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TIFU by not realizing I was staring at someone's breasts.

I work as a table games dealer in a tribal casino thats still open during the pandemic. In order to stay as safe as possible the casino has put up plexiglass barriers on all the tables between the dealer and the players with enough room under for the players to place bets and pick up cards. Ive recently realized that on certain games, (pai gow, 3 card poker, pitch blackjack) i can see the reflection of players cards in their hands on the plexiglass. Ive been using this information to entertain my players by telling them I can guess their hands based purely on their eyes expression. (Everyone's wearing masks for covid) its all for entertainment purposes and there is no cheating involved. Most of my player get a kick out of it. One player did not.
A young lady in her 30s in a slightly revealing top sits in the only open spot on my pai gow table. I deal the cards, and start looking around at the players hands. Her first hand is a full house. Three aces and a pair of 9s.
Without realizing that looking at the reflecion of the plexiglass puts my eyes in direct line of site to her chest, i look at her, point at her cards, give a big thumbs up and say "very nice". she had missunderstood my comment of her cards as a comment about her chest and started to flip out.
I didn't realize what was going on for a second. My floor came over wondering what was going on. The player told my floor I was being "perverted" and a pig. I was honestly confused because I hadn't realized what had happened. My floor (who really doesn't like me) started asking the player what happened before asking me. The player said I was ogling her tits (her words) and making obscene comments. The floor was highly surprised by the accusation, mainly because everyone knows im a married man and I don't generally make comments about woman's appearances.
The whole time she's talking to my floor, she has her cards face down on the table. She doesnt know that I know what's in her hand. She's talking about me needing to be fired and that she wanted to talk to the top manager in my department. My floor goes to the phone to call the pit boss (without asking for my side of the story).
While the floor is at the phone, I first apologize, then I explain to the lady I was complimenting her on her full house. She gets a confused look in her eyes. I say "I was commenting on your hand. You have 3 aces and 2 9s." She asks me how I know what her hand is. I explained that I can see her cards in the reflection of the plexiglass. I even tell her the guy on last spot has a pai gow. He flips his hand over and shows that he does indeed have a pai gow. (Pai gow means no pair in hand)
She gets quiet for a second, then apologizes for accusing me of being inappropriate. The floor comes over and tells her the pit boss is on his way. The lady says it was all a misunderstanding and stands up from the game after i finish paying everyone.
I get off the game, explain to the pit boss what happened, and he just laughs it off. The floor however, hasn't heard my explanation, nor knew what really happened. This morning ive recieved 3 different texts from coworkers about the incident. The floor has apparently told a bunch of our coworkers that i complimented a ladies chest, and now my department thinks I'm a pervert.
TL;DR was falsely accused of staring at a woman's chest, now my entire department at work thinks I'm a pervert.
submitted by jessedjd to tifu [link] [comments]

