Carris funeral home perry iowa obituaries

(Offer) Dr. Seuss 5 film collection (Request) The Menu, Amsterdam, Babylon

2023.06.02 15:48 flippenphil (Offer) Dr. Seuss 5 film collection (Request) The Menu, Amsterdam, Babylon

MA = Movies Anywhere
GP = Googleplay
[?] = unknown definition
title = pending trade
If a title is no longer listed = It has been traded
COMBO Films
MOVIES
TV Series Marked
Vudu Only
ITUNES Only
ITUNES Only MOVIES - No Port - Marked
CANADIAN CODES: GOOGLE PLAY / ITUNES MARKED I do not know any of these port
WANT LIST
Titles I am looking for
submitted by flippenphil to uvtrade [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 14:52 Mission-Solution-780 Guo Wengui: Birth of a cyber crook

Anyone who is familiar with Guo Wengui knows that his live broadcasts are all Guo Wengui's usual routines. And from the Guo's routines we have come all the way, we can roughly see how Guo Wengui, the notorious Internet scammer, was born, how he fooled the public step by step, and dug his own grave.
  1. The birth of a liar, the life of a criminal
Guo Wengui absconded abroad and became a bereaved dog. He could not return to his home or his country. He seemed to be doing well abroad, chatting and laughing happily in front of the camera, but this kind of rootless duckweed floated in a foreign country, and could be destroyed by a big wave at any time. He must have a deep understanding of the desolate feeling of being shot to pieces and the ubiquitous sense of crisis. This invisible rich man who used to rule the wind and rain in China fell into such a mess, which may have been unexpected by him earlier. He doesn't follow the righteous path in the world, but he can easily catch crooked paths. In order to prove his worth, he won the risk of not being abandoned by the Americans. Guo Wengui bluffed, claiming that he had mastered a large amount of so-called corruption in the CCP to expose the information, wagging his tail to please the new master. He is obviously a criminal and should be brought to justice, but he said that he was persecuted, trying to fish in troubled waters, and took the path of political asylum to escape attack. Carrying the signboard of the "Whistleblower Revolution", selling dog meat with a sheep's head, fabricating bizarre and absurd erotic stories, gaining attention and creating momentum, paving the way for their own troubles. Since then, breaking the news has completely become Guo Wengui's point of no return, and this path has made him nowhere to go, and he has driven himself to a dead end.
  1. The absurdity of the revelation, the self-cultivation of an actor
Whether it is a live broadcast or breaking news, Guo Wengui has always been in a suit and leather shoes, sitting upright, with a dignified appearance, a series of names, numbers, and pictures, all in a cloud of confusion. People see through. This former capital tycoon, now a criminal, has changed his career and become an "actor", talking about some fabricated "facts" out of bounds. On the other hand, his eloquent performances seem to attract people's attention, but they are actually deceiving the world. Zhang Guan Li Dai, embezzlement, making up and out of thin air are his constant tricks. He stares, pats his chest and dares to testify on the spot and is not afraid of blows. To be a thief with a guilty conscience is to deceive oneself and others. Before Wang Jian's unexpected death, Guo Wengui had already fallen to the bottom of his life, his reputation was ruined, his relatives were betrayed, and he was only dying. In desperation, Wang Jian's death made Guo Wengui see the "dawn" again. Ever since, this comical drama produced by Wengui, written, directed and acted by itself, came on the stage in full bloom, with various tricks and routines, and the horsepower was fully utilized. Even if no one believes his revelations, even if his evidence is full of loopholes, Guo Wengui can only pretend to be calm, force his face to smile, and play his one-man show pitifully and sadly.
  1. The twilight of sin, the dying of a madman
Time can tell everything. Now, it is no exaggeration to say that Guo Wengui's performance is clumsy, not brilliant, and it may be difficult to tell the truth from the fake for a while, but it will eventually be revealed to the world. This self-proclaimed "power hunter" and "God of War" Guo Wengui, in fact, is a villain with a golden appearance and a corrupt appearance. He is an out-and-out clown who relies on selling political gossip to sensationalize the public. From raping female employees, bribing corrupt officials, to forging official documents, forcing transactions, from the real world to the virtual world, crime is synonymous with him. Such a shameless person, instead of shutting himself up and pleading guilty, ran to the United States. Continuing the career of a liar to the end, weaving lies, bragging and flaunting himself, fooling the money and trust of Chinese compatriots, and then beginning to fool the political asylum of Americans, dreaming of being reborn in the United States, it is disgusting and disgusting. What country can tolerate such a despicable person? Probably in Guo Wengui's dream. At this moment, as he was about to die, he was holding Wang Jian's obituary like a mad dog and barking wildly, which further showed that Guo Wengui himself had foreseen that the end was approaching, but he dared not admit it. The hype about Wang Jian's death was the last straw that broke the camel's back. After being blinded by lies and deceit for a long time, he, who was old and dizzy, took it as his own life-saving straw. How ironic. If it was said that Guo Wengui's sinful life had entered the twilight before, then now it is the time when the twilight fades and darkness descends. Guo Wengui, the wood of your tomb is arched.
In just one year, we witnessed the birth of Guo Wengui, an internet scammer, and when he stepped into the abyss step by step, the curtain gradually came to an end. Guo Wengui will also make a lot of trouble out of nothing, concocting, fabricating, and fabricating some absurd and non-existent stories to play the last elegy for the end of his deceitful career.
submitted by Mission-Solution-780 to u/Mission-Solution-780 [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 14:14 the-third-person Souhait

I’m an artist. Not one you’ve heard of, though that may be changing soon. Being an artist is about creation, not about commercial success. I wouldn’t mind getting the occasional acceptance mixed in with the constant stream of rejection, of course, but it’s a process.
A long process. They say that most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead. I’d always hoped that I’d make it slightly before that.
I graduated last year with an MFA from a relatively prestigious institution, along with a dozen other folks who convinced themselves that an insurmountable pile of debt was the best way to jump right into the starving artist lifestyle. We were, as mentioned, a small class, so we all went to each other’s showings and were generally supportive, but I was only really friends with two of the others, Jerrod and Albina.
The three of us ended up rooming together for the last year of the program, and we kept that going post-graduation. Having other folks in the house who look through the mail with the same mix of hope and trepidation is surprisingly helpful. Alone, it’s easy to simply look at everyone else’s filtered life and assume that you’re the only one failing. When you come down in the morning to find your roommate crying in her cornflakes because her last eleven submissions haven’t even gotten the courtesy of a rejection letter, it’s a little easier to see that this is just how life goes sometimes.
One of our favorite Friday night activities was going to local galleries to see who they had on display. There were a few reasons for this. One, it gave us a good idea of what they liked to show, helping us hone our own submissions. Two, it was very cathartic to be catty about what had been picked. Three, a lot of the galleries had free hors d’oeuvres and wine.
I guess four, we liked art, but honestly it was hard to remember that sometimes. Sometimes looking at other people’s finished canvases just made me angry. What made them able to decide that they were done? What made other people agree that they were worth hanging on the wall? What justified the astronomical price tags next to them?
I’m not saying that this was anything but jealousy. I’m just saying that art and I are in a complicated relationship.
About a month ago, we went to a newly-opened gallery, Souhait. It was the usual setup: tall glass windows in front showcasing the art placed strategically on bright white walls within. It had the standard mix of oddly angled separators allowing the patrons to wander slowly through the room and discover the paintings one at a time. Basically it looked like every other gallery, but as it was a new opening it had better wine than most.
I was taking a casual tour of the perimeter when Jerrod appeared at my elbow.
“Hey, congratulations!” he said. “You weren’t going to tell us? I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Oh, yeah, ‘what’ indeed.” He steered me around several corners to where Albina was admiring a painting. “‘There’s a new gallery opening, we should all go, no reason.’ Congrats!”
I stared at the painting in disbelief. It was one of mine.
I was certain that I hadn’t submitted to this gallery. I hadn’t even heard of it until Albina had mentioned that it was opening. I would have remembered receiving a letter of acceptance, and I definitely would have remembered delivering a painting. None of these things had happened.
And yet there my art was on the wall. It had my signature, and my name displayed next to it on a card. I knew the piece. I’d done it two or three years ago. It was good, very representative of my style at the time, but I’d moved on and had stopped trying to get it displayed a while ago. The last I had seen it, it was six or seven canvases deep in a stack of pieces that I had nowhere else to put.
It was fairly obvious that that was not the case now. The proof was on the wall in front of me.
Albina and Jerrod were both praising me, so I just smiled and made vaguely humble comments. I must have submitted it. It wasn’t like someone had broken into our apartment and stolen a single piece of my art. It was both confusing and concerning that I couldn’t recall offering it to this gallery, but it was the only explanation that made sense.
I was still trying to puzzle this out when another familiar piece caught my eye. I nudged Jerrod. “Oh, so I’m the one keeping secrets?”
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I pointed across the floor. His eyes widened as he saw the same thing I had: one of his paintings neatly framed and prominently displayed.
“I didn’t even know you’d finished that one,” I said. “I swear I saw you working on it like two days ago.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit lost. “I was.”
“How’d you get the gallery to take it before it was even done?”
“Oh my God, look!” said Albina.
In the back corner of the gallery, occupying an entire corner, was a small collection of Albina’s work. It was expertly curated. I’d watched her develop her style for years, and the eight paintings chosen here perfectly encapsulated the entire range. Clusters of people kept gathering in front of them, and I saw more than one slip off to speak to the gallery owner about purchasing a piece.
“Albi, these are amazing,” I told her after we finally managed to get close enough to see them all properly. “This—some of these are absolute perfection. I don’t think I’ve even seen all of them.”
“Seriously, when did you do all of this?” asked Jerrod. “Some of these are definitely new. Unless you have a secret studio you’ve been hiding from us?”
He narrowed his eyes at her in mock suspicion. She laughed, shoving him lightly, but behind her smile I saw the same confusion that I’d heard in Jerrod’s voice, the same that I’d felt myself. None of us knew that our work was going to be on display here. Something was very odd.
We didn’t talk about it then. Oddity or not, our art and our names were on display, and there were free drinks to toast with. We refilled our glasses, congratulated each other effusively, wandered the gallery for a bit and then did it all again. By the time we were walking home, all concerns had vanished from all of our minds. We were successful! We could figure out how and why later.
The next morning, Albina was dead.
I woke up late with a hangover. Jerrod woke up later, looking even rougher than I did. There was nothing resembling breakfast anywhere in the apartment, so we sat and sipped our coffee silently. Albina’s door was open, and I think we both hoped that she’d gone out to get bagels or something and that we would shortly be provided for.
She wasn’t answering texts, and Jerrod and I were just starting to get concerned when there was a knock at the door. We opened it to find a policeman asking if we knew Albina Shevchenko, and if we had contact information for her family, and if we could come identify the body.
It had been a hit and run. She’d been dead by the time witnesses had gotten to her. No one had seen the car’s license plate. The police didn’t even pretend that there was a chance of justice.
They gave us her effects, including what remained of a bag of bagels. Somehow that was the worst part for me. She’d gone out to get something to celebrate with us. It made us complicit.
At the funeral, the priest spoke about her giving spirit and her wonderful personality, but most of all he spoke about her massive artistic talent. He went on at length about what she could have created if she had not had her span cut short. The entire gathering nodded along with him.
Jerrod and I exchanged looks. It wasn’t that he was wrong. She was amazing, and eventually the world would have known about her. It’s just that that hadn’t happened yet. The three of us were, as far as we could tell, the only ones really aware of how much potential we had. If everyone knew this about her, why had she been scraping by in a dingy apartment with us, trying to get enough money together to buy more art supplies?
“We should go back to Souhait,” Jerrod said after the funeral. “The gallery owner probably doesn’t know. We’ll need to get her pieces back before he trashes them when she doesn’t respond.”
Our trip was unnecessary. The gallery owner had Albina’s obituary blown up to large size and prominently displayed next to a tremendous collection of her work. It covered entire walls of the gallery, each piece with an explanatory card discussing when and why she had painted it. Where the prices had been on the cards, every single one was marked “SOLD.”
I was looking around for the owner to ask where he was sending the money when Jerrod grabbed my arm.
“Look,” he said, half-whispering.
Arranged in a neat circle on one wall were a dozen of his paintings.
“I don’t know that I want to be on display here,” he said. He sounded frightened.
“Then take them back. They’re your pieces.”
“Are they?” He pointed. “I never finished that one. That’s how I wanted it to look, but I couldn’t get it right. I swear I never completed it. And there! I never painted that. I thought of it, I knew it in my head, but I have never put brush to canvas for it. Not even to start it.
“How could they have any of this? How could anyone?” His voice was rapidly rising toward hysteria.
“Hey, let’s get you out of here,” I said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll come back tomorrow and get them taken down if you want. We’re all running on fumes right now.”
Privately, I thought again about the piece that Souhait had of mine. I’d never gotten around to looking for it at the apartment. Things had been a blur since Albi’s death. I wondered how this gallery had so much of our stuff. I wondered what else had been taken.
Back at home, Jerrod rummaged through his artwork, hunting for something.
“See?” he said finally, holding up a canvas. “I told you. It isn’t done.”
He was holding up something that could have been an early attempt at one of the pieces we’d seen in the gallery. It was the same general idea, but the colors weren’t right and the composition didn’t gel. Also, as he’d said, it was clearly incomplete. Parts of the canvas still showed through in some areas. It wasn’t what was hanging on the walls.
“I told you,” he repeated. “How can they have art I never finished?”
I tried to get him to calm down. I sat him down on the couch and poured him a drink. We’d go back in the morning, I said. We’d find the owner. We’d sort all of this out. It was a problem for tomorrow, not for this evening. Not right after a funeral.
I thought I’d gotten him to agree with me. I poured us both another drink. Somewhere in the middle of that one, I fell asleep on the couch.
When I woke up, Jerrod was gone.
Just one of those things, the police said. Wrong place at the wrong time. He’d been mugged. His credit cards and phone were gone. He’d bled out in the street. He was almost halfway to Souhait.
I went there to get his art taken down, like he’d wanted. They’d already expanded the collection. His photo smiled down at me from the main wall, next to an obituary lauding his talent, his bold innovation, his novelty. The rest of the gallery was plastered with his work. I recognized some of the paintings he’d been rifling through at the apartment the previous day. Most had already been sold.
And on the back wall, in a small but well-lit section by themselves, hung six of my paintings. The one that I’d seen the first night was there, along with two others I was particularly proud of. If I’d been asked to pick three pieces to best represent who I was and who I had been as an artist, those might have been them.
The other three bore my signature, but I did not paint them. Not yet. Like Jerrod, I knew the subject matter in them. I had thought of them, conceived them, and even made some attempts to put them to canvas, but they had never come out like I’d imagined. I’d set them aside to try again later, when I had better supplies, when I was better.
Yet here they hung, complete and perfect, exactly as I had pictured them. It was a triumph of my craft.
It was beautiful to see what I could become, given enough time.
It’s just too bad that I don’t have it.
Most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead.
submitted by the-third-person to micahwrites [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 14:13 the-third-person I discovered one of my paintings in an art gallery

I’m an artist. Not one you’ve heard of, though that may be changing soon. Being an artist is about creation, not about commercial success. I wouldn’t mind getting the occasional acceptance mixed in with the constant stream of rejection, of course, but it’s a process.
A long process. They say that most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead. I’d always hoped that I’d make it slightly before that.
I graduated last year with an MFA from a relatively prestigious institution, along with a dozen other folks who convinced themselves that an insurmountable pile of debt was the best way to jump right into the starving artist lifestyle. We were, as mentioned, a small class, so we all went to each other’s showings and were generally supportive, but I was only really friends with two of the others, Jerrod and Albina.
The three of us ended up rooming together for the last year of the program, and we kept that going post-graduation. Having other folks in the house who look through the mail with the same mix of hope and trepidation is surprisingly helpful. Alone, it’s easy to simply look at everyone else’s filtered life and assume that you’re the only one failing. When you come down in the morning to find your roommate crying in her cornflakes because her last eleven submissions haven’t even gotten the courtesy of a rejection letter, it’s a little easier to see that this is just how life goes sometimes.
One of our favorite Friday night activities was going to local galleries to see who they had on display. There were a few reasons for this. One, it gave us a good idea of what they liked to show, helping us hone our own submissions. Two, it was very cathartic to be catty about what had been picked. Three, a lot of the galleries had free hors d’oeuvres and wine.
I guess four, we liked art, but honestly it was hard to remember that sometimes. Sometimes looking at other people’s finished canvases just made me angry. What made them able to decide that they were done? What made other people agree that they were worth hanging on the wall? What justified the astronomical price tags next to them?
I’m not saying that this was anything but jealousy. I’m just saying that art and I are in a complicated relationship.
About a month ago, we went to a newly-opened gallery, Souhait. It was the usual setup: tall glass windows in front showcasing the art placed strategically on bright white walls within. It had the standard mix of oddly angled separators allowing the patrons to wander slowly through the room and discover the paintings one at a time. Basically it looked like every other gallery, but as it was a new opening it had better wine than most.
I was taking a casual tour of the perimeter when Jerrod appeared at my elbow.
“Hey, congratulations!” he said. “You weren’t going to tell us? I can’t believe you managed to keep this a secret.”
“Sorry, what?”
“Oh, yeah, ‘what’ indeed.” He steered me around several corners to where Albina was admiring a painting. “‘There’s a new gallery opening, we should all go, no reason.’ Congrats!”
I stared at the painting in disbelief. It was one of mine.
I was certain that I hadn’t submitted to this gallery. I hadn’t even heard of it until Albina had mentioned that it was opening. I would have remembered receiving a letter of acceptance, and I definitely would have remembered delivering a painting. None of these things had happened.
And yet there my art was on the wall. It had my signature, and my name displayed next to it on a card. I knew the piece. I’d done it two or three years ago. It was good, very representative of my style at the time, but I’d moved on and had stopped trying to get it displayed a while ago. The last I had seen it, it was six or seven canvases deep in a stack of pieces that I had nowhere else to put.
It was fairly obvious that that was not the case now. The proof was on the wall in front of me.
Albina and Jerrod were both praising me, so I just smiled and made vaguely humble comments. I must have submitted it. It wasn’t like someone had broken into our apartment and stolen a single piece of my art. It was both confusing and concerning that I couldn’t recall offering it to this gallery, but it was the only explanation that made sense.
I was still trying to puzzle this out when another familiar piece caught my eye. I nudged Jerrod. “Oh, so I’m the one keeping secrets?”
He raised an eyebrow at me, and I pointed across the floor. His eyes widened as he saw the same thing I had: one of his paintings neatly framed and prominently displayed.
“I didn’t even know you’d finished that one,” I said. “I swear I saw you working on it like two days ago.”
“Yeah,” he said, sounding a bit lost. “I was.”
“How’d you get the gallery to take it before it was even done?”
“Oh my God, look!” said Albina.
In the back corner of the gallery, occupying an entire corner, was a small collection of Albina’s work. It was expertly curated. I’d watched her develop her style for years, and the eight paintings chosen here perfectly encapsulated the entire range. Clusters of people kept gathering in front of them, and I saw more than one slip off to speak to the gallery owner about purchasing a piece.
“Albi, these are amazing,” I told her after we finally managed to get close enough to see them all properly. “This—some of these are absolute perfection. I don’t think I’ve even seen all of them.”
“Seriously, when did you do all of this?” asked Jerrod. “Some of these are definitely new. Unless you have a secret studio you’ve been hiding from us?”
He narrowed his eyes at her in mock suspicion. She laughed, shoving him lightly, but behind her smile I saw the same confusion that I’d heard in Jerrod’s voice, the same that I’d felt myself. None of us knew that our work was going to be on display here. Something was very odd.
We didn’t talk about it then. Oddity or not, our art and our names were on display, and there were free drinks to toast with. We refilled our glasses, congratulated each other effusively, wandered the gallery for a bit and then did it all again. By the time we were walking home, all concerns had vanished from all of our minds. We were successful! We could figure out how and why later.
The next morning, Albina was dead.
I woke up late with a hangover. Jerrod woke up later, looking even rougher than I did. There was nothing resembling breakfast anywhere in the apartment, so we sat and sipped our coffee silently. Albina’s door was open, and I think we both hoped that she’d gone out to get bagels or something and that we would shortly be provided for.
She wasn’t answering texts, and Jerrod and I were just starting to get concerned when there was a knock at the door. We opened it to find a policeman asking if we knew Albina Shevchenko, and if we had contact information for her family, and if we could come identify the body.
It had been a hit and run. She’d been dead by the time witnesses had gotten to her. No one had seen the car’s license plate. The police didn’t even pretend that there was a chance of justice.
They gave us her effects, including what remained of a bag of bagels. Somehow that was the worst part for me. She’d gone out to get something to celebrate with us. It made us complicit.
At the funeral, the priest spoke about her giving spirit and her wonderful personality, but most of all he spoke about her massive artistic talent. He went on at length about what she could have created if she had not had her span cut short. The entire gathering nodded along with him.
Jerrod and I exchanged looks. It wasn’t that he was wrong. She was amazing, and eventually the world would have known about her. It’s just that that hadn’t happened yet. The three of us were, as far as we could tell, the only ones really aware of how much potential we had. If everyone knew this about her, why had she been scraping by in a dingy apartment with us, trying to get enough money together to buy more art supplies?
“We should go back to Souhait,” Jerrod said after the funeral. “The gallery owner probably doesn’t know. We’ll need to get her pieces back before he trashes them when she doesn’t respond.”
Our trip was unnecessary. The gallery owner had Albina’s obituary blown up to large size and prominently displayed next to a tremendous collection of her work. It covered entire walls of the gallery, each piece with an explanatory card discussing when and why she had painted it. Where the prices had been on the cards, every single one was marked “SOLD.”
I was looking around for the owner to ask where he was sending the money when Jerrod grabbed my arm.
“Look,” he said, half-whispering.
Arranged in a neat circle on one wall were a dozen of his paintings.
“I don’t know that I want to be on display here,” he said. He sounded frightened.
“Then take them back. They’re your pieces.”
“Are they?” He pointed. “I never finished that one. That’s how I wanted it to look, but I couldn’t get it right. I swear I never completed it. And there! I never painted that. I thought of it, I knew it in my head, but I have never put brush to canvas for it. Not even to start it.
“How could they have any of this? How could anyone?” His voice was rapidly rising toward hysteria.
“Hey, let’s get you out of here,” I said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “We’ll come back tomorrow and get them taken down if you want. We’re all running on fumes right now.”
Privately, I thought again about the piece that Souhait had of mine. I’d never gotten around to looking for it at the apartment. Things had been a blur since Albi’s death. I wondered how this gallery had so much of our stuff. I wondered what else had been taken.
Back at home, Jerrod rummaged through his artwork, hunting for something.
“See?” he said finally, holding up a canvas. “I told you. It isn’t done.”
He was holding up something that could have been an early attempt at one of the pieces we’d seen in the gallery. It was the same general idea, but the colors weren’t right and the composition didn’t gel. Also, as he’d said, it was clearly incomplete. Parts of the canvas still showed through in some areas. It wasn’t what was hanging on the walls.
“I told you,” he repeated. “How can they have art I never finished?”
I tried to get him to calm down. I sat him down on the couch and poured him a drink. We’d go back in the morning, I said. We’d find the owner. We’d sort all of this out. It was a problem for tomorrow, not for this evening. Not right after a funeral.
I thought I’d gotten him to agree with me. I poured us both another drink. Somewhere in the middle of that one, I fell asleep on the couch.
When I woke up, Jerrod was gone.
Just one of those things, the police said. Wrong place at the wrong time. He’d been mugged. His credit cards and phone were gone. He’d bled out in the street. He was almost halfway to Souhait.
I went there to get his art taken down, like he’d wanted. They’d already expanded the collection. His photo smiled down at me from the main wall, next to an obituary lauding his talent, his bold innovation, his novelty. The rest of the gallery was plastered with his work. I recognized some of the paintings he’d been rifling through at the apartment the previous day. Most had already been sold.
And on the back wall, in a small but well-lit section by themselves, hung six of my paintings. The one that I’d seen the first night was there, along with two others I was particularly proud of. If I’d been asked to pick three pieces to best represent who I was and who I had been as an artist, those might have been them.
The other three bore my signature, but I did not paint them. Not yet. Like Jerrod, I knew the subject matter in them. I had thought of them, conceived them, and even made some attempts to put them to canvas, but they had never come out like I’d imagined. I’d set them aside to try again later, when I had better supplies, when I was better.
Yet here they hung, complete and perfect, exactly as I had pictured them. It was a triumph of my craft.
It was beautiful to see what I could become, given enough time.
It’s just too bad that I don’t have it.
Most artists don’t become famous until after they’re dead.
X
submitted by the-third-person to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 10:15 MilkbottleF Two Stories

The Castaway

The man on the raft had only hope to keep him alive now. The bones showed through his thin face. An endless moan escaped his trembling mouth. His eyes were bright with fever. He had been clinging to life for more than a month now on this wretched collection of planks.
All at once a new sound reached his enfeebled brain: a buzzing noise imagined in his delirium no doubt. But it wasn't —it really was a helicopter approaching slowly, flying over the raft. Saved! He was saved! The castaway danced about clumsily.
In the meantime a rope-ladder had been lowered from the helicopter. A man dressed in rags, his emaciated face overgrown with a coarse beard, was pushed brutally on to the top rungs.
The helicopter turned away and disappeared.
Now there were two castaways on the raft.

Happy Are Those, Like Ulysses...

Some people feel an unhealthy attachment to their native town; and if circumstances force them to settle down away from home they cannot bear the thought of dying so far from their birthplace. Alas, things are not always easily remedied. In the past, many unfortunates realized, too late, that they would breathe their last many miles from the consolations of home.
Fortunately, progress has changed all this. Nowadays, the dying are conveyed to their home towns by express train. A miracle of devotion and organization now makes it possible for them to die at the very spot where they were born; but few are aware of the altruism and self-sacrifice required to enable the near-defunct to make this last journey.
Let us make a brief survey. The dying are collected from hospitals and homes and loaded into an ambulance coach. As the departure time approaches, the coach is taken from its siding and coupled to the train. Old people brought in by van keep arriving. At last the whistle goes and the train starts.
This marks the beginning of a period of real torment for the ambulance men. The express runs at full speed. The ambulance coach is connected fore and aft to other coaches and its weight, together with that of its contents, reduces the cushioning effect of the springs so that it waltzes madly with each piston-stroke of the engine. Despite all this jolting and bumping, the ambulance team have to complete the sorting which was only partly done before departure. Their job is to arrange and classify the bodies into compartments, each carrying the name of a station. Crowded together and almost unable to move their arms and legs because of the obstructing stretchers, the unfortunate ambulance workers forage in the enormous heap of the moribund, feverishly classifying them, breathing air that is wholly noxious.
During the seven-hour run from Paris to Bordeaux each ambulance clerk must sort, on average, fourteen thousand old people without a break. Since most of these special trains run at night, the work has to be done in the smoky flickering light of wretched oil-lamps. New coaches lit by electricity have been put into service but the bulbs often prove defective. Only last September a team making the return run to Paris in one of these coaches had to use candles fixed on syringes.
And sorting is not all they have to do! The bodies for each station have to be put into sacks, tied and put aside. There's not a minute to lose. The hands of the clock turn relentlessly, the thermometer mounts inexorably, the end of the journey approaches. Furthermore, an express does not stop at every station along the line, so when it passes through a station the sack or stretcher must be thrown out of the coach. Two or three minutes before the expected time an ambulance man pressed against a door peers questioningly into the distance. Opposite him a delivery man stands doubled over against another door, clutching a bulging sack to his chest, ready to throw it out at the word of command. 'Now!' shouts the first man, and the sack is catapulted into the darkness on to the platform or track where it is soon collected by employees of the local funeral service.
This expeditious method of delivery is not free from its dangers and risks. Accidents are still common. Only recently a policeman on duty on a station platform was knocked down by an old man falling on top of him. Another time, at the spot between Abbeville and Calais, where the train runs over a series of bridges only a few miles from the sea, the ambulance man, misled by the darkness, tumbled a stretcher into the mouth of a river. This only came to light the next day when the stretcher was recovered floating in the open Channel several miles away, ripped open with three-quarters of its contents pillaged.
-- Roland Topor [Tr by Margaret Crosland and David LeVay]. Published in Stories and Drawings (Peter Owen, 1968.) See also: "Feeding the Hungry"
submitted by MilkbottleF to Extraordinary_Tales [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 00:59 JoshAsdvgi THE FOUR BROTHERS

