion. “Shit!” he yelps, tap-tapping, laughing, “Shit!” Over across the room a woman’s headed toward a grand dark staircase, and the other man in the room looks away from the screen, starts after her, “Ellen,” he says, dodging around a dark wood column, “hey, Ellen, wait up.” She stops, a couple steps up, looks down at him. “How long, exactly,” he says, “is he gonna be staying here,” and he points, up the stairs, past her. She shrugs. More explosions, more gunfire, the guy on the beanbag whoops. “Long as he needs,” she says. Her black hair spiky short, the inky lace of tattoos edging the collar of her running shirt. “It’s just,” he says, at the foot of the stairs, tall and heavyset, cardigan blue. “The occasional overnight guest is one thing, but – ” “My room, my friend, my business,” she says. “You won’t even know he’s there, Dan, unless you go out of your way.” The loudest explosion yet, and “Shit!” yells the guy on the beanbag. The television’s gone red. She’s turning to climb the stairs. “Ellen!” says the man in the blue cardigan, starting up, “Ellen, he was, what the hell was he doing, wearing my shirt?” She looks down at him again, and maybe shrugs. “Looks better on him,” she says, and up she goes, up another flight, up under the very peak of the house. At the end of a cramped hall a door, cut at an angle the top to fit the slope of the roof. The door to that blue room opens, and she steps in, a shadow dressed in black, flashes of silver piping, “Phil?” she says. “You’re, ah, oh.” Stretching out a foot to prod the black huddle of a discarded suit, there on the floor by the door. Splash of yellow within, and blue and white, a rumpled aloha shirt. “Hungry?” she says. “I was gonna go for phở.” Still in the doorway, hand on the jamb. “Did you want some?” Creak of a floorboard as she steps back, out into the hall. “I’ll bring some back,” she says. “You’re welcome to half the bed, if you need it.” The door swings shut. The latch clicks, quietly. • Rattle of glass, yellow bin in his hands, blue letters along the side say Portland Recycles! Clang and clink he sets it down, chock full of bottles, brown glass and green, clear, four or five of them wine bottles long and slender, the rest soda bottles, beer. Squatting he pulls out a wide-mouthed jar, the label mostly torn away, and holds it up in the light. “Fuck,” he says, setting it down. Smacks it, topples it, sends it rolling a hollow rumble away down the linoleum clunk against the wall. “Fuck,” he says, again, rattle and clink, and “shit,” and then “damn.” Over by the floor-length curtains a brown and green sleeping bag, someone in it, rolling over, a voice, sleep-muzzled, “What.” “Bits,” he says, “of pickle,” waving a hand, and dark hair swings about the shoulders of his warm-up jacket, blue and grey. “So rinse it?” The sleeping bag hunches and flops open, whoever’s in it sitting up, a woman, wrapped in a puffy pink and orange parka. “Why should I,” he’s saying, “why couldn’t they,” and he shoves the bin, a chiming crash. “We’ll just have to get some. Bread-and-butter pickles. Trader Joe’s.” “You want to,” she says, and she’s pinching the bridge of her nose, “you want to buy a new jar of pickles, and, what, eat them all, or throw them out, and the rinse the jar, because you don’t want to rinse the jar?” “The label on that one,” he says, and then “dammit! It’s the perfect size.” Stomping the length of the room to snatch up the jar, and then through the door. Clomp and clatter, a squawking wrench, the rush of water. She sighs, crawls out of the sleeping bag, long yellow hair a-dangle from the parka’s fur-lined hood. She slips on a couple of red canvas shoes and heads off carefully through the garbage strewn across the floor, more bottles, empty, all sizes and colors, glass and plastic, quart-sized cartons and half-gallon cartons and little pints and half-pints, cereal boxes and pasta boxes stacked and wrapped together with blue masking tape and black friction tape, towering masts of emptied rolls of plastic wrap and toilet paper, paper towels, plastic tubs tall and squatly broad, whole ranks of them that say Nancy’s in letters of various hues, all laid out in a relatively tidy grid, narrow paths between and through them all where she places her feet, aglets of her undone laces clacking against the floor, until she reaches a wide cleared curl of an aisle of sorts, edges marked with long strips of more blue tape. He’s at the sink, fiercely scrubbing the jar, “Basic civic duty,” he’s saying, “think of other people, come on.” Slamming the jar on the counter by a dozen or more empty jars and bottles, scrubbed clean, gleaming. Yanking the faucet to shut off the water. “Luke,” she’s saying, “Luke,” and he looks up to see her there, hands stuffed in the pockets of her parka. “The hell you wearing that for,” he says, scooping wet shreds of label from the sink. “It’s freezing,” she says. “You know why it’s cold,” he says, dropping the mess plop in a swollen garbage bag that yawns there on the floor. “So I’m wearing this.” “You look ridiculous.” He shakes the slop off his hand. “There’s still a smell,” she says. He’s headed past her, out of the kitchen. “Luke,” she says, following, “Luke. We’re gonna need – ” “Don’t,” he says, kneeling by an untidy patch of garbage. “We’re gonna need money,” she says. “Rent. The fifth. It’s next week.” “We’re always,” says Luke, “gonna need,” plucking up a cereal box, “so get a job,” he says, grabbing another, a clownishly colored bird on the front of it. “I had a job,” she says. “Jessie,” he says, “don’t, just,” and he looks up, a shrug. “Your sister’s gonna be here soon. Right? So maybe she’ll have something for you. For us.” “My,” says Jessie, frowning. “Luke, now is not the – ” “Don’t,” he says, leaning over to place one of the boxes right next to a yellow plastic jug. https://preview.redd.it/87pqqbf7j64b1.png?width=35&format=png&auto=webp&s=1b5613905bd8048ca8edd473abee4b8febe0df55 previous Table of Contents Patreon |
2023.06.05 14:48 OldSoulCreativity Vape Disappeared/Reappeared at Exactly the Same time 24 hours later
So I vape, and for better or worse the thing is typically glued to my hand, whether I am awake or not. I am working on quitting, but that’s irrelevant to the story. When I fall asleep I usually end up loosening my grip on the device and it will easily be found somewhere in my bed when I get up. Sometimes it falls off the bed or gets buried in the pillows, but I always find it. My Fiance is out of town, so I have the house to myself.