My most recent trip to jail. I am the user formally known as OpiLobster

Hello everyone. Some of you may remember my opilobster account. Ive been to jail several times over the last couple years. Some of you were kind enough to write me and I truly appreciate it. I was on first offender probation but this last stay in jail completed it. The judge was really nice to me and just terminated the rest of my probation for 6 months in jail and she let me keep my first offender which means that it cleared this off my record and now im no longer a felon. Here is the story of how it happened.
Warning this is a long and pretty dumb story about me sneaking drugs into jail and what my stay at the jail was like and some other random dumb stuff about my life. Only recommended for the very bored.
I was in a bad position and had just started selling drugs to help keep a roof over my head and myself and a girl I was seeing and one of our mutual friends had just gone to score. I had got 7 suboxone pills and 25 xanax bars for someone. My girl had got like 20 bars for herself and the mutual friend had got some heroin that I didnt know about. I wasnt using h at the time. We got back to our hotel room and I decided to take a shower since I wasnt meeting to sell what I had to the guy until the next day. I wasnt even in the shower before a knock comes at the door saying my girl had overdosed. Her and I had both been taking xanax but she had decided to do a shot as soon as my back was turned. I told the friend to call 911 and I moved her off the bed and onto the floor and started doing cpr and trying to get her to start breathing again. I knew that calling the cops would probably get me a probation violation if I didnt already have one but I didnt hesitate and never have hesitated to call 911 to get someone help even when I was calling for someone I despised. Well this was a bad hotel in a bad area and apparently the cops were already there so they made it up to the room in less than a minute. Only then did I realize I had a pocket full of pills.
I guess they have had a lot of overdoses there because they had a medic with them. As he is seeing to my girl another cop makes me and my friend sit on the bed and starts taking our names. My mind is racing. I figure I am going to jail since I did have a warrant but my probation officer said she would take the warrant off if I paid off my fines which I did but I didnt know if my PO was tricking me or had taken it off. I always assume the worst so I figured I still had a warrant and if I didnt then being at a place like that around people doing drugs and having drugs would be enough to earn me a probation violation. When asked for my name I gave the cops a shortened version of my middle name and my last name hoping this would buy me a little time without getting me in trouble for giving false info. One of the cops went to his car to run our names and one stayed to watch us. While this was going on 2 EMTs had shown up and them along with the medic were deciding what to do with my gf. She wasnt breathing so they decided to narcann her. When they narcanned her and it started working she suddenly made this large horrific gasping noise and tried to sit up like someone coming back from the dead, literally. When this happened all eyes in the room, including the cop that was supposed to be watching us, were on her. This gave me my chance. I quickly stuck my hands in my pockets and grabbed the 2 baggies of pills and all with one motion as I leaned forward I stuck the 2 baggies in between my butcheeks. Without a second to spare the watcher cop looked at me and said "woah woah DO not move!" to which I replied something like "im sorry im just so worried." The name checker cop was back with a portable fingerprint scanner thingy and demanded I submit to it since he couldnt find me in their system. I complied and he said I do have a warrant. They were nice enough to walk my gf out and down to the ambulance before standing me up and searching me and putting the cuffs on me.
The cop frisked me quite thoroughly and then started telling me he knew I had drugs and I needed to just admit to it and I wouldnt be charged with anything since there is a law preventing such things at an overdose call. My friend gave up his dope. I said I had nothing. I think the cop would have made it where I got another probation violation if I did have drugs. As I sat down in the back of the police car the last bar I had taken started to kick in but my mind was still racing. I figured I was going to prison since this was my 4th probation violation. Since I was on first offender they could re sentence me (this is what probation tried to do in court, resentence me and send me to prison for 6 months and then have me get out and restart my 5 years of probation and be a felon for life. Thank God for my awesome sweet old lady judge who said I look like such a nice young man). I was as worried as someone whos taken several xanax bars can be but I was so very thankful my girl was OK. I blacked out on the way to the jail and I remember the part where they made me go through their body scanner thingy because it was my moment of truth. Their body scanner can basically scan to look through your clothing and saves them from having to strip search people. I have heard so many rumors about this machines magical powers over the years. People think it x rays you and all manner of craziness but I knew exactly what it did because I had to sit by it every day when coming back from outside work detail the previous year. They of course found nothing. I then blacked out and came to 6 days later. When I black out on xanax I just keep eating them. I had such big plans of only taking small amounts of xanax and then selling everything when I got to gen pop and being rich. That never happened. Since I was heavily intoxicated they put me in the detox pod for my first week. In that pod you only get like 30 min of free time a day and thats if you are lucky. Its worse than 23 and 1. I had little pieces of green xanax bar on my desk and in my bin. I have no clue how I made it without getting caught. I actually had a tremendously anxiety stirring moment where I had to go ask the guard to please look up what I was being held for to make sure I hadnt got caught with drugs and just didnt remember it after someone told me how they remember seeing me in holding periodically taking a bag out of my ass crack and eating pills out of it in holding where there are multiple cameras. /facepalm. I am such a damn idiot on bars. I thought I was a genius when I came up with the idea to sneak in drugs since they dont strip search you at that jail. Now I realize how very risky and stupid this move was. I never make store when I am locked up so I thought it was my ticket to eating and smoking good this time, yes my county jail is one of the very very few that still allows smoking and sells ciggs on store.
When I came out of the blackout I discovered everyone hated me and thought I was retarded. When I came out for pill call I was so far gone I couldnt remember which cell was mine so I would go around trying them all until a unit worker would have to come walk me back. I would fall asleep waiting for my name to be called during pill call or while they were checking my blood pressure, I hit on nurses and at least once after taking my meds I tried to curl up under a table and go to sleep like some sort of animal. The daytime guard hated me so much she told me if I said one thing to her she was going to make sure I ended up on suicide watch for 7 days. This would be much worse than the hole because they put you into a padded tamper proof suit the size of a xxl t shirt with a tiny tamper proof blanket that isnt nearly enough to keep you warm in the super cold cell they put you in and give you a mat to sleep on. No sheet or cover or anything and its miserably cold. Everyone I know thats been said suicide watch is way worse than the hole. Her threat scared me and I kept quiet. When the next shift came on the guard muttered "this mental health mothafucker right here" under his breath and shook his head as he approached me. I said "whats that supposed to mean man" and looked at him like wtf. He just looked at me shocked like he was surprised I could speak English. Later during our 30 minutes of free time he came and talked to me. He asked "you dont remember me do you?" I said no. He said "I was here several nights since they brought you in. You were in bad shape. We all thought you were permanently brain damaged from the drugs. I am glad you were able to come back from it opilobster." All I could say was "me too and drugs are bad mmkay."
The next day I was moved to my general population pod and was put into a special prototype rehab pod. It was some brand new pod for a program they started at the jail. Everyone in the pod is drug addicts. I wish I had those bars and subs then. It would have been perfect. Also I could have kept a few subs for myself and spent many happy days nodding. Since its a lot harder to get drugs in this county jail compared to others and prison I could have charged a kings ransom for the drugs I had. I stayed in that pod instead of transferring to a work pod like I would normally do because the pod was supposed to look really good in court. I dont think being in it helped me but who knows. They did various classes every day and after you had attended enough they would give you letters vouching for you to take to court and certificates. The program also advocated for rehab instead of prison and would help you find and pay for a rehab. None of the fancy ones btw but better than nothing. They also would help you find housing and get clothes and stuff once you are out. I still need to talk to them now that I am out since I want to get everything I can out of that jail. I just talked with a friend that got out recently and they did pay $2,000 towards his rent and apparently they will do it for me all I have to do is get a rental agreement or lease or whatever with my name on it. I am going to work on this as soon as I have time. They also made us sign waivers to be on the news. The cynical side of me thinks this is all just some ploy to show everyone how great they are doing to get more funding but idk.
While being in jail and having no one to put money on my books I had to come up with hustles to feed myself and have ciggs. One good one I had was rolling peoples ciggs for them. They sell mostly roll your own ciggs which comes with a pouch of tobacco and rolling papers. Many people cant roll very well so I would roll all their ciggs for them and they would end up giving me a good portion of their tobacco. Aside from that I did a little writing and drawing and did a bit of gambling at a game called spades which I am very good at from being locked up so much. Then I became kitty for the poker game and got to be jail rich. The kitty is the person who holds onto all the items being bet for poker and keeps up with who owes what and who is owed what and collects everything and pays out. I ran this professionally and was very careful about being discreet bc if you got one of the absolutely awful officers they can technically give you a new charge for facilitating gambling. Its utter bullshit and Idk if it would stick but it has happened. Also you have to watch out for people that lose and dont want to pay or jackasses trying to steal the kitty. Both happened but I was able to take care of it. For dealing with this whole headache I got 2 poker chips per hand of poker played. 10 chips equal a soup (a pack of ramen noodles) so for every 5 hands of poker played I earned an item/soup. It wasnt just soups that were played for of course there was always much better stuff like chips, bags of coffee, pouches of tuna, honey buns, the rare pack of ciggs etc. I only allowed good items to be paid with because they had a big problem with people paying in bullshit items like bottles of water. Hell no, not in my house. I always hated being the bearer of bad news and having to go collect in the morning like "hey you owe 30 items from yesterday so go ahead and throw all your food into my trash can here". lol. Those guys played poker all free time every free time so I usually earned 25-35 soups worth of items a day. I didnt play so I literally couldnt lose. They were all playing a game called "I win" they just didnt know it. Everyone said I was the best kitty they had ever seen. I always collected and paid out promptly with good items and I was super discreet. The guy who replaced me would apparently sit right at the poker table with his reading glasses on, the box of chips in his lap and a notebook with everyones names along with how many items they were up or down at the moment. He got caught pretty quickly and sent to the hole. If you get sent to the hole you automatically are out of the special program which on top of losing everything it offers including the chance at a lighter sentence you got sent to another pod/dorm/unit which really really sucked at the time bc as soon as the corona stuff started the rest of the jail got put on what they call A/B schedule which means free time is split in half. The top floor of the unit comes out for half of free time and then the bottom floor comes out for the other time. This sucks tremendously because you only get half of your normal free time you are used to. They told me the poor ol guy started crying once he found he was getting sent out. I tried to tell him how discreet I was but he insisted he knew his shit since he was kitty in his old unit for months even though we were supposed to be a specialty unit held to a higher standard and in a unit made to fight addictions they were watching a little harder than all the other units. He thought since he wrote "physical training push ups owed" at the top of the sheet that tallied items owed he would out smart them lol. He even wrote down all the players' names. Ugh. I ate well the whole time I was the kitty there. It was definitely worth the risk. I went from being one of the poorest guys in there to being the richest and I also ran store (I would loan someone 2 of something now for 3 of that item back when store arrives) so I did well for myself. Wish I had those damn subs tho. I was able to buy subs a couple of times in jail this time because the jail had just started letting people who had scripts get their medicine at the jail but each time it was a huge hassle because the person had to be taken down to medical to dose and then sneak it back while getting searched several times and the prices were absolutely insane. About $7.50 per mg but damn with no tolerance that shit got me feeling great.
It might not have been such a great idea to put all of the hardcore drug addicts into one unit since I made a lot of friends in there so now I have a bunch of new friends on facebook who could help me get drugs if I wanted. I am currently trying to do right again and only talk to the friends I made in there who are also trying to do right but if I wanted to I could have used my trip there to greatly expand my drug connections which is exactly what some people did. I had a ton in common with many of the ppl there. We had plugs and friends in common etc. It is good that they are trying to get people into rehab instead of prison. Thankfully my judge liked me. She even said in court that she likes me and I am not a bad guy Im just bad at doing probation and all of the time I had done because of probation violations was a lot more than the time I would have got from the original charge. I got very very very lucky with her. Most other judges wouldve taken probations recommendations.
When my gf went to the hospital she hid her drugs in her vagina. In a barred out moment of stupidity she hid them somewhere in the hospital then forgot. Once she was discharged she went back in to try to retrieve them. None of us including her know how but she got caught with the drugs trying to go into part of the hospital she wasnt supposed to while bartarded. She got 2 possession charges from it and she had just missed court for a previous possession charge. She did like 3 months in jail then got out on probation for the original possession charge but now she has 2 more pending. She also just got a DUI and driving on suspended license charge about a week ago. Since covid they arent trying to take people to jail unless they have to so they just charged her and gave her 2 tickets telling her to appear in court. In her barred out haze she thought this meant she got away with it since she didnt go to jail. Shes just realized she did get charged and will have to go to court. She hasnt yet realized that these 2 new charges violate her probation and she will have to go to jail because of it. I havent broken it to her yet. She is someone I care for very deeply and she was absolutely distraught about me being locked up at first. She had a mental breakdown and lost her mind for a couple months. Everyone told me about how suicidal and insane she was. Upon getting a portion of her mind back after id been in jail for like 3.5 months without hearing from her she apparently decided to start talking to her ex bf about possibly getting together. They didnt hook up or anything like that but its too much for me and her and I arent together anymore. It is sad because she is not at all the person I was in a relationship with at the beginning of the year. She has massive anxiety constantly and some times hears voices and stuff. Within 30 minutes of us being around each other after I got out she had got completely naked and was in my arms but I didnt let it go any further than that. It was like she momentarily forgot everything that happened and we were like we were before to her. I hate it. Shes so sad now. I was always her rock when it came to her mental health, I talked her through her problems and she always knew she was safe and everything was alright when I was there with her but I cant be there with her anymore. Things have been going worse and worse for her and she doesnt know it yet but she is going to have to do some time because of all these charges and violations. I absolutely hate it for her and wish I could get the girl that was loaded into that ambulance the day before valentines day back. : (
Well that is the long crazy story of OpiLobsters hopefully last trip to jail. I am off probation finally. To anyone who wrote to me in jail (not this year since my info didnt get posted, but last year when I was in jail then work release) thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wish I had the list of people who wrote me so I could thank them but I left my phone in that hotel room and all my possessions from it got stolen or thrown out who knows. Yes I remembered to hide my suboxone and xanax in my ass cheeks but forgot to take my phone for my property. I lost it and everything I owned and am now trying to start over from 0 with nothing.
Sorry for the crazy long post. Hopefully some will enjoy it. I know some people are interested in a sneak peek into what jail is like and what drugs in jail are like.