THE FOUR BROTHERS
​
THE FOUR BROTHERS; OR INYANHOKSILA (STONE BOY)
Alone and apart from their tribe dwelt four orphan brothers.
They had erected a very comfortable hut, although the materials used were only willows, hay, birch bark, and adobe mud.
After the completion of their hut, the oldest brother laid out the different kinds of work to be done by the four of them.
He and the second and third brothers were to do all the hunting, and the youngest brother was to do the house work, cook the meals, and keep plenty of wood on hand at all times.
As his older brothers would leave for their hunting very early every morning, and would not return till late at night, the little fellow always found plenty of spare time to gather into little piles fine dry wood for their winter use.
Thus the four brothers lived happily for a long time.
One day while out gathering and piling up wood, the boy heard a rustling in the leaves and looking around he saw a young woman standing in the cherry bushes, smiling at him.
"Who are you, and where did you come from?" asked the boy, in surprise.
"I am an orphan girl and have no relatives living.
I came from the village west of here.
I learned from rabbit that there were four orphan brothers living here all alone, and that the youngest was keeping house for his older brothers, so I thought I would come over and see if I couldn't have them adopt me as their sister, so that I might keep house for them, as I am very poor and have no relations, neither have I a home."
She looked so pitiful and sad that the boy thought to himself, "I will take her home with me, poor girl, no matter what my brothers think or say."
Then he said to her: "Come on, tanke (sister).
You may go home with me; I am sure my older brothers will be glad to have you for our sister."
When they arrived at the hut, the girl hustled about and cooked up a fine hot supper, and when the brothers returned they were surprised to see a girl sitting by the fire in their hut. After they had entered the youngest brother got up and walked outside, and a short time after the oldest brother followed him out.
"Who is that girl, and where did she come from?" he asked his brother.
Whereupon the brother told him the whole story.
Upon hearing this the oldest brother felt very sorry for the poor orphan girl and going back into the hut he spoke to the girl, saying: "Sister, you are an orphan, the same as we; you have no relatives, no home.
We will be your brothers, and our poor hut shall be your home.
Henceforth call us brothers, and you will be our sister."
"Oh, how happy I am now that you take me as your sister.
I will be to you all as though we were of the same father and mother," said the girl.
And true to her word, she looked after everything of her brothers and kept the house in such fine shape that the brothers blessed the day that she came to their poor little hut.
She always had an extra buckskin suit and two pairs of moccasins hanging at the head of each one's bed.
Buffalo, deer, antelope, bear, wolf, wildcat, mountain lion and beaver skins she tanned by the dozen, and piled nicely in one corner of the hut.
When the Indians have walked a great distance and are very tired, they have great faith in painting their feet, claiming that paint eases the pain and rests their feet.
After their return from a long day's journey, when they would be lying down resting, the sister would get her paint and mix it with the deer tallow and rub the paint on her brother's feet, painting them up to their ankles.
The gentle touch of her hands, and the soothing qualities of the tallow and paint soon put them into a deep, dreamless steep.
Many such kind actions on her part won the hearts of the brothers, and never was a full blood sister loved more than was this poor orphan girl, who had been taken as their adopted sister.
In the morning when they arose, the sister always combed their long black silken scalp locks and painted the circle around the scalp lock a bright vermillion.
When the hunters would return with a goodly supply of beef, the sister would hurry and relieve them of their packs, hanging each one high enough from the ground so the prowling dogs and coyotes could not reach them.
The hunters each had a post on which to hang his bow and flint head arrows.
(Good hunters never laid their arrows on the ground, as it was considered unlucky to the hunter who let his arrows touch the earth after they had been out of the quiver).
They were all perfectly happy, until one day the older brother surprised them all by saying: "We have a plentiful supply of meat on hand at present to last us for a week or so.
I am going for a visit to the village west of us, so you boys all stay at home and help sister. Also gather as much wood as you can and I will be back again in four days.
On my return we will resume our hunting and commence getting our year's supply of meat."
He left the next morning, and the last they saw of him was while he stood at the top of the long range of hills west of their home.
Four days had come and gone and no sign of the oldest brother.
"I am afraid that our brother has met with some accident," said the sister.
"I am afraid so, too," said the next oldest. "
I must go and search for him; he may be in some trouble where a little help would get him out."
The second brother followed the direction his brother had taken, and when he came to the top of the long range of hills he sat down and gazed long and steadily down into the long valley with a beautiful creek winding through it.
Across the valley was a long plain stretching for miles beyond and finally ending at the foot of another range of hills, the counterpart of the one upon which he sat.
After noting the different landmarks carefully, he arose and slowly started down the slope and soon came to the creek he had seen from the top of the range.
Great was his surprise on arriving at the creek to find what a difference there was in the appearance of it from the range and where he stood.
From the range it appeared to be a quiet, harmless, laughing stream.
Now he saw it to be a muddy, boiling, bubbling torrent, with high perpendicular banks.
For a long time he stood, thinking which way to go, up or down stream.
He had just decided to go down stream, when, on chancing to look up, he noticed a thin column of smoke slowly ascending from a little knoll.
He approached the place cautiously and noticed a door placed into the creek bank on the opposite side of the stream.
As he stood looking at the door, wondering who could be living in a place like that, it suddenly opened and a very old appearing woman came out and stood looking around her. Soon she spied the young man, and said to him: "My grandchild, where did you come from and whither are you bound?"
The young man answered: "I came from east of this ridge and am in search of my oldest brother, who came over in this direction five days ago and who has not yet returned."
"Your brother stopped here and ate his dinner with me, and then left, traveling towards the west," said the old witch, for such she was. "
Now, grandson, come across on that little log bridge up the stream there and have your dinner with me.
I have it all cooked now and just stepped outside to see if there might not be some hungry traveler about, whom I could invite in to eat dinner with me."
The young man went up the stream a little distance and found a couple of small logs which had been placed across the stream to serve as a bridge.
He crossed over and went down to the old woman's dugout hut.
"Come in grandson, and eat. I know you must be hungry."
The young man sat down and ate a real hearty meal.
On finishing he arose and said: "Grandmother, I thank you for your meal and kindness to me.
I would stay and visit with you awhile, as I know it must be very lonely here for you, but I am very anxious to find my brother, so I must be going.
On my return I will stop with my brother and we will pay you a little visit."
"Very well, grandson, but before you go, I wish you would do me a little favor.
Your brother did it for me before he left, and cured me, but it has come back on me again.
I am subject to very severe pains along the left side of my backbone, all the way from my shoulder blade down to where my ribs attach to my backbone, and the only way I get any relief from the pain is to have some one kick me along the side."
(She was a witch, and concealed in her robe a long sharp steel spike. It was placed so that the last kick they would give her, their foot would hit the spike and they would instantly drop off into a swoon, as if dead.)
"If I won't hurt you too much, grandmother, I certainly will be glad to do it for you," said the young man, little thinking he would be the one to get hurt.
"No, grandson, don't be afraid of hurting me; the harder you kick the longer the pain stays away."
She laid down on the floor and rolled over on to her right side, so he could get a good chance to kick the left side where she said the pain was located.
As he moved back to give the first kick, he glanced along the floor and he noticed a long object wrapped in a blanket, lying against the opposite wall.
He thought it looked strange and was going to stop and investigate, but just then the witch cried out as if in pain.
"Hurry up, grandson, I am going to die if you don't hurry and start in kicking."
" I can investigate after I get through with her," thought he, so he started in kicking and every kick he would give her she would cry: "Harder, kick harder."
He had to kick seven times before he would get to the end of the pain, so he let out as hard as he could drive, and when he came to the last kick he hit the spike, and driving it through his foot, fell down in a dead swoon, and was rolled up in a blanket by the witch and placed beside his brother at the opposite side of the room.
When the second brother failed to return, the third went in search of the two missing ones. He fared no better than the second one, as he met the old witch who served him in a similar manner as she had his two brothers.
"Ha! Ha!" she laughed, when she caught the third, "I have only one more of them to catch, and when I get them I will keep them all here a year, and then I will turn them into horses and sell them back to their sister.
I hate her, for I was going to try and keep house for them and marry the oldest one, but she got ahead of me and became their sister, so now I will get my revenge on her.
Next year she will be riding and driving her brothers and she won't know it."
When the third brother failed to return, the sister cried and begged the last one not to venture out in search of them.
But go he must, and go he did, only to do as his three brothers had done.
Now the poor sister was nearly distracted.
Day and night she wandered over hills and through woods in hopes she might find or hear of some trace of them.
Her wanderings were in vain.
The hawks had not seen them after they had crossed the little stream.
The wolves and coyotes told her that they had seen nothing of her brothers out on the broad plains, and she had given them up for dead.
One day, as she was sitting by the little stream that flowed past their hut, throwing pebbles into the water and wondering what she should do, she picked up a pure white pebble, smooth and round, and after looking at it for a long time, threw it into the water.
No sooner had it hit the water than she saw it grow larger.
She took it out and looked at it and threw it in again.
This time it had assumed the form of a baby.
She took it out and threw it in the third time and the form took life and began to cry: "Ina, ina" (mother, mother).
She took the baby home and fed it soup, and it being an unnatural baby, quickly grew up to a good sized boy.
At the end of three months he was a good big, stout youth.
One day he said: "Mother, why are you living here alone? To whom do all these fine clothes and moccasins belong?" She then told him the story of her lost brothers.
"Oh, I know now where they are.
You make me lots of arrows.
I am going to find my uncles." She tried to dissuade him from going, but he was determined and said: "My father sent me to you so that I could find my uncles for you, and nothing can harm me, because I am stone and my name is "Stone Boy."
The mother, seeing that he was determined to go, made a whole quiver full of arrows for him, and off he started.
When he came to the old witch's hut, she was nowhere to be seen, so he pushed the door in and entered.
The witch was busily engaged cooking dinner.
"Why, my dear grandchild, you are just in time for dinner.
Sit down and we will eat before you continue your journey."
Stone boy sat down and ate dinner with the old witch.
She watched him very closely, but when she would be drinking her soup he would glance hastily around the room.
Finally he saw the four bundles on the opposite side of the room, and he guessed at once that there lay his four uncles.
When he had finished eating he took out his little pipe and filled it with "kini-kinic," and commenced to smoke, wondering how the old woman had managed to fool his smart uncles.
He couldn't study it out, so when he had finished his smoke he arose to pretend to go. When the old woman saw him preparing to leave, she said: "Grandson, will you kick me on the left side of my backbone.
I am nearly dead with pain and if you kick me good and hard it will cure me."
"All right, grandma," said the boy.
The old witch lay down on the floor and the boy started in to kick.
At the first kick he barely touched her.
"Kick as hard as you can, grandson; don't be afraid you will hurt me, because you can't." With that Stone Boy let drive and broke two ribs.
She commenced to yell and beg him to stop, but he kept on kicking until he had kicked both sides of her ribs loose from the backbone.
Then he jumped on her backbone and broke it and killed the old witch.
He built a big fire outside and dragged her body to it, and threw her into the fire.
Thus ended the old woman who was going to turn his uncles into horses.
Next he cut willows and stuck them into the ground in a circle.
The tops he pulled together, making a wickieup.
He then took the old woman's robes and blankets and covered the wickieup so that no air could get inside.
He then gathered sage brush and covered the floor with a good thick bed of sage; got nice round stones and got them red hot in the fire, and placed them in the wickieup and proceeded to carry his uncles out of the hut and lay them down on the soft bed of sage. Having completed carrying and depositing them around the pile of rocks, he got a bucket of water and poured it on the hot rocks, which caused a great vapor in the little wickie-up.
He waited a little while and then listened and heard some breathing inside, so he got another bucket and poured that on also.
After awhile he could hear noises inside as though some one were moving about.
He went again and got the third bucket and after he had poured that on the rocks, one of the men inside said:
"Whoever you are, good friend, don't bring us to life only to scald us to death again."
Stone boy then said: "Are all of you alive?" "Yes," said the voice. "Well, come out," said the boy.
And with that he threw off the robes and blankets, and a great cloud of vapor arose and settled around the top of the highest peak on the long range, and from that did Smoky Range derive its name.
The uncles, when they heard who the boy was, were very happy, and they all returned together to the anxiously waiting sister.
As soon as they got home, the brothers worked hard to gather enough wood to last them all winter.
Game they could get at all times of the year, but the heavy fall of snow covered most of the dry wood and also made it very difficult to drag wood through the deep snow.
So they took advantage of the nice fall weather and by the time the snow commenced falling they had enough wood gathered to last them throughout the winter.
After the snow fell a party of boys swiftly coasted down the big hill west of the brothers' hut.
The Stone boy used to stand and watch them for hours at a time.
His youngest uncle said: "Why don't you go up and coast with them?"
The boy said: "They may be afraid of me, but I guess I will try once, anyway."
So the next morning when the crowd came coasting, Stone boy started for the hill.
When he had nearly reached the bottom of the coasting hill all of the boys ran off excepting two little fellows who had a large coaster painted in different colors and had little bells tied around the edges, so when the coaster was in motion the bells made a cheerful tinkling sound.
As Stone boy started up the hill the two little fellows started down and went past him as though shot from a hickory bow.
When they got to the end of their slide, they got off and started back up the hill.
It being pretty steep, Stone boy waited for them, so as to lend a hand to pull the big coaster up the hill.
As the two little fellows came up with him he knew at once that they were twins, as they looked so much alike that the only way one could be distinguished from the other was by the scarfs they wore.
One wore red, the other black.
He at once offered to help them drag their coaster to the top of the hill.
When they got to the top the twins offered their coaster to him to try a ride.
At first he refused, but they insisted on his taking it, as they said they would sooner rest until he came back.
So he got on the coaster and flew down the hill, only he was such an expert he made a zigzag course going down and also jumped the coaster off a bank about four feet high, which none of the other coasters dared to tackle.
Being very heavy, however, he nearly smashed the coaster.
Upon seeing this wonderful jump, and the zigzag course he had taken going down, the twins went wild with excitement and decided that they would have him take them down when he got back.
So upon his arrival at the starting point, they both asked him at once to give them the pleasure of the same kind of a ride he had taken.
He refused, saying: "We will break your coaster.
I alone nearly smashed it, and if we all get on and make the same kind of a jump, I am afraid you will have to go home without your coaster."
"Well, take us down anyway, and if we break it our father will make us another one."
So he finally consented.
When they were all seated ready to start, he told them that when the coaster made the jump they must look straight ahead.
"By no means look down, because if you do we will go over the cut bank and land in a heap at the bottom of the gulch."
They said they would obey what he said, so off they started swifter than ever, on account of the extra weight, and so swiftly did the sleigh glide over the packed, frozen snow, that it nearly took the twins' breath away.
Like an arrow they approached the jump.
The twins began to get a little nervous. "Sit steady and look straight ahead," yelled Stone boy.
The twin next to Stone boy, who was steering behind, sat upright and looked far ahead, but the one in front crouched down and looked into the coulee.
Of course, Stone boy, being behind, fell on top of the twins, and being so heavy, killed both of them instantly, crushing them to a jelly.
The rest of the boys, seeing what had happened, hastened to the edge of the bank, and looking down, saw the twins laying dead, and Stone boy himself knocked senseless, lying quite a little distance from the twins.
The boys, thinking that all three were killed, and that Stone boy had purposely steered the sleigh over the bank in such a way that it would tip and kill the twins, returned to the village with this report.
Now, these twins were the sons of the head chief of the Buffalo Nation.
So at once the chief and his scouts went over to the hill to see if the boys had told the truth.
When they arrived at the bank they saw the twins lying dead, but where was Stone boy? They looked high and low through the gulch, but not a sign of him could they find.
Tenderly they picked up the dead twins and carried them home, then held a big council and put away the bodies of the dead in Buffalo custom.
A few days after this the uncles were returning from a long journey.
When they drew near their home they noticed large droves of buffalo gathered on their side of the range.
Hardly any buffalo ever ranged on this east side of the range before, and the brothers thought it strange that so many should so suddenly appear there now.
When they arrived at home their sister told them what had happened to the chief's twins, as her son had told her the whole story upon his arrival at home after the accident.
"Well, probably all the buffalo we saw were here for the council and funeral," said the older brother.
"But where is my nephew?" (Stone boy) he asked his sister.
"He said he had noticed a great many buffalo around lately and he was going to learn, if possible, what their object was," said the sister. "Well, we will wait until his return."
When Stone boy left on his trip that morning, before the return of his uncles, he was determined to ascertain what might be the meaning of so many buffalo so near the home of himself and uncles.
He approached several bunches of young buffalo, but upon seeing him approaching they would scamper over the hills.
Thus he wandered from bunch to bunch, scattering them all.
Finally he grew tired of their cowardice and started for home.
When he had come to within a half mile or so of home he saw an old shaggy buffalo standing by a large boulder, rubbing on it first one horn and then the other.
On coming up close to him, the boy saw that the bull was so old he could hardly see, and his horns so blunt that he could have rubbed them for a year on that boulder and not sharpened them so as to hurt anyone.
"What are you doing here, grandfather?" asked the boy.
"I am sharpening my horns for the war," said the bull.
"What war?" asked the boy.
"Haven't you heard," said the old bull, who was so near sighted he did not recognize Stone boy.
"The chief's twins were killed by Stone boy, who ran them over a cut bank purposely, and the chief has ordered all of his buffalo to gather here, and when they arrive we are going to kill Stone boy and his mother and his uncles."
"Is that so? When is the war to commence?"
"In five days from now we will march upon the uncles and trample and gore them all to death."
"Well, grandfather, I thank you for your information, and in return will do you a favor that will save you so much hard work on your blunt horns."
So saying he drew a long arrow from his quiver and strung his bow, attached the arrow to the string and drew the arrow half way back.
The old bull, not seeing what was going on, and half expecting some kind of assistance in his horn sharpening process, stood perfectly still.
Thus spoke Stone boy:
"Grandfather, you are too old to join in a war now, and besides if you got mixed up in that big war party you might step in a hole or stumble and fall and be trampled to death.
That would be a horrible death, so I will save you all that suffering by just giving you this.
" At this word he pulled the arrow back to the flint head and let it fly.
True to his aim, the arrow went in behind the old bull's foreleg, and with such force was it sent that it went clear through the bull and stuck into a tree two hundred feet away.
Walking over to the tree, he pulled out his arrow.
Coolly straightening his arrow between his teeth and sighting it for accuracy, he shoved it back into the quiver with its brothers, exclaiming:
"I guess, grandpa, you won't need to sharpen your horns for Stone boy and his uncles."
Upon his arrival home he told his uncles to get to work building three stockades with ditches between and make the ditches wide and deep so they will hold plenty of buffalo.
"The fourth fence I will build myself," he said.
The brothers got to work early and worked until very late at night.
They built three corrals and dug three ditches around the hut, and it took them three days to complete the work. Stone boy hadn't done a thing towards building his fence yet, and there were only two days more left before the charge of the buffalo would commence.
Still the boy didn't seem to bother himself about the fence.
Instead he had his mother continually cutting arrow sticks, and as fast as she could bring them he would shape them, feather and head them.
So by the time his uncles had their fences and corrals finished he had a thousand arrows finished for each of his uncles.
The last two days they had to wait, the uncles joined him and they finished several thousand more arrows.
The evening before the fifth day he told his uncles to put up four posts, so they could use them as seats from which to shoot.
While they were doing this, Stone boy went out to scout and see how things looked.
At daylight he came hurriedly in saying, "You had better get to the first corral; they are coming."
"You haven't built your fence, nephew." Whereupon Stone boy said: "I will build it in time; don't worry, uncle."
The dust on the hillsides rose as great clouds of smoke from a forest fire.
Soon the leaders of the charge came in sight, and upon seeing the timber stockade they gave forth a great snort or roar that fairly shook the earth.
Thousands upon thousands of mad buffalo charged upon the little fort.
The leaders hit the first stockade and it soon gave way.
The maddened buffalo pushed forward by the thousands behind them; plunged forward, only to fall into the first ditch and be trampled to death by those behind them.
The brothers were not slow in using their arrows, and many a noble beast went down before their deadly aim with a little flint pointed arrow buried deep in his heart.
The second stockade stood their charge a little longer than did the first, but finally this gave way, and the leaders pushed on through, only to fall into the second ditch and meet a similar fate to those in the first.
The brothers commenced to look anxiously towards their nephew, as there was only one more stockade left, and the second ditch was nearly bridged over with dead buffalo, with the now thrice maddened buffalo attacking the last stockade more furiously than before, as they could see the little hut through the openings in the corral.
"Come in, uncles," shouted Stone boy.
They obeyed him, and stepping to the center he said: "Watch me build my fence."
Suiting the words, he took from his belt an arrow with a white stone fastened to the point and fastening it to his bow, he shot it high in the air. Straight up into the air it went, for two or three thousand feet, then seemed to stop suddenly and turned with point down and descended as swiftly as it had ascended.
Upon striking the ground a high stone wall arose, enclosing the hut and all who were inside. Just then the buffalo broke the last stockade only to fill the last ditch up again.
In vain did the leaders butt the stone wall.
They hurt themselves, broke their horns and mashed their snouts, but could not even scar the wall.
The uncles and Stone boy in the meantime rained arrows of death into their ranks.
When the buffalo chief saw what they had to contend with, he ordered the fight off.
The crier or herald sang out: "Come away, come away, Stone boy and his uncles will kill all of us."
So the buffalo withdrew, leaving over two thousand of their dead and wounded on the field, only to be skinned and put away for the feasts of Stone boy and his uncles, who lived to be great chiefs of their own tribe,
and whose many relations soon joined them on the banks of Stone Boy Creek.
submitted by JoshAsdvgi to Native_Stories [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 17:30 MrsDepo Mom passed away last week, how do I even think anymore?

Hi all,
I (34F) just found this subreddit after googling post-grief brain fog and am very much looking forward to reading your stories. My mom (57) passed away unexpectedly last Wednesday and I have been a bit of a wreck. When I first found out, I went into hyper-oldest-daughter mode and made my dad stay with me for a few days to take care of him. He was quite emotional but I was more of a robot than anything. I only cried when no one was around, so mostly in the shower. Since then, I made the appointment with the funeral home, did that meeting and paid for the services, made phone calls to let people know, posted on Facebook, started planning the memorial for late summer, and now I still need to write the obituary.
But I can't write it. I actually can't do anything that involves my brain. After my dad went back home, I dove into anything physical I could get my hands on. Cleaning the house, building some built-in bookshelves, gardening, running, anything really. But now that I'm back at work I find that I can't put a single thought together. I can't make myself do work. I just locked myself in my office with a Do Not Disturb sign up, but I'm just surfing the internet.
When does this get better? I'm a professional that many people rely on. I have no real boss, so I self manage, but I can't manage anything and no one is forcing me to work. I had to drop out of a funding opportunity, and everyone 100% understands, but I'm just beating myself up over this. And the obituary is looming over me. I have to write it. But how? I read articles about how to do it, but those are all about the content, not how you can move past the grief enough to just write. Damn it, I've written a book and a dissertation and I can't push myself to write 2 paragraphs!
submitted by MrsDepo to GriefSupport [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 02:08 Locke7768 The beginning of a YA novel incorporating Astral/Star Jelly