So I woke up a two nights ago and looked at my watch, it was 2:23am ( i just happen to remember this), and then proceeded to look for my vape to take a hit before falling back asleep. I looked everywhere that I could while I was half asleep, never found it, so I went and grabbed a backup and went back to bed. In the morning though, I looked harder. I got out a flashlight and looked under the bed, I looked inside the pillowcases, under the pillows, took off all of the blankets and sheets off of the bed and shook them out in the hopes that the vape was tangled in there somewhere. Still not finding it, I remembered that I had let the dogs out around midnight and maybe I had set it down on the back porch or somewhere in the kitchen? So I searched EVERYWHERE. Searched the porch, the kitchen, the cabinets, the dishwasher for gods sake. I literally looked everywhere.
I had shit to do so I left the house and came back a few hours later and continued looking. I probably spent around 2 hours throughout the day looking for this vape, with my efforts concentrated in the bedroom. Like I said before, I looked in and around the bed as thoroughly as possible. I removed the sheets and blankets entirely. Same with the pillows. I looked under the bed, between the mattress and frame, everywhere I could possibly think this thing could have ended up.
I never ended up finding it and have been using my backup ever since.
Here comes the glitch.
I go to bed last night I went to bed as usually, still using my backup vape, and went to sleep. I slept deeply and soundly until I wake up at 2:22 (one minute before I woke up the other night, but the fact it was so close together was crazy enough that I had I to put the detail in here), I felt something poking me in the back so I roll over and lo and behold, there’s the vape. My backup is on the nightstand, and the vape that I had lost had been jabbing me in the back.
I TORE apart that bed. I checked everywhere in that room. How did it end up UNDER ME? Blows my mind. But I have my vape back.
submitted by OldSoulCreativity to Glitch_in_the_Matrix [link] [comments]
So I woke up a two nights ago and looked at my watch, it was 2:23am ( i just happen to remember this), and then proceeded to look for my vape to take a hit before falling back asleep. I looked everywhere that I could while I was half asleep, never found it, so I went and grabbed a backup and went back to bed. In the morning though, I looked harder. I got out a flashlight and looked under the bed, I looked inside the pillowcases, under the pillows, took off all of the blankets and sheets off of the bed and shook them out in the hopes that the vape was tangled in there somewhere. Still not finding it, I remembered that I had let the dogs out around midnight and maybe I had set it down on the back porch or somewhere in the kitchen? So I searched EVERYWHERE. Searched the porch, the kitchen, the cabinets, the dishwasher for gods sake. I literally looked everywhere.
I had shit to do so I left the house and came back a few hours later and continued looking. I probably spent around 2 hours throughout the day looking for this vape, with my efforts concentrated in the bedroom. Like I said before, I looked in and around the bed as thoroughly as possible. I removed the sheets and blankets entirely. Same with the pillows. I looked under the bed, between the mattress and frame, everywhere I could possibly think this thing could have ended up.
I never ended up finding it and have been using my backup ever since.
Here comes the glitch.
I go to bed last night I went to bed as usually, still using my backup vape, and went to sleep. I slept deeply and soundly until I wake up at 2:22 (one minute before I woke up the other night, but the fact it was so close together was crazy enough that I had I to put the detail in here), I felt something poking me in the back so I roll over and lo and behold, there’s the vape. My backup is on the nightstand, and the vape that I had lost had been jabbing me in the back.
I TORE apart that bed. I checked everywhere in that room. How did it end up UNDER ME? Blows my mind. But I have my vape back.