TLDR Got busted when I called 911 for someone overdosing because I had a warrant for probation violation. I snuck in xanax and suboxone in my buttcheeks since they dont make you strip or squat and cough during intake at the county jail near me. I blacked out for about a week. It was stupid. I am stupid. Bars make you do stupid stuff.
submitted by Powerctx to opiates [link] [comments]

A close examination of the story. Part 22: What exactly did Katarina do for the cabal and the KGB?

In this series we have been examining the apparent narrative, and finding how it crumbles when it is subjected to scrutiny. The Blacklist resembles a massive illusion, both in the narrative to the audience, as well as the story as it occurred within the show. I think that what is underneath the illusion is far more interesting. It is master storytelling.
We turn now to examine what the emerging real story looks like, beneath the facade.
We had questioned the narrative that Katarina was a a KGB agent. We did a bit when we examine it in Part 3 & Part 2, and concluded she could not have been really a bona fide KGB agent. The attitude of the KGB and the CIA was not consistent with that. The CIA seem less than inclined to want to find her, the KGB was trying to through Anton Velov, then the OUC.
But what was Katarina doing then? What was she doing for the cabal? Why were so many people wanted her dead, forming the Townsend Directive, led by a mysterious figure, Neville Townsend. What is this business with the Sikorsky Archive, that Fakerina is hell bent on finding, going as far as saving Red if it secures her Liz's goodwill?
First, let us do a quick recount on Katarina's supposed comrades:
Ilya Koslov had to have been an identity of Ilya pretending to be a KGB agent, because the FBI does not have information of a supposed Russian diplomatic worker working in the inexistent Russian Embassy in Washington DC in 1991. So, "Ilya Koslov" is a ghost because there was no Ilya Koslov. Ilya, however, exists and is a childhood friend of Red and who Katarina turns to in her hour of need.
Dom, her father, is also a ghost, a man supposedly investigated by the CIA for being a KGB operative, but whose prints and face are not in the system. That looks like a scrub job. I doubt Dom was a real KGB agent, but he was intelligence of some sort.
Fakerina seems to have been involved in the "Katarina Rostova" identity as one of the Katarinas. It is unclear what did she know of the entire scheme. She seems to think Dom and Ilya were KGB and was unaware that Ilya and Red are childhood friends, she knew of Dom's daughter, but is unclear what else she knew about her.
So, if Dom and Ilya were not really KGB agents but were pretending to be so, exactly what was Katarina doing for the KGB and what was she doing for the CIA. And what was she doing for the cabal and Alan Fitch?
Who is Neville Townsend, that Ilya says he cannot stop him?
YOUNG DOM: Do you know they've assembled a directive? The Russian Vory, KGB, the Americans, her enemies have pooled their resources and put a bounty on her head. They're calling it the Townsend Directive.
YOUNG ILYA: Neville Townsend?
YOUNG DOM: He's at the top of a very long list of people who want her dead.
YOUNG ILYA: Are you worried they'll find you?
YOUNG DOM: I'm worried they'll find Masha, try and leverage her.
YOUNG ILYA: Look, Dom, I I can't help you.
YOUNG DOM: You made a promise! To Katarina. You told her you would look after Masha if anything happened to her.
YOUNG ILYA: Yes, but I can't call off Townsend. And he will not stop looking.
Seems clear Ilya knows who this Neville Townsend is.
Another interesting point is the list Dom gives of the people looking for Katarina:
The Russian Vory, KGB, the Americans,
Note he never says, at the time they are discussing this, which is after Katarina disappeared, likely even after the surgery even, possibly years later, during the Belgrade affair, that the CIA is after her.
Contrast then what Red tells Kate circa 1997:
Katarina was a traitor to two countries, both global superpowers.
which coincides with what Katarina told Kate in 1991:
The KGB uncovered my affair with Raymond, which means US Intelligence knows as well. Both sides are tracking me down.
forget the cockamamie reason: the KGB would be happy with her affair. It was supposedly the job. Seduce RR and her information. But what Katarina told Kate was that she was being chased by BOTH sides:
Both sides are tracking me down.
and that is further established by what Red tells Jennifer when he is desperate to get to Naomi, and Jennifer is demanding truth:
In 1990, the KGB and the CIA had almost nothing in common except the mutual determination to hunt down one individual.
So, what we KNOW, is that while in 1990/91 Katarina had BOTH KGB and CIA after her, by the time Dom and Ilya meet in Belgrade, the CIA is absent of the list:
The Russian Vory, KGB, the Americans,
The KGB is after her (or its successors), as they were since 1991, since they sent Velov and then the OUC. Nothing has changed there.
Russian organized crime is after her. So, likely their links to power are threatened. Look at Motya Morozov, who has someone with the same last name, who was the Minister of Finance, and he used to be employed by the cabal.
Motya Morozov, part of the Russian Vory, and Kiryl Morozov, former KGB & cabal operator and later Minister of Finance
And when Dom says "the Americans" we are meant to connect that the CIA is still after her. But they are not. They are now protecting her. So, between 1991 when they were chasing her, and the time Belgrade happens, which we do not know when it did, the CIA had learned that Katarina was not a traitor to them:
KATARINA TO DOM: I am not a traitor.
So, the Americans after her, are not the CIA. She was not a traitor to them. She is now being protected. Likely someone high in power told the CIA to leave her alone. Alan Fitch?
So are the American who are after her, the goons, the organized crime that were also benefiting from the cabal? Are these Americans the ones in Bonn?
And IF as it seems Katarina was truly a CIA officer, operative or agent, then it means that in 1990, they believed she had betrayed them, becoming a double agent, but later on they were told or convinced she was not such.
IF she had been CIA masquerading as KGB, that likely means she had been a covert agent. Someone skilled at making people believe she was someone different than who she really was.
And IF she had been a covert agent, she would likely had been in contact with another CIA officer who decades later, headed the Clandestine Services: Peter Kotsiopolus. Who seems quite happy to kill Liz, once he ascertain who Liz was.
Especially if Peter, who decades earlier might have been a handler, had been "betrayed" by Katarina working for someone higher up the food chain, Alan Fitch, who in 2013 is the Assistant Director of national Security, but who in 1991 might have had a different job. And since he is buried in Arlington, that might have been a job with the US military.
Fitch is buried in Arlington
Going over his head, making him a fool. A man who was quietly biding his time until he could get one up on Fitch. Sure Reddington did not have the fulcrum. Eager to have him killed.
Was it Peter who sent the bones & body parts to Berlin? An incredibly cruelty.
Whoever did so, was hoping that Berlin would annihilate whoever he held responsible. The question is, who did the person who sent those bones believed this person to be? Reddington? Maybe this person believed it was someone different, someone who could have approached Berlin's daughter, someone who would also present as a dissident. Maybe someone like Katarina.