Hi Leon and Sasha,
I miss you guys so much. I hope that you are safe in Moscow. I think of you often. I hope that you and your mom (grandparents and Irina/Phil) are okay.
I hope you mom reads this to you. I hope that it helps you go to sleep. I will write more and post it for you to read.
Astral or Star Jelly is a real event/substance that has been found in all areas of the earth (please Wikipedia it). My friend performed a DNA analysis on a sample of Star Jelly, and the results were amazing. His group concluded that the sample mostly had mitochondrial-like DNA, but it was very different from anything reported (much longer and having possible different base pairs).
Astral/Star Jelly is often found after meteorite showers or other astral events. I found some when I was young (heavy Northern Lights and Meteor Shower event). I crafted the first chapter of a potential novel. Please give feedback. I am switching to google docs, so soon I will have links to my works.
Yes, Charlotte edited the chapter. She kept saying to keep it simple and direct. We hope to see you in Turkey this summer.
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Chapter 1
The Byproduct of Gods
with revisions by your favorite daughter
📷
Her owners had held her for so many lifetimes that the stream, which flowed, near her family’s hut was gone. The trees that provided fuel, housing, and food were missing, replaced by a prairie. After all the years of the concept of returning home keeping her going, she did not feel safe. There were no people near her village, and it took her days to unearth signs of her youth. She discovered the land that she had first walked on only because the mountain and stones did not move. As she cleaned the Blue Volga granite idol of her parents’ deity, she felt nothing. The blue-green face of the god looked sad to her. He also was no longer safe. His followers were dead and his power forgotten.
Her first owner was a traveler. They moved with each new moon. Her master felt safe but she failed to understand that her entourage plodded along a predictable path. After many decades, a tale of a demon woman who did not age traveled the same circuit. Finally, a village attacked the demon. Her second owner was the daughter of the woman who bought her. The daughter decided to build a fortress and to rule her fief. Her third owner was the daughter’s son who had grown tired of never gaining his birthright. His guilt and myopic greed caused him to sell her to an alchemist. From that point on, she was an item for trade or barter.
Her final master failed to return home. She remained in his caravan for a week, performing her duties. When she had eaten all the food, she felt justified using her knowledge to destroy her metal shackles. It took her five days to dissolve her bindings with her jellies.
She thought of the places that she had felt safe. Those havens were all underground. A magician made her live in the passages beneath Kyiv when he was being hunted. The tunnels funneled the 15 rivers of the city and protected inhabitants from invaders or punishing ruling forces. For twenty years, she had lived in the coquina catacombs of Odessa. A man who thought he was a seer was convinced that his power had attracted the attention of dragons and demons. No one could approach the lair unseen.
After a week of searching the now unfamiliar area, the woman began to carve her home from the soil of her childhood. She spent fifty years making her home safe. Only she would know the paths and twists of her underground world. Only she would know where the escape exits emerged into the surrounding world.
Eventually, her home attracted others. The woman could have chased them away, but she felt a need to observe people. When the fourth generations of villagers were aging to the grave, there was no hiding the fact that she had not died. The villagers erected a semi-circular wall around the entrance to the woman’s cave. The wall grew and the woman did not protest the separation.
Generations later, people whispered that the villagers maintained the defenses of their community to keep the woman away from the town’s children at night. In the tavern, each generation of gallant males would boast that they would be the one to remove the blight of the woman from the town. When she inevitably outlasted them, she would attend the funeral of the most vocal warrior from each age group.
Daily the woman would remove more soil from her dugout. The community would search her discarded diggings for possible minerals or stones. They did not share any discoveries with the woman. During times of blight or famine, the locals would collect her soil and remove it from the community.
People would peer around the wall to scan the woman’s home. As the village grew, a leader placed two chairs at endpoints of the semi-circle barrier. During full moons, periods of strife, festivals, and other social events, menacing men sat in the chairs. Infrequently, people tried to enter the woman’s home. Aside from the guards, it was the more distraught people of the village who visited her.. The most recent person to enter the woman’s home was a grieving widow. Her grief made her seek the woman to find answers about her loss. Three mornings later, the villagers found the widow in the public square with drapes of herbs, flowers, and crafts around her limbs. The people thought the widow was dead or mindless from torture. When the widow awoke, she went to her house and began the chores for the day. When pressed about the woman’s abode, the widow would state that the home was loved, clean, and well maintained.
On the spring day when the widow was about to remarry, she was again discovered in the square coated with ropes of herbs, flowers, and idols. The woman disappeared for a decade after the wedding, but the widow brought her newborns to the opening of the earthwork to declare their names into the sunken space.
The aging hamlet relaxed when the woman was away. There was a sense of freedom in the people. They did not fear the retribution of the woman for their actions, and parents could not correct their children with threats of giving them to the woman. At times, the leaders of the people would consider filling in the woman’s hovel, but shovels and spades would split if used to cover the opening of the woman’s home. One regretful man tried using a mule and cart to dump rocks into the fastness. The stones crushed the man after his own tram flipped over on him.
Although the townsfolk feared and despised the woman, she had free reign in the village. As an indicator that she was amongst the people, the woman would adorn her head with a dark purple scarf. No other members of the village would wear that color. They looked for it whenever the woman shopped at the market. The woman paid with old and foreign coins, but the merchants welcomed the precious metals they were composed of. During the dark days of winter, the people collected the woman’s tender and deposited it into a lead box. The villagers had a belief that the more people touched the woman’s currency, the longer the winter would be.
After the community fortified against the woman, religious leaders organized efforts to erect carved idols and large wagon-wheel hexes aimed at her home. Each generation attempted to counter the woman with the current symbols of spiritual protection. The largest structure in the village was now a church, and the threshold of the church was oriented to face the woman’s home.
The woman was home when Alyona began her schooling in the church. She had learned the fundamentals of math, reading, and writing. She knew that her coursework would end soon. The village expected girls to be useful to a limit. Her mother walked her only surviving child to school along a path that would prevent their shadow from falling close to the woman’s realm. The villagers performed this ritual after someone claimed that the woman had controlled their behavior by stealing their shadow.
Alyona was daydreaming during school of a life away from the village when the woman touched her. Alyona had spent the morning in the woods collecting mushrooms and other edibles. Her findings made for great, free additions to their usually simple meals. . On days that Alyona returned with a bounty, they shared the extras with neighbors. It was a wager that these people would remember the gift and provide Alyona’s home with food during lean days.
The person gripping Alyona twirled her body so that she faced the opposite direction. Alyona assumed the culprit was another student or a young assistant at the church. It could have been a boy attempting to bully her to get her attention. She lowered her right hand, preparing to use the back to slap the violator. Alyona’s willingness to confront her accoster left when she saw the face of the woman under her purple scarf. Alyona knew she should look away from the woman, but her eyes locked with the woman’s gaze. All the stories the Alyona heard about the town ghoul stated that the woman was so old that her skeleton was all that was left of her body. The woman’s youthful face surprised Alyona. There were no lines or furrows on the woman’s forehead. If anything, Alyona would have stated that the woman’s face glowed.
I can smell it on your hands. The woman placed Alyona’s fingers under her nose. The force of the drawn air startled Alyona. She thought that the woman had pulled the top layer of skin off her index finger. Alyona’s toes curled when the woman sampled her hand. Across a church aisle, one of the priests was herding schoolchildren. He spotted the two of them. His face darkened at the sight of their contact.
WHAT IS ON YOUR HANDS, ALYONA? The priest shouted over the children.
Nothing, Sir. The woman’s tongue darted over the tip of Alyona’s index finger. I was harvesting in the woods before class.
You touched more than growths and nuts this morning, Singleton Child of the Crying Matron. The woman chewed on her thumbnail.
Alyona did not like her mother being referred to in that way, but the eyes of the woman immobilized her. How could she react forcefully to a person who was savoring her hand?
She is mine today, priest. The woman held out her other hand to the shepherd of the church. I will pay her mother for occupying her child for the day, and she will be returned unsoiled and whole.
The priest brought a gurgle of protest up but was shut down quickly.
My tunnels are beneath your place of worship and the bedchambers of Mistress Blake, The women stomped on the ground, and I know all of what has occurred within your walls.
Alyona realized that she was screaming when her throat began to sear. She expected that the woman’s hole would be dark, but the home glowed. There were mirrors and reflective glasses positioned throughout the house to harness sun rays from many holes and entrances in the surface of the residence. Therefore, Alyona was able to see herself yelling on fifty surfaces.
Hush child. The woman touched her mouth. Do not be afraid of the manner in which I inspected you. It is a show for the people. I only want to talk about your morning, and then I will let you go with a full belly and money to buy many toys.
Alyona felt her utterances dwindle down to a wheeze that slipped out her lips.
You have the scent on your fingers, girl. The woman was now examining Alyona’s left hand. It is on both hands, so you must have found a huge source.
A source? Alyona wanted to look at her hands but she maintained her attention on the woman.
Sit. The woman pointed to a well-padded chair. Sit and I will return with small pies and honey.
Alyona hovered over the seat. She wanted to be strong and to stand, but then she smelt the pies. The chair was very soft. There were no pins, claws, or spines in the cushion like she feared.
Alyona. The voice of the woman wove through the tunnels of the underground network. Alyona felt her name circle around her. She had never been afraid of her name before. Alyona Pistan…daughter of Fiva and the missing soldier.
Alyona closed her fist and felt the pain of her nails digging into her palms.
Fiva lives off the salary that the Duke must pay for your father’s military service. Your mother knows that the Duke no longer wants to pay this burden.
Alyona wanted to speak but her throat stung from screaming.
Your father’s name is Bay. He earned this title because he would not stop speaking when he was a baby. Like a horse that always had an opinion, your father would squawk at everyone before he knew words. The voice was now coming directly towards Alyona. My first gift to you and Fiva is the information that your father lives. There was a pause in the woman’s words. An enemy does not enslave him; he is lost with the simpleton that led him away. One day a map will lead him home, child.
The woman emerged from a cutout with a basket laden with pies, a pot of honey, wooden utensils, and slices of ham. In her other hand, she held a bucket of colored water.
We will eat together. The woman placed the basket on Alyona’s lap and retrieved two cups. After you accept the first pie, I will tell you an important secret of mine.
I do not think I want to know any of your secrets Starly-Gradda.
The woman laughed and placed the small wooden spoon into the pie directly in front of Alyona.
Elder-grandmother, you call me. The woman dunked a cup into the water and held it in her left hand. I think that term is the nicest thing a child has called me in a lifetime.
Alyona brought the food to her lips. She smelt the mint, berries, and kasha. Gently she laid the pie onto her tongue. She did not chew; she only let it rest in her mouth. She expected that the food would burn or numb her. The taste was full and made her wish to spit the substance out because it was too good to be real.
Ah, she eats. The woman clapped her hands. I was your age when I saw my first god being born.
Alyona choked on the pie.
I was sitting by a riverbank when the god entered our place. The woman drank from her cup. It was a bright yellow fish with shiny scales. I saw it come from nothing to being here.
The woman snapped her fingers and Alyona swallowed her food.
No one prayed for its existence. No one was singing for it to bring salvation. The woman made circles with her hands in front of Alyona. As far as I know, simple fish do not worship gods, but a god came for the fish of that river.
The woman tapped Alyona’s hand to take another bite of pie.
It floated there. The woman held up her hands. Here I am…a young maiden…thinking a god or demon turned itself into this creature to seduce or corrupt me. Again, a chuckle came from the woman. No other god cared about this special fish. I think it was floating only because it did not realize that a fish should swim in water.
Alyona grabbed a slice of ham. It had been two months since she had meat that was not paste.
Eventually, the golden fish fell into the water and swam away. The woman pulled back her hood and revealed her full face to Alyona. I tried to follow it, but it swam away from shore, and I lost sight of it.
Alyona cleared her throat and licked her lips.
Girl, if you want a drink, just take it. The woman filled Alyona’s cup and handed it to her. The ham is not that salty, but I think your sore throat would improve if you drank.
Alyona sipped the water. It did not taste bitter. It did not smell foul. In fact, the water’s taste was a mixture of apples, roses, and plums.
I told my mother, and she whispered to my father that they needed to trade me into marriage now, before I became soft in the head. I did not want to marry at my age, so I told her that I would go find proof of my shiny golden fish. The woman used a toothpick to dollop out a portion of honey. There was nothing in the water when I returned. I waded in the cool stream. I put my head under the surface and looked at the rocks for the golden shimmer. I found nothing.
Alyona ate the ham.
I was weeping on the spot that I saw the god be born. My heart was full of dread. I started to believe that the shiny golden god was not real. I was so sad that I was quickly accepting that I would be married to an old man so that he would tolerate my problems. The woman tapped her top lip. I felt that my mother had no love for me. I thought that if the golden fish were my mother, it would love me just because that is what should be.
Alyona selected another pie. This pie contained spices and mashed nuts.
Your mother loves you. I listen to all the words spoken in this village. If a parent lacks love for their child, I correct them or have them leave. The woman did not form a fist. She turned her hand into a claw, the conviction in her words hanging in the air until she relaxed it. As all hope was gone, I put my hand down in the grass, and felt the substance.
The woman held her hand flat towards Alyona.
It was clear. It was squishy like the rendered bones of stock animals. It had a pleasant smell, but I was scared to taste it. The woman cupped her hands. I gathered this glob. I used the front of my dress to carry the material. When I believed that the last speck was contained in my clothing, I ran to my parents.
Alyona had felt something similar in the forest that morning.
My mother accused me of only finding the discarded waste of an animal. She threatened to smear it over my face. The woman moved the honey pot closer to Alyona. My father took me to the village shaman, and he looked at the material. They scraped the material off my clothes, but not around my breasts. The shaman thought it was bone waste from an owl, the eggs of a species of frog, a shell-less egg from a dying bird, a mushroom that was usually underground, or the spit of an evil spirit.
Alyona’s eyes widened.
Of course, something as amazing as what we found would be considered evil. The woman waved her hand. I have discovered many bundles and I have never seen the substance created by an evil thing.
No? Alonya asked, breaking her food-induced silence.
No, child. The woman touched the tip of Alyona’s nose. It is not to say that evil people and things are not interested in the substance, but the creation of it does not come from evil.
Alyona resumed consuming the luxurious treats.
The morning after I saw the god being born, people started to fall sick. The woman sighed. My mother blamed the god substance. It was hard for the village not to turn on me after my mother told them it was my fault. The woman’s shoulders lowered. I had not slept that night, and I did not clean after my discovery. They put me in a crate that only had three holes. My father fed me and still cared for me.
Alyona did not know how to react but to nod at the woman.
When my elder brother was close to death from the illness, my mother brought him to my crate. She told me that I would have to watch my brother die because I was an evil liar who unleashed a demon on the community. I could see him wither in pain from the openings in my prison. The woman moved a third pie in front of Alyona. The night my mother told me that my brother would die, my father talked to me. It was an act of rebellion against my mother, but he asked me if I knew what had happened. I cried to him about how this was not something I did. I pleaded with my dad that I would never make my brother suffer, and that the day watching him had crushed my will to live.
The woman tore a slice of ham into pieces and placed pieces of the meat on the floor of her keep.
My father and I wept. He told me that I was likely to die because of the sickness. The woman tapped the tray. Not that I was sick… or was likely to get sick, but because it would seem as justice to the people. I knew his words were true, but I could not think of anything else to say.
The third pie was berry and egg meringue. Alyona did not know that pies like this one existed.
I entered the crate in the dress I wore when I saw the god be born. The truth is that I only had that dress and a wedding dress. My mother kept the dress I would’ve worn to my wedding in a box near her bed. A cat approached the pieces of ham. My grandfather had given me the wedding dress when he died, but she took it from me. My father used what he received from his father to buy me the only special clothes I would have in my life. My father loved me, Alyona, just like yours.
The cat touched Alyona’s leg. It startled her, and she confirmed that the cat was not black.
We talked about the jelly I had found. My father told me that he had tried to burn it, thinking it was an odd piece of animal fat. The substance did not burn. My father then tried to crush it out of existence, but the material was soft, but not easily destroyed. The woman touched the center of her chest. My father’s words made me remember that there was still some of the jelly on my dress. I touched where they did not scrape, and there was a patch of the substance. I pinched the substance and it coated my fingers. It felt warm, but not hot.
Alyona was glad that the cat had returned to the ham.
My father grew angry. He was arguing with the air that if he were a real man, he would protect his daughter and revive his son. He was a good father. The woman showed Alyona a closed smile. He was crying because he knew he could do nothing. I was sore and battered from being in the crate. I felt so greasy and disgusting. I thought I was no longer the same girl that wandered in the meadows.
The woman offered to refill Alyona’s water cup.
For some reason, I brought the fingers I had used to touch the smear of the jelly that was on my dress to my mouth. The taste was tangy, but not foul. It was better than the food that my father had inserted into the holes in my crate. I sucked on it. With both hands, the woman rattled the basket. I felt so much better. It was amazing. I could not see it, but I felt my dry, cracked lips heal. My mind became clear. I knew what I had to do.
Alyona stopped eating to listen to the woman.
I asked my father to place my brother’s mouth in front of the biggest hole of my crate. He thought I was mad. He accused me of confessing that I pledged my soul to demons, but I told him that I felt different after praying to our god. The woman looked directly at Alyona. I rubbed my fingers on the same spot of my dress, and I placed them into my brother’s mouth. He was so weak that he did not respond to this action. I moved my fingers along his gums, his teeth, I even touched his tongue.
Alyona spoke to the woman. Was he healed right away?
The woman chuckled.
I like you Alyona, but you have the impatience of a child. The woman touched Alyona’s chin. It was not a sudden reversal, but he did not die. People died that night, but my brother lived. More importantly, he was the only person to get even slightly better. He was not running in the fields, talking to everyone better, but he was no longer crying in pain. His eyes were no longer looking like they would burst. Moreover, my father stopped crying for us.
I am glad. Alyona looked at the half-eaten pie. She wanted more of it, but she thought it would be rude to return to eating.
It was another day, another four deaths, before my father told the shaman that he thought I could heal the sick. They pulled me from the crate and inspected me. The women called for me to be stoned. The men wanted me burned. The shaman asked how my brother was alive, and how I was still in good health. The woman tapped her right temple. I knew I had to lie. I knew that I could not tell the truth. I had to convince these scared people that I was not dangerous.
The woman shuffled the half pie back to Alyona.
I fell in front of the shaman and shouted, ‘The Green Man came to me.’ I do not think you know the Green Man, child, but he was the god of the people before Christ came to the land. The woman pointed to a drawing of a large tree man. It matters not what god I said talked to me. I yelled that I knew that I did something wicked, but our god had forgiven me, and I was now able to cure the sickness that was killing the village.
Alyona returned to eating the pie.
They whipped me and bound me. I feared that they would burn my dress, so I yelled that the Green Man said that if I were to heal the village, I would need to be as I was when he forgave and blessed me. The woman opened her hands so that Alyona could see her palms. The oldest people would pray in this manner. They tied my legs together and only allowed my right arm to be free. However, that was all I needed to start to heal the people of my life.
Alyona finished her meal.
I would say our prayers; tell the people who were watching that the Green Man wanted everyone to close their eyes so that his healing ray could hit the person. The woman pulled her head backwards with a laugh. During this time, I would pull some of the jelly off my dress and stick the substance in the person’s mouth.
The woman laughed deeply.
What? Alyona asked.
I did not know that so many of my fellow villagers were missing teeth. Children of the people that always had food, had damaged and missing teeth. I was trapped and bored, so my mind began to guess how many disgusting teeth injuries each person would have.
Alyona shivered.
I thought the teeth were bad, but then it got worse. The woman looked upwards. It was on the third day of my healing that it happened for the first time. It was night, and the shaman had decided to blind me with a rag during the healing. Someone’s parents said that they did not want me to steal the soul of their child while I healed them. I placed my finger into a very small mouth, and everything was different. I did not feel a tingle from treating a person with the substance. I sang our songs to Green Man and rubbed jelly over my right fingers. I had planned to give the infant as much of the stuff as I could. The woman covered her eyes. The tiny body jumped, but there was still no response.
Why? Alyona wanted to know.
The baby was dead. I did not know if the god-gift could bring life back to a person. I was scared that if I did not return this child alive to their parents, I would be killed. The woman bobbed her head to the ceiling of her cave home. I kept doing it for a long time. I replenished the coating of my fingers four times, but still there was no living response. I finally shouted into the air. I faked arguing with the Green Man. I begged him to give me the infant. I spoke words that no one had ever heard in an odd voice that I thought would sound like the Green Man. This battle went on for minutes until I asked if whoever brought this child to me would allow the Green Man to have the special child live with him. I am not sure if the parents knew that their baby had died. I am uncertain if the parents wanted me to do something that I thought was evil, but a male voice eventually responded that it would be an honor if his young son joined the hunters of the Green Man.
Alyona gasped.
I spoke in my fake Green Man’s voice that the parents of his new hunter would be honored with a new child by the next spring. I informed the parents that they would find gifts for the next year. The woman rocked her head so that she was looking at the floor. They brought me five more dead people to heal, but no more deceased children. I did not make a fuss over the dead adults. I stated that the Green Man blamed the family for their death. If they truly believed in the power of the Green Man, they would have brought their loved ones to me before the sickness took them.
Alyona nodded her head.
On the fifth day, my fingers were raw. My nails felt like they were growing too fast. I guess I was healing and benefiting from the jelly, but I was placing the same fingers into people’s mouths most of the day. The worst problem was that my dress was getting dry. The woman traced her lips with her right index finger. I think my father was watching me. I think he saw me searching desperately on my dress for any of the substance. I believe this because he brought me fresh peas to eat that night. In the third pea he gave me, the pod was full of the jelly.
Did your village love you for healing everyone after those days? Alyona smiled at the woman.
No. The woman patted the girl’s forehead. They kept me in the crate. There was no joy for me after I found the jelly.
You saved them.
The woman breathed deeply.
I said that the Green Man had used me to save them. I was nothing but a tarnished girl who may have the power to harm or make people ill. The woman turned her head to the side.
Did your father and brother free you from the crate? Alyona looked hopefully at the woman.
No child, the town folk dispatched the shaman with me in that wooden prison out into the world to purge the town of my evil. He threatened to kill me daily. He attempted to abandon me at every opportunity. The woman cupped her hand in front of Alyona. When I sensed a second source of the god jelly, he was able to sell me to a person.
No! Alyona did not know if it was a spell, but she was extending her hand towards the woman.
The sum was so great that my parents and brother lived well. The woman clapped each hand separately. That was after the shaman took his share of my bounty and spent more money on food, drink, and women on the trip home.
That’s…..
That is life, my special girl. The woman grabbed her hand and they stood up. The woman led the pair through tunnels and caverns. Eventually, the woman pulled her through a blanket of vines that concealed an exit to her labyrinth.
Your forest, Alyona. The woman gestured to the glade Alyona crossed to enter the woods.
Alyona pulled her hand away from the woman and pulled her hair back.
I am not sure what you want me to find. Alyona looked up to the woman. She received a smile.
I have never told anyone this before, the woman stuck her tongue out to Alyona, when I first touched the jelly, I felt that there were ants under my skin. It was the power of the jelly moving through me. It was such an odd feeling that I thought it was a sign of madness.
Alyona lowered her head. I felt something like that. I thought it was worms latching onto me from the peat.
That is the place, little one. Take me there.
Alyona was about to step forward when the woman asked her another question.
What color was the substance you touched today?
It was not one color, ma’am. Alyona moved her hand down to her legs. She brushed unseen but felt passengers from her body. I grabbed it first because I thought it was rose root. My mother could turn the flower into medicine to sell or trade. Alyona knelt and touched the ground. Except that the flower was so low to the ground and it was not the red or yellow flower I normally pick. They were violet with orange centers.
They did not feel like flowers.
No. Alyona pulled her hand away from the ground. They stuck to me like honey.
submitted by Locke7768 to StoriesforLeon [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 01:57 Locke7768 New YA Fantasy novel examining Astral or Star Jelly

Astral or Star Jelly is a real event/substance that has been found in all areas of the earth (please Wikipedia it). My friend performed a DNA analysis on a sample of Star Jelly, and the results were amazing. His group concluded that the sample mostly had mitochondrial-like DNA, but it was very different from anything reported (much longer and having possible different base pairs).
Astral/Star Jelly is often found after meteorite showers or other astral events. I found some when I was young (heavy Northern Lights and Meteor Shower event). I crafted the first chapter of a potential novel. Please give feedback. I am switching to google docs, so soon I will have links to my works.
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Chapter 1
The Byproduct of Gods
Her owners had held her for so many lifetimes that the stream, which flowed, near her family’s hut was gone. The trees that provided fuel, housing, and food were missing, replaced by a prairie. After all the years of the concept of returning home keeping her going, she did not feel safe. There were no people near her village, and it took her days to unearth signs of her youth. She discovered the land that she had first walked on only because the mountain and stones did not move. As she cleaned the Blue Volga granite idol of her parents’ deity, she felt nothing. The blue-green face of the god looked sad to her. He also was no longer safe. His followers were dead and his power forgotten.
Her first owner was a traveler. They moved with each new moon. Her master felt safe but she failed to understand that her entourage plodded along a predictable path. After many decades, a tale of a demon woman who did not age traveled the same circuit. Finally, a village attacked the demon. Her second owner was the daughter of the woman who bought her. The daughter decided to build a fortress and to rule her fief. Her third owner was the daughter’s son who had grown tired of never gaining his birthright. His guilt and myopic greed caused him to sell her to an alchemist. From that point on, she was an item for trade or barter.
Her final master failed to return home. She remained in his caravan for a week, performing her duties. When she had eaten all the food, she felt justified using her knowledge to destroy her metal shackles. It took her five days to dissolve her bindings with her jellies.
She thought of the places that she had felt safe. Those havens were all underground. A magician made her live in the passages beneath Kyiv when he was being hunted. The tunnels funneled the 15 rivers of the city and protected inhabitants from invaders or punishing ruling forces. For twenty years, she had lived in the coquina catacombs of Odessa. A man who thought he was a seer was convinced that his power had attracted the attention of dragons and demons. No one could approach the lair unseen.
After a week of searching the now unfamiliar area, the woman began to carve her home from the soil of her childhood. She spent fifty years making her home safe. Only she would know the paths and twists of her underground world. Only she would know where the escape exits emerged into the surrounding world.
Eventually, her home attracted others. The woman could have chased them away, but she felt a need to observe people. When the fourth generations of villagers were aging to the grave, there was no hiding the fact that she had not died. The villagers erected a semi-circular wall around the entrance to the woman’s cave. The wall grew and the woman did not protest the separation.
Generations later, people whispered that the villagers maintained the defenses of their community to keep the woman away from the town’s children at night. In the tavern, each generation of gallant males would boast that they would be the one to remove the blight of the woman from the town. When she inevitably outlasted them, she would attend the funeral of the most vocal warrior from each age group.
Daily the woman would remove more soil from her dugout. The community would search her discarded diggings for possible minerals or stones. They did not share any discoveries with the woman. During times of blight or famine, the locals would collect her soil and remove it from the community.
People would peer around the wall to scan the woman’s home. As the village grew, a leader placed two chairs at endpoints of the semi-circle barrier. During full moons, periods of strife, festivals, and other social events, menacing men sat in the chairs. Infrequently, people tried to enter the woman’s home. Aside from the guards, it was the more distraught people of the village who visited her.. The most recent person to enter the woman’s home was a grieving widow. Her grief made her seek the woman to find answers about her loss. Three mornings later, the villagers found the widow in the public square with drapes of herbs, flowers, and crafts around her limbs. The people thought the widow was dead or mindless from torture. When the widow awoke, she went to her house and began the chores for the day. When pressed about the woman’s abode, the widow would state that the home was loved, clean, and well maintained.
On the spring day when the widow was about to remarry, she was again discovered in the square coated with ropes of herbs, flowers, and idols. The woman disappeared for a decade after the wedding, but the widow brought her newborns to the opening of the earthwork to declare their names into the sunken space.
The aging hamlet relaxed when the woman was away. There was a sense of freedom in the people. They did not fear the retribution of the woman for their actions, and parents could not correct their children with threats of giving them to the woman. At times, the leaders of the people would consider filling in the woman’s hovel, but shovels and spades would split if used to cover the opening of the woman’s home. One regretful man tried using a mule and cart to dump rocks into the fastness. The stones crushed the man after his own tram flipped over on him.
Although the townsfolk feared and despised the woman, she had free reign in the village. As an indicator that she was amongst the people, the woman would adorn her head with a dark purple scarf. No other members of the village would wear that color. They looked for it whenever the woman shopped at the market. The woman paid with old and foreign coins, but the merchants welcomed the precious metals they were composed of. During the dark days of winter, the people collected the woman’s tender and deposited it into a lead box. The villagers had a belief that the more people touched the woman’s currency, the longer the winter would be.
After the community fortified against the woman, religious leaders organized efforts to erect carved idols and large wagon-wheel hexes aimed at her home. Each generation attempted to counter the woman with the current symbols of spiritual protection. The largest structure in the village was now a church, and the threshold of the church was oriented to face the woman’s home.
The woman was home when Alyona began her schooling in the church. She had learned the fundamentals of math, reading, and writing. She knew that her coursework would end soon. The village expected girls to be useful to a limit. Her mother walked her only surviving child to school along a path that would prevent their shadow from falling close to the woman’s realm. The villagers performed this ritual after someone claimed that the woman had controlled their behavior by stealing their shadow.
Alyona was daydreaming during school of a life away from the village when the woman touched her. Alyona had spent the morning in the woods collecting mushrooms and other edibles. Her findings made for great, free additions to their usually simple meals. . On days that Alyona returned with a bounty, they shared the extras with neighbors. It was a wager that these people would remember the gift and provide Alyona’s home with food during lean days.
The person gripping Alyona twirled her body so that she faced the opposite direction. Alyona assumed the culprit was another student or a young assistant at the church. It could have been a boy attempting to bully her to get her attention. She lowered her right hand, preparing to use the back to slap the violator. Alyona’s willingness to confront her accoster left when she saw the face of the woman under her purple scarf. Alyona knew she should look away from the woman, but her eyes locked with the woman’s gaze. All the stories the Alyona heard about the town ghoul stated that the woman was so old that her skeleton was all that was left of her body. The woman’s youthful face surprised Alyona. There were no lines or furrows on the woman’s forehead. If anything, Alyona would have stated that the woman’s face glowed.
I can smell it on your hands. The woman placed Alyona’s fingers under her nose. The force of the drawn air startled Alyona. She thought that the woman had pulled the top layer of skin off her index finger. Alyona’s toes curled when the woman sampled her hand. Across a church aisle, one of the priests was herding schoolchildren. He spotted the two of them. His face darkened at the sight of their contact.
WHAT IS ON YOUR HANDS, ALYONA? The priest shouted over the children.
Nothing, Sir. The woman’s tongue darted over the tip of Alyona’s index finger. I was harvesting in the woods before class.
You touched more than growths and nuts this morning, Singleton Child of the Crying Matron. The woman chewed on her thumbnail.
Alyona did not like her mother being referred to in that way, but the eyes of the woman immobilized her. How could she react forcefully to a person who was savoring her hand?
She is mine today, priest. The woman held out her other hand to the shepherd of the church. I will pay her mother for occupying her child for the day, and she will be returned unsoiled and whole.
The priest brought a gurgle of protest up but was shut down quickly.
My tunnels are beneath your place of worship and the bedchambers of Mistress Blake, The women stomped on the ground, and I know all of what has occurred within your walls.
Alyona realized that she was screaming when her throat began to sear. She expected that the woman’s hole would be dark, but the home glowed. There were mirrors and reflective glasses positioned throughout the house to harness sun rays from many holes and entrances in the surface of the residence. Therefore, Alyona was able to see herself yelling on fifty surfaces.
Hush child. The woman touched her mouth. Do not be afraid of the manner in which I inspected you. It is a show for the people. I only want to talk about your morning, and then I will let you go with a full belly and money to buy many toys.
Alyona felt her utterances dwindle down to a wheeze that slipped out her lips.
You have the scent on your fingers, girl. The woman was now examining Alyona’s left hand. It is on both hands, so you must have found a huge source.
A source? Alyona wanted to look at her hands but she maintained her attention on the woman.
Sit. The woman pointed to a well-padded chair. Sit and I will return with small pies and honey.
Alyona hovered over the seat. She wanted to be strong and to stand, but then she smelt the pies. The chair was very soft. There were no pins, claws, or spines in the cushion like she feared.
Alyona. The voice of the woman wove through the tunnels of the underground network. Alyona felt her name circle around her. She had never been afraid of her name before. Alyona Pistan…daughter of Fiva and the missing soldier.
Alyona closed her fist and felt the pain of her nails digging into her palms.
Fiva lives off the salary that the Duke must pay for your father’s military service. Your mother knows that the Duke no longer wants to pay this burden.
Alyona wanted to speak but her throat stung from screaming.
Your father’s name is Bay. He earned this title because he would not stop speaking when he was a baby. Like a horse that always had an opinion, your father would squawk at everyone before he knew words. The voice was now coming directly towards Alyona. My first gift to you and Fiva is the information that your father lives. There was a pause in the woman’s words. An enemy does not enslave him; he is lost with the simpleton that led him away. One day a map will lead him home, child.
The woman emerged from a cutout with a basket laden with pies, a pot of honey, wooden utensils, and slices of ham. In her other hand, she held a bucket of colored water.
We will eat together. The woman placed the basket on Alyona’s lap and retrieved two cups. After you accept the first pie, I will tell you an important secret of mine.
I do not think I want to know any of your secrets Starly-Gradda.
The woman laughed and placed the small wooden spoon into the pie directly in front of Alyona.
Elder-grandmother, you call me. The woman dunked a cup into the water and held it in her left hand. I think that term is the nicest thing a child has called me in a lifetime.
Alyona brought the food to her lips. She smelt the mint, berries, and kasha. Gently she laid the pie onto her tongue. She did not chew; she only let it rest in her mouth. She expected that the food would burn or numb her. The taste was full and made her wish to spit the substance out because it was too good to be real.
Ah, she eats. The woman clapped her hands. I was your age when I saw my first god being born.
Alyona choked on the pie.
I was sitting by a riverbank when the god entered our place. The woman drank from her cup. It was a bright yellow fish with shiny scales. I saw it come from nothing to being here.
The woman snapped her fingers and Alyona swallowed her food.
No one prayed for its existence. No one was singing for it to bring salvation. The woman made circles with her hands in front of Alyona. As far as I know, simple fish do not worship gods, but a god came for the fish of that river.
The woman tapped Alyona’s hand to take another bite of pie.
It floated there. The woman held up her hands. Here I am…a young maiden…thinking a god or demon turned itself into this creature to seduce or corrupt me. Again, a chuckle came from the woman. No other god cared about this special fish. I think it was floating only because it did not realize that a fish should swim in water.
Alyona grabbed a slice of ham. It had been two months since she had meat that was not paste.
Eventually, the golden fish fell into the water and swam away. The woman pulled back her hood and revealed her full face to Alyona. I tried to follow it, but it swam away from shore, and I lost sight of it.
Alyona cleared her throat and licked her lips.
Girl, if you want a drink, just take it. The woman filled Alyona’s cup and handed it to her. The ham is not that salty, but I think your sore throat would improve if you drank.
Alyona sipped the water. It did not taste bitter. It did not smell foul. In fact, the water’s taste was a mixture of apples, roses, and plums.
I told my mother, and she whispered to my father that they needed to trade me into marriage now, before I became soft in the head. I did not want to marry at my age, so I told her that I would go find proof of my shiny golden fish. The woman used a toothpick to dollop out a portion of honey. There was nothing in the water when I returned. I waded in the cool stream. I put my head under the surface and looked at the rocks for the golden shimmer. I found nothing.
Alyona ate the ham.
I was weeping on the spot that I saw the god be born. My heart was full of dread. I started to believe that the shiny golden god was not real. I was so sad that I was quickly accepting that I would be married to an old man so that he would tolerate my problems. The woman tapped her top lip. I felt that my mother had no love for me. I thought that if the golden fish were my mother, it would love me just because that is what should be.
Alyona selected another pie. This pie contained spices and mashed nuts.
Your mother loves you. I listen to all the words spoken in this village. If a parent lacks love for their child, I correct them or have them leave. The woman did not form a fist. She turned her hand into a claw, the conviction in her words hanging in the air until she relaxed it. As all hope was gone, I put my hand down in the grass, and felt the substance.
The woman held her hand flat towards Alyona.
It was clear. It was squishy like the rendered bones of stock animals. It had a pleasant smell, but I was scared to taste it. The woman cupped her hands. I gathered this glob. I used the front of my dress to carry the material. When I believed that the last speck was contained in my clothing, I ran to my parents.
Alyona had felt something similar in the forest that morning.
My mother accused me of only finding the discarded waste of an animal. She threatened to smear it over my face. The woman moved the honey pot closer to Alyona. My father took me to the village shaman, and he looked at the material. They scraped the material off my clothes, but not around my breasts. The shaman thought it was bone waste from an owl, the eggs of a species of frog, a shell-less egg from a dying bird, a mushroom that was usually underground, or the spit of an evil spirit.
Alyona’s eyes widened.
Of course, something as amazing as what we found would be considered evil. The woman waved her hand. I have discovered many bundles and I have never seen the substance created by an evil thing.
No? Alonya asked, breaking her food-induced silence.
No, child. The woman touched the tip of Alyona’s nose. It is not to say that evil people and things are not interested in the substance, but the creation of it does not come from evil.
Alyona resumed consuming the luxurious treats.
The morning after I saw the god being born, people started to fall sick. The woman sighed. My mother blamed the god substance. It was hard for the village not to turn on me after my mother told them it was my fault. The woman’s shoulders lowered. I had not slept that night, and I did not clean after my discovery. They put me in a crate that only had three holes. My father fed me and still cared for me.
Alyona did not know how to react but to nod at the woman.
When my elder brother was close to death from the illness, my mother brought him to my crate. She told me that I would have to watch my brother die because I was an evil liar who unleashed a demon on the community. I could see him wither in pain from the openings in my prison. The woman moved a third pie in front of Alyona. The night my mother told me that my brother would die, my father talked to me. It was an act of rebellion against my mother, but he asked me if I knew what had happened. I cried to him about how this was not something I did. I pleaded with my dad that I would never make my brother suffer, and that the day watching him had crushed my will to live.
The woman tore a slice of ham into pieces and placed pieces of the meat on the floor of her keep.
My father and I wept. He told me that I was likely to die because of the sickness. The woman tapped the tray. Not that I was sick… or was likely to get sick, but because it would seem as justice to the people. I knew his words were true, but I could not think of anything else to say.
The third pie was berry and egg meringue. Alyona did not know that pies like this one existed.
I entered the crate in the dress I wore when I saw the god be born. The truth is that I only had that dress and a wedding dress. My mother kept the dress I would’ve worn to my wedding in a box near her bed. A cat approached the pieces of ham. My grandfather had given me the wedding dress when he died, but she took it from me. My father used what he received from his father to buy me the only special clothes I would have in my life. My father loved me, Alyona, just like yours.
The cat touched Alyona’s leg. It startled her, and she confirmed that the cat was not black.
We talked about the jelly I had found. My father told me that he had tried to burn it, thinking it was an odd piece of animal fat. The substance did not burn. My father then tried to crush it out of existence, but the material was soft, but not easily destroyed. The woman touched the center of her chest. My father’s words made me remember that there was still some of the jelly on my dress. I touched where they did not scrape, and there was a patch of the substance. I pinched the substance and it coated my fingers. It felt warm, but not hot.
Alyona was glad that the cat had returned to the ham.
My father grew angry. He was arguing with the air that if he were a real man, he would protect his daughter and revive his son. He was a good father. The woman showed Alyona a closed smile. He was crying because he knew he could do nothing. I was sore and battered from being in the crate. I felt so greasy and disgusting. I thought I was no longer the same girl that wandered in the meadows.
The woman offered to refill Alyona’s water cup.
For some reason, I brought the fingers I had used to touch the smear of the jelly that was on my dress to my mouth. The taste was tangy, but not foul. It was better than the food that my father had inserted into the holes in my crate. I sucked on it. With both hands, the woman rattled the basket. I felt so much better. It was amazing. I could not see it, but I felt my dry, cracked lips heal. My mind became clear. I knew what I had to do.
Alyona stopped eating to listen to the woman.
I asked my father to place my brother’s mouth in front of the biggest hole of my crate. He thought I was mad. He accused me of confessing that I pledged my soul to demons, but I told him that I felt different after praying to our god. The woman looked directly at Alyona. I rubbed my fingers on the same spot of my dress, and I placed them into my brother’s mouth. He was so weak that he did not respond to this action. I moved my fingers along his gums, his teeth, I even touched his tongue.
Alyona spoke to the woman. Was he healed right away?
The woman chuckled.
I like you Alyona, but you have the impatience of a child. The woman touched Alyona’s chin. It was not a sudden reversal, but he did not die. People died that night, but my brother lived. More importantly, he was the only person to get even slightly better. He was not running in the fields, talking to everyone better, but he was no longer crying in pain. His eyes were no longer looking like they would burst. Moreover, my father stopped crying for us.
I am glad. Alyona looked at the half-eaten pie. She wanted more of it, but she thought it would be rude to return to eating.
It was another day, another four deaths, before my father told the shaman that he thought I could heal the sick. They pulled me from the crate and inspected me. The women called for me to be stoned. The men wanted me burned. The shaman asked how my brother was alive, and how I was still in good health. The woman tapped her right temple. I knew I had to lie. I knew that I could not tell the truth. I had to convince these scared people that I was not dangerous.
The woman shuffled the half pie back to Alyona.
I fell in front of the shaman and shouted, ‘The Green Man came to me.’ I do not think you know the Green Man, child, but he was the god of the people before Christ came to the land. The woman pointed to a drawing of a large tree man. It matters not what god I said talked to me. I yelled that I knew that I did something wicked, but our god had forgiven me, and I was now able to cure the sickness that was killing the village.
Alyona returned to eating the pie.
They whipped me and bound me. I feared that they would burn my dress, so I yelled that the Green Man said that if I were to heal the village, I would need to be as I was when he forgave and blessed me. The woman opened her hands so that Alyona could see her palms. The oldest people would pray in this manner. They tied my legs together and only allowed my right arm to be free. However, that was all I needed to start to heal the people of my life.
Alyona finished her meal.
I would say our prayers; tell the people who were watching that the Green Man wanted everyone to close their eyes so that his healing ray could hit the person. The woman pulled her head backwards with a laugh. During this time, I would pull some of the jelly off my dress and stick the substance in the person’s mouth.
The woman laughed deeply.
What? Alyona asked.
I did not know that so many of my fellow villagers were missing teeth. Children of the people that always had food, had damaged and missing teeth. I was trapped and bored, so my mind began to guess how many disgusting teeth injuries each person would have.
Alyona shivered.
I thought the teeth were bad, but then it got worse. The woman looked upwards. It was on the third day of my healing that it happened for the first time. It was night, and the shaman had decided to blind me with a rag during the healing. Someone’s parents said that they did not want me to steal the soul of their child while I healed them. I placed my finger into a very small mouth, and everything was different. I did not feel a tingle from treating a person with the substance. I sang our songs to Green Man and rubbed jelly over my right fingers. I had planned to give the infant as much of the stuff as I could. The woman covered her eyes. The tiny body jumped, but there was still no response.
Why? Alyona wanted to know.
The baby was dead. I did not know if the god-gift could bring life back to a person. I was scared that if I did not return this child alive to their parents, I would be killed. The woman bobbed her head to the ceiling of her cave home. I kept doing it for a long time. I replenished the coating of my fingers four times, but still there was no living response. I finally shouted into the air. I faked arguing with the Green Man. I begged him to give me the infant. I spoke words that no one had ever heard in an odd voice that I thought would sound like the Green Man. This battle went on for minutes until I asked if whoever brought this child to me would allow the Green Man to have the special child live with him. I am not sure if the parents knew that their baby had died. I am uncertain if the parents wanted me to do something that I thought was evil, but a male voice eventually responded that it would be an honor if his young son joined the hunters of the Green Man.
Alyona gasped.
I spoke in my fake Green Man’s voice that the parents of his new hunter would be honored with a new child by the next spring. I informed the parents that they would find gifts for the next year. The woman rocked her head so that she was looking at the floor. They brought me five more dead people to heal, but no more deceased children. I did not make a fuss over the dead adults. I stated that the Green Man blamed the family for their death. If they truly believed in the power of the Green Man, they would have brought their loved ones to me before the sickness took them.
Alyona nodded her head.
On the fifth day, my fingers were raw. My nails felt like they were growing too fast. I guess I was healing and benefiting from the jelly, but I was placing the same fingers into people’s mouths most of the day. The worst problem was that my dress was getting dry. The woman traced her lips with her right index finger. I think my father was watching me. I think he saw me searching desperately on my dress for any of the substance. I believe this because he brought me fresh peas to eat that night. In the third pea he gave me, the pod was full of the jelly.
Did your village love you for healing everyone after those days? Alyona smiled at the woman.
No. The woman patted the girl’s forehead. They kept me in the crate. There was no joy for me after I found the jelly.
You saved them.
The woman breathed deeply.
I said that the Green Man had used me to save them. I was nothing but a tarnished girl who may have the power to harm or make people ill. The woman turned her head to the side.
Did your father and brother free you from the crate? Alyona looked hopefully at the woman.
No child, the town folk dispatched the shaman with me in that wooden prison out into the world to purge the town of my evil. He threatened to kill me daily. He attempted to abandon me at every opportunity. The woman cupped her hand in front of Alyona. When I sensed a second source of the god jelly, he was able to sell me to a person.
No! Alyona did not know if it was a spell, but she was extending her hand towards the woman.
The sum was so great that my parents and brother lived well. The woman clapped each hand separately. That was after the shaman took his share of my bounty and spent more money on food, drink, and women on the trip home.
That’s…..
That is life, my special girl. The woman grabbed her hand and they stood up. The woman led the pair through tunnels and caverns. Eventually, the woman pulled her through a blanket of vines that concealed an exit to her labyrinth.
Your forest, Alyona. The woman gestured to the glade Alyona crossed to enter the woods.
Alyona pulled her hand away from the woman and pulled her hair back.
I am not sure what you want me to find. Alyona looked up to the woman. She received a smile.
I have never told anyone this before, the woman stuck her tongue out to Alyona, when I first touched the jelly, I felt that there were ants under my skin. It was the power of the jelly moving through me. It was such an odd feeling that I thought it was a sign of madness.
Alyona lowered her head. I felt something like that. I thought it was worms latching onto me from the peat.
That is the place, little one. Take me there.
Alyona was about to step forward when the woman asked her another question.
What color was the substance you touched today?
It was not one color, ma’am. Alyona moved her hand down to her legs. She brushed unseen but felt passengers from her body. I grabbed it first because I thought it was rose root. My mother could turn the flower into medicine to sell or trade. Alyona knelt and touched the ground. Except that the flower was so low to the ground and it was not the red or yellow flower I normally pick. They were violet with orange centers.
They did not feel like flowers.
No. Alyona pulled her hand away from the ground. They stuck to me like honey.
submitted by Locke7768 to fantasywriters [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 19:48 BidObjective43 Was my best friend murdered?