With that explored, what was Katarina really doing? What is the narrative and what seems to check out?

It is a difficult endeavor, as Red seems to be using Redspeak to confuse anything related to Katarina. Not once has he talked about her to Liz as just "Katarina". Only as "your mother", "Katarina Rostova" or "she and her". He uses Katarina to Dembe, Dom, Kate and Ilya.
But who is who? When is Red talking about Katarina (Dom's daughter), the woman who raised Liz, and when is he talking about Fakerina, a woman whose real name he does not know, and who seems to have had some sort of relationship with?
IF that were the only two there were. I feel there has to be more. Three at least, because Fakerina is not sure why was she chosen.
Let us start by what we know is about Katarina for sure.

The most important piece of information Red gives Liz refers to secrets Katarina, as a secret keeper, "took with her" when she disappeared.

Red tells Liz this in 3.11 [Daniel Knauff, writer] when Red shows Liz a map, and tells her why she cannot just walk away:
RED: The Cabal is in green. Their affiliates are in red. Their competition is in blue. Since I've been a fugitive, the pestilence on this map has only grown. This is what we're up against-- a multi-headed hydra. You cut off one head, it grows two others, you have to cut off every head and burn the rest of it. It's a mythic battle, and it's not anywhere close to being over.
LIZ: It's your battle, not mine.
RED: I wish that were true, Lizzy. But the manhunt revealed certain facts that had long been hidden about you.
LIZ: Me?
RED: Katarina Rostova was a name that had been lost to history. Masha Rostova was never more than suspicion and rumor. The manhunt and the publicity it generated changed all of that.
LIZ: But who would care that I'm Katarina Rostova's daughter?
RED: The daughter of a legendary spymaster, the secret-keeper who disappeared - ... The secrets she took with her could compromise any number of players on that map.
LIZ: But I don't know anything.
RED: They don't know that. You can't walk away, Lizzy. They won't let you.
When this aired, I thought this was singularly important. It was not the fulcrum, which was long exposed. This gave us the reason why Katarina is hiding:
a legendary spymaster, the secret-keeper who disappeared. The secrets she took with her could compromise any number of players on that map.
This has to be the Sikorsky Archive (SA). It also tells us the SA contains information not only on the cabal, but related players and even competition. But the cabal seemed weakened, yet, there is one level of the cabal we have not learn much about it other than location, it seems singularly important:
THE DIRECTOR TO SOLOMON: if you don't and our friends in Bonn learn of your insubordination, I don't think they're gonna be very pleased.
The higher echelon of the cabal is located in Bonn, which was the capital of West Germany during the Cold War.
Germany was divided during the Cold War. Bonn was the capital of West Germany.
And it tells us that even though Liz was 4 years old when her mother Katarina disappeared, "they" would come for her. If that is because they believe a four year old would know something, or because she is leverage, is unknown.
One thing is worth remembering, though. Liz, even with her tampered memories tampered, even if she does not recall faces, she remembers words:
Is it possible that Liz knows something she does not know she does? Like the location of the stolen archive, hidden in a nursery rhyme, a song with changed lyrics, a child story?
Is Liz's burn the result of an accident, or is it a mark of some sort, maybe to identify her?
What is not certain is why would she take this information with her. Was it the objective of her being involved? Was it insurance? is it something she is protecting to use it? What we know is that Ilya seems to have been involved in it, but it is uncertain if they were accomplices, or if he had tried finding it, or got involved by association.

What is certain is that that object or knowledge that Katarina took with her when she disappeared, has secrets that are damaging to powerful people. It tells is why is she hiding.

We know too then, that Ilya is involved with the Archive, and now Fakerina is trying to find it. The secrets in the SA are lethal:
How many times have I told you? Leave it alone. I warned you. Even saying the name Katarina Rostova has consequences, and now you see. Now you see what that name will make others do.
Note the curious wording. Not the normal one: 'Even mentioning HER (Katarina) has consequences, and now you see. Now you see what HER name will make others do.'
This tells us that whatever Katarina do, she was a secret keeper in that name and mentioning the name, a name that seems to have been inhabited by many women has consequences, in that people would come out of the woodwork to do unspeakable things.
Katarina seemed to have been then collecting information, or stealing a collection of damaging information on many players involved with the cabal. Almost make it seem like the fulcrum was a decoy for the real thing. Given that the CIA is not really trying to find her, it would seem they were not affected by it. We can then gather that the secrets are not from the American players of the cabal.
this is what Fakerina tells Liz the SA is:
Do you know what the Sikorsky Archive is? ... It's a blackmail file. It has compromising information on very powerful people. I've been accused of stealing it. He knows I didn't. I think he knows who did.
What is not clear is who commissioned her to do so, if anyone did. What it sounds like is the way Red described the fulcrum:
The Fulcrum.... It's a blackmail file-- proof of the existence of an extraordinarily powerful clandestine organization. If their activities were made public, some of the most powerful and influential men would go to prison or be executed.
Peter sees the fulcrum for the first time. he had examined the pieces, as if he did not know it had pieces, or had seen the pieces before, but not know what they were.
Is it possible that Red believed the fulcrum was the Sikorsky Archive? Because when we looked at the fulcrum, it exposed the cabal members, but was not blackmail. It would undermine the cabal. The entire thing. Not specific members, including the one who supposedly created the thing, Alan Fitch, dead by the time was exposed.
Unless the fulcrum was a decoy for the Sikorsky Archive. Or part of the Archive. Unless that device was made in a such a way that different codes unlock different parts.
The exposure of the fulcrum debilitated the cabal, but it is still there. The Bonn faction or echelon is still active. Now we have compromising information. Was it in them, or was the Archive taken out of Russia, containing information that compromises them?

The second fact we have is that even if the tape of Minister D was recorded as a "get out of jail card" for Red, because it is hard to imagine two seasoned intelligence people discussing things openly, with no code words, and in an unsecured line, the fact that Katarina and Alan Fitch recorded it tells us they DID work together. It serves as confirmation of this part of Rassvet:
DOM: Remember, all this happened as the Soviet Union was collapsing. She betrayed all of us.
LIZ: By working with the Cabal.
DOM: By helping to fan the flames of an uprising. Many powerful people were looking for your mother, and she knew she needed to disappear, to fade away.
Dom never mentions a cabal, but it is clear she was working with Fitch, parts of which we see in Rassvet. A curious part, because she tells her mother and her father diametrically opposed things:
KATARINA TO LENA: Because I'm a traitor. And they'll think you're a traitor, too. They'll think you're on my side.
KATARINA TO DOM: I am not a traitor.
The KGB believed her to be a traitor, dispatching Anton Velov to hunt her, then the Osterman Umbrella Company:
Your mother loved that photograph. Represented everything she wanted but couldn't have. Not after she betrayed the KGB. After that, she was a hunted woman.... Hunted by the Osterman Umbrella Company.... A burn notice can mean kill or capture. When it's kill, they're the hit squad of choice.
So, It seem as we explored in part 2, Katarina's mother was KGB, but Dom was not. This puts these lines from Rassvet into perspective:
No, Papa, listen to me. You have to go. You can't come back here.... Moscow's gonna fall. It's only a matter of time. You have to leave.
Former KGB involved with the cabal stayed in Russia, after the USSR fell. An example? The esteemed relative of Motya Morozov, one of the goon who bought into the Townsend Directive bounty:
RED: Motya, I need to take care of this myself. It's personal.
MOTYA: Ah. Do you know your conversations with the Minister of Finance single-handedly responsible for getting my operations pushed out of Kiev? I lost millions in rail lines alone. I lost my relationship with contractors, politicians
Back in 2015, when the team was trying to find the man responsible for faking the death of Berlin's daughter, and setting the bombing at Kursk, they discover that the man who set the explosives was Kiryl Morozov, a man who back then was a low level KGB officer, and rose to the rank of Minister of Finance:
COOPER: Kiryl Morozov. He was a low-level KGB operative.
NAVABI: And today?
COOPER: One of the most powerful men in Russia.
WRIGHT: Kiryl Morozov is one of Putin's most trusted advisers. The man runs the finance ministry.
COOPER: And we have reason to believe he's responsible for the 1991 bombing in Kursk that left -
WRIGHT: 12 people dead. In Russia.
so, if Morozov not only could stay in Russia, but seemed to have benefited from the cabal's activities in rising to a position of great power, why did Dom have to leave?
Add it to his being a ghost, and the answer is clear: Because Dom was not KGB. If he was involved with them, was as a double agent. But it is more likely that the reason Katarina is warning him to get out, is because the KGB discovered she was not really KGB, and Dom would become persona non-grata. Accused of espionage. Maybe false flag operations
would a real GB use Russian explosives? Or would that be the work of a non-KGB to create a false flag operation?
Since the KGB seemed to have really wanted to get their hands on Katarina, while the CIA seem to still work hard at not finding her, or her relatives, the deduction is an easy one: Katarina masqueraded as a KGB agent, but was really CIA, with a burn notice. Her existence is denied. Dom seemed to have a cover blown, and so did Ilya.
What was the cabal's apparent objective? Quoting from a letter from Lukas Reiter:
The CABAL was engaged in a global conspiracy to bring about the fall of the Soviet Union. The players agreed that, once the Soviet Union was dismantled, the world would enter a 25 year period of instability, allowing the group to profit from the political and economic uncertainty that followed. Afterward, the world would return to a Cold War posture, with the two opposing super-powers restored.
But Fitch making an object that would effectively dismantle the cabal (if it had been used in the 1990s) and then protecting Red while he found the missing piece, certainly puts that part into question. So, what Fitch was really doing, likely under the guise of enriching the group, is ending the Cold War by accelerating the fall of the USSR.
If the upper echelons were in Bonn, then this part really just wanted the end of the USSR. Maybe the reunification of Germany. At any rate, it seemed Fitch was using the rest of the cabal to end the Cold War.
It was Fitch who ordered the then KGB operative Morozov to bomb the meeting in Kursk of the old guard who were trying to hold on to the old order, keep the USSR in place. People like Colonel Milos Kirchhoff.
these men were trying to keep the USSR together, opposing the cabal plan to accelerate its demise.
Someone must have assessed those individuals who opposed the end of the USSR, to get them out of the way. One way was a crude one: a bombing. Another was more devious: make his daughter disappear, and then make Kirchhoff believe she was in jail, get him to compromise himself by facilitating her "escape", which landed him in Siberia.
the plan to compromise Berlin by making him believe his daughter was in jail was hatched by December 1990. Reddington was blamed for it afterwards.
Katarina seemed to have worked with Fitch in ending the Cold War. So, what would be the job of a woman who could get anyone to believe whatever she wanted them to believe? Maybe find out the weaknesses of those opposed to the plans of the cabal?
This was what Red starts to tell Constantin while being drugged, under intense pain, with less control he usually has:
You saw what Katarina wanted you to see. She lied to you about everything. KGB trained her to seduce foreign diplomats, intel intelligence personnel into believ--
Before he corrected himself to the standard narrative that "Katarina Rostova" was a honeytrap, Red was telling Constantin Katarina was an illusionist, someone who could make others see what she wanted them to see. For Constantin it was an illusion of a happy marriage, with a child of his own.
Red corrects himself, though, and gives Constantin the apparent narrative: Katarina was a seductress.
You saw what Katarina wanted you to see. She lied to you about everything. KGB trained her to seduce foreign diplomats, intel intelligence personnel into believ - revealing secrets. You always thought I was the interloper. The truth is that I was an assignment. I'm I'm sure you were, too.
Red does not use verbal clutches often, those "ahhh", "Ohh", "Mmmh" or has interrupted speech, in which a thought starts to come out, and he checks himself midsentence, changing it, or abandoning the thought. He has done it three times. ALL related to a "Katarina Rostova".
  1. You saw what Katarina wanted you to see. She lied to you about everything. KGB trained her to seduce foreign diplomats, intel intelligence personnel into believ - revealing secrets.
  2. Mmmh I knew her as Katarina Rostova. One of her many names. She was a KGB agent.
  3. Your parents Uh, father and -- They were both in foreign intelligence.
I have explored that maybe there was no child born as Masha Rostova. No birth certificate under that name, or the Russians would have been certain there was a child. Even the Director did not know for certain, for he sends his people to interrogate Velov.
VELOV: All I know is they say she had a daughter.
We also explored that it is entirely possible that Katarina may not have been Liz's biological mother, but the woman who took her in, and Liz may have been the child of one of the other women using the name Katarina Rostova, as Red's use of a natural way of refering to Liz's mother ("your mother") and an unnatural one ("Katarina Rostova") seem to indicate.
The first time we hear the name of the blond woman in the swing, this is what Red tells Liz:
I knew her as Katarina Rostova. One of her many names. She was a KGB agent.
That sounds like what Red tells the task force about Fakerina: "She has no name."
She doesn't have a name. She's a ghost. Think of a name, any name, and that could be it.
Which sounds like Wujing. A ghost child, whose invisibility was an asset:
They say that Wujing was a second child. So they gave him away, denied he was ever born. He was invisible to his family. Wujing made a life working in a business where invisibility was an incredible asset.
Red certainly knows what Katarina's real last name is, because he knows who Dom really is. So when Liz asks about her mother, it seems Red is telling her there about a mother who is NOT Katarina, the woman who raised her, but about the one who gave birth to her. Or he is digging telling Liz her mother's real name.
This is further compound by one of the most mysterious phrases of the seven seasons of the show:
Your parents Uh, father and …They were both in foreign intelligence.
Red had just told Liz that her mother was KGB. Why then does he appear to be repeating himself?
Unless, of course he is NOT repeating himself. We KNOW Liz's had several paternal figures: her biological father, RR; her adoptive father, Sam Milhoan; the man who believed himself to be her father, Constantin Rostov; and Red, who had been directing her education through Sam, and who did not want her to be like him.
For the longest time I believed the rest of the phrase had to do with another father Liz had. That Katarina took her from dad to dad, making several men believe she was theirs.
Then Fakerina appeared. Now I am inclined to believe what Red meant was that
Your parents Uh, father and [biological and adoptive mother,] They were both [ALL] in foreign intelligence.
It would explain some of the dodging Red is doing, using "Katarina Rostova" or "your mother" only. IF Red is talking to Liz about two women, who both used the name "Katarina Rostova", and whose first name may have been Katarina, it really explains a lot.
So, when we look at the evidence, what we know is that at least one of the women who inhabited the name was a KGB agent that Red knew as "Katarina Rostova" and maybe he never knew her real name.
I think it is possible Liz's biological mother is either Fakerina or another one of the "Katarina Rostovas" including possibly the bones.
A KGB agent who targeted Reddington, which explains Red's feelings at being used, at Liz discovering her husband did not exist, feelings that seem more personal, like something he had experienced himself:
And the CIA was actually being somewhat straightforward:
I don't think there are any photographs of Katarina Rostova.... She's a myth. Tall tales late at night over vodka shots. Probably an amalgamation of a half-a-dozen unknown female Soviet operatives-- the Pinko Mata Hari.
They seem to be covering up the charade, but "Katarina Rostova" was a honeytrap, a professional seductress who extracted secrets from targets using seduction and sex, and that seems to have been the province of the Russian, real-KGB agents, as Red said in the trial (partly)
Have you ever heard of Katarina Rostova? ... She was a KGB officer. Would it surprise you to learn that she and I had quite a complicated history? Sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll. Did I say "sex"? Sex....
35 years ago, a Naval intelligence officer working for the US government fell fell into a relationship with a beautiful Russian woman. Unbeknownst to his superiors, that relationship, which started as guarded attraction, quickly evolved into passion, which resulted in pregnancy. They had the child. ...
What the Naval officer didn't know, but certainly should have suspected, was that the Russian woman was a KGB officer, that Katarina Rostova had been assigned to get close to Raymond Reddington and steal classified information from him.
There is no subterfuge there. We know the woman Red met as "Katarina Rostova" was a honeytrap who was assigned to him to seduce him and either turn him, or steal information from him. Just what Dom tells Liz, except that is not about his daughter Katarina:
Not necessarily Dom, but the "Katarina Rostovas" would have been KGB agent ordered to turn Reddington or steal secrets from him. Sometimes, the female KGB agents were ordered to have children, to secure the relationship, or to use as Kompromat. Proof of an affair, leverage against the men.
Did Katarina stepped into that role as well, pretending to be seducing Reddington, but fell in love with him? This could be a way how this bizarre phrase works:
KATE: Is it serious?
KATARINA: Yes. It's frivolous exciting dangerous
Frivolous and serious are antonyms. There is one way to make it work.