On the morning of February 6th 2021 I received a call that my best friend(29) had been shot and killed (rumor is weapon is a high caliber assault rifle) at her home in Union City, GA. I had moved across the country and we had not talked since the end of November as we had gotten into a spat. Occasionally we would disagree and for awhile both would be too stubborn to reach out but we loved each other and would always make up. Id give anything to have been able to talk to her those last few months. Since I learned of the news I cannot find anything about her death. There was no funeral or viewing just a memorial as I was told her mother donated her body to science. There is no obituary, no reports of shootings, nothing. I’ve done my best to search for any information on what happened but I have been unsuccessful. After joining this sub I was amazed at how helpful everyone is and figured I would shoot my shot. I just want to know what happened to my friend.
Edit: None of our friends know anything other than the info that I have provided. I spoke to her baby daddy and all said was she was shot in the house but I have been unable to verify any of the information as it is all hearsay.
Edit again: I will not be contacting her family. I am more interested in police reports, death certificates etc. I’m very much a facts person and I’m hoping it would help with closure as it’s something I think about every moment of every day.
Thank you everyone for your kind words and suggestions. Please feel free to keep them coming! I just really appreciate all the feedback and am hoping this will bring me some closure.
submitted by BidObjective43 to RBI [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 19:01 outwitthebully Do funeral homes sell personal information

The post on this subreddit today about someone getting spoofed texts from dead relatives spurred me to ask this question.
So my mother died about a year ago. She was an extremely private person, so private she did not even want people to know who her relatives were. When she died, the funeral home director contacted me about an obituary asking for a call back. I called him back, and he sounded as though he was asking questions from a form, and they were benign questions of the sort often answered in an obituary— who were her parents, when was she born, where did she work, what clubs was she in..
Then he asked a question that just didn’t fit. I can’t remember exactly what it was, perhaps where her parents were born or when, I don’t remember. I politely explained to him that she was a private person and would not want any of this in her obituary. I asked if I could write one and send it to him instead and he agreed.
So I wrote it and sent it in to him as he requested within a few weeks of her passing. It was polite, short, complimentary and devoid of any useful information (“she enjoyed lunching with her friends and watching old movies”).
It was never published anywhere and he did not respond to any follow up emails I sent about it. Otherwise he was pleasant. It seemed as though he was a bit upset that I refused to answer the battery of questions. To me, it is not normal or expected for a funeral director to be annoyed by that.
Are they able to sell that information/do they get some kind of kickback for it?
EDTA: the person I talked to on the phone was definitely the funeral director. I went to high school with him, I’d know his voice anywhere— small high school, small town.
submitted by outwitthebully to Scams [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 17:43 m80mike I Was a Foreman at the Grazer Tower Demolition

Summary: A demolition firm struggles to take down a damaged building for their mysterious clients
I Was a Foreman at the Grazer Tower Demolition
By now Grazer Tower has faded as a household name but to some the rumors and madness surrounding it refuse to die. The demolition of the massive three hundred twenty foot octagonal hotel left a gap in the Atlanta skyline but little fondness in anyone's hearts. I have no particular first hand insight into the freak lightning strikes on the 30th floor atrium which killed 13 people but I am willing to tell my side of the story about the demolition effort leading to the botched implosion. I tell this as a full, open, and honest disclosure. The legal maneuvering and ink has dried, all of the dead are buried, and all the bleeding stopped. The scars remain, the pain persists, the things I saw there are burned in my head even after they've been discredited into the conspiracy theory woodwork of the internet. The lightning storm struck on a Sunday afternoon and the next day for all we knew the bodies were still warm when a lawyer representing the owners of Grazer Tower entered our corporate office. I look back on it now with open and clear eyes and realize it was all very strange from the start when my Lead Foreman, Tom, and I were called into the meeting in progress.
The lawyer and now our client, looked like a fairly normal man in his mid thirties aside from his impeccably white suit which was ironed to the point of looking like stone rather than cloth. Beside the white suit his lips were an uncomfortable maroon and glossy. Besides this he spoke in a plain, clear, and disarming manner refraining from legalese and maintaining a firm but not imposing eye contract with whomever he was speaking directly to.
He told us in no uncertain terms he was instructed to contract with our firm to take down his client's building. Tom and I were shocked when we heard this after all, the lightning disaster, while tragic and perhaps undeservedly tarnishing in the short term to the Grazer Hotel's reputation, did not render the structure unusable nor unsafe to its surroundings. The worst damage was that the steel dome of the 30th floor atrium had collapsed into the vaulted restaurant and ballroom of the 29th floor but that's where the structure damage started and ended, in fact aside from the 28th, 29th, and 30th floor, city engineers working overnight already declared the building sound. So while perhaps still time consuming and costly, repairing the building was definitely possible and cost effective but owners, to make an analogy, were basically insisting on totaling a car after a minor parking lot fender bender. They gave us a specific date by which the building needed to be taken down. When our Boss, Jim, rebuffed the lawyer, not only because the date was challenging and soon but also because it was possible we could have it dropped BEFORE the date specified. The lawyer insisted the building go down on the date given – not later and not earlier. Jim swallowed hard and then glanced at Tom and I. Then the lawyer involved the name of the head of the owner's group, a Mr. Rohmer.
Mr. Rohmer, according to the lawyer, was offering our firm one hundred percent of the cost upfront and another twenty perfect of the total cost plus any overruns – stating if the implosion came early or late, it would mean all very little – no, that's no a typo, that's how the lawyer phrased it from his client, Mr. Rohmer. With that detail out of the way, you can see how the car totaling analogy breaks down considering the owners did not stand to profit from it's demolition – in fact quite the opposite.
The lawyer chuckled a bit to break the tension. He explained his clients and Mr. Rohmer in particular were an unorthodox bunch and then even insisted he wear the white suit in any of their dealings. The lawyer produced a tablet PC from his messenger bag and leveled it to Jim. On the tablet was all the banking confirmation codes ready to go for a direct deposit into our firms account alongside a contract. Jim seemed to hiccup or belch in excitement as he hurried around the short side of his desk to sign it since his stubby t-rex arms could not reach across his desk.
The firm was committed, we were committed – I was committed and I started to mentally cramp up over the challenges we all faced. The Grazer Hotel was in the middle of a dense urban grid. It had to be precise drop with virtually no margin for error. Jim poured us a dram of scotch from the bottle hidden under his desk. None of us a second thought about Rohmer's cryptic remark – after all, how often did you get a one hundred twenty perfect no-bid contract walk in off the street, out of the blue?
A combination of exhilaration over the money and anxiety over the work load kept us all from sleeping that night. Jim and Tom ended up going out and having a wild night to celebrate while I went home to mentally prepare not only myself but also my wife and kids. As a family they were staring down a month and a half of late nights and weekends with no dad. My wife was frustrated until I told her about the bonus and then she said she'd fill the lonely time making plans to send the kids to Disney World and then find a place for us to spend alone together. The promise of a much needed vacation after this only super charged the butterflies in my stomach further in anticipation of this challenging season ending.
As the assistant foreman I had office and on-site duties. Most of it was coordinating between the two. This included personnel, setting up site security – including guards and cameras to keep urban explorers and vagrants of out the dangerous site and satisfy OSHA hazardous work place safety requirements. The most challenging duty was site prep which included disposal of furnishings, removal of windows and other flourishes of the structure's facade which could become deadly shrapnel during an implosion. Fortunately, despite all of this, the nagging questions about permits and clean-up contracts were already handled by the lawyer. Rohmer's group also waived any rights to furnishings which means they could be unceremoniously hauled out in any way we chose to and disposed of.
Now I suppose some of these things should have came as red flags to me – or at least some one in the company but we all justified it as the group must have connects and short cuts to permits and it was a relatively new building, only about twenty years old in fact and furnishings – whether old or new probably weren't of any antique or sentimental value. All in all these were blessings since they freed our hands a bit and made a near impossible deadline more possible.
Of course the good news came with some bad news. The city engineers forbade us from working at the 28th, 29th, and 30th floors – unless we brought in a separate crew to stabilize those levels first. This was quite the fly in the ointment for the controlled implosion plan we sketched out. The 30th floor wasn't as much of a problem but the 29th floor ballroom and the weakening of the 28th floor meant we can't inspect for how compromised they were by the steel atrium dome. For all we knew if we blew the 27th floor on down the dome could shift and topple over the top three floors outside of the implosion safe zone, imperiling people and nearby structures.
I raised holy hell about it while Tom stood calm. It could take months to stabilize and clear those floors and far more money than I thought our eccentric client would pay in overruns. Jim waved me off mid sentence and simply told me he'd take care of it. That was good enough for Tom so it had to be good enough for me. I went back to my job – securing site and planning drop.
Although we had a problem with the top floor our saving grace lie in the basements. It had a three story subterranean parking garage, a basement level pool, and a utility sub-basement. We could easily smash the first ten or twelve floors into that deep footprint. Also the utility sub-basement gave us a clean cut off from the grid and a fairly convenient way to protect the surrounding grid without interruption. Still, at least part of our team would take have to take three weeks out of our six and change to handle the utilities.
The first week was hectic, they always were but we hit no major snags. By the end of it were on schedule and all of the parts were coming together. We thought maybe, just maybe, we were well on our way to an early Christmas bonus but nothing could prepare us for what was coming.
If you work on a site long enough and work anywhere on the site security reporting chain you're bound to get a few questionable reports from your night guys. Let's face it, for folks who are wake all night five or six nights a week poking around with flashlights chasing shadows, every building every where is haunted. I've been on the site security chain for thirteen years so it was easy for me to dismiss reports from the night guys about unusual glows on gutted floors and stairwells, elevators which moved on their own with no one calling for them or inside when they opened on a random floor, or the security cameras and cellphones constantly going offline on the 27th floor and the utility sub-basement.
I wasn't convinced anything of concern was going on until I got called on site by the test drilling team. This team was responsible for sampling the support materials to determine where it was best to place the explosives and what explosives would be best to use. They reported the interior supports were designed in an unusual way with a honey comb of unorthodox metals and concrete not reported on the building's records or blueprints. Specifically, they reported the concrete was impregnated by some kind of metal veins which gave off a bright shimmer. I was asked to come identify it but they claimed it disappeared by the time I arrived.
I was irate at the team and their supervisor for having me to come on down on site for something that sounded so wrong to begin with. They showed me a grainy cellphone video and told me they would swear on a stack of Bibles the sparkling compound welled up in the test coring like mercury, turned blood red and bled on the floor before disappearing into the torn up carpet. I chastised them for making this up and threatened to get new sub contractors if they kept wasting my time. I spoke with a separate sample team on the lower levels and they too discovered some unusual metal compositions – ones which were different then the ones found the top floors. One of the engineers speculated that the contrast in metals between the top and bottom floors could be cause the building to hold an electrical charge, like a battery or like a capacitor. Either way, the engineer said it would require more explosives than initially thought to take down the structure.
A couple of weeks later we were painfully behind – glass removal in particular was going slow because those contractors claimed they were constantly losing their toys. They also claimed one night to have cleared the top five floors on the east side of all their glass – only for all the windows to appear fully intact the next morning. I was forced to end their sub contract due to misrepresentation of work accomplished.
The glass wasn't the only thing slowing us down. The wire and plumbing removal was hindered by the wires somehow were fused to the pipes and in some places, the pipes were fused to the load-bearing members – we thought maybe it was due to the lightning strikes but that really didn't make sense since all of the wiring and plumbing otherwise seemed to work fine before we turned off the utilities. The only thing going for us was the helicopter loophole. Instead of accessing the 30th floor through the condemned floors we were able to get work teams on the atrium floor by helicopter. The bodies of the 13 were removed before we started working and before the atrium fully collapsed into the ballroom but the teams working on the roof reported many unusual artifacts including stained glass and Greek letters comprised of unusual amalgams of metal.
All of the strangeness culminated in the disappearance of one of the night time security guards named Phillipe. I say disappear because his girlfriend filed a missing persons report with the police and when they came to investigate Tom was busy with the atrium operations so the job fell to me. I walked the investigator through guard's smart phone filed reports from the previous evenings. Admittedly I was behind on my end approving the reports so I was embarrassed when things in the report took a turn. His reports including the same odd glows the others were reporting in the stairwells and seeing metallic veins throb on the walls.
His last reports stuck in my head: Report: Sub-basement 4 clear, 0312. Report: Sub-basement 5 clear, 0305. Report: Sub-basement 6 clear 0237.
His “all clear” reports documented levels of the building which did not exist and the further he went into the areas which did not exist, the automatic timestamps went backwards in time. It made no sense – unless he was confused as to where he was due to intoxication and there was software glitch with the timestamps. I was forced to give the investigator no firm explanation.
It's easy to write off a high security guard – they're flaky by their nature and have plenty of reasons to ghost a part time gig and even to pull prank on their final reports. I almost wrote it all off until I saw his girlfriend – apparently his fiance, handing out missing persons fliers outside of the site gate one morning. She seemed absolutely heartbroken and I got stabbed in the gut thinking maybe this wasn't a ghosting and prank after all. Seeing is believing and the next week I started to believe. Tom was finishing up on the atrium level. We used some heavy lift choppers to remove the rest of the frame and glass. Now we could get a better look into the section which collapsed into the 29th floor. We started by using a series of video drones to investigate the melted twisted dome through the collapsed roof. We quickly learned that the drones were being interfered with as their feed would cut out or their batteries would die almost immediately upon entering the ballroom.
So, we had to cut some corners, against city regulations, we let Tom and two others rappel in from the roof on secured anchored lines with helicopter over watch support. We needed to do this because we needed make sure that collapsed wreckage would not move and potentially change the implosion direction. Tom got twisted in his gear as he tried to lean into one of the holes in the roof. He slipped and fell in, disappearing from sight. We frantically radioed for Tom as the other two workers abandoned their own attempts to peer in and scrambled to Tom's aid. Tom was pulled out of the section uninjured but he appeared to be in shock, he looked wild eyed and shook as he was put on the helicopter and lowered back to ground level. Within minutes, Jim called us back to the office to discuss the near miss.
Two weeks to go and week behind, a missing guard, and now a near fatal accident. That for Jim, was the last straw. Tom and I had run out the rope Jim gave us to hang ourselves with. Jim slammed his hand on his desk as he catastrophized, red in the face, nearly breathless, he yelled we could very well kiss that twenty percent goodbye with the way things are going. He pressured Tom to go on the record after his dip into the structure that the atrium debris ball in the ballroom posed no threat to the implosion. Tom was elsewhere. He stared off in a thousand yard stare before replying to Jim that it posed no threat. Then Tom headed for the door. Jim screamed at him that he wasn't done chew us out but Tom only said he had to get back to it. I supported Tom and followed him. He and I headed back to the site to secure the night shift changes – another night not at home and having a late dinner.
I asked Tom in the car ride back what he saw in there. Tom was fixed in a trance and barely responded. He said it was wild. When we got back to the site, Tom separated from me through the gate while I strolled across the street to grab us some dinner from a street vendor. As I stood around waiting for two gyros and two cokes I could help but be mesmerized by the gutted tower. It seemed to breath in the spotlights inhaling puffs of the dust and dirt on the site and then exhaling it. A faint glow, barely perceivable against the light pollution, seemed to brighten, dim, and fade from the upper floors with each of the building's breaths. I was transfixed on it and it was the first time the building gave me an eerie feeling.
I got back on the site, food in hand, there was a buzz in their air as the night shift streamed in and the day shift streamed out. I barely had my hardhat seated corrected on my head when the site's emergency alarm blew. The interim foreman tossed me a radio as I was swept with him and our site occupational safety and emergency personnel to the basement.
Our increasingly panicked footfalls blotted out the squawk of the radios but I could hear one name again and again in the equally panicked messages – Tom Tom Tom. Whatever was happening was happening to Tom.
We reached the pool level and a trail of gasps proceeded me into the pool. There was Tom in his vest and hardhat face down in the middle of the pool with crimson oozing out him into the cerulean tiles lining the drained pool. We piled in from the ladders and shallow end to get to him. It was apparent when the first folks reached him that he was dead. They hauled him out on a stretcher and to our shock he looked like he had been dead for much longer than possible and his skin was water logged despite there being no water. He had died of fall trauma possibly despite the pool only being six feet deep. The paramedics also claimed he had water in his lungs. Then I noticed he was wearing his rappelling harness weaved in his vest – but that made no sense – he took it and his vest off when we were getting chewed out by Jim. Why would he put his rappelling gear on again.
I was the assistant foreman no more. Now the buck stopped with me. As they took Tom to the morgue we all knew the show must go on – our client demanded it, Jim demanded it and Tom would have wanted it that way. The same police investigator from the guard's disappearance met with me over Tom's death. They said it was standard procedure with work place deaths. I gave him a copy of the footage on an SD card and left the moment after it left my hand.
I had the recording queued up to the time of the commotion. The video we provided had a poor angle and was focused on the door to monitor access – the comings and goings of people. It was shift change so people were filing in and out Tom was somewhere in the crowd. The pool was one of the areas which required both foot patrols and constant video monitoring. I hit the rewind button on accident and watched his body lie there and lie there and then the timestamp sped past the 1900 hour mark. We were in traffic from meeting with Jim at that time. This was impossible but I kept my finger on the rewind button. Around 1400 the camera shakes a bit and there is slight glow reflecting on the doors so I let it play back to the shake. There is a soft green glow and then could hear a heft thud in the room. I gulped knowing that was Tom falling into the pool around the same time he fell into the hole in the roof. The soft glow turned brighter and brighter like a laser shining into the lens – something that wasn't present on the rewind. There was a flash of an incomprehensible shape or form on the screen. I was physically hurt in my eyes like I had just stared into the sun. I was left dazed with the shaped burned into my eyes with each blink. Then the camera system shorted out and a tiny puff of smoke left the memory module. The cameras blinked off wall to wall, the whole system was dead.
With the cameras fried, regulations required someone high in the company to be on site or we'd have to leave for the night. So I stayed knowing we couldn't afford to lose an hour much less an entire night. I circled the pool between approving payrolls and directing the increased security guard traffic required to monitor more areas. I was thinking about what I would say at Tom's funeral. I was thinking about Tom's family and what they would think about his apparent suicide.
I was forced to patrol the rest of the sub-basements as well since most of the guards were at the site perimeters or higher levels. I would have to follow paths of Phillipe, the disappeared guard, and all of the other guards who had mismatched timestamps on their increasingly strange reports. If not for today's incident and the recording of Tom's death, I would have stood fast to the idea that these reports were the product of night jitters and drugs but now, no.
I gritted my teeth as I exited the pool area to patrol the lower levels. I hated this building I muttered to myself. I couldn't wait to see it all rumble. I thought about which part I'd like to keep from the site to place in Tom's casket – then I realized it probably wasn't going to be an open casket funeral. I was lost in my thoughts and hatred for the building as I roamed through the parking garage into the utilities basement. I lost track of where I was as I weaved down stairwells.
I shown my flashlight on the wall and the floor level sign said “Sub-basement 999”. I stopped cold in my tracks. I was hoping it was a prank but I knew it was no prank. Then I thought maybe I'd have some answers. Maybe I would finally see what all the strangeness was about. But then I freaked out about Phillipe's disappearance and turned to run back up the stairwell. I ran up four levels to what I thought was the lobby and I pushed the door open.
My jaw hit the floor when I saw a black and white galaxy – the stars were black and the space was white with gradations of gray. The whole room was just white outer space and the whole universe swirled fast counter clockwise. I tried to breath and when I did the galaxy shrunk before my eyes until it was the size of a tiny of marble and then even smaller to a speck of dust. I reached out as it floated towards me. I stared at the speck in a cold sweat. As I stared, I was looking deeper and deeper into impossible detail. In the dust I found the milky way galaxy, I found our solar system, I found Earth and then I found North America, and then I found myself back in the pool room dripping in sweat.
Time seemed to skip and space was malleable in that hotel. As we approached the deadline to drop it, some jobs which would take hours took days and some jobs which would take days took minutes. The anomalies seemed to swarm tonight and day and yet we pressed on. Tom was buried and I couldn't go.
We met the deadline and the city came out in numbers to watch us drop the thirty floor structure. They gathered nearly two blocks away clad in ponchos and dust masks bracing for the implosion triggered by half a ton of high explosives.
I was so burned out and demoralized. My mantra became “this is for Tom, this is for Tom” and it was the only thing carrying me to this day. I chalked up all the anomalies and even my own experience on 999th sub-basement level as a reaction to shock, loss, grief, and exhaustion.
We were on the thirty minute countdown and Mr. Rohmer's attorney was designated as the trigger man. He stood there with Jim and I in the command trailer with the detonator remote. The remote triggered a two minute countdown on the charges from a master control station in my command trailer. All the charges had to be hardwired old school style because we were getting too much walkie talkie and radio interference from inside the structure for any other method of trigger to be reliable. I was too tried to make a stink about insisting I do it. I just wanted it to be over but suddenly a freak thunderstorm brewed up over the city. The skies were overcast and we were on the verge of having to abort the implosion until the next day – despite the next day being a day past the deadline. If we didn't abort and went through with the implosion, there was a strong chance the shock waves from the blast would bounce back off the lower cloud base and shatter windows and ears across the city.
I sat in my command chair at the perimeter in dismay, almost in tears as it started to rain. I felt my heart drop into the acid of my stomach as I ordered the suspension of the implosion for the day. The lawyer, surprisingly, did not resist. I watched as the crowds dispersed from the viewing lines and police started to permit traffic back through the streets surrounding the site.
Then a group of unauthorized personnel threw open the door of the trailer. They were a mass of men and women clad in pressed white suits, stoney faces with thin maroon lips, one of them carried a white covered book.
The attorney dropped his eyes and head in deference to elderly man at the head of the congregation. The attorney addressed him as Monsignor. The man introduced himself as Monsignor Rohmer and he placed his hand on his attorney, calling him a cousin of the congregation, stating there will be no postponement and no delay.
Rohmer, a man I judged to be in his late 50's or early 60's was bald and covered it with a white derby hat. He was tall, about six five, and thin, so thin his suit fit him like snake half shedding its skin. His was face long and his cheeks thin and worn like a mountain side. His voice was steady and low like waterfall. Everything he said bloomed with authority and confidence. He ordered the building would be dropped in twenty minutes.
I told him I didn't care if he was the owner, the building could not be blown in this weather and I snatched the detonator out of his attorney's hands. Rohmer, moving faster than I believed humanly possible with some kind of martial arts move swiped the detonator from my hands. Simultaneously, he had two of his followers press Jim against the wall. They put him in a sleeper hold and he slumped down to the floor barely getting a word out. Then Rohmer gestured to his flock to follow towards the building.
They left in a fast deliberate almost choreographed walk like a flock of geese flying in formation. I grabbed the radio to get police help but I realized that was hopeless. I watched as our trailer was shrouded in the same interference we experienced in the building's interior. The CCTV monitors flickered out and the radio squawked static. Then I realized Rohmer had no control over the detonation and no way to contact his followers still with us in the command trailer. So I did what I had to and pulled the master key out of the master detonator in the command trailer and chased after the flock. I needed to know what was happening I needed to see with my own eyes what all of this was all about.
The Congregation had reached the lobby and I saw the trailing end of the clad white congregate into the stairwell. I darted at my best speed to follow them.
I reached the stair well door. I found Rohmer standing on the top step, apparently waiting for me. I was out of breath while he began to speak to me in his booming voice. He explained to me that if the building did not fall in the next twenty minutes, all of Earth would be pulled, sucked, inside out and down through the building into the black and white universe. The entire building, but especially the atrium dome, he continued, was designed and built to create and then temporarily contain an impossible shape, a living form, a 4 dimensional object, a tesseract, when struck by lightning in the presence of thirteen self-sacrificial Congregate members. This shape would slowly expand and cause space and time anomalies before growing so large inside compared to its size would pull us all into place with no life.
The shape was still in the process of forming even as we spoke, he said. It would reach critical mass and dimensional contortion and the only way to stop it was to disfigure and crush it in the hotel's collapse. He led me into the pool level where his entire congregation was sitting cross-legged where Tom fell. A green pulse, like a laser, came down from the ceiling into the group's center, where their white book lay open on blank pages. I had a feeling this glow was being projected down from the ballroom where the dome of the atrium was taking its final fourth dimensional form.
After a loud chant from the white clad followers, the book slammed shut and turned from a brilliant white shimming cover to one black as night. As they passed around book, their white suits turned black and the formed a single file line. Rohmer left my side and pulled the detonator from his suit. He showed it me and tossed it at me. In my panic I reached out with both hands to catch it but I forgot I still had the master key in my sweat slick hand and it fly out and fell at the foot of Rohmer.
I asked what he planned to do with the key without a lock and a jammed detonator. Rohmer bent down and grabbed the key and looked me without a hint of concern. He took the new black book into his hands and opened it facing the wall of the pool. A new green pulse launched from the book and flickered on the tiles. An octagonal outline appeared to frame a hazy image of a tropical beach. One by one Rohmer's congregation walked into the side of the pool, into glow and seemed to arrive safely on the otherside of the beach.
Once all his compatriots were on the beach, he turned a page in the book and reopened it, projecting another octagon portal on the side of the pool. I could see his destination – it was the command trailer. He stepped through portal and yelled to me from the other side that I had two minutes. The portal sealed.
I could hear the warning sirens we installed going off above me. Needless to say, I made it out, just barely. I reached the perimeter fence screaming to anyone who was in ear shot to run away. The building imploded as planned but I was caught in the dust cloud and developed tinnitus severe enough to be comparable with combat veterans.
The shock waves from the explosions were reflected off the cloud base and channeled down the street by other skyscrapers. Virtually every window in a two block radius around the site was shattered and hundreds of people were hurt in the resulting stampede and vehicle collisions caused by fleeing from the flying glass cascade. Parts of downtown looked like a war zone for weeks afterward.
Rohmer and the rest of his group, including the lawyer, had disappeared out of the trailer in another portal leaving a suitcase of gold equaling the twenty percent promised. Our company was fined, sued, and threatened with criminal charges and eventually put of business. There wasn't much left after paying the cities fines and lawyer fees.
Though I was spared any direct sanctions, I forced into an early retirement. I've had time to research Rohmer's group. There are at least six mentions of figures like Rohmer on the deepest parts of the conspiracy web. They seem to show up at a locale experiencing paranormal activity with a white book and then leave with a black book. Their departure usually marks the end of any strangeness. I can't be sure but this congregation seems to be summon demons, which they exorcise, by trapping them in their books. Trapping maybe a poor term to use since, as in the case of the Grazer hotel encounter, they can apparently cleanse the anomalies and then use the book containing them to weaponize a portion of the traits of whatever their unholy creations posses.
I suspect Rohmer and his congregation, now with the ability to teleport, are accelerating their plans, to whatever ends these paranormal means enable them.
Theo Plesha - Sequel to "Flush" by Theo Plesha on The Chilling App
submitted by m80mike to ChillingApp [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 16:41 MrC_Red [Update] 100 Great Rock Albums list CHANGES

It's been over a year since the original 100 Great Albums post. Since December 2021, I've listened to 375 Rock albums in total (just for fun, I'm getting paid for this!). Looking back at the original albums, I noticed I have a few with only 1 or 2 listens, whereas now I always try to aim for 3 at the minimum. So as this is a good midpoint (as I plan on stopping at the 20th post), I decided to revisit these certified classic albums and maybe upgrade/downgrade the ratings after more listens. I'll continue to edit grades on other posts if my opinion changes on them later on, but the 100 list got so popular that I feel like it should be left unedited.
Here's the format: Album (year) original grade [orig. Listens] // NEW GRADE {additional listens}
  1. Bob Dylan - Freewheelin' Bob Dylan (1963) B+ [2 listens] // A- {1 listen} More time to digest his lyrics only makes it better. Hard Rain, Blowin in the Wind and Masters of War are still the best here. He had the wisdom and poise of a 70+ year old man, as a 22 year old...
  2. Bob Dylan - Bring It On Home (1965) A- [3 listens] // A+ {2 listens} I can't overemphasize how great side two is of this album is. The songs aren't as musical as side one, so the lyrics are center stage and Bob Dylan ALWAYS captivates your attention. The electric guitar side is even better than I originally thought, but man does the second side has some of his best songwriting.
  3. The Beatles - Help! (1965) B+ [3 listens] // A- {1 listen} This is the album where I think they started making legit "respectable" music. The early Pop music they made before is nice, but it's not that fulfilling. The variety made this age very well: Hide Your Love Away, Ticket to Ride, Seen a Face, Dizzy Miss Lizzy, Help!, Yesterday. It doesn't help that every album that followed it is considered one of the greatest albums of all time, but at this point, it was head and shoulders their best.
  4. Beatles - Rubber Soul (1965) A++ [5 listens] // A+ {4 listens} Highway 61 Revisited gets the credit as being the album to kick off the Rock renaissance of the 60s, but imo, the "album arms race" started with this one. Without it, the musical landscape isn't the same as the concept of an entire album of worthy material wouldn't have been as widely adopted. With the praise out of the way... it's pretty one note. A great Folk Rock album, but as it's often compared to other albums (cough Pet Sounds), it doesn't hold a candle to them.
  5. The Beatles - Magical Mystery Tour (1967) B+ [3 listens] // A {3 listens} This is fun, bro. No it's not a legendary album, hell, it's not really a fully formed one as it's really a soundtrack compilation album. But looking at all the songs, they're just fun. Even a half assed Beatles album is still incredible (no I haven't listened to Yellow Submarine, why do you ask?).
  6. The Doors - Self-Titled (1967) A- [2 listens] // A++ {3 listens} Wow, this is why multiple listens are super important. Many of the songs I thought were "so so" are so much better compared to other Blues Rock I've heard so far. Ray Manzarek is a god on the keys and Jim Morrison is pretty magnificent on every song. It still feels dated, as it's not super complex in it's song structure (like in LA Woman), but every song is great. JUST short of a masterpiece.
  7. The Who - Tommy (1969) B [1 listen] // D++ {1 listen} I was being generous on the original post, I really didn't like this album. After one more listen, I really hate it. The story is complete nonsense and the music really doesn't make up for it. But that's not why I hate it so much; it's the length. If you're gonna be a late 60's mess, be your flamboyant mess and get in & get out. But it's an overly long, drawn out, bore of an album. It's mind boggling that anyone would prefer this over Quadrophena. Pinball Wizard is a great song tho, but don't tell anyone I said that.
  8. King Crimson - In The Court of the Crimson King (1969) A- [1 listen] // A {1 listen} listening to Moody Blues' Days of Future Passed made this album a better listen. That jazz prog rock, with a laid back feel instead of completely psychedelic. The rest of the album (outside the intro) was a better listen this time around with better context, as I remember being bored with much of it. Now that I'm familiar with early Prog Rock, this doesn't feel as foreign anymore.
  9. The Beatles - Let It Be (1970) B+ [3 listens] // A {3 listens} yea, I'm a Beatles stan. Yea, it's probably the weakest Studio Era album. Yea, I enjoy the atmosphere of this album more than the music itself; as a last who-rah of a crumbling friendship that can only be held together by creating music, as that is where the only fun is still found amongst these guys. Do I like to pretend that Don't Let Me Down is apart of this album, so I can grade it higher? Also, yea.
  10. David Bowie - Hunky Dory (1971) A+ [2 listens] // A {2 listens} this is Art Rock. Not being a glam/hard rock fusion makes it less heavy than its successor. It also suffers for not having multiple strong anthems to hold the entire thing. Changes, Life on Mars, Andy Warhol, Queen Bitch are all great songs, but I doubt any are in Bowie's top 5. The other songs don't hold up as much I remembered.
  11. Carole King - Tapestry (1971) A- [2 listens] // A {2 listens} Joni Mitchell's Blue was the driving force this time around. That personal folk storytelling, with that lively piano yet cozy, warm atmosphere. With more listens, I don't really love the lyrical composition as I just love the tone of the thing. I can sit next to a warm fire (or on a window sill) and turn this on and relax. I understand what the genre of Soft Rock is going for now.
  12. David Bowie - the Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars (1972) A+ [2 listens] // Masterpiece {3 listens} Probably didn't give this one too much thought when grading it, as I think I just fell in love with a few songs on it and forgot about the rest. Listening to this front to back... it's flawless. I tried to find a song that wasn't good or that was kinda boring, but they're all perfect. I've listened to Ziggy Stardust and Starman COUNTLESS times in the past year, and will randomly get guitar riffs from random songs off this album to pop in my head. Of his 4 albums I've listened to, I still think Low is his best, as the atmosphere of that Side B is unmatched. But this album is what I'd consider objectively perfect, as every song is great. Easy masterpiece, and a great example of why sitting with an album is just as important as giving it a bunch of listens.
  13. Queen - A Night at the Opera (1975) A- [2 listen] // A {2 listens} Fun stuff. I enjoyed the multiple vocalists being apart of it instead of only Mercury, made it feel like a "stage play" with a revolving cast. I think I might have been a bit to harsh on this one, as most of the album wasn't that memorable, with how amazing Bohemian Rhapsody is. I didn't understand what this album "was" with it's vaudeville style, but now, I see that it's this halfway point between the Hard Rock and the Prog Rock of the 70s, with that theatrical flair to make it standout. Definitely worth checking out.
  14. Sex Pistols - Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols (1977) B [2 listens] // A- {2 listens} In 1987, Rolling Stone listed this as the 2nd best album of the last 20 years (since 1967) only after Sgt. Pepper's and man, did that made it easy for me to view this as overrated. I think since listening to more Punk Rock that followed this, I start to see how much better they've done with this compared to others. The guitar playing actually changes throughout the song, Johnny Rotten is actually expressive and feels spontaneous, and the drumming is creative. But the real change in opinion is the guitar playing: the riffs on many of these songs are undeniably awesome, which gives Rotten so much to work on top of. My biggest gripe with Punk Rock is how repetitive some bands can be. Now after more listens to this, I can absolutely NOT say the same can be said about this album. It's varied and expressive; how Punk Rock should be.
  15. Steely Dan - Aja (1977) A [1 listens] // A+ {1 listen} better than I remember. The jazz rock combo is really good, it really leans into the jazz instead of simply using it as an aesthetic. It's not Prog whatsoever, just jazz with traditional Rock instruments. Honestly, you can barely tell if this would considered Rock at all. You really got to like jazz to love this tho. It has that free flowing feel of that genre, from the instrumentation to the flow of the singer. Great album! I'm assuming Steely Dan is hated by the rock community because of this heavy leaning into jazz. Which is understandable, but that doesn't mean they don't make phenomenal music.
  16. AC/DC - Highway to Hell (1979) B+ [2 listens] // B {1 listen} They haven't quite moved away from the Blues sound yet. Back in Black is a pure distillation of what Hard Rock should be as a stand alone genre, but they don't quite have that confidence in being that brash yet. Bon Scott does a lot of heavy lifting as Angus Young doesn't have that swagger in his solos yet. A lot of the songs aren't super great, but they at least still carry energy. Highway to Hell is a fantastic song, but the majority is just meddling around in this laid back blues style.
  17. Dire Straits - Brothers in Arms (1985) B [1 listens] // B- {2 listens} I originally wrote this off as one that I "just didn't get", with how insanely commerically successful it is. Now after listening to their Self-Titled album, it actually becomes even more disappointing as you know how much more they're capable of. There's such a signature style on it and this throws all of it away in exchange of a 80s soft rock sound. Walk of Life and So Far Away are good tunes, due to the guitar hooks; everything else is just shallow.
  18. Pixies - Doolittle (1989) A- [2 listens] // A+ {2 listens} Now, I view this band on the level of the Beatles or Velvet Underground as one of those influential bands that changed music. At the time, Doolittle was too weird for me, but with much more context from this era, this is just insanely great. Compared to Surfer Rosa, the versatility is on a different level. While it is great and varied, it's not exactly "great" in any one area, so I can see why the bands that were influenced by them are viewed as better, as their stuff would've been more focused in one style instead of all over the place. Great album, legendary band.
  19. Alice in Chains - Dirt (1992) A [2 listens] // Masterpiece {4 listens} This album is a grower. Every time I listen to it, I like another song from it. The harmonies are God tier, the guitar riffs, God Tier, the choruses, God tier. Layne Staley and Jerry Cantrell... peanut and jelly. I've given out 2 masterpieces to grunge albums (Nevermind and Ten), so what makes this different from those is that Dirt takes its time in developing songs. So many of these songs start slow and somber, and quickly turn aggressive and passionate! Gnarly riffs on one song, than a few minutes later, you're listening to soft vocals behind a rough, tortured voice. Not a bad song on here, hit after hit, I got to say it's a masterpiece.
  20. Nine Inch Nails - The Downward Spiral (1994) A [3 listens] // A+ {2 listen} the word "gritty" might get thrown around a ton by me, but I still haven't heard such a brutal, harsh sounding album while still having pristine production value. It's nasty and mean. Even in the slow moments, you can feel the pain, anger, or sadness in his voice. Compared to other stuff, it doesn't have that much replay value to it, as it's not exact what one would call "musical". But you got to call it what it is: art.
  21. Green Day - Dookie (1994) A [2 listens] // A+ {1 listen} It's just good music. Yes, the ceiling isn't as high as it could be, but it's so enjoyable that it is always a fun listen. The album is on point from start to finish, it's one of those "if you like one, you like it all" love it or hate it kind of deals. From Burn Out to When I Come Around is just Pop Punk perfection; the backhalf doesn't hold up compared to the start, but it's all still very good.
  22. Weezer - Self-Titled "The Blue Album" (1994) A- [1 listen] // A {2 listens} I only gave this one listen and only revisited it after listening to Pinkerton. Isn't not as dismissable as I originally remembered, as I only gave it one listen. It's more POP- punk thank pop-PUNK compared to Dookie, which led me to not care for it as much. And it's pretty good pop, with a punk style to give it some edge, I guess. I still like Pinkerton more than it, but it can definitely stand alone as a good album itself.
  23. Oasis - Definitely Maybe (1994) A [2 listens] // A+ {2 listens} Liam Gallagher is really good... but Noel Gallagher is the truth, bro. That dude knows how to make a great song. They aren't super complex, but they're all have perfect execution. Mix in that Wall of Sound effect with the guitars, it makes this stand out even more from the overwhelming stacked albums of the 90s. The non-single tracks aren't as strong compared to (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, as that album is damn near perfect imo. Great debut album.
  24. Radiohead - The Bends (1995) B+ [1 listen] // A {2 listens} If Radiohead didn't make this album, I highly doubt I would've listened to this. Which is a shame, because this is a really good album. On the flip side, being a Radiohead album also did more harm than good, as it gets massively overshadowed. I admittedly did a half assed listen to "get to the famous stuff". Fake Plastic Trees, the Bends, and Black Star are great songs. I've listened to Ok Computer so much that I come to think of it as their official "start" of their sound, when in reality, they set the stage on The Bends of what can be possible down the road. Also, they toured with Alanis Morissette with the album, so extra bonus points!
  25. Arcade Fire - Funeral (2004) A- [2 listens] // A+ {2 listens} better than I remembered. I definitely thought it was borderline pretentious, with how the song structure is when I originally listened to it. Now, without that stigma, it's not THAT abstract and I've come to admire the creativeness of it. I always love when there's women vocalists, to mix up the sound and so many different instruments add even more to the variety. It always feels like a new listen, with how many things I'll forget to notice and remember again.
  26. Lcd Soundsystem - Sound of Silver (2007) A- [1 listen] // A {2 listens} The first 4 songs are awesome; Get Innocuous with it's multirhythmic layering is my textbook PERFECT song, a 21st century "Remain in Light" homage. The rest just loses this energy and it's never found again. Compare the first track with the last one and it sounds like two different projects. I know you can call me a hypocrite with how much I love Remain in Light, but at least with that one, it's only the last song and not half of the album. Seriously tho, Get Innocuous is a top 10 song of all time
  27. Tame Impala - Currents (2016) A- [1 listen] // B+ {1 listen} Didn't expect my feelings to decrease, but compared to Lonerism, this is so mid. The lack of a real "great" song (Rihanna's Same Old Mistakes clears) makes it tough to love. It is consistent though, so it's still a good listen; just not a memberable one.
Albums I revisited, but no change in opinion. I feel like with these, I need to explain/defend myself more than I did on the original reviews:
  1. Beach Boys - Pet Sounds (1965) A+ [4 listens] // {3 listens} After listening to a good chunk of their discography, I've come to two conclusions on Pet Sounds: 1) This album is truly lightning in the bottle as they NEVER reach it's level of consistency in quality from track to track. 2) Baroque Pop, while groundbreaking, came and went as fast as it arrived, mainly due to how abstract it is compared to its successor, Psychedelic Rock. Beyond that, there are a few skips that are solely due to wild creative mind of Brian Wilson. As a musical genius, dare I say better than Lennon and McCartney, but as a songwriter? Not even close imo. Rubber Soul, Revolver, Sgt. Pepper's are all great albums, while Pet Sounds can be argued to be their only great album (Wild Honey is also a good listen). I know bringing up the Beatles can be annoying, but the Beatles made great "hit singles" with their song layout, while about only half of the tracks on Pet Sounds are what I'd consider a traditional song. That's probably why I don't think it's so amazing (I kinda feel the same about progressive Rock) as I tend to favor music with a concise structure; even as unoriginal the structure may be.
  2. Jimi Hendrix Experience - Are You Experienced? (1967) B+ [1 listen] // {1 listen} I can't get into it. The songwriting isn't there, especially compared to the stuff that would follow it. This is him at his rawest, but it's a reason why Medium Rare is the most commonly cooked steak.
  3. The Rolling Stones - Let It Bleed (1969) B+ [2 Listens] // {3 listens} Thought I would flip on this album, but surprisingly didn't change at all. I still think Gimme Shelter is the best Rolling Stones song and I still think You Can't Always Get What You Want is still a phenomenal album closer, but everything in between is pretty lackluster (besides Live With Me).
  4. Pink Floyd - Dark Side of the Moon (1973) A [4 listens] // {1 listen} I do enjoy this album more now I know how other Progressive Rock bands sound like, but not enough to raise it a grade. I enjoy Time and the whole second side much more and the "emptiness" of the genre doesn't bother me as much. But the first half is still a little too abstract for my liking. However, I do see how people can view this as their GOAT album with how groundbreaking it's release was at the time and outside of only other Pink Floyd albums, there's nothing else in this genre that really matches the "entering another world" feel it creates.
  5. Pink Floyd - Wish You Were Here (1975) A [2 listens] // {1 listen} Similar thoughts to DSotM, but this one has the more catchy "songs" and partly why I love it more. Welcome to the Machine and Wish You Were Here are fantastic, but overall not enough meat for my liking.
  6. The Ramones - Self-Titled (1976) B [2 listens] // {2 listens} I decided to give the Godfathers of Punk another try since I surprisingly came over to like the other Godfather, the Sex Pistols. And yeah... still isn't my thing. Way too one note, monotone singing, guitar takes over too much of the sound, etc. There are a few good hooks here and there, but you basically hear the entire song in the first 15 seconds. Everything I hate about Punk, stemmed from this album and made a lazier copy.
  7. The Smashing Pumpkins - Siamese Dreams (1993) A+ [2 listens] // {1 listen} apparently the Smashing Pumpkins aren't considered grunge? If that's the case, comparing them to a Noise Rock band like a Sonic Youth or a Faith No More, they don't they don't rock out as much as I'd like. Also, I don't like how a few of these songs sound similar to each other. Today and Hummer of course are all top tier songs, but it's just not as much of a comprehensive project as Mellon Collie. Yea, it's definitely not grunge, as it would be much harder if it was.
  8. Radiohead - Ok Computer (1997) A++ [2 listens] // {4 listens} Close, but no cigar. The first 3 songs and the last 3 songs are PERFECT, it's the stuff in between that makes it fall just short. The run of Karma Police into Fitter Happier to Electioneering is also a great moment in the album. Honestly, it's just Exit Music being "okay" that really stops it from being considered a masterpiece in my eyes. Still one of the greatest albums of all time, but not perfect in my eyes. This album is my perfect barometer for an A++ grade; it's objectively a perfect, but on the subjective level, there's nothing that makes me "adore" it. I completely understand how anyone thinking an A++ album I graded is a masterpiece, as I have to personally love it that extra step for it to get to that level.
  9. Radiohead - In Rainbows (2007) A++ [3 listens] // {3 listens A+/A+/A++} Let me end it on a positive review: I didn't really give a thorough listen to it at first, as I don't remember much from it. Over time, my opinion on it dropped as I truly didn't see why people find it so special as they do. Ok Computer easily has the better individual tracks, Kid A is easily the most experimental. After finally revisiting it, maybe because it's a great midway between the two, with a weird electronic-rock-jazz fusion. Feels like there's not a single wasted second; every beat and note is meticulous. It's more chilled and laid back, which threw me off on the repeat listens. The hodgepodge of electronic and experimental sounds, being used in this traditional lofi style instead of being a fast paced one, was the curve that made it hard to love it at first, but now I think that's what makes it unique in its execution. A LOT of these rhythms could have been large and bombastic, and I kinda admire it's restraint in remaining "down in Earth". Also the album cover is noteworthy, where it feels completely spontaneous, never fully knowing what to expect going in. Definitely deserves its high praise
Albums I also revisited, but no change in opinion. Don't have too much to add on these, but listed them as my grades are concrete on these compared to the ones I didn't choose to listen to:
  1. The Velvet Underground & Niko - Self-Titled "The Banana Album" (1967) A+ // Venus in Furs maybe one of the greatest songs ever composed
  2. Cream - Disraeli Gears (1967) A+ // It still holds up, so damn awesome
  3. Bob Dylan - John Wesley Harding (1967) B+ // yeah, he's kinda rambling on this one
  4. The Stooges - Fun House (1970) A- // it's "the Stooges", possibly their best
  5. The Rolling Stones - Exile on Main Street (1972) B+ // Nope, still didn't love it, still a mess
  6. Elton John - Goodbye Yellow Brick Road (1972) A++ // One I thought wouldn't have held up. I shall never question Sir Elton's greatness again
  7. The Eagles - Hotel California (1975) B // Great start, gets worst as it goes on
  8. Patti Smith - Horses (1975) A- // labeling this "Punk Rock" is a nicer way of calling this weird af
  9. The Clash - London Calling (1979) Masterpiece // Not only is there not a bad song here, but every song is perfect. Not great... PERFECT
  10. U2 - Joshua Tree (1987) B+ // I can't deny that there are some good songs on here, even if I'll never listen to it again
  11. The Cure - Disintegration (1989) A // after 375 Rock albums, Plainsong is still the greatest opening track
  12. U2 - Achtung Baby (1991) A- // you gotta admit Bono is pretty cool on this one
  13. Nirvana - In Utero (1993) A // love the Bass guitar's tone on this one, rawer contrast to Nevermind. I'm glad I didn't grow up in the 90s, as this will always sound so new and fresh to me :)
  14. System of a Down - Toxicity (2001) Masterpiece // Similar to Hybrid Theory, if this wasn't labeled as "Nu-metal" (and maybe didn't get so overplayed and copied), even the most pretentious critic couldn't deny how great this is
  15. Green Day - American Idiot (2004) A+ // Feels almost like a different band, the songs are much more nuisanced in its lyrics and its musical structure. That transition from Holiday to Boulevard still gives me goosebumps, such a great song.
  16. Arctic Monkeys - Whatever You Say I Am, That's What I'm Not (2006) A++ // a tour guide to the UK nightclubbing/pub scene, way better than it has any right to be honestly
Bonus: Ween - 12 Golden Country Greats (1996) A [4 listens B/A-/A-/A] Country is still a somewhat foreign genre for me and I've been kinda bored with the concept of it. But it's Ween, so they've fully earned my trust at this point so I'll give this a try. This style is more or less my biggest indifference with the genre: it's not heavy enough to be impactful as rock, yet not soft enough to be as intimate as Folk. It's in this inbetween grey area where it's just not super captivating for me. With that said, it's rarely has been the "so bad, I can't stand to listen to it" levels of boredom that it has been made out as. That signature tongue-in-cheek humor of Ween is here and it makes the project more enjoyable. With Ween, whether it's supposed to be satirical or serious, the quality of songwriting is always top tier, so it's very easy to take whatever they're doing with my full respect rather than viewing it as just a joke. Japanese Cowboy, Mister Richard Smoker, Powder Blue, Piss Up a Rope and You Were the Fool (the best one) are my favorites; but other than Fluffy, every song is a good time. What really sells this album in particular, is that none of these songs would sound out of place on one of their other Rock centric albums, which allows me to extend a lot more grace towards it. Pretty good listen. For what it is, it's pretty consistent, but there's of course better Ween albums out there.
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2023.05.31 16:08 chuckhustmyre [TH] 100 CEMETERY (Part One) by Chuck Hustmyre

Evil often wears a mask.
John Burke felt his tendon tear. It happened just past the DEAD END sign, an instant after his foot struck the edge of the pothole. His right ankle folded and he went down hard--real hard--on the rough asphalt road.
Mid-summer morning, just outside New Orleans. Nylon jogging shorts and a tank top were no protection against road rash. His right knee hit first, then his hands. The pebble-studded pavement devoured the skin on both then bit into his hip, but he barely felt the hip. Maybe the shorts helped, or maybe by then John was in too much pain to notice.
He lay in the street--thank God cars were rare on Cemetery Road--bleeding, clutching his leg. Everything forgotten except his pain. He could see his ankle already starting to swell, turning purple along the inside. When he tried to flex it a white hot bolt of pain shot up his leg.
This is bad, John thought. Really bad. Doctor Van Dykes, surgery, months of physical therapy...
First thing--get off the street. John rolled onto his left side and had to stop and catch his breath as a wave of nausea washed over him. As the blood ran from his hands and knee where the road had carved away hunks of meat, he watched bright crimson drops splash onto the asphalt.
Hundred-year-old oaks overhung Cemetery Road, their branches draped in gray beards of Spanish moss that shaded the street. A quarter-mile past the DEAD END sign, the road bridged over the Chinchuba River, a slow-paced tributary no more than a couple dozen yards wide. Some mornings, mist drifted off the water's surface and into the woods on both sides of the road, giving the place a surreal look.
A perfect place to jog--run--John Burke didn't like using the "J" word. Jogging was what people did on weekends as they watched their bellies grow. John was a runner. At least four times a week with half-a-dozen races a year.
The nearest house--the only house on Cemetery Road--stood at the end, half a mile away, next to the graveyard for which the road was named. Maybe, just maybe, he could limp there, borrow a phone, call Gail. John looked at his watch, just 7:15. His wife didn't leave until eight. If he could get to a telephone she could pick him up and drive him straight to Doctor Van Dykes' office.
The trip was torture. Taking short hops on his left leg, he could make it only ten or fifteen feet before he had to rest. To rest John had to drop his right foot down and put a little weight on it and that sent waves of pain shooting up his leg. Behind him, he saw a trail of blood like red tears on the ground.
At the end of the road, the pavement gave way to a gravel driveway flanked on either side by two white stone columns. A six-foot, spiked, wrought-iron fence disappeared into the woods on either side. Hinged inside the columns gaped a pair of wrought iron gates. Mounted on the left hand column was a brass plaque with the number 100 etched in black. 100 Cemetery Road.
John paused at the top of the driveway and leaned against one of the gates to catch his breath. The drive descended at a slight grade, curved to the right, then vanished into the woods. He'd run past the driveway hundreds of times but had never actually seen the house or the cemetery. There was always something slightly unsettling about the look of it, something that made him pick up his pace as he ran past.
After a deep breath, he started hopping down the gravel drive, using trees along the way as resting points. The house was a hundred yards past the gate. A big two-story, clapboard construction, that looked run down, almost seedy. It had suffered years of wood rot and badly needed a coat of paint.
The gravel path ended at a two-car garage attached to the right side of the house. Left of the house, on the other side, past a stand of trees, John caught a glimpse of the cemetery. He could just make out a low iron fence and a few gray tombstones.
A wooden porch with a decayed railing spanned the front of the house. The front door was solid wood, without windows.
He leaned against the frame and knocked. A minute passed. John knocked again, this time pounding with the bottom of his fist. At least another half minute went by before he heard slippers shuffling on the floor just inside. The door opened just a crack and a white haired old lady peered out. "Yes," she said, suspicion in her voice.
John held up his right leg, showing his bloody knee and black and blue ankle. Exhausted, he didn't have time to mince words. "I'm hurt. Can I use your phone?"
The old lady looked down at John's leg. A look of concern washed over her face as she threw open the door. "Come in. Oh, my goodness, come in."
John stretched his arms across the doorjamb as he hobbled inside the threshold. "If I can just use the phone, my wife will come pick me up."
"What on earth happened?" she said, leading him through the foyer.
"Twisted my ankle in a pothole."
"Oh, my word," she said, turning to look. "Is it very bad?"
"I think so."
"Come sit down. Let me get you something."
The foyer floor was tile, but he wanted to be careful. "I don't want to get blood on anything."
She shook her head. "Don't be silly. Blood washes right out." The old lady stepped toward John and took hold of his left arm, letting him lean some of his weight on her.
In the den, John was relieved to see a wooden floor. As he dropped onto the sofa, he nodded toward a telephone on an end table. "If I can just use the phone..."
A strange look flashed across the old lady's face, but was gone in an instant as she nodded toward the telephone. "That one doesn't work." She pointed toward a door that looked like it led into the kitchen. "You stay put. I'll call somebody for you in just a second, but first let me get you some water."
John tried to protest, but she was determined. While she was gone, he eyed the room. The den was big, with six bay windows overlooking the woods behind the house. The room was filled with old-fashioned furniture and had a cavernous fireplace at one end, but it also had a worn look, and a smell. A smell John always associated with old age, with his grandfather's house in the last few years before he died.
Next to the dead telephone was a framed black and white photo of a pretty young woman in a riding outfit, posing at what looked like the front gate of a ranch. It was the old lady, much younger and much thinner.
When she came back carrying a tall glass of ice water in one hand, John still had both hands clutching his swelling ankle. He jabbed an elbow toward the photo, more for something to say than anything else. "Is that you?"
She nodded. "My father owned the Rocking R ranch.
The name was familiar. One of the biggest meat suppliers in the state. "Owned?" He stressed the past tense.
She nodded. "After Daddy died, we had to sell. Rising interest rates and the drop in beef prices, we got just pennies on the dollar." She sounded bitter.
For a second she stood quiet and John used the lull to introduce himself and explain how he'd hurt his ankle.
She handed him the glass. "I may have seen you jogging before. Looked like somebody was chasing you."
John thanked her and smiled at the image that popped into his head of this nice old lady lurking in the woods close enough to see the road. As he took a long sip from the glass, he noticed a slightly bitter taste that reminded him why he drank bottled. "You live here alone?"
"No. My husband and I are retired. For forty years we owned Muller and Son funeral home."
"That's where we had the service for my father," John said.
"I'm sorry." She patted his shoulder. "When did he pass?"
He had to think for a second. Time flies. "Two years this past spring," he slurred.
She stared at him with a look of compassion. "Our son would have handled that. We sold the business to him four years ago."
John's head began to spin. The glass slipped from his fingers as he crumpled to the floor. Darkness.
* * *
John Burke cracked his eyes and saw blinding lights. Then felt thumping. Someone was thumping on his chest. He opened his eyes all the way. White light, bright white light. Flat on his back, he tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes but his arm wouldn't move--at least not far. Just a couple inches then something held it. Same thing happened when he tried to use his other hand.
John felt a cold hard floor beneath him--the rough surface of cement--as he rolled onto his side. There was something wrong with his hands. They were trapped at his waist as he tried again to shield his eyes from the blinding light.
More thumping, this time on his left shoulder. He blinked several times to clear his vision. His eyes focused on a bearded, bare-chested, fat man, squatting on the floor next to him. A pair of steel handcuffs clamped on the big man's wrists were fastened to a belt encircling his waist.
"You okay?" the man said.
John just stared at him, realizing the man wasn't just bare-chested, he was completely naked.
"I said, are you okay?" the bearded man asked again.
"Where am I?" John's head felt like it was going to split open.
The naked fat man shrugged. "I don't know."
John looked down at himself and saw that he too was bare-assed, his own wrists handcuffed and bound to his waist by a two-inch wide leather belt. Using his elbow and good knee, John started to snake away from his new acquaintance.
"You can't get away," the man said.
Get away from where?
The pain in his ankle made him stop. He looked around, saw he was in a room maybe thirty feet by thirty feet. Besides him and the fat man, there were four other men in the room. All naked, all handcuffed and belted.
The bearded man hadn't moved. "It's not me you got to be afraid of." He pointed toward the room's only door. "It's the old man."
* * *
The old man had been in four times to bring food. Slop was more like it. He came into the room carrying the thick brown paste in a couple of five-gallon buckets. The stuff tasted like it had a lot of lard in it.
"How long have you been here?" John asked.
The bearded man--Skeeter he called himself--just shrugged. "The old man always keeps the lights on so we can't tell the difference between day and night."
Along one wall was a chest-high trough into which their keeper poured the paste. A second trough along the adjacent wall held water. Like animals, the men stood in front of the troughs, stuck their faces into them, and slurped.
Like everyone else, everything of John's had been taken from him while he was unconscious: shorts, shirt, socks, shoes, and most important, his watch. In addition to belted handcuffs, the other men wore leg irons, essentially a pair of oversized, stainless steel cuffs with a foot-and-a-half of chain between them. But John had been spared that, probably due to the size of his swollen ankle.
Skeeter didn't know why he was here, why any of them were here. "I was just hitchhiking"
"Hitchhiking?"
He nodded. "On the interstate."
"The old man was driving a van. Pulled over and gave me a ride. After a few minutes he reaches into a cooler between the seats and hands me a beer. I'm talking about a sealed up beer. Popped the top on it myself. I took couple of sips, remember thinking it tasted kind of funny, like it got spoiled. Next thing I know I wake up here--like this." Skeeter tugged at his handcuffs, rattling the chain looped through the belt.
During the next several feedings John got pretty much the same story from three of the other four men. All hitchhikers, all picked up by the old man. The fourth guy, the one the others said had been here the longest, didn't talk. Just leaned against the wall in a stupor.
"Something in the food," Skeeter said.
"What do you mean?"
Skeeter patted his gut. "I didn't have this when I got here." He nodded toward the food trough. "And it makes you tired all the time."
* * *
Feedings. That's the only way John Burke had of marking the passage of time. Seemed like they were spaced out evenly, several hours apart, figured maybe three times a day. It was after the seventh feeding that the old man came and took away the guy who wouldn't talk--the sleepy guy.
He came in wearing a full-length plastic apron and carrying an electric cattle prod. He used the prod to shock the sleepy guy in the ass and wake him up, then delivered a couple more jabs to drive him from the room. Just after the door closed behind them, John heard the two bolts shoved into place.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked Skeeter.
"That's the third one I've seen him take."
"Do they come back?"
Skeeter shook his head.
"Where do they go?"
"I don't know. But...I'm afraid my turn's coming."
"I want to get out of here," John said, "and that looks like the only way out."
"Bad as this place is, I got a feeling what's on the other side of that door is a lot worse."
Hungry as he was, John barely ate. A couple things he'd noticed, the other four men were flabby and they slept a lot, especially after a feeding. The food--slop they called it--had to be the reason. The thick brown paste made everyone fat and sleepy. Something in it, some type of sedative, and maybe something else, something that made you want more. John couldn't remember ever being so hungry. Still, he only took a mouthful at each feeding.
And while the others slept, John worked. The leather belt around his waist was buckled at the back and secured with a small padlock. The handcuffs ran through a stainless steel ring in front. He'd tested the steel parts, the buckle, the lock, and the ring, but didn't think there was any hope of attacking them; the only weak spot was the leather itself.
So as soon as the others filled their bellies and nodded off, John would hobble to the drinking trough. He'd found a slightly rough edge at one corner and had begun scraping the belt against it. The belt was thick and the leather tough. The going was slow, but at least it was something. And something was better than nothing.
* * *
Just after the twenty-ninth feeding, that's when the old man came and took Skeeter away. He'd taken two more since that first one, and two new ones had come in. They came in one at a time, three feedings apart, and just like he imagined it had happened to him, the old man dragged them unconscious into the room and left them. They'd each awakened, naked, shackled, and groggy.
Then it was Skeeter's turn. He must have known because as soon as he heard the bolts slip back his face turned white. He backed himself into one of the far corners, trying to put as much distance between himself and the door as he could.
Skeeter had told John he used to be a wrestler, high school and college, back before the drugs and the booze, back before he'd hit the road. Since then he'd ridden his thumb, crisscrossing the country in search of a good time. Skeeter put up the best fight John had seen from any of them, but the belt, the handcuffs, the leg irons, and the cattle prod were just too much. One two-minute round was all the former wrestler had in him. After that, he was lying on the floor in a puddle of his own urine, a blubbering pile of flabby flesh covered in scarlet welts.
The old man grabbed the chain between Skeeter's ankles and dragged him through the door. Helpless, John just watched. The most terrifying thing was the old man's lack of emotion. No spark of evil in those eyes, just the look of a tired man trying to get through another day.
By the thirty-fifth feeding--John figured eleven or twelve days since he arrived--he had managed to saw through almost the entire two-inch leather belt, just an eighth of an inch remained.
Only one other of the original five who were in the room when John woke up was left. The old man came in, wearing his black plastic apron, and carrying the prod. In a minute it was over. He'd prodded the man through the door on hands and knees, the poor bastard doing everything he could to keep from getting shocked. This time only one bolt clicked into place.
For what seemed like an hour John sat in the middle of the room and watched the door, his stomach twisted with fear. Just as exhaustion overtook him and his head started to nod, the bolt shot open and the old man swept back into the room, wielding the cattle prod like a sword. John slid backward against the far wall as the old man's eyes fixed on him. But there was no hatred in them, nor malice as he strode toward John, waving the tip of the prod in a "come here" motion. As the cool wall pressed against John's back, he felt his bladder let go, felt the warm liquid spill down his thighs.
I'm going to die.
(to be continued...)
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2023.05.31 10:30 BrightForce4400 My Ultimate Sacrifice