Another indication we have of Katarina's activities are in what Constantin accuses Red of.
I don't really know how we got here, Raymond. I remember being an honest businessman in a happy marriage until you came along.... Seduced my wife. To her credit, Katarina broke it off, - but you couldn't let go.
For Constantin it was Red who had seduced Katarina, and made him into a dishonest businessman. But how would that happen?
This cannot be simply a case of Katarina pretending to Constantin she was the innocently seduced. Because it is the fact that Constantin makes Red responsible for his no longer being an honest businessman which suggest Red blackmailed him into being a spy for him. And this is not a third party, as Constantin recalls an opportunity in which he had a gun in Red's mouth:
Do you know what I'm thinking, Raymond? That house by the water, holding a gun in your mouth. I should have pulled the trigger.
Constantin was referred to in a newspaper as a trafficker in secrets from the USSR and goods into the USSR.
So from Constantin POV, Reddington was who had seduced his wife and made him into a dishonest businessman, apparently by either allowing his identity to have an operative going into Russia using his name, or having him be a reluctant spy ( like the architect in Wujing) and a smuggler.
Likely, by blackmailing Constantin with exposing his wife as a KGB agent, if he did not do as told. With the irony that his wife was NOT really a KGB agent, but was pretending to be so.
Most of it comes from the trial, where we learned that Katarina framed him for it from the tape, when Fitch tells Katarina to kill RR because he discovered the cabal, and who Katarina really was. That tape is bizarre, but this part is quite interesting.
But if we discredit him... The intelligence I stole. We leak that it came from him. No one will believe him after that. Not with the blood of 134 Americans on his hands.
And where do that leave the Gideon? Did it really exist? Was Fitch fine with working with an agent who had caused the death of 134 Americans? Fitch send the guy who was attempting to disable the bomb home. It is the act of a good man, a man who loved his country:
I've been in the intelligence field a long time now. On my orders, 763 men and women have died in service to their country. And there wasn't a grieving wife or mother or husband I didn't either call or visit personally. Thank them for their sacrifice. That's what makes it the hardest. The families. You can't disarm it, can you?... That's more than enough. I'm not gonna make it 764. What's your name? ... Go home, Mike. You've done everything you can.
Were the 134 sailors part of the 763 men he had been gone to thank their families for? Or was the USS Gideon a false flag operation? An old sub made into a charade? Were they really 134 sailors? Was it full of 134 traitors, delivered to Russia on a silver platter? (Reverse Red October?)
Was Seaduke among them?
Was Katarina the one who really steal those coordinates from Reddington? Or was Reddington's name used as the US Navy did with the Grayscape 17 stunt:
A defective stealth fighter called the Grayscape Seventeen. The Navy knew Ross was working for China, so they made sure he stole plans for a plane that couldn't fly, and when it crashed, China blamed Ross, turned him over to the feds
Because if the US Navy (Or Fitch) knew that Reddington was not the real identity of RR, then maybe it had always been the idea to use that identity for whatever was needed, because not been a real one, Raymond could then disappear into another identity, leaving "Reddington" behind.
Was the USS Gideon another Grayscape 17? If Katarina had "stolen" coordinates that were a sham, or the submarine was a sham, what did it do to her reputation? Greatly enhanced it, I bet, until the KGB discovered she was not really KGB.

So, Katarina seems to have been a CIA (or the like) officer, an illusionist like Red, who infiltrated the KGB, working with the cabal to end the Cold War, and who took a lot of secrets with her when she disappeared.
see the entire series. First the crumbling facade:
submitted by TessaBissolli to TheBlackList [link] [comments]

When The Pigs Scream

I’m used to late nights. My job means a lot to me, so obviously I want to keep it and that means putting my all into it when things get busy. If that means I get home at 9 or 10, then that’s fine. Success has a price.

I’m hardly a workaholic. Actually, my Dad always thought I was a lazy fucker. But then again, he told me I’d never graduate High School, then that I’d never finish College and then that I wasn’t going to be able to hold down any of the jobs I got after College, so it shows what he knows.

Speaking of my Dad, I didn’t mind the late nights so long as it kept me away from him. I still lived at home and I was saving up for my own place although dealing with my family while I saved was nothing short of a waking nightmare. So much negativity and constant criticism… But I digress. Working late was good for me. Usually, the traffic wasn’t too bad on the way home either. I could breeze down the highway like it was no big deal with my music turned up loud. I kinda preferred that to the ridiculous traffic I could have faced if I’d left at 5. I was heading into Cambridge and that drive was over 2 hours on a good day. Rush hour in Toronto is a form of torture and anyone who says otherwise is a fucking psychopath. The 401 isn’t so much a means of transportation as it is a glorified parking lot/circle of hell. The point I’m trying to make is - Traffic at 10 at night isn’t normal, but that’s where it all started.

It was a Friday night. I was looking forward to a quiet weekend of playing Xbox and sleeping in. I’d done my due diligence. Now it was time to relax! But there I was, an hour out of work and stuck on the 401, somewhere between Hamilton and Milton. My maps app said there’d been one hell of an accident up ahead. It must’ve been something legendary to completely shut the highway down at that hour. I don’t know if anyone got hurt but at that hour, I didn’t fucking care. I’d been going since 7 in the fucking morning. This was 10 in the fucking evening. You do the math!

I was exhausted. I was ready to doze off at the wheel and traffic was going so slow that I just knew I was going to be there all night and I was not having it, no sir! When the going gets tough, I get off the highway. There was an exit up ahead, I couldn’t tell which one it was in the darkness but I figured I could work around it. I knew the back roads of the area pretty well and I knew I could find my way home. Some people say back roads only slow you down. Maybe they’re right. But they give the illusion of speed and sometimes that’s just what you need.

So I turned onto the back road. It was pitch black and I didn’t see any signs that told me where I was but it was better than being stuck in traffic! I checked my phone, and after seeing no turns off the road I was on, I zoomed out and started plotting my route home. I knew my Maps app would just tell me to take the dreaded U turn back onto the 401 and I wasn’t going to do that. I figured out what my next few turns should be and I just kept driving.

I’d noticed the tire pressure light was on while I was on the 401 but I’d figured I could deal with it when I got to Cambridge. I didn’t imagine it was that big of a deal. I probably shouldn’t have hedged my bets on that.