I'm waiting to title this post after I finish writing it. My current options are either "Shitty Mom" or "Sacrifices you have made". Either way, I guess we'll find out.
It's 4am EST and probably like every other African we are up talking to our families. I opened my Whatsapp and saw a plethora of photos of my nephew who had a birthday this past weekend. His cousin was either amongst numerous friends. It warmed my heart.
Sad part is I have never met them. It's been 5 years since I was home and I only had a niece. Now I have 2 nieces and 2 nephews. Beautiful babies whom I financially helped dleiver and now help educate from time to time.
The decision for not going home for so long was mostly work related. Covid had hubby and I working long long days, weeks, months and years. Even lost my estranged dad and still chose work over it. We paid for the whole funeral in lieu of attendance. That's beside the point
Covid brought about changes in our lives. We were able to purchase our home. In addition, we bought more land and we dedided to gift it to all our neices and nephews from both sides of our family.
Remember I mentioned my estranged dad? He gave me up for marriage at 13. Life was rough for me growing up and being the first born I carried the family on my shoulders.
At some point I fell pregnant but my baby died 2 days before his birthday. I had poor health, always worked to take care of our family, deprived myself of basic nutrition so that my siblings could eat. My son died and I did not know. I did even have money for a procedure. He stqyed in my womb for 2 days, rotting. I was young and dumb and all that I was focused on was putting one foot infront of the other. High BP killed him. Story for another day.
As I sit here thinking of the happy memories my siblings get to make with their kids I hope they remember my ultimate sacrifice, my son. I hope they tell their children they get gifted land because aunty made a sacrifice for them. That aunty gave up so much for their parents so they can be where they are now.
I don't have kids. I don't even think I can. Besides hubby and I decided long ago not to have any. All I hope is that they don't forget about me be when I'm gone. And most of all, I hope no one forgets my son. The Ultimate Sacrifice.
P.S. - There are some out there who have gone out of their way to be mean to me. Please choose any other post.
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2023.05.31 08:39 funeralclient Palm Royale Funeral Home and Cemetery

Welcome to Palm Royale Funeral Home and Cemetery

Palm Royale Funeral Home & Cemetery's mission is to be dedicated to every family we serve and hold ourselves to the highest ethical standards.
We will always abide by our industry's best practices and treat every family with respect, fairness, and sensitivity. Your comfort, peace of mind, and the trust that you have placed in us will remain our staff's top priority and our commitment to help you will be expressed in everything we do.

Why Choose Our Funeral Home?

At Palm Royale Funeral Home & Cemetery, we pride ourselves on serving the Naples community and surrounding areas with dignity, respect, and compassion. Our experienced staff is available to help you select funeral, burial, or cremation services and design a special place of permanent memorialization that acknowledges and celebrates your loved one’s life in a way that will be meaningful for generations to come.
What We Offer?
Palm Royale Funeral Home was built on the beautiful grounds of Palm Royale Cemetery to offer the community a funeral home and cemetery co-located on the same property to provide families with a continuity of care and services.
Palm Royale Funeral Home & Cemetery is the newest funeral home in Naples and offers burial, entombment, and cremation service options that range from highly personalized to time-honored traditional. Our brand-new facility has a light and airy feel to it and was designed to offer a serene, yet uplifting and supportive place to gather and honor.
Inside is a contemporary chapel, reception room, and catering café that are adjacent, yet separate, providing flexibility in the types and styles of services we can offer. There is also easy access to a covered, wrap-around veranda, that provides additional seating in an open-air setting.
A high-quality digital platform enables us to offer sophisticated services such as recording and live streaming, allowing distant family and friends the opportunity to “stay connected”, “say good-bye”, and view services either “live or later”. To learn more, please visit our Recording & Live Streaming page. You're also welcome to call and speak with one of our funeral directors to learn more details, have any questions answered, or to arrange for your loved one's service.
If selected, our state-of-the-art audio-visual system will showcase your loved one’s themed and personalized Life Tribute pictorial throughout our facility, making the time and space feel truly dedicated to celebrating their special life. This Tribute will also be available for viewing on an online Obituary Page we will set up in honor of your loved one at no charge. This page will have its own link and capture condolences and cherished remembrances shared by others. In addition, a Life Tribute DVD will be provided to you as a keepsake. We are also able to produce custom playlists, play special songs, accommodate live musicians, and much more.
Our advanced technology also enables us to make virtual and online arrangements so that those who are out of the area or are confined to home are able to plan, make selections, E-sign documents, and E-pay remotely.

Funeral & Memorial Service Options

Many families feel uncertain or burdened by the notion of planning a tribute. They anticipate that arranging services will be cumbersome, complicated, or overly sad. But setting a unified time and place to gather, share, and pay one’s respects is an important and worthwhile step in the healing process.
Many also don’t know where to start or what they “should” do. But we know that families prioritize and find meaning in different ways, so we embrace originality and strive to make every remembrance special. For some, the traditions and rites they are accustomed to offer comfort and stability, while others feel inspired to plan something that reflects the unique personality of their loved one.
Our staff will help you determine the best way to tell your loved one’s story, memorialize their legacy, and bring comfort to family and friends. We will also coordinate with other parties on your behalf, arrange any ancillary services, order items, place obituaries, set up, clean up, and more.

Contact Our Funeral Home

If you have any questions or concerns, please don't hesitate to submit a message to our funeral home, cemetery, and/or preneed staff and we will contact you as soon as possible.
PALM ROYALE FUNERAL HOME & CEMETERY
Address: 6790 Vanderbilt Beach Road
Naples, FL 34119
Phone: (239) 354-5330
Website: https://www.palmroyalecares.com/
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2023.05.31 06:30 mrpokec Silly season -March 2012

ARCA
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2023.05.31 03:11 wtfwafflezor (Selling) 800 Titles Fast & Furious Collection 1-9 MA HD $10 Dog 2022 Vudu HD $3