When my tire blew, I was in the middle of nowhere. The street I was on didn’t even have a name. It had a 6 digit number and I don’t even remember what the number was. I felt the rear drivers side tire go as I drove. I felt the dead weight behind my car and I heard the sound of busted rubber being dragged behind me. I had no choice. I had to pull over. When I got out of the car, I could smell the burnt rubber. The tire was done. There was no coming back from that kind of damage. I checked my phone.I had about 3% battery that was fading fast, no backup plan and no idea just where the hell I was. I wisely wasted the last of my battery trying to figure that part out before I called 911 and then I was just flat out fucked.

I stood there for a few minutes, in the dark, holding my dead phone and contemplating the questionable choices that had led me to that situation as I mulled over my options. I checked my trunk and took out my jack for the first time only to find it rusted to shit. I made an attempt to use it on my car but I’d never actually changed a tire before and the jack just flat out would not budge no matter how much I tried.

The only other option I had was to find a stranger. Either someone else would use that road or someone lived nearby. I had passed some lights from dark houses on the road so at least that gave me some hope. Looking around, I was sure I could even see some distant lights.

My eyes took a bit of time to adjust to the darkness but I was sure that just a bit further down the road was a field with a house in the middle of it. There were a few exterior lights on. Enough to give me an idea as to where I was headed. Considering that I didn’t exactly have a lot of other options, I got to walking.

Slowly I drew nearer to the distant house. I heard the grass rustling beneath my feet and I heard animalistic grunts nearby. Pigs from the sound of it. That was hardly surprising. I was out in the middle of nowhere. I was probably visiting a farmer. The grunts sounded… off, I suppose? I was sure they were pigs but they didn’t sound quite right. Then again, I barely knew the first thing about pigs so I was hardly in any position to judge. I spotted a dark shape in the distance and I figured that was a barn of some sort. Obviously that was where the pigs were.

If anything, I figured the presence of a barn and pigs was a good thing. Someone would almost certainly be in the house and they’d be able to help me! This was exactly what I needed! My pace picked up as I approached the house. I could see just a little bit more of it. It was big, at least two stories and one of the lights illuminated a quaint wooden porch.

As I stepped up onto the porch, the wood groaned underneath my weight. The brick exterior of the house was dark, almost black and looked a bit grungy but I wasn’t exactly bothered by it. Beggars can’t be choosers after all. I knocked on the door as loudly as I could. Whoever was inside was probably asleep. I was actually kinda surprised when I saw a light go on upstairs. I’d expected it would take a bit more effort to rouse whoever was inside.

In the silence of the night, I could hear movement inside the house. I thought I saw a shape in the window, looking down on me before vanishing. For a few more moments, all was quiet… Then I heard the click of the lock behind the door. It opened only a crack and the man on the other side peered through it at me. I didn’t get a good look at him, but I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“What do’yuh want?”

His voice was deep, raspy and mistrusting.
“I’m sorry for waking you, sir!” I said. I used my best customer service voice. “My car broke down a little ways down the street. My phone is dead. I was wondering if I could use your phone to call for a tow?”

The man behind the door leered at me, weighing my words before he scoffed and pulled the door fully open. He was massive, standing a full head taller than me. He was wider than me as well and had a wild, untamed beard that covered most of his face. His hair was long and fell down to around his waist. He would’ve fit right in with ZZ Top.
“C’mon in. Phone’s in the kitchen.”
“Thanks so much, sir!”
I didn’t want to let his generosity go to waste. I stepped inside and let him lead me to the kitchen.

His house had seen better days and looked as if someone had started building the interior but never finished. Some of the walls were bare down to the joists. Drywall was torn off in some sections, revealing pink fiberglass insulation underneath. The hardwood floor was scuffed and covered in muddy boot tracks. It wasn’t outright filthy. But it was run down. The kitchen was arguably the nicest part of the house and even that was far from perfect. The sink looked like it belonged in a laundry room, the wooden counters were marked with scratches from being used as cutting boards. The fridge and oven were both ancient. It was all as clean as it could get but it still looked like shit. I didn’t complain though.

The phone was, unsurprisingly, an old rotary phone. The man picked it up off the hook and without saying a word or asking me a question, began to dial a number.
“Are you calling CAA?” I asked.
“Won’t do you no good out here. Got a local friend. He’ll get’cha goin’ again.”
I opened my mouth to protest but thought better of it. Car help was car help, right? As the phone started to ring, the massive man pressed it to his ear.

“Scott. Sorry to wake you, boy. It’s Jonah Prase, out at the pig farm. Got a feller here who’s having some car trouble. Was wonderin’ if you might be able to make it down to take a look…”
I heard a voice respond to him as the man, Prase gave a solemn nod. He glanced over at me.
“I got ‘em right here. Lemme put ‘em on…”
He offered me the phone and I took it. The voice on the other end belonged to someone closer to my age.

“Evening, stranger. Mr. Prase says you’re having car trouble?”
“Yeah, My name is Liam Harper. I was on my way home and I blew a tire. I’m parked on the street. Any idea how soon you can get someone out to take a look at it?”
“Not until mornin’, I’m afraid. I can swing by first thing, though. Help you get everything all set up. You got a jack or a spare?”
“I’ve got a spare. I need a jack.”
“Got’cha. I’ll get it taken care of. Don’t you worry.” The man replied. “I’ll be out at around 6, give or take a bit.”
“Are you sure you can’t send someone out now? It’s kinda an emergency!”
“Son, I am the someone. I’ll be out at six so hold tight.”
That was not the news I wanted to hear but I got the feeling that it was the only help I was going to get. I muttered a begrudging thank you before they hung up.

Prase stared down at me intently, silent and with an expression I couldn’t read.
“I don’t suppose you have a spare room, do you?” I asked. I felt kinda embarrassed asking a complete stranger for this but it’s not like I had much of a choice.
“Got a couch. It’ll do.” Prase replied and I wasn’t in any position to argue with that.

The couch was an ancient, flannel thing that sagged from years of abuse from the massive Mr. Prase. It wasn’t the most comfortable place I’d ever slept but I was still happy to have it. Prase hadn’t had anything I could charge my phone with so that was going to have to wait, but I could live without it. The quilt he gave me was hand sown and warm and there was an old throw pillow I could rest my head on. Shitty as my day had been thus so far, I felt like this was the best possible ending I was going to get. I’d catch a few Z’s and be on my merry way in a few hours when the mechanic stopped by. I was tired enough that the lumpy couch didn’t keep me from sleeping for long and I drifted off in Prase’s bare living room.

It was the slam of the heavy door that woke me up. It took me a moment to figure out just where I was. My mind was groggy and disoriented but I could hear the heavy footsteps of Prase outside the window and I saw his shadow move past it. I sat up, rubbing at my eyes. I instinctively checked my phone for the time but it was still dead. Some time had passed though, since the sky was starting to light up. It wasn’t dawn. Not quite yet. But it was getting there.

I absentmindedly wondered if Prase had any coffee and if he’d be good enough to share it. Then the distant squeals of pigs stole my attention away.

The pigs… I’d forgotten about the pigs.

Pig squeals were not the most pleasant sound at any point but these seemed a lot worse than any squeals I’d ever heard before. There was a genuine sense of panic in them. A fear that I could feel in my core. There was something about it that seemed almost human… It sent a chill through me.

It occurred to me that Prase was doing more than just feeding his animals, and I suppose that meant that bacon was probably on the menu for breakfast. I liked bacon. I just didn’t like listening to it scream as it was killed. I stayed in place, listening as the pigs screamed before I stood up and went to the window.