Prices FIRM - CashApp/Venmo/PayPal Friends & Family
Disney/Marvel titles are split codes. Only redeem what you pay for. Thank you.
300 (2007) (MA/4K) $6.50
12 Monkeys (1995) (MA/4K) $3.50
12 Years a Slave (2013) (MA/HD) $3.50
2 Guns (2013) (MA/HD) $4.75 (iTunes/HD) $3.50
2012 (2009) (MA/4K) $6.50
22 Jump Street (2014) (MA/HD) $4.50
355, The (2022) (MA/HD) $5.75
47 Meters Down (2017) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
47 Meters Down: Uncaged (2019) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/4K) $4.75
80 for Brady (2023) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood (2019) (MA/HD) $5.75
A Clockwork Orange (1972) (MA/4K) $6.50
A Dog's Purpose (2017) (MA/HD) $4 (iTunes/HD) $3
A Man Called Otto (2022) (MA/HD) $7.25
A Million Ways to Die in the West (2014) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $4.25
A Monster Calls (2016) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.75
A Quiet Place (2018) (Vudu/4K) $4.50 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $1.50
A Quiet Place Part II (2020) (Vudu/4K) $6.50 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4.25
A Vigilante (2018) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.50
A Wrinkle in Time (2018) (MA/HD) $3
Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter (2012) (MA/HD) $4.25
Action Point (2018) (Vudu/HD) $2.25 (iTunes/4K) $1.50
Ad Astra (2019) (MA/HD) $4.75
Addams Family (1991) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
Adventures of Tintin (2011) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
After Earth (2013) (MA/HD) $2.50
Age of Adaline (2015) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.75
Aladdin (1992) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $3.25 (GP/HD) $2.25
Alice in Wonderland (1951) (GP/HD) $5.50
Alien (1979) (MA/4K) $7.25 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $5
Alien 3 (1992) (MA/HD) $5.50
Alien Collection 1-6 (MA/HD) $19.50 1-4 (MA/SD) $9
Alien Resurrection (1997) (MA/HD) $5.50
Alien: Covenant (2017) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $2.50
Aliens (1986) (MA/HD) $5.50
All Eyez on Me (2017) (Vudu/HD) $2.50 (iTunes/HD) $1.75
All The Money In The World (2017) (MA/HD) $4.25
All the Way (2016) (GP/HD) $3.50 No Port
Aloha (2015) (MA/HD) $2.50
Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Road Chip (2015) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Amazing Spider-Man (2012) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $4.50
Amazing Spider-Man 2 (2014) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $5.50
Ambulance (2022) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $4
American Beauty (1999) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6
American Made (2017) (MA/4K) $7.25 (MA/HD) $4.25
American Sniper (2014) (MA/4K) $6.50
American Underdog (2021) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4.75
Amsterdam (2022) (MA/HD) $5 (GP/HD) $3.75
Anchorman 2: The Legend Continues (2013) (iTunes/HD) $2
Angels & Demons (2009) (MA/HD) $5.75
Angry Birds Movie (2016) (MA/HD) $3.75
Annie (2014) (MA/HD) $2.25
Antlers (2021) (GP/HD) $4
Ant-Man (2015) (MA/4K) $6.25 (iTunes/4K) $5 (MA/HD) $4.50 (GP/HD) $2.25
Apollo 11 (2019) (MA/HD) $6.25
Aqua Teen Forever: Plantasm (2022) (MA/HD) $4.75
Army of Darkness (1992) (MA/HD) $4
Arrival (2016) (Vudu/4K) $6.75 (Vudu/HD) $2.25 (iTunes/4K) $4
Art of Self-Defense (2019) (MA/HD) $6
Artist, The (2011) (MA/HD) $6
Avengers (2012) (MA/4K) $7.75 (iTunes/4K) $6.75 (GP/HD) $3.75
Avengers: Age of Ultron (2015) (MA/4K) $7.75 (iTunes/4K) $6 (GP/HD) $1.75
Avengers: Endgame (2019) (MA/4K) $4.75 (iTunes/4K) $3.75 (GP/HD) $1
Avengers: Infinity War (2018) (MA/4K) $5.50 (iTunes/4K) $3.75 (GP/HD) $1
Babylon (2022) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/4K) $6.25
Back to the Future (1985) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $4.25
Bad Boys for Life (2020) (MA/4K) $5.75 (MA/HD) $3.50
Bad Guys, The (2022) (MA/4K) $8 (MA/HD) $4.25
Bad Moms (2016) (MA/HD) $3.50 (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Bambi (1942) (MA/HD) $6.25 (GP/HD) $4.50
Bambi II (2006) (MA/HD) $6.25 (GP/HD) $4.50
Band of Brothers (2001) (GP/HD) $3.75 No Port
Bank Job, The (2008) (Vudu/HD) $3.25
Banshees of Inisherin (2022) (GP/HD) $4.50
Batman and Superman: Battle of the Super Sons (2022) (MA/4K) $6 (MA/HD) $4.50
Batman Year One (2011) (MA/4K) $5
Batman, The (2022) (MA/4K) $5.25 (MA/HD) $3
Batman: The Long Halloween Deluxe Edition (2022) (MA/HD) $6
Battle: Los Angeles (2011) (MA/4K) $6.50
Battleship (2012) (MA/4K) $4.50 (MA/HD) $1.75 (iTunes/4K) $3
Beast (2022) (MA/HD) $5.75
Beauty and the Beast (1991) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $4.75 (GP/HD) $2
Beauty and the Beast (2017) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $3.25 (GP/HD) $2
Bedknobs and Broomsticks (1971) (MA/HD) $5 (GP/HD) $3.50
Beguiled, The (2017) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4
Being John Malkovich (1999) (MA/HD) $3.50
Beirut (2018) (MA/HD) $4.75
Belfast (2021) (MA/HD) $5.50
Belly (1998) (Vudu/4K) $4.75
Ben-Hur (2016) (Vudu/HD) $2.50
Better Off Dead (1985) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6.50
Beverly Hills Cop (1984) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $4.50
BFG, The (2016) (MA/HD) $5.25 (GP/HD) $3.50
Big (1988) (MA/HD) $5.75
Big Lebowski (1998) (iTunes/4K) $6 (MA/HD) $5.75
Big Wedding (2013) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.75
Billy Elliot (2000) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.25
Birth of A Nation (2016) (MA/HD) $4
Black Adam (2022) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $4.25
Black Christmas (2019) (MA/HD) $6
Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $3.75 (GP/HD) $2.50
Black Phone, The (2021) (MA/HD) $5
Black Swan (2010) (MA/HD) $4.50
Black Widow (2021) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $4.75 (GP/HD) $3.25
Blacklight (2022) (MA/HD) $4.25
Blade Runner (Final Cut) (1982) (MA/4K) $6.50
Blade Runner 2049 (2017) (MA/4K) $6.50
Bleed for This (2016) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4
Blockers (2018) (MA/HD) $3
Blood Father (2016) (Vudu/HD) $4
Bloodshot (2020) (MA/HD) $4
Blues Brothers (1980) (iTunes/4K) Ports to MA $6
Blumhouse's Truth Or Dare (Unrated) (2018) (MA/HD) $4.75
Bob's Burgers Movie (2022) (MA/HD) $3.25 (GP/HD) $2.25
Bodies Bodies Bodies (2022) (Vudu/4K) $6.75
Bodyguard, The (1992) (MA/HD) $5
Bolt (2008) (MA/HD) $8 (GP/HD) $5.50
Bond: Goldfinger (1964) (Vudu/HD) $7
Bond: Man with the Golden Gun (1974) (Vudu/HD) $6.25
Bond: Skyfall (2012) (Vudu/4K) $5.75 (Vudu/HD) $1
Bond: Spectre (2015) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Book of Henry (2017) (iTunes/HD) Ports $5
Book of Life (2014) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.50
Booksmart (2019) (MA/HD) $5.25
Born a Champion (2021) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $5.50
Boss Baby: Family Business (2021) (MA/HD) $4.50
Boss, The (Unrated) (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $2.75
Bourne Supremacy (2004) (MA/4K) $5.50 (iTunes/HD) $4.50 (MA/HD) $3
Bourne Ultimatum (2007) (MA/4K) $5.50 (iTunes/HD) $5.50 (MA/HD) $4
Boy Next Door, The (2015) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $5.25
Boy, The (2016) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.75
Brahms: The Boy II (2020) (iTunes/4K) $2.75
Braven (2018) (Vudu/HD) $3.75
Breakdown (1997) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.75
Breakthrough (2019) (MA/4K) $6.50
Brian Banks (2019) (MA/HD) $4.25
Bridge of Spies (2015) (MA/HD) $5.25 (GP/HD) $3.75
Bridget Jones's Diary (2001) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.25
Bring It On: Worldwide #Cheersmack (2017) (MA/HD) $3.25 (iTunes/HD) $1.25
Broken City (2013) (MA/HD) $3.50 (iTunes/SD) $1.25
Broken Hearts Gallery (2020) (MA/HD) $3.75
Brothers (2009) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Buffy, the Vampire Slayer (1992) (MA/HD) $5.75
Bullet Train (2022) (MA/4K) $5.75 (MA/HD) $4.25
Bye Bye Man (Unrated) (2017) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $2.50
Cake (2014) (MA/HD) $5.25
Call Me by Your Name (2017) (MA/HD) $5.75
Call, The (2013) (MA/HD) $4.50
Captain America: Civil War (2016) (MA/4K) $6 (iTunes/4K) $5 (GP/HD) $2.25
Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $7 (GP/HD) $5
Captain America: Winter Soldier (2014) (MA/4K) $7.50 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $6 (GP/HD) $2.25
Captain Marvel (2019) (MA/4K) $5 (iTunes/4K) $4 (GP/HD) $1.75
Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie (2017) (MA/HD) $3.25
Carrie (2013) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Cars 1-3 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $15.50 (GP/HD) $9
Casper (1995) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3.75
Catch Me If You Can (2002) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6.50
Catch the Bullet (2021) (Vudu/HD) $4.75
Change-Up, The (2011) (Unrated) (2011) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $5.50
Chappie (2015) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $3.75
Charlie's Angels (2000) (MA/4K) $7.75
Chronicles of Riddick (Unrated Director's Cut) (2004) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5
Cinderella (1950) (MA/HD) $5.75 (GP/HD) $3.75
Cinderella (2015) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $2.50
Cinderella 'Camila Cabello' (2021) (MA/HD) $4.50
Cinderella II: Dreams Come True (2002) (MA/HD) $6.50
Citizenfour (2014) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
City of Lies (2018) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.50
Clerks III (2022) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $5.50
Clifford the Big Red Dog (2021) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3.50
Clown (2014) (Vudu/HD) $6.25
Clueless (1995) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.25
Coal Miner's Daughter (1980) (MA/HD) $6.25
Cocaine Bear (2023) (MA/HD) $7.25
Colombiana (Unrated) (2011) (MA/HD) $4.25
Concussion (2015) (MA/HD) $3
Constantine: The House of Mystery (2022) (MA/HD) $3.50
Contraband (2012) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $2
Contractor (2022) (Vudu/4K) $7 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Counselor, The (2013) (MA/HD) $3
Cowboys and Aliens (2011) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $2.50
Croods (2013) (MA/HD) $3.50
Croods: A New Age (2020) (MA/HD) $5
Cruella (2021) (MA/4K) $5.75 (MA/HD) $3.50 (GP/HD) $2.50
Cult of Chucky (Unrated) (2017) (MA/HD) $3.75 (iTunes/HD) $2.50
Daddy's Home 2 (2017) (Vudu/4K) $4.50 (iTunes/4K) $2 (Vudu/HD) $2.25
Darkest Minds, The (2018) (MA/HD) $4.75
Day After Tomorrow (2004) $7
DC League of Super-Pets (2022) (MA/4K) $8 (MA/HD) $5
Dead Man Down (2013) (MA/HD) $4.75
Deadpool 2 (2018) (MA/4K) $6.25 (MA/HD) $3.25
Dear Evan Hansen (2021) (MA/HD) $4.25
Death on the Nile (2022) (MA/HD) $5 (GP/HD) $3.50
Death Wish (2018) (Vudu/HD) $2.25
Descent, The (2005) (Vudu/HD) $5.25
Detroit (2017) (iTunes/4K) Ports to MA $4.75
Devil Wears Prada (2006) (MA/HD) $5.75
Devil's Due (2014) (MA/HD) $2.75
Devotion (2022) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Long Haul (2017) (MA/HD) $2
Disaster Artist, The (2017) (Vudu/HD) $6.25
Disneynature Born in China (2017) (MA/HD) $5.25
DisneyNature: Bears (2014) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
DisneyNature: Monkey Kingdom (2015) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
District 9 (2009) (MA/4K) $6.50
Do the Right Thing (1989) (MA/4K) $6
Doctor Strange (2016) (MA/4K) $6.50 (iTunes/4K) $4 (MA/HD) $3.50 (GP/HD) $1.75
Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022) (MA/4K) $6 (MA/HD) $2.75 (GP/HD) $2
Dog (2022) (Vudu/HD) $3
Don't Breathe (2016) (MA/HD) $5.50
Don't Breathe 2 (2021) (MA/HD) $7.50
Don't Let Go (2019) (MA/HD) $4
Don't Worry Darling (2022) (MA/HD) $5.50
Doors (1991) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $4.50
Downton Abbey: A New Era (2022) (MA/HD) $3.75
Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who (2008) (MA/HD) $6.50
Dr. Seuss' The Lorax (2012) (MA/HD) $3.25 (iTunes/HD) $2.25
Dredd (2012) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3.50
Duff, The (2015) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Dumbo (1941) (MA/HD) $7.50 (GP/HD) $6
Dumbo (2019) (MA/4K) $6 (iTunes/4K) $5.25 (GP/HD) $2.50
Dune (2021) (MA/4K) $5.75
Dunkirk (2017) (MA/4K) $6.50
Early Man (2018) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.25
Echo Boomers (2020) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4
Eddie the Eagle (2016) (MA/HD) (iTunes/4K) $6
Edge of Seventeen (2016) (MA/HD) $3.50 (iTunes/HD) $2.25
Ella Enchanted (2004) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6.50
Elvis (2022) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $4
Elysium (2013) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $3.25
Empire State (2013) (Vudu/HD) $4.75
Encanto (2021) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) (GP/4K) $3.50
Ender's Game (2013) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3.25
English Patient (1996) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.75
Equalizer (2014) (MA/HD) $3.75
Equalizer 2 (2018) (MA/4K) $7.25 (MA/HD) $2.75
Escape from Planet Earth (2013) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Escape Plan: The Extractors (2019) (Vudu/HD) $3.75
Everest (2015) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $3 (iTunes/4K) $4
Everything Everywhere All at Once (2022) (Vudu/4K) $8
Expendables 1-3 (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Extreme Prejudice (1987) (Vudu/HD) $5.25
F9: The Fast Saga + Director's Cut (2021) (MA/4K) $5.25 (MA/HD) $3.25
Fabelmans (2022) (MA/HD) $6.50
Faculty, The (1998) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6.50
Fantastic Beasts Collection 1-3 (MA/HD) $7.75
Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore (2022) (MA/4K) $5.25 (MA/HD) $3
Fast & Furious Collection 1-9 (MA/HD) $10
Fatale (2020) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $3.75
Father Stu (2022) (MA/HD) $5.50
Fatman (2020) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.25
Ferdinand (2017) (MA/HD) $3.50
Fifth Element (1997) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $6
Fifty Shades of Black (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3.50
Finding Nemo (2003) (MA/4K) $6.75 (iTunes/4K) $5.25 (GP/HD) $3
First Man (2018) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $4.25
First Purge (2018) (MA/HD) $4.50
Five Feet Apart (2019) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3
Flight (2012) (Vudu/HD) $3.75 (iTunes/HD) $3
Forbidden Kingdom (2008) (Vudu/HD) $5
Ford v Ferrari (2019) (MA/4K) $7.75 (MA/HD) $4.75
Forever Purge (2021) (MA/HD) $5.50
Founder, The (2017) (Vudu/HD) $5 (iTunes/HD) $5.50
Fox and the Hound 2, The (2006) (MA/HD) $4 (GP/HD) $3
Foxcatcher (2014) (MA/HD) $4.50
Frank & Lola (2016) (MA/HD) $4.75
Free Guy (2021) (MA/4K) $7.50 (MA/HD) $4.75 (GP/HD) $3.25
French Dispatch (2021) (MA/HD) $4.75 (GP/HD) $3.50
From Dusk till Dawn (1996) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.75
Frozen Sing-Along Edition (2014) (MA/HD) $3.75 (GP/HD) $1.75
Full Metal Jacket (1987) (MA/4K) $6.50
Future World (2018) (Vudu/HD) $4
Galaxy Quest (1999) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6
Gambler (2014) (Vudu/HD) $3.50 (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Gangs of New York (2002) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.50
Gate, The (1987) (Vudu/SD) $4.25
Get on Up (2014) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $4.50
Get Out (2017) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $3.75
Ghost In The Shell (2017) (Vudu/HD) $2.25 (iTunes/4K) $2.75
Ghostbusters (1984) (MA/HD) $3.50
Ghostbusters + Extended (2016) (MA/HD) $3
Ghostbusters II (1989) (MA/HD) $3.50
Ghostbusters: Afterlife (2021) (MA/4K) $7.50 (MA/HD) $3.50
Gifted (2017) (MA/HD) $5
Girl In The Spider's Web (2018) (MA/HD) $4.50
Girl with All the Gifts, The (2016) (Vudu/HD) $5
Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011) (MA/HD) $6
Girls Trip (2017) (MA/HD) $1.50 (iTunes/HD) $1
Glory (1989) (MA/4K) $7.75
Godfather (1972) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/4K) $4.75
Godzilla (1998) (MA/4K) $6.50
Gold (2016) (Vudu/HD) $1.75
Gone Baby Gone (2007) (Vudu/HD) $5.25
Gone Girl (2014) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $5.75
Good Boys (2019) (MA/HD) $3.75
Good Dinosaur (2015) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $3
Goodbye Christopher Robin (2017) (MA/HD) $6.50
Goosebumps (2015) (MA/HD) $5
Goosebumps 2 (2018) (MA/4K) $7.50 (MA/HD) $6.50
Great Wall (2016) (MA/HD) $2.50
Green Hornet (2011) (MA/HD) $6.50
Green Lantern: Beware My Power (2022) (MA/HD) $3
Green Mile, The (1999) (MA/4K) $6
Grudge, The (2020) (MA/HD) $6.50
Guardians of the Galaxy (2014) (MA/4K) $7.25 (iTunes/4K) $4.75 (MA/HD) $4 (GP/HD) $1.75
Hail, Caesar! (2016) (MA/HD) $3.75 (iTunes/HD) $2.25
Half Brothers (2020) (MA/HD) $5.75
Halloween Ends (2022) (MA/4K) $6.25 (MA/HD) $4.50
Halloween Kills (2021) (MA/4K) $6 (MA/HD) $4.25
Hancock (2008) (MA/4K) $6.50
Happy Death Day (2017) (MA/HD) $6
Happy Death Day 2U (2019) (MA/HD) $6
Happytime Murders (2018) (iTunes/4K) $1.75
Hateful Eight (2015) (Vudu/HD) $2
Heat: Director's Definitive Edition (1995) (MA/4K) $6 (MA/HD) $5.25
Heavy Metal (1981) (MA/4K) $6.50
Hell Fest (2018) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $3.75
Hell or High Water (2016) (Vudu/4K) $5.25 (Vudu/HD) $2.25 (iTunes/4K) $3.75
Hellboy (Director's Cut) (2004) (MA/4K) $6.50
Hercules (1997) (MA/HD) $6.50 (GP/HD) $5.50
Hidden Figures (2016) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $2
Highlander (1986) (Vudu/4K) $5
Hitman: Agent 47 (2015) (MA/HD) $4.50
Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard (2021) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $4.75
Hocus Pocus (1993) (MA/4K) $6.75 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $4.75 (GP/HD) $2.25
Holiday Inn (1942) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3
Home Alone (1990) (MA/HD) $4
Home Alone 2: Lost in New York (1992) (MA/HD) $3.50
Hostiles (2017) (Vudu/4K) $4.75 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3.25
Hot Fuzz (2007) (MA/HD) $3.50 (iTunes/4K) $4
Hotel Transylvania (2012) (MA/HD) $6
Hotel Transylvania 2 (2015) (MA/HD) $6.75
Hotel Transylvania 3: Summer Vacation (2018) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $4.50
House of Gucci (2021) (iTunes/4K) $5
House of the Dragon: Season 1 (2022) (Vudu/4K) $9 (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Hugo (2011) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.75
Hulk, The (2003) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $6.25
Hunt for Red October (1990) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $4.50
Hunt, The (2019) (MA/HD) $5.75
Huntsman: Winter's War - Extended Edition (2016) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $3
Hurt Locker (2008) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.25
I Can Only Imagine (2018) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.75
I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry (2007) (MA/HD) $3.50
Ice Age: Collision Course (2016) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $4.25
Ice Age: Continental Drift (2012) (MA/HD) $4.50
Identity Thief (2013) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3.75
Ides of March (2011) (MA/HD) $5.25
If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) (MA/HD) $5.75
Impossible, The (2013) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.75
In the Heights (2021) (MA/4K) $5
Inception (2010) (MA/4K) $6.50
Incredible Hulk (2008) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $5.25
Incredibles (2004) (MA/4K) $7.75 (iTunes/4K) $6.25 (GP/HD) $4.75
Independence Day: Resurgence (2014) (iTunes/4K) $2 (MA/HD) $1.50
Indiana Jones 1-4 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $20
Inevitable Defeat of Mister and Pete (2013) (Vudu/HD) $4.25
Inferno (2016) (MA/HD) $3.25
Infinite (2021) (Vudu/4K) $5.75 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5
Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) (MA/HD) $6
Inside Out (2015) (MA/4K) $5.75 (iTunes/4K) $4.25 (GP/HD) $1.50
Insidious: Chapter 2 (2013) (MA/HD) $5.25
Insidious: Chapter 3 (2015) (MA/HD) $6.50
Instructions Not Included (2013) (Vudu/HD) $3.75
Internship (2013) (MA/HD) $3.25
Interview, The (2014) (MA/HD) $3.50
Into the Woods (2014) (MA/HD) $4 (GP/HD) $2.25
Iron Man (2008) (MA/4K) $7.25 (iTunes/4K) $7 (GP/HD) $3
Iron Man 2 (2010) (MA/4K) $7.25 (iTunes/4K) $6.50 (GP/HD) $3
Iron Man 3 (2013) (MA/4K) $7.25 (iTunes/4K) $3 (MA/HD) $2.25 (GP/HD) $1.50
Isle of Dogs (2018) (MA/HD) $4.75
It Comes at Night (2017) (Vudu/HD) $6.25
It Follows (2015) (Vudu/HD) $4.25
Jack and Jill (2011) (MA/HD) $4.50
Jackass Forever (2022) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4
Jackass Presents: Bad Grandpa (2013) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3
Jackie (2016) (MA/HD) $4.25
Jacob's Ladder (1990) (Vudu/HD) $3.50
Jane Got a Gun (2016) (Vudu/HD) $5.75
Jason Bourne (2016) (MA/4K) $5.50 (iTunes/HD) $3.50 (MA/HD) $3
Jay & Silent Bob Reboot (2019) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.50
Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (2001) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.50
Jesus Music, The (2021) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
Jigsaw (2017) (Vudu/4K) $5 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $2
Jingle All the Way (1996) (MA/HD) $5.25
John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum (2019) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $4
Jojo Rabbit (2019) (MA/HD) $6.75
Joy (2015) (MA/HD) (iTunes/4K) $4
Judy (2019) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $3.75
Jumanji (1995) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $6
Jumanji: Next Level (2019) & Welcome to the Jungle (2017) (MA/HD) $7.50
Jurassic Park (1993) (MA/4K) $5.25 (iTunes/4K) $3.75 (MA/HD) $3
Jurassic Park III (2001) (MA/4K) $6.50 (iTunes/4K) $3.75 (MA/HD) $3.50
Jurassic World (2015) (MA/4K) $5.25 (iTunes/4K) $3.75 (MA/HD) $2.75
Jurassic World: Dominion + Extended Cut (2022) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $4.25
Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018) (MA/4K) $5.75 (MA/HD) $1.75
Justice League x RWBY Super Heroes and Huntsmen Part One (2023) (MA/HD) $4.25
Justice Society: World War II (2021) (MA/4K) $5.50
Katy Perry: Part of Me (2012) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.75
Keeping Up with the Joneses (2016) (MA/HD) $4.25
Kick-Ass (2010) (Vudu/4K) $5.75 (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
Kick-Ass 2 (2013) (MA/HD) $5.25 (iTunes/HD) $5
Kicks (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $5
Kid Who Would Be King (2019) (MA/4K) $5.75 (MA/HD) $4.75
Kidnap (2017) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.25
Kill Bill: Vol. 2 (2004) (Vudu/HD) $6
Kill the Messenger (2014) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $5
Killer Elite (2011) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3.25
Killerman (2019) (Vudu/HD) $2.25 (iTunes/HD) $1.75
Killing Lincoln (2013) (MA/HD) $5.25
Killing Them Softly (2012) (Vudu/HD) $2.75
King of Staten Island (2020) (MA/HD) $4.75
King's Man (2021) (MA/HD) $4.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
Knock at the Cabin (2023) (MA/HD) $5.50
Kong: Skull Island (2017) (MA/4K) $6.50
Kung Fu Panda 3 (2016) (MA/HD) $2.50
Kung Fu Panda Collection 1-3 (MA/HD) $12.50
L.A. Confidential (1997) (MA/HD) $5.75
Last Christmas (2019) (MA/HD) $6.50
Last Full Measure (2020) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.50
Last Night in Soho (2021) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $5.75
Last Vegas (2013) (MA/HD) $3
Law Abiding Citizen (2009) (Vudu/4K) $7
Lawless (2012) (Vudu/HD) $3.75
Leap! (2017) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.25
Lee Daniels' The Butler (2013) (Vudu/HD) $2.25
Legend of Hercules (2014) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3.25
Legion of Super Heroes (2023) (MA/HD) $6
Les Miserables (2012) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Let Him Go (2020) (MA/HD) $3.75
Let's Be Cops (2014) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $2.50
Life (2017) (MA/HD) $2.50
Light of My Life (2019) (Vudu/HD) $2.50 (iTunes/HD) $2
Lighthouse (2019) (Vudu/HD) $5.25
Lightyear (2022) (MA/4K) $5 (MA/HD) $2.75 (GP/HD) $2
Like a Boss (2020) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $2.25
Lion (2016) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Lion King 1 1/2 (2004) (MA/HD) $6.50
Lion King 2: Simba's Pride (1998) (MA/HD) $6.75 (GP/HD) $5.25
Little Fockers (2010) (MA/HD) $4
Little Mermaid II: Return to the Sea (2000) (MA/HD) $6.75
Little Mermaid III: Ariel’s Beginning (2008) (MA/HD) $6.75
Little Monsters (1989) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Live Die Repeat: Edge of Tomorrow (2014) (MA/4K) $5
Live Die Repeat: Edge Of Tomorrow (2014) (MA/4K) $6.50
Lodge, The (2019) (MA/HD) $5.75
Logan Lucky (2017) (MA/HD) $1.50 (iTunes/4K) $2.25
London Has Fallen (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3.75
Long Shot (2019) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4
Longest Ride (2015) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $1.50
Lord of War (2005) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $5.50
Lords of Salem, The (2012) (Vudu/HD) $4.75
Lost City, The (2022) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6
Love Actually (2003) (MA/HD) $5.50
Love and Monsters (2020) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $7
Love, Simon (2018) (MA/HD) $3
Lovebirds (2020) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.50
Luca (2021) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $3.75 (GP/HD) $3.25
Lucy (2014) (MA/HD) $2
Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile (2022) (MA/HD) $5.50
Ma (2019) (MA/HD) $5.25
Madagascar 3: Europe's Most Wanted (2012) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2
Maleficent (2014) (MA/4K) $5.75 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $3 (GP/HD) $1.25
Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (2019) (MA/4K) $6 (iTunes/4K) $3.75 (GP/HD) $1.75
Mama (2013) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3.50
Mamma Mia! The Movie (2008) & Here We Go Again (2018) (MA/HD) $6.50 $4.50 Each
Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh (1977) (MA/HD) $6.25
Marksman, The (2021) (MA/HD) $5.50
Marlowe (2023) (MA/HD) $7.50
Marry Me (2022) (MA/HD) $6.50
Martian - Extended Cut (2015) (MA/4K) $7.75 (MA/HD) $5.25
Martian (Theatrical) (2015) (MA/4K) $7.25 (MA/HD) $3.25
Mary Poppins (1964) (MA/HD) $4.50 (GP/HD) $3
Mary Queen of Scots (2018) (MA/HD) $5.75
Matrix: Resurrections (2021) (MA/4K) $5
Maze Runner: The Death Cure (2018) (MA/HD) $5.75
McFarland, USA (2015) (MA/HD) $6.25 (GP/HD) $4.50
Memory (2022) (MA/HD) $3.50
Men (2022) (Vudu/HD) $3.75
Menu (2022) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $4
Mickey & Minnie 10 Classic Shorts - Volume 1 (2023) (MA/HD) $5.75 (GP/HD) $4
Mickey, Donald, Goofy: The Three Musketeers (2004) (MA/HD) $6.50
Midsommar (2019) (Vudu/HD) $5.75
Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates (2016) (MA/HD) (iTunes/4K) $4.50
Million Dollar Arm (2014) (MA/HD) $4
Minions (2015) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $2.75
Minions: The Rise of Gru (2022) & Minions (2015) (MA/HD) $8
Minions: The Rise of Gru (2022) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $5.25
Miracles From Heaven (2016) (MA/HD) $4.50
Missing Link (2019) (MA/HD) $4.25
Mission: Impossible Fallout (2018) (Vudu/4K) $2.75 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $2.50
Mitchells Vs. The Machines (2021) (MA/HD) $4.50
Money Monster (2016) (MA/HD) $3.25
Monster Hunter (2020) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $4.25
Monster Trucks (2016) (Vudu/HD) $2.25
Monster's Ball (2001) (Vudu/HD) $6.25
Monuments Men (2014) (MA/HD) $2
Moonfall (2022) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $5
Morbius (2022) (MA/4K) $5.25 (MA/HD) $3.25 (MA/SD) $2.25
Mortal Instruments: City of Bones (2014) (MA/HD) $3.50
Mortal Kombat Legends: Snow Blind (2022) (MA/HD) $5.50
Mother! (2017) (Vudu/HD) $3.50
Mountain Between Us (2017) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $1.50
Mr Popper's Penguins (2011) (MA/HD) $6
Mr. Holmes (2015) (Vudu/HD) $3.75
Much Ado About Nothing (2013) (Vudu/HD) $4.25
Muppet Movie (1979) (MA/HD) $7.50 (GP/HD) $6
My All American (2015) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.25
My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2 (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $4
My Dinner with Herve (2018) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50 (GP/HD) $3
My Fair Lady (1964) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
National Lampoon's Animal House (1978) (MA/4K) $6.25 (MA/HD) $5.25
Nebraska (2013) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.25
Neighbors (2014) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $2
Never Grow Old (2019) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
Night Before (2015) (MA/HD) $4.75
Night House, The (2021) (MA/HD) $5 (GP/HD) $3
Nightmare Before Christmas (1993) (GP/HD) Ports to MA $3
Ninth Gate, The (1999) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
No Country For Old Men (2007) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
No Time to Die (2021) (iTunes/4K) $3.50
Nobody (2021) (MA/HD) $5.25
Nocturnal Animals (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $3.25
Non-Stop (2014) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Nope (2022) (MA/4K) $8 (MA/HD) $5.75
Nope (2022), Get Out (2017) & Us (2019) (MA/HD) $10
Norm of the North (2016) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Northman (2022) (MA/4K) $7.25 (MA/HD) $4.50
Old (2021) (MA/HD) $4.50
Olympus Has Fallen (2013) (MA/HD) $5
On the Basis of Sex (2019) (MA/HD) $4.50
Onward (2020) (MA/4K) $5.50 (MA/HD) $4 (GP/HD) $2.25
Oranges, The (2011) (MA/HD) $4.50
Other Woman (2014) (MA/HD) $2.25
Ouija (2014) & Origin of Evil (2016) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $9
Overboard (2016) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5.75
Pacific Rim (2013) (MA/4K) $6.50
Pacific Rim Uprising (2018) (MA/4K) $7.75 (MA/HD) $4.50
Pain & Gain (2013) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.25
Paper Towns (2011) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $4.50
ParaNorman (2012) (iTunes/HD) $5
Passengers (2016) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $2.75
Paul (2011) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $4.50
Paul Blart: Mall Cop 2 (2015) (MA/HD) $4.25
Paw Patrol: The Movie (2021) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5
Paws of Fury: The Legend of Hank (2022) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $6
Pearl (2022) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Peppermint (2018) (iTunes/HD) $1.75
Percy Jackson: Sea of Monsters (2013) (MA/HD) $2.25
Perks of Being a Wallflower (2012) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $1.75
Pet Sematary (2019) (Vudu/4K) $4.25 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $2.50
Peter Rabbit (2018) (MA/4K) $5.75 (MA/HD) $4.75
Peter Rabbit 2 (2021) (MA/HD) $4
Phantom Thread (2017) (MA/HD) $3.75
Philomena (2013) (Vudu/HD) $2
Pineapple Express (Unrated Edition) (2008) (MA/HD) $6
Pinocchio (1940) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $3.75
Pirate Fairy (2014) (MA/HD) $3.25
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales (2017) (MA/HD) $3.25 (GP/HD) $1.75
Pitch Perfect 2 (2015) (MA/HD) $2.75 (iTunes/4K) $3.75
Pixar Short Films Collection, Vol. 3 (2018) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
Pixels (2015) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $5.50
Plane (2023) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $8
Planes (2013) (MA/HD) $2.25 (GP/HD) $1.25
Planes, Trains and Automobiles (1987) (iTunes/HD) $3.75
Planes: Fire & Rescue (2014) (MA/HD) $4 (GP/HD) $2
Playing with Fire (2019) (iTunes/4K) $1.50 (Vudu/HD) $2
Pocahontas (1995) (MA/HD) $6.50 (GP/HD) $5
Pocahontas II: Journey to a New World (1998) (MA/HD) $6 (GP/HD) $3.25
Pompeii (2014) (MA/HD) $3.50
Poms (2019) (iTunes/HD) $2.50
Post, The (2017) (MA/HD) $2.75
Predator (1987) (MA/HD) $3.50
Predator (2018) (MA/4K) $6.25 (MA/HD) $3.50
Premium Rush (2012) (MA/HD) $3.25
Prey for the Devil (2022) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6
Princess and the Frog (2009) (iTunes/4K) $5.50 (GP/HD) $3.25
Prometheus (2012) (MA/HD) $1.75
Protege, The (2021) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $5.75
Psycho (1960) (MA/HD) (iTunes/4K) $5
Psycho (1960), Rear Window (1954), The Birds (1963), Vertigo (1958) (MA/4K) $17
Public Enemies (2009) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6.25
Punisher, The (2004) (Vudu/4K) $5.75 (Vudu/HD) $5.25
Purge, The (2013) (MA/4K) $6.50 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $3
Purge: Election Year (2016) (MA/4K $5.50 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $3
Puss in Boots: The Last Wish (2022) (MA/HD) $7.50
Queen & Slim (2019) (MA/HD) $4.50
R.I.P.D. (2013) (MA/HD) $3.25 (iTunes/HD) $3
Race (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $2.75
Rambo Last Blood (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $2.75
Rambo: First Blood (1982) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6
Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985) (Vudu/4K) $6.75 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Rango (2011) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
Ratatouille (2007) (iTunes/4K) $8 (GP/HD) $5.50
Raya and the Last Dragon (2021) (MA/4K) $6.25 (MA/HD) $4.50 (GP/HD) $2.50
Red (2010) (Vudu/4K) $6.25
Requiem for a Dream - Director's Cut (2000) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.25
Rescuers Down Under (1990) (MA/HD) $6.50 (GP/HD) $4
Resident Evil: Retribution (2012) (MA/HD) $2.25
Resident Evil: Welcome to Raccoon City (2021) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $4.50
Respect (2021) (iTunes/4K) $4.75
Richard Jewell (2019) (MA/4K) $6.50
Ricki And The Flash (2015) (MA/HD) $4.50
Riddick - Unrated Director's Cut (2013) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4
Ride Along 1-2 (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5 $2.75 Each
Rio 2 (2014) (MA/HD) $2.25
Rise of the Planet of the Apes (2010) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $5.75
Risen (2016) (MA/HD) $4.50
Road to El Dorado (2000) (MA/HD) $5.50
Robin Hood (2018) (Vudu/4K) $5 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3.25
Robin Hood (Animated) (1973) (MA/HD) $3.75 (GP/HD) $2.75
RoboCop (1987) (Vudu/HD) $7.25
Robots (2005) (MA/HD) $6.75
Rock Dog (2016) (Vudu/HD) $4.25
Rocketman (2019) (Vudu/4K) $4.75 (iTunes/4K) $2.50 (Vudu/HD) $2.25
Ron's Gone Wrong (2021) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $5.25 (GP/HD) $3.50
Rumble (2022) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5.75
Run Lola Run (1998) (MA/HD) $6.50
Runner Runner (2013) (MA/HD) $4
Rush (2013) (MA/HD) $2.75 (iTunes/HD) $3.25
Russell Madness (2015) (MA/HD) $4
Safe (2012) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $1.75
Safe House (2012) (MA/HD) $4 (iTunes/HD) $2.50
Saint Maud (2020) (Vudu/HD) $6
Santa Clause (1994), 2 (2002), 3 (2006) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $10.50 (GP/HD) $6.50
Saving Mr. Banks (2013) (MA/HD) $4.75 (GP/HD) $2.75
Scream (1996) (Vudu/4K) $6 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $3.75
Scream 5 (2022) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5.50
Scrooged (1988) (iTunes/HD) $4.75
Second Act (2018) (iTunes/HD) $1.50
Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel (2015) (MA/HD) $4.50
Secret Garden, The (2020) (iTunes/4K) $4.25
Secret Headquarters (2022) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/4K) $6
Secret Life of Pets 1-2 (MA/HD) $7.50
Secret Life of Pets 2 (2019) (MA/4K) $6.25 (MA/HD) $5
Secret Life of Pets, The (2016) (iTunes/4K) $3.75 (MA/HD) $2.75
Secret Life of Walter Mitty (2013) (MA/HD) $2
Seeking a Friend for the End of the World (2012) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $4.50
Seriously Red (2022) (Vudu/HD) $6.75
Sessions, The (2012) (MA/HD) $4.50
Seventh Son (2015) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $1.50
Sex Tape (2014) (MA/HD) $3
Shaun of the Dead (2004), Hot Fuzz (2007), World's End (2013) (MA/HD) $10
Shaun the Sheep Movie (2015) (Vudu/HD) $4
Shawshank Redemption (1994) (MA/4K) $6
She's Having a Baby (1988) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
Shooter (2007) (Vudu/HD) $5.75
Sideways (2004) (MA/HD) $5.25
Silent Night, Deadly Night: 3-Film Collection (1989-1991) (Vudu/HD) $6
Silver Linings Playbook (2012) (Vudu/HD) $2
Sin City: A Dame to Kill For (2014) (Vudu/HD) $6.25
Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas (2007) (MA/HD) $6.50
Sing 2 (2021) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $3.50
Sing Collection 1-2 (MA/HD) $6
Singin' in the Rain (1952) (MA/4K) $6.50
Sinister (2012) (Vudu/HD) $3 (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Sisters (Unrated) (2015) (MA/HD) $4 (iTunes/HD) $3.25
Sixteen Candles (1984) (MA/HD) $5.25 (iTunes/HD) $4.25
Skeleton Twins (2014) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Sleepless (2017) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $1
Smile (2022) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/4K) $6.75
Smurfs 2 (2013) (MA/HD) $3.25
Smurfs: The Lost Village (2017) (MA/HD) $3.25
Snake Eyes (2021) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4.25
Snatched (2017) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $1
Snitch (2013) (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $1.75
Snow White and the Huntsman (Extended) (2012) (iTunes/4K) $3.50 (MA/HD) $2.50
Some Kind of Wonderful (1987) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
Son of God (2014) (MA/HD) $1.25
Sonic the Hedgehog (2020) (Vudu/4K) $6.25 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4.25
Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (2022) (Vudu/4K) $6.50 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Sound of Music, The (1965) (MA/HD) $5.75
Southpaw (2015) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Southside With You (2016) (Vudu/HD) $3.50
Space Between Us, The (2017) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $5
Space Jam (1996) (MA/4K) $5
Space Jam: A New Legacy (2021) (MA/4K) $5
Spider-Man (2002) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $5.50
Spider-Man 2 (2004) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $5.50
Spider-Man 3 (2007) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $5.50
Spider-Man: Far From Home (2019) (MA/4K) $8 (MA/HD) $4
Spies in Disguise (2019) (MA/HD) $3.50 (GP/HD) $2.50
Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2003) (MA/HD) $5
Spontaneous (2020) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5
Spy (Unrated) (2015) (MA/HD) $2
Spy Game (2001) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $5.75
Stand Up Guys (2012) (Vudu/HD) $2.75
Star Trek 1-3 (Vudu/4K) $18 (Vudu/HD) $9.50 (iTunes/4K) $13.50
Star Trek Beyond (2016) (Vudu/HD) $1.75 (iTunes/4K) $3.25
Star Trek Into Darkness (2013) (Vudu/HD) $1.75 (iTunes/4K) $3.25
Starship Troopers (1997) (MA/4K) $6.50
Step Up Revolution (2012) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3.25
Still Alice (2015) (MA/HD) $3
Stillwater (2021) (MA/HD) $5
Straight Outta Compton (Unrated Director’s Cut) (2015) (MA/4K) $7.50 (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.50
Strange World (2022) (GP/HD) Ports to MA $4.25
Strangers: Prey at Night (2018) (MA/HD) $3.50
Stronger (2017) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.50
Stuber (2019) (MA/HD) $4.75
Studio 666 (2022) (MA/HD) $6.75
Suicide Squad, The (2021) (MA/4K) $5
Sully (2016) (MA/4K) $6.50
Sum of All Fears, The (2002) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $5.75
Super Troopers (2002) (MA/HD) $5.75
SW: A New Hope (1977) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $6.25 (GP/HD) $3.50
SW: Empire Strikes Back (1980) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $6.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
SW: Force Awakens (2015) (MA/4K) $5.25 (MA/HD) $3.50 (GP/HD) $1
SW: Last Jedi (2017) (MA/4K) $5.75 (MA/HD) $3.75 (GP/HD) $1
SW: Phantom Menace (1999) (MA/4K) $7.50 (MA/HD) $6.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
SW: Return of the Jedi (1983) (MA/4K) $7.25 (MA/HD) $6.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
SW: Revenge of the Sith (2005) (MA/4K) $7.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
SW: Rise of Skywalker (2019) (MA/4K) $6 (MA/HD) $4.75 (GP/HD) $2.25
SW: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $3.75 (GP/HD) $1.25
SW: Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $5 (GP/HD) $3.50
Sword in the Stone (1963) (MA/HD) $6.25 (GP/HD) $3.75
Tag (2018) (MA/4K) $6.50
Tarzan (1999) (MA/HD) $6.50 (GP/HD) $5
Ted (2012) (Unrated) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4
Teen Titans Go! & DC Super Hero Girls: Mayhem in the Multiverse (2022) (MA/HD) $4.75
Terminator (1984) (Vudu/HD) $7
Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $4.25
Terminator 4: Salvation (2009) (MA/4K) $6.50
Terminator: Dark Fate (2019) (Vudu/4K) $6.50 (Vudu/HD) $3 (iTunes/4K) $2.50
Terminator: Genisys (2015) (Vudu/HD) $1.75 (iTunes/4K) $3
The Man from U.N.C.L.E. (2015) (MA/4K) $6.50
Theory Of Everything (2014) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $4
Thing, The (2011) (MA/HD) $6.25
This Is 40 (2012) (MA/HD) $3.75 (iTunes/HD) $2.50
Thor (2011) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $7 (GP/HD) $3.50
Thor: Love and Thunder (2022) (MA/4K) $6.75 (MA/HD) $3.25 (GP/HD) $2
Thor: The Dark World (2013) (MA/4K) $7 (iTunes/4K) $4.50 (GP/HD) $2.25
Till (2022) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
Tinker Bell and the Legend of the NeverBeast (2014) (MA/HD) $6.25 (GP/HD) $4.50
Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy (2011) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $4.50
Titanic (1997) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4.75
TMNT Out of the Shadows (2016) (iTunes/4K) $4
Tomb Raider: The Cradle of Life (2003) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
Tomorrowland (2015) (MA/HD) $5.50 (GP/HD) $3.50
Top Gun: Maverick (2022) (Vudu/4K) $6 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $5.75
Total Recall + Extended (2012) (MA/HD) $5 (Theatrical) $4
Toy Story 1-4 (MA/4K) $23 (iTunes/4K) $21 (GP/HD) $11.50
Toy Story of Terror! (2013) (MA/HD) $4.50 (GP/HD) $3
Trading Places (1983) (Vudu/HD) $4.50
Traffic (2000) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $5.75
Training Day (2001) (MA/4K) $6.50
Trainwreck (2015) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $1.50
Transformers: Last Knight (2017) (Vudu/4K) $4.75 (iTunes/4K) $2.25 (Vudu/HD) $2
Trauma Center (2019) (iTunes/4K) $3.25
Triple 9 (2016) (iTunes/HD) Ports to MA $2.50
Trolls (2016) (MA/HD) $1.25
Trolls Collection 1-2 (MA/HD) $6
Tully (2018) (MA/HD) $5.75
Turning Red (2022) (MA/4K) $6.25 (MA/HD) $4 (GP/HD) $2.75
Umma (2022) (MA/HD) $4.75
Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (2022) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.75
Unbreakable (2000) (MA/4K) $6 (GP/HD) $3.75
Unbroken (2014) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3
Uncharted (2022) (MA/4K) $5.50 (MA/HD) $3.25
Uncle Drew (2018) (Vudu/4K) $6.25 (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $3
Under the Skin (2014) (Vudu/HD) $5.25
Unforgiven (1992) (MA/4K) $6.50
Unhinged (2020) (Vudu/HD) $4.75
Up (2009) (iTunes/4K) $7.50 (MA/HD) $6.75
Up in Smoke ‘Cheech and Chong’ (1978) (Vudu/HD) $3.50 (iTunes/HD) $2.75
Upside, The (2017) (iTunes/HD) $2
Usual Suspects, The (1995) (Vudu/HD) $6
Valerian and the City of a Thousand Planets (2017) (Vudu/HD) $3.50
Van Helsing (2004) (MA/4K) $6 (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $4.75
Venom: Let There Be Carnage (2021) (MA/4K) $7 (MA/HD) $3.50
Vice (2015) 'Bruce Willis' (Vudu/HD) $2.50
Voyagers (2021) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
Walking Dead: Season 11 (2021) (Vudu/HD) $6.25
WALL-E (2008) (iTunes/4K) $8 (GP/HD) $5.50
War Dogs (2016) (MA/4K) $6.50
War of the Worlds (1953) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.75
War Of The Worlds (2005) (Vudu/4K) (iTunes/4K) $6.50
Watch, The (2012) (MA/HD) $4.25
Way, Way Back, The (2013) (MA/HD) $5.25
Weird Science (2008) (MA/HD) (iTunes/HD) $6
Welcome to Marwen (2018) (MA/4K) $3.50
What Men Want (2019) (Vudu/HD) $1.75 (iTunes/4K) $1.25
What to Expect When You're Expecting (2012) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $2.25
When the Game Stands Tall (2014) (MA/HD) $4.50 (MA/SD) $1.75
Where the Crawdads Sing (2022) (MA/HD) $4.50
Whiplash (2014) (MA/HD) $5.75
White House Down (2013) (MA/HD) $3.50
Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance With Somebody (2022) (MA/HD) $6
Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971) (MA/4K) $5.25
Wind River (2017) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $5
Wings (1927) (Vudu/HD) (iTunes/HD) $4
Witch, The (2016) (Vudu/HD) $3.50
Wolf Man (1941) (MA/4K) $6.50
Wolverine (Unrated) (2013) (MA/HD) $3.75
Woman King (2022) (MA/4K) $6.50 (MA/HD) $5.50
Wonder Woman 1984 (2020) (MA/4K) $5
Won't Back Down (2012) (MA/HD) $4
World War Z (2013) (Vudu/HD) $3.25 (iTunes/HD) $1.50
Wreck-It Ralph (2012) (GP/HD) $4.25
X (2022) (Vudu/HD) $6.75
X2: X-Men United (2003) (MA/HD) $6.25
X-Men (2000) (MA/HD) $6.25
X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) (iTunes/4K) (MA/HD) $2.50
xXx: The Return of Xander Cage (2017) (Vudu/4K) $5.50 (iTunes/4K) (Vudu/HD) $1.25
Yesterday (2019) (MA/HD) $4.50
Zathura (2005) (MA/HD) $7
Zero Dark Thirty (2012) (MA/HD) $3
submitted by wtfwafflezor to DigitalCodeSELL [link] [comments]

2023.05.31 01:54 SteelCityValkyrie I really wish you were here...

Hi mum. It has been almost 2 years since I lost you to lung cancer after you fought so ferociously against Covid-19, pneumonia and Multiple Sclerosis. The fact you are no longer with me still pains me immensely every day because you were a core component to my life before.
​
I wanted to tell you a few things that have happened since you left this realm to join the Gods wherever you may be.
  1. I have finally got a cat after I promised you I would in honor of our ginger cat who passed 11 months before you did. Her name is Yogi, she is a black cat and is an incredible companion. I'm sorry I never told you he passed away. It would have broken your heart even more and I couldn't risk further complications because you were so frail. I hope you can forgive me for that.
  2. I moved last July into a better home where I know I'm safe. You have a small shrine that I set up in my room where I have a few of your trinkets and crystals that you have given me over the years. I hope it's comfortable and you're ok with Yogi jumping up to say hi sometimes.
  3. I am currently in bereavement counselling to help me manage. I am not doing this to forget you or move on in the traditional sense, I just need a neutral space with a professional to help me understand why I feel the way I feel. It's difficult going through all those emotions again but I know you would have wanted me to try and get help eventually.
  4. I am hoping to carry on your legacy with Neil and Dirty Stop Outs Guide because I believe that if you were still here, you would have encouraged me to pursue it after I finished college in 2016.
  5. I am over 500 days sober from any form of self injury/harm and I intend to keep that number ticking up. I promised you at your funeral that I would never do such actions ever again. I intend to keep that promise.
And lastly for now... I love you so much, words can't fully let me express how sad I am that you passed on and I miss you... I hope the cats, Aunt Lynn and Great Grandad are keeping you company while you watch over me and the family. Please rest tonight knowing I have made it another day alive and well.
From your baby bat. Always will be...
submitted by SteelCityValkyrie to GriefSupport [link] [comments]

2023.05.30 22:56 ferocious_puppy Eulogy for my Father

My father passed away last month at the age of 60. Although he had a number of illnesses, with one being from a young age, his death was unexpected. This is incredibly hard to come to terms with as I expect anyone on this subreddit would appreciate. Reading posts of some people on here who have lost loved ones at a young age or in terrible circumstances puts my loss in perspective but its still no less raw or devastating. I read a eulogy at my fathers funeral which I'm going to add below. It's long and most people won't read it but I just want to tell as many people as possible how amazing my father was. I have omitted any names from the eulogy and replaced with NAME. I will say though my dads name was Mark and I hope anyone who reads this sees how incredible he was.
Thank you all for coming.
My Dad was the person I looked up to the most, especially the older I got where I grew to appreciate the incredible man he was and how he lived his life. He had things very hard from a young age with multiple conditions, but he never let that define him. He appreciated the good things in his life, and not once did I ever hear him dwell on the bad that happened to him, his attitude was always to enjoy what he could surrounded by the people he loved for as long as he could no matter what was thrown his way. My dad possessed many qualities which include being kind, thoughtful, funny, loving and he is the strongest person mentally I’ve ever met and I’m proud and fortunate that he was my dad. The challenge to show those qualities became harder especially in the last few years but he never stopped living and being the man he always was, laughing, joking, and enjoying himself around his family.
His sense of humour was witty and dark, and he loved to wind people up, especially my mum. Even in his final hours he had his sense of humour. He was lying in bed that morning and he had a remote to move the bed into different positions. My mum heard him call her, so she went in and the remote was on the floor. My dad said sorry NAME can you pick it up, so she did. 10 minutes later she heard my dad call her again, so she went back in, the remote was on the floor again this time my dad had a grin on his face, my mum picked it up and gave it to him and warned him not to drop it again. He did of course drop it again and my mum saw a big smile on his face like he always had as she came back in. She knew he was winding her up and was smiling as well and I’m sure my dad thought about doing it again, but he knew one more time and it would be wrapped around his neck.
Two of my oldest memories I have of my dad are of stories he liked to tell because he found them funny to talk about over the years and I know he would like me to mention them. I don’t know whether it’s a coincidence they both involve alcohol, but he was a SURNAME so of course he enjoyed a drink.
The first is when I was around 5 and my dad and I were watching tv and he was enjoying a glass of whiskey. He went out to go to the bathroom and I seized my opportunity, grabbed the whiskey, and had a swig. My Dad came back into the room with me screaming it burns it burns pointing at the glass. My dad knew what needed to be done and rushed into action grabbing a can of lager and having me drink some to get rid of the whiskey taste. It did work to be fair and when I was older, I hated whiskey and enjoyed lager, which explains a lot.
The second story I want to share is another from when I was young. My dad would always go out drinking with his brothers NAME and NAME on boxing day. It was usually a nice casual drink and a chance for them to spend time together. However, on this occasion my dad got very drunk. So drunk his brothers had to carry him home which was an incredible feat by itself as he was not a small man. What was even more impressive is they managed to get him home but avoid my mum. They achieved this by leaving him sitting by the bins outside and knocking the door and running off. I don’t blame them, and I think it was a very smart move. However, what they didn’t expect was my dad to get up and manage to fall inside the bin. That was the sight that greeted my mum.
My dad was a great father to me and my sister NAME. He was limited physically in some of the things he could do with us but he more than made up for it in other ways and he was always there for us when we needed him. The only thing my father got wrong when NAME and I were growing up in my opinion is he should have been a bit harsher on NAME. She was always terrorizing me, and I was always calm and never did anything to instigate things, but she couldn’t be stopped. I think my father showed a bit of favouritism there.
At Christmas and other occasions, he enjoyed having everyone around and eating, drinking, playing games and having fun. Trivial pursuit was something he always wanted to play, probably because he would often win. He would always play as the blue counter, his favourite colour and if my nan was there which she usually was she would go on his team as she knew he would get everything right and she could sit back and sip her dissarano. I’m sorry nan but I really don’t think your going to win many games in future.
A memory of Christmas that sticks out is when we were playing a golf game on the Nintendo wii and it was my dads go. He was very competitive and put a lot of effort into his swing as he had to make up for the fact, he was playing sitting down. On this occasion he tried a bit too hard and also forgot to tighten the strap causing the wii remote to go flying off his wrist and straight into the tv destroying the screen. I will never forget the look on his face, a combination of shock and disbelief.
My dad also enjoyed playing real golf, many times with me and his son in law NAME but always with his mum. He caught the golf bug later in life but would play almost every week, sometimes twice a week for the part of the year they could use a buggy on the course. His father also used to go with them to drive the buggy and the sight of it all on the course was terrifying for others playing. A typical sight would be his father with his sunglasses on no matter the weather, driving the buggy with my dad in front and my nan sitting at the back trying to hold on as his father drove way to fast hitting every bump he could find and just about staying upright. He would then drop them off next to their drive which had gone maybe 50 yards at most, which considering their limitations wasn’t bad. They would play their shots with his father laughing hysterically and taunting them from the buggy as their balls went another 50 yards. To just be on the golf course playing with the pain my father was in and the limitations he had was an inspiration to me. He didn’t care what anyone else thought as he was doing what he enjoyed.
There are many more memories I could talk about and many more things he enjoyed doing but we’ll be here hours if I go into everything, and nobody wants that including me. NAME will go into more of my dad’s hobbies and life later, but I hope what the memories I’ve talked about show is how my dad loved being around his family and always lived life to the fullest. I wish we had more years with him, but I can say with confidence that he was happy and content that he had an excellent life.
There are a few milestones I want to talk about that I know would be important to my dad.
My Mum and Dad met working in a bakery. The day he got married to my mum I know he would have felt so lucky to have found someone he loved and could spend his life with or as my nan put it when preparing for today, he married the best tart in the bakery. They were always there for each other, and I know my dad would have very much appreciated the emotional support she gave him especially the last few years. It wasn’t easy for her either dealing with my dad’s illness but I’m so proud of my mum and dad for how they dealt with everything. Susan and I could not have wished for better parents.
The day my sister NAME and I were both born but especially me were big moments for my dad and changed his life forever, hopefully for the better but maybe not always. Also, important moments were when his Grandchildren NAME and NAME were born who may not know how lucky they are to have had my dad around for the time they did but they will when they are older as they look back to Grampys example and guidance.
My dad was so happy that NAME and I had both found what he had with my mum. For NAME it was NAME and for me it was NAME. NAME and I have chosen the easier option of having dogs rather than children which my dad, despite saying he never wanted a dog around or had any interest in them ended up loving having both NAME and NAME around. He would play with them despite it being hard for him and enjoyed taunting them with toys and chews and they would taunt him back by leaving things just out of reach for him.
The day my sister NAME and NAME got married was an emotional and wonderful day for my dad. Getting to walk his daughter down the aisle was a happy and proud moment for him. we didn’t know if he’d be able to do it beforehand, but he wasn’t going to miss the chance, so he got through it as he always did. My dad was not known for speaking in large crowds or being confident at it, in fact it was the opposite. However, the speech he gave at NAME wedding was incredible, funny, emotional, and memorable. He spoke from the heart without anything prepared and I am so proud he not only got through it but delivered an unforgettable speech.
There was never any pressure put on me or NAME. The only thing he wanted for us was to be happy and if we were happy that was ok for him.
I want to finish by sharing what some of his closest family wanted me to say on their behalf. This is their words read out by me.
His Wife NAME says, Mark was the love of my life, my soulmate with so many happy years together. Those years were rich with happy memories with our family. No more pain and suffering now my darling, rest now. My everlasting love always.
His daughter NAME says, I could not have asked for a better dad. You were always supportive and patient in everything I did. Your Grandchildren NAME and NAME will remember you as wise and funny, you always took an interest in what they liked. I will miss you incredibly, but you will forever be in my heart.
His Mother NAME says, Words cannot say how much I will miss you. I get comfort that you are not in any pain now. Sleep my darling until we are together again.
His brother NAME says, I will love and miss you always, brother.
His Brother NAME says, Dear Brother I will start by saying at least you are now at peace and pain free. You will be deeply missed by us all, after all you were the diplomatic one of the family. Mark was the most patient and calm member of us all and nothing was any bother for him to do. Love you Mark God bless you and thank you for being my brother, Love NAME.
His Son in law NAME says, thank you for welcoming me into your family with nothing but love and kindness. We shared a love for formula 1 and I’ll think of you whenever I’m watching a race.
His Niece NAME says, Uncle Mark was always kind and caring to me and you could tell how much he loved his family. Whenever I visited and complained about something he always found a way to spin it in a positive light and give me a new perspective. My last memory is of him in his chair putting his jumper on which got stuck after his arms were through. He made me jump because I thought he was headless and gave us all a good laugh. I feel lucky to have had him as an uncle.
Finally, for me he was my hero. I owe him everything. I couldn’t have wished for a better man to look up to and learn from. My respect for how he lived his life despite the challenges he faced is immeasurable. He never complained, never worried, never gave up, he lived his life to the maximum he could, doing the things he enjoyed around the people he loved right until the very end.
Dad I’m going to miss you beyond words and its going to be hard, but I will draw from what you taught me and live my life the best I can. It is said that a person is never truly gone as long as they are still talked about. Well, the impact You had on those around you means stories of you will be passed down for generations. The memories I have of you will stay in my head and the love and respect I have for you will remain in my heart forever.
submitted by ferocious_puppy to bereavement [link] [comments]

2023.05.30 22:55 ferocious_puppy Eulogy for my Father

My father passed away last month at the age of 60. Although he had a number of illnesses, with one being from a young age, his death was unexpected. This is incredibly hard to come to terms with as I expect anyone on this subreddit would appreciate. Reading posts of some people on here who have lost loved ones at a young age or in terrible circumstances puts my loss in perspective but its still no less raw or devastating. I read a eulogy at my fathers funeral which I'm going to add below. It's long and most people won't read it but I just want to tell as many people as possible how amazing my father was. I have omitted any names from the eulogy and replaced with NAME. I will say though my dads name was Mark and I hope anyone who reads this sees how incredible he was.
Thank you all for coming.
My Dad was the person I looked up to the most, especially the older I got where I grew to appreciate the incredible man he was and how he lived his life. He had things very hard from a young age with multiple conditions, but he never let that define him. He appreciated the good things in his life, and not once did I ever hear him dwell on the bad that happened to him, his attitude was always to enjoy what he could surrounded by the people he loved for as long as he could no matter what was thrown his way. My dad possessed many qualities which include being kind, thoughtful, funny, loving and he is the strongest person mentally I’ve ever met and I’m proud and fortunate that he was my dad. The challenge to show those qualities became harder especially in the last few years but he never stopped living and being the man he always was, laughing, joking, and enjoying himself around his family.
His sense of humour was witty and dark, and he loved to wind people up, especially my mum. Even in his final hours he had his sense of humour. He was lying in bed that morning and he had a remote to move the bed into different positions. My mum heard him call her, so she went in and the remote was on the floor. My dad said sorry NAME can you pick it up, so she did. 10 minutes later she heard my dad call her again, so she went back in, the remote was on the floor again this time my dad had a grin on his face, my mum picked it up and gave it to him and warned him not to drop it again. He did of course drop it again and my mum saw a big smile on his face like he always had as she came back in. She knew he was winding her up and was smiling as well and I’m sure my dad thought about doing it again, but he knew one more time and it would be wrapped around his neck.
Two of my oldest memories I have of my dad are of stories he liked to tell because he found them funny to talk about over the years and I know he would like me to mention them. I don’t know whether it’s a coincidence they both involve alcohol, but he was a SURNAME so of course he enjoyed a drink.
The first is when I was around 5 and my dad and I were watching tv and he was enjoying a glass of whiskey. He went out to go to the bathroom and I seized my opportunity, grabbed the whiskey, and had a swig. My Dad came back into the room with me screaming it burns it burns pointing at the glass. My dad knew what needed to be done and rushed into action grabbing a can of lager and having me drink some to get rid of the whiskey taste. It did work to be fair and when I was older, I hated whiskey and enjoyed lager, which explains a lot.
The second story I want to share is another from when I was young. My dad would always go out drinking with his brothers NAME and NAME on boxing day. It was usually a nice casual drink and a chance for them to spend time together. However, on this occasion my dad got very drunk. So drunk his brothers had to carry him home which was an incredible feat by itself as he was not a small man. What was even more impressive is they managed to get him home but avoid my mum. They achieved this by leaving him sitting by the bins outside and knocking the door and running off. I don’t blame them, and I think it was a very smart move. However, what they didn’t expect was my dad to get up and manage to fall inside the bin. That was the sight that greeted my mum.
My dad was a great father to me and my sister NAME. He was limited physically in some of the things he could do with us but he more than made up for it in other ways and he was always there for us when we needed him. The only thing my father got wrong when NAME and I were growing up in my opinion is he should have been a bit harsher on NAME. She was always terrorizing me, and I was always calm and never did anything to instigate things, but she couldn’t be stopped. I think my father showed a bit of favouritism there.
At Christmas and other occasions, he enjoyed having everyone around and eating, drinking, playing games and having fun. Trivial pursuit was something he always wanted to play, probably because he would often win. He would always play as the blue counter, his favourite colour and if my nan was there which she usually was she would go on his team as she knew he would get everything right and she could sit back and sip her dissarano. I’m sorry nan but I really don’t think your going to win many games in future.
A memory of Christmas that sticks out is when we were playing a golf game on the Nintendo wii and it was my dads go. He was very competitive and put a lot of effort into his swing as he had to make up for the fact, he was playing sitting down. On this occasion he tried a bit too hard and also forgot to tighten the strap causing the wii remote to go flying off his wrist and straight into the tv destroying the screen. I will never forget the look on his face, a combination of shock and disbelief.
My dad also enjoyed playing real golf, many times with me and his son in law NAME but always with his mum. He caught the golf bug later in life but would play almost every week, sometimes twice a week for the part of the year they could use a buggy on the course. His father also used to go with them to drive the buggy and the sight of it all on the course was terrifying for others playing. A typical sight would be his father with his sunglasses on no matter the weather, driving the buggy with my dad in front and my nan sitting at the back trying to hold on as his father drove way to fast hitting every bump he could find and just about staying upright. He would then drop them off next to their drive which had gone maybe 50 yards at most, which considering their limitations wasn’t bad. They would play their shots with his father laughing hysterically and taunting them from the buggy as their balls went another 50 yards. To just be on the golf course playing with the pain my father was in and the limitations he had was an inspiration to me. He didn’t care what anyone else thought as he was doing what he enjoyed.
There are many more memories I could talk about and many more things he enjoyed doing but we’ll be here hours if I go into everything, and nobody wants that including me. NAME will go into more of my dad’s hobbies and life later, but I hope what the memories I’ve talked about show is how my dad loved being around his family and always lived life to the fullest. I wish we had more years with him, but I can say with confidence that he was happy and content that he had an excellent life.
There are a few milestones I want to talk about that I know would be important to my dad.
My Mum and Dad met working in a bakery. The day he got married to my mum I know he would have felt so lucky to have found someone he loved and could spend his life with or as my nan put it when preparing for today, he married the best tart in the bakery. They were always there for each other, and I know my dad would have very much appreciated the emotional support she gave him especially the last few years. It wasn’t easy for her either dealing with my dad’s illness but I’m so proud of my mum and dad for how they dealt with everything. Susan and I could not have wished for better parents.
The day my sister NAME and I were both born but especially me were big moments for my dad and changed his life forever, hopefully for the better but maybe not always. Also, important moments were when his Grandchildren NAME and NAME were born who may not know how lucky they are to have had my dad around for the time they did but they will when they are older as they look back to Grampys example and guidance.
My dad was so happy that NAME and I had both found what he had with my mum. For NAME it was NAME and for me it was NAME. NAME and I have chosen the easier option of having dogs rather than children which my dad, despite saying he never wanted a dog around or had any interest in them ended up loving having both NAME and NAME around. He would play with them despite it being hard for him and enjoyed taunting them with toys and chews and they would taunt him back by leaving things just out of reach for him.
The day my sister NAME and NAME got married was an emotional and wonderful day for my dad. Getting to walk his daughter down the aisle was a happy and proud moment for him. we didn’t know if he’d be able to do it beforehand, but he wasn’t going to miss the chance, so he got through it as he always did. My dad was not known for speaking in large crowds or being confident at it, in fact it was the opposite. However, the speech he gave at NAME wedding was incredible, funny, emotional, and memorable. He spoke from the heart without anything prepared and I am so proud he not only got through it but delivered an unforgettable speech.
There was never any pressure put on me or NAME. The only thing he wanted for us was to be happy and if we were happy that was ok for him.
I want to finish by sharing what some of his closest family wanted me to say on their behalf. This is their words read out by me.
His Wife NAME says, Mark was the love of my life, my soulmate with so many happy years together. Those years were rich with happy memories with our family. No more pain and suffering now my darling, rest now. My everlasting love always.
His daughter NAME says, I could not have asked for a better dad. You were always supportive and patient in everything I did. Your Grandchildren NAME and NAME will remember you as wise and funny, you always took an interest in what they liked. I will miss you incredibly, but you will forever be in my heart.
His Mother NAME says, Words cannot say how much I will miss you. I get comfort that you are not in any pain now. Sleep my darling until we are together again.
His brother NAME says, I will love and miss you always, brother.
His Brother NAME says, Dear Brother I will start by saying at least you are now at peace and pain free. You will be deeply missed by us all, after all you were the diplomatic one of the family. Mark was the most patient and calm member of us all and nothing was any bother for him to do. Love you Mark God bless you and thank you for being my brother, Love NAME.
His Son in law NAME says, thank you for welcoming me into your family with nothing but love and kindness. We shared a love for formula 1 and I’ll think of you whenever I’m watching a race.
His Niece NAME says, Uncle Mark was always kind and caring to me and you could tell how much he loved his family. Whenever I visited and complained about something he always found a way to spin it in a positive light and give me a new perspective. My last memory is of him in his chair putting his jumper on which got stuck after his arms were through. He made me jump because I thought he was headless and gave us all a good laugh. I feel lucky to have had him as an uncle.
Finally, for me he was my hero. I owe him everything. I couldn’t have wished for a better man to look up to and learn from. My respect for how he lived his life despite the challenges he faced is immeasurable. He never complained, never worried, never gave up, he lived his life to the maximum he could, doing the things he enjoyed around the people he loved right until the very end.
Dad I’m going to miss you beyond words and its going to be hard, but I will draw from what you taught me and live my life the best I can. It is said that a person is never truly gone as long as they are still talked about. Well, the impact You had on those around you means stories of you will be passed down for generations. The memories I have of you will stay in my head and the love and respect I have for you will remain in my heart forever.
submitted by ferocious_puppy to grief [link] [comments]

2023.05.30 16:45 NickelTheWise WILDLIFE CH. 1-2

WILDLIFE by nickel
​
Story 1- Stone and Grass
Chapter 2- Behaviors
​
Emergency rooms were trained to be ready for any arrivals at any time of the day or night, but the strange cases that were arriving had the nurse practitioners baffled. Three had arrived at a little past 2am, and a further single was arriving presently. The ambulance had pulled away seconds after they'd carefully unloaded their unconscious cargo at the emergency entrance and were wheeling them inside, keeping an eye out for any changes. The lead of the two, a fox named Maxwell Forscythe, was handing over the paperwork for the patient and pre-planning the routes for the trauma center room to park them in.
"Student, male, early 20s, comatose, irregularities in BP and bodily temperature, is that all that could be gleaned on the ride over?" asked the nurse on duty. Maxwell's partner nodded. "We checked him as much as we could without disrobing him, not a scratch, just low core temp and a weakened pulse for someone his age, possible arhythmia maybe?" "No way to be sure 'til he's seen by the staff, and have the cardiologist have a look. Wheel him into Obs G202, it should be open." "Should be, Paul?" asked Maxwell. Paul looked up, half-awake. "It's open, okay? This place is going a little bananas after the previous patients, y'know."He grimaced at him and signaled his partner so they could move the gurney. The ward was a bit of distance, but there was no immediate danger as of yet. His partner, a human woman named Grisholm, was peering closely at the inert body. "See anything?" "Look, I'm not saying we need to check the patient's neck again, but this feels--" "Good grief, Griz, we already looked, he hasn't been sucked off by a vampire." Her face went very pink. "That's not what its called, it's 'drained'! and it can be anywhere, sure, but the neck or the leg, I mean... this is exactly how it goes, unless the person is just ripped to pieces." The fox sighed, using his mag-badge to open the double doors ahead. "Well, I'm pretty sure this guy wasn't ripped to pieces, but vampires, Griz? In Canada?" "The world is a mighty strange place sometimes, and small places are just where shit like this tends to go down. I'm just saying we should keep our eyes open today, that's all." "Just in case our friend here rises in the night to suck someone else off, yeah?" he teased, knowing exactly how to needle his friend. Grisholm was at a lack for words, just making half-syllables in protest as they reached the elevator. "I read that book you lent me, y'know, I see why you like this stuff so much." Grisholm looked deflated until she caught Max's eyes, one of which was winked with a grin. "It's alright, Griz... I do it too." Her friend looked a little placated, helping to push the patient into the lift and pressing the next floor button. "Let's just not rule it out yet, okay? Now, come on, game-face time, the day's already started."
​
Hours later, after an alarm deep in the Deckard Forest Range's only unnatural home had gone off and Kari had finished washing and getting dressed, the message was finally reported over the news, which she was watching on her phone with apt attention, her pupils widened in curiosity while automatically eating her breakfast.
"Hospital authorities are preparing a statement at this time, but have denied these mysterious cases as any sign for panic over unproven conditions, Jeremy?" Jeremy Cole was the on-site reporter, who the feed switched to, the hospital in the background full of activity from police standing watch, to people showing up to mill around as they often do. "That's right, Grace, the only details being released in surety, so far, point to the victims being discovered within our local favorite, Mt. Loyal University. They began arriving as early as 2 this morning, and the scenes have been under careful scrutiny. Whether or not these are scattered cases of extreme fatigue, or the beginnings of another infection sweeping the country is still no one's guess to make. Jeremy Cole, reporting live in Calgary, BCB News." "Thank you, Cole, we intend to keep this story updated as the facts are confirmed. Follow the progress on Flitter at--" Kari backed out of the video feed, thinking on the details that took place in the classroom yesterday, and of her gruff teacher. 'He wouldn't just succumb to weariness just like that, he would've gone to the teacher's lounge and caught a nap like he does,' she thought, getting up to pace a little, 'which means it was a sneak attack, practically untraceable, and enacted on the state of being for-" Her eyes widened again as she came to a stop, putting together some details towards a possible answer. Who was a restless-looking passerby that was headed in the direction of chemicals, many of which can be used to trigger invisible manners of attack? Who was passing the scene of the incident and looking particularly smug about something? Who smelled of sharp ethanol that could've been a fumigation bomb scent? "It was HIM!" she squawked suddenly, looking around as if a timebomb had just begun to countdown, hurrying over to get her shoes and jacket on, along with the standard wallet-phone-keys trifecta being pocketed. If anything, classes would be off or postponed during this weirdness, but she'd call on the drive over just to make sure. 'He's either here to steal some expensive artifacts, or... looking for someone, and either way doesn't look good.' She thought as she got onto the road to town, rolling her window down to catch the fresh, cold air of the morning.
The small lifeform had been moving around through the garden all day before heading towards a number of weird smells nearby. A long soil path led to a burnished wooden door, which the creature easily walked under. Within was a rainbow of enticing scents, and its sensors went wild probing all over the place to find small specks of food to chew up. Gradually, it found its way up to a huge, breathing creature of some kind, heaped in a pile in the corner of the chamber. The climb all over its body was an interesting journey for the intruder, but when it stepped onto an expanse lighter gray, the giant tensed up and awoke, turning its colossal head to slowly open huge eyes like golden boulders. It froze under this monstrous gaze, trying to look uninteresting, but a huge pair of digits picked it up, and its fate was sealed as it waited for the end.
"Hey, no visitors at this hour." said Tom, licking the small beetle off his finger to munch it up and lay back down, trying to let the blessed sleep come back, but he'd looked at his phone and seen the time, too late now. With a long exhale, he got up and began looking for a clean shirt, coming up empty except for the shirt he had on, so the day's errand was clear. "Well, thank god the plants don't have any clothes to take care of, I gotta feed them and see to their good health already." he said brightly, secretly picturing what the main garden would look like with the garden-life all sporting tiny sweaters and hats with a grin. A large knapsack was full of his clothes, the shirt and Jacket from yesterday were on, his shoes were worn, and he was carefully out back into the world, locking the Door behind him with the finesse of a safecracker. He put on some earbuds and began walking towards the main street, knowing he'd seen a laundromat there the day before. It felt like a good day to get something done; the weather was the pleasant side of chilly on the cloudless day, and folks seemed to be out walking the main street. Tom was in a rather good mood, also knowing of the beers in the knapsack to help the early afternoon chore along. And so, there he was 20 minutes later at 24 Laveuse, beginning the large load of laundry and setting back on the plastic seats, moving his tail so he didn't squash it. The place was a little empty and the small fenced area on one side of the parking lot made for good hiding, so he stepped outside to carefully get down to libations to pass the time. Traffic came and went like it usually did, one car taking the nearby right turn kind of harshly but otherwise nothing else of notice. There was a wandering guy with the air of a bum about him, sort of haunting the crossroads, and Tom privately hoped he would carry on before attracting police. Strangely enough, another short parade of cars was going thru the town, looking like a gangsta's funeral procession. Tom stared vacantly until they were gone, and he was starting to wonder just what this town's deal was. It was at this moment that the hands emerged silently from behind and seized his arms tightly, hauling him back with sudden urgency before he could panic properly. "What the fuck?! You wanna... god, wha-?" he barked, only to be hauled back harder into the side alley by the building, and out of sight. "Careful, dammit, there's a beverage here-" The tall can was smacked out of his hand. "Hey! what's your damage, guy?" Tom demanded as he was turned around roughly, only to meet those same blue eyes and red hair from yesterday. "Oh, wait, it's you fro--" Kari got her best threat display face on and poked a claw to the underside of his chin, which managed to inescapably encourage his silence."Now, answers, spill 'em, what were you really up to yesterday?" she now demanded. "I don't know what you're talking about, I was just looking for my friend to return a phone charger." "You didn't say that." "You didn't ask." he replied mildly, averting his gaze in a condescending manner. Kari growled in her throat and tightened her grip on his shoulders. "Watch it, wise-ass. Did you see or hear anything before the disturbance yesterday?" "What disturbance, I was already on my way when people found him." Her face went almost sideways in an accusative scowl. "Don't play dumb, I saw your ass drifting thru that crowd, and you saw me looking at you, captain salute." Tom's face contorted in regret. "You saw that, huh." "Yeah, I did." she grunted before slamming him roughly to the wall and releasing him. Tom looked as angry as he could without looking confrontational; something about her strength and methods did not point to a fight with any outcome but a grievous loss on his side. "Alright," he said, stepping back one step to opt for a cigarette from his fresh pack and turning from her to light it, "So I was near the scene, what else have you got?" Her angered look softened a micrometer and she took a few steps, mostly to get away from the rich smoke. "The guy from yesterday, the unconscious one? He was a good man, good teacher, and now his life might be in danger. You were at least in the hallway over there, did you see or hear anything that'd help out with finding the culprit?" "Help out?" he said, plucking the cig from his lips, "Look, Ms. Conrad, I-" "Conniff." "Whatever! I was just passing thru and it just felt like you got stuck having to deal with the cops, alright? It was rude to snark you, I apologize, I thought you were just in trouble or something. Apart from my friend, there wasn't really anybody on that side of the building that wasn't behind doors." Kari looked him over, trying to get a read on his intentions, and he seemed to notice this with disdain. "What's your deal anyways, apple-polisher, you some sort of local hero or something?" Tom continued, dragging on the smoke while shooting her a look. She frowned this time, an expression without anger that was a different face entirely. "He's a friend of mine, one of the few I have. You would do the same if it was someone you cared about, wouldn't you?" Tom almost answered honestly, but he was too mad to focus on polite truths. "No, I wouldn't, and I don't think you would either." he snapped, "I'm a pragmatist, number one's the only thing I came into this world worried with, and it's the only number I'll need." "Wow, okay, I thought you were just a sneaky guy before, but now I can see you're just an asshole." "And so are you, Ms. Confit, and I can't stand people that pretend to care." "Who's pretending? Frankly, *I* can't stand little shits like you who think their lousy life is free license to take everybody down with them." Tom was really mad now, and was almost considering lighting the fire in this fulminating argument, but he just sneered and flicked his cigarette ahead, stepping bitterly on it as he left. "You don't have anything I need, nor do I have anything you need, we're even. Now leave me alone, will you?" Kari wanted to kick his ass so badly in that fury-soaked moment. "I don't think anyone needs anything you've got, Mr. Blackberry, least of all YOU.. and it's CONNIFF, you son of a bitch!" she snarled at the retreating raccoon. "Actually, I can think of something I need from someone." he said, turning suddenly. "Yeah, and what's that, a chemical shower?" "No, you owe me a beer, kitty cat!" They were easily half a foot from each other now, staring daggers into daggers. The snow leopard spat harshly on the ground and left in a weaponized huff, tail twitching madly behind her. Tom felt the heat in his ears still peaking. "I better not see you again, or it'll be too soon!" he called after her, "And I smell bad because of my dirty laundry I carried, not because- well, I meant to put this shirt in with.. ohhhh, god DAMMIT!" and he kicked at the wall of the building before stomping back to check his clothes. "Bitch..." he muttered, trying to leave the incident behind.
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