In the light of the early dawn, I could see the barn I’d passed the night before. Prase was out front and trudging back towards the house. He had something slung over his shoulders although it was hard to tell for sure just what it was…

At first glance I thought it was a pig but the shape of the body was all wrong. It was too narrow. The limbs were too long. I wondered if maybe it wasn’t a dog or something, but… No, it was too big to be a dog. A deer perhaps? The limbs looked too thick to be a deer and the head wasn’t the right shape. As Prase got closer to the house, I almost could have sworn that what he was carrying was a person!

My heart seized in my chest, just a little bit as he disappeared around the back of the house. Through the thin walls I heard a door opening somewhere. Possibly a cellar door of some sort. Sure enough, the heavy footsteps and the creak of stairs confirmed that Prase was going downstairs. I heard the rattle of something that sounded like a chain before Prase ascended the stairs again. Like clockwork he headed back outside to the barn. He was probably getting another pig, or… whatever it was he’d brought in.

There was no way it could have been a person, right? I’d heard the sounds from the barn! Those were pigs! I was sure that those were pigs! Was I sure? I’d never actually heard a pig squeal in real life before, and even then those squeals had sounded off. It was a crazy idea! It made absolutely no sense! But Prase was headed back over to the barn. I was sure I could find a way downstairs and see just what it was that he’d brought down…

What harm could it do, right? It was just a quick look.

I turned away from the window and started searching for a basement door. It didn’t take me that long to find one. The stairs were bare wood and there was a nasty, rotten, coppery smell coming from down there. It was faint but present. Still, I walked down those creaking stairs.

I saw another set of stairs leading outside in a corner and I could still hear the screams of the pigs. The air was cold, colder than the rest of the house. This basement had been better maintained than everything else. It was insulated, there was a large room with two chest freezers in it and metal hooks hanging from the ceiling. From one of those hooks hung a shape.

The body was too narrow for a pig. I was right about that, but it wasn’t quite human either. The lights were too dim to tell exactly what I was looking at. Blood pooled on the floor from the creatures fleshly slit throat and I recognized what seemed like a porcine hoof at the end of one lifeless limb. This thing was far bigger than any pig I’d ever seen. It was about as tall as I was, had smooth and leathery skin and a distorted body that sent an uncomfortable chill through me.

Gingerly I reached out to touch the thing that hung from the hook. Its body turned, revealing its twisted face, and I’ll never forget what I saw. The eyes were still open and they seemed human, as did most of the face… Most of it.

The ears were long and piglike, as was the nose which elongated into a piglike snout. The ‘hoof’ of the thing had human fingernails. Its limbs were bent and distorted. I couldn’t imagine that the creature had been capable of walking in life but then again, all of my logic told me that this kind of creature should not have been! It was a defiance of nature itself!

I felt myself starting to retch as I recoiled from that hideous, hybrid creature. My eyes were wide in shock and disgust and I nearly tripped over my own two feet. Then I heard a low, deep chuckle from the stairs in the corner.

“Snoopin, are we?”

I spun around and was greeted with the looming shape of Jonah Prase. Another human/pig hybrid was draped over his shoulders and he dropped it unceremoniously to the ground. Blood pooled from the fatal gash in its throat. The body twitched and the eye fixated on me in its final moments. I heard a weak wheeze escape the corpse but that creature was beyond my help!

“W-what the fuck is this?” I stammered. Prase stood ominously before me, grinning from ear to ear as if he was proud of the horror show he’d kept down there.

“Meat.” He replied. “Let’s just say the folks in this little community have a very particular taste… Wouldn’t do for too many passers by to go missing, no sir. So I worked out a little alternative… Pigs fill in the gap just fine. Similar taste. Easy to breed and crossbreed.”

I felt sick to my stomach and I recoiled back a few steps. Prase advanced on me slowly. He loomed over me like a monster and I knew there was nothing I could do to get away from him.
“Now, ya understand if I can’t let ya run ‘round willy nilly. This here is a private business. Wouldn’t do to have trade secrets out. But don't you worry… Liam, was it? Don’t you worry, Liam… I’ll take good care of you. You’re gonna make an excellent sire. Gotta keep the gene pool fresh, after all.”

He grinned as one heavy arm shot out towards me. I tried to run but Prase was faster. He caught me by the shirt and dragged me over to the freezer room. With what felt like no effort, he tossed me inside. I crashed against one of the chest freezers and before I could stand, he’d closed the door in front of me and locked it tight. I kicked at it. I felt it shake but it didn’t budge.
“Hold tight, boy. Get comfortable. I’ll deal with ya when time permits. Scott’s still on his way, ain’t he? I’ll have a word with him ‘bout your car first. Get it towed down to the shop. He’ll take good care of it.”

Prase chuckled, then I heard his heavy footsteps stomping away as he turned and headed back to work. I listened as he strung up another hybrid carcass on a hook, then as he climbed the stairs once more and closed the storm door. I was alone in the basement now, with only the smell of rot and decay to keep me company.

As time slowly drifted by I could hear Prase moving about the house above me. His thundering footsteps shook the roof above me. The stink of decay that lingered in the air was almost overpowering and it burned my nostrils and as I sat in the dark. I had no idea what was waiting for me. Prase had used the word ‘sire’ and I wasn’t too keen on thinking on the implications of that.

In the low light, I could see that unlike his upstairs, Prase had taken better care of the rooms in his basement. The unpainted drywall was newer than its upstairs counterparts, but the job that had been done on this room was still half assed at best. There were still missing panels that exposed pink fiberglass insulation. I remembered that there was still more drywall on the other end of that insulation… That said, I also knew I could break said drywall, as long as I got the insulation out of the way. I'd heard it wasn't wise to touch fiberglass insulation bare handed but my situation was a little dire, so an exception could be made. This room was not meant as a prison. Not long term, at least. Prase must have had somewhere better to hold me, but for now he was preoccupied. The tow truck I’d called was still on its way. He’d need to deal with that first and then I knew I’d have my window.

If I just started attacking the drywall, I knew he’d hear me and he’d stop me. My timing needed to be perfect.

I tugged a bit on the drywall in the room with me. I felt it give, just a little. With a bit of effort I was able to pry it away from the wall, exposing more fiberglass underneath. I didn’t need a large space. I figured I could fit between two joists. All I needed to do was clear out the fiberglass.

I heard a knock on the door above me and paused. Prase’s heavy footsteps shook the ceiling above me as he went to answer it.
“Scott, right on time.” He said. His booming voice was softer and more welcoming than it had been before.
“Mornin’ Mr. Prase. Your guest still around?”
“In the basement. Seems he’s become a bit of a more permanent resident. I’ll be moving him to the barn shortly. Get some use out of him before I decide what to do with him.”

Prase let out a chuckle that sent a chill through my spine. I was quietly thankful that I hadn’t called out for help the moment Scott had arrived. Prase was clearly feeding the community with those… things…
“Smart man! You sure he’d secure down in that basement, though?”
“I ain’t worried about it.” Prase said, “We’d hear it. Besides. Storm doors locked. We’re up here. No way out. What I am worried about is that car sitting in the road.”
“Don’t you worry, sir. My Brother’s hitching it to the truck as we speak. We’ll be off shortly. Still, it would be remiss of me not to pick up a little somethin’ for supper. My wife’s been fixing for some of that pork tenderloin you serve.”

Their small talk was a blessing in disguise, honestly. Prase was distracted and I had a chance to move. The fiberglass was itchy and uncomfortable against my skin but I didn’t have much of a choice but to grab it and pull it out by force. I could see the drywall on the other side and I ignored the burning itch on my hands and arms to throw my weight against the drywall.
“Had a feeling you’d ask for that. Got a bit in the fridge from my last pig. Tell you what, it’s on the house. My thanks for getting rid of that car.”
The drywall shifted but didn’t break. I’d been hoping to avoid loudly punching through it but that really didn’t seem like an option. I knew that Prase would hear me and then my goose would be cooked… Although…

Prase had been stringing up those pig things down there. It stood to reason he also was butchering them down there too. Maybe he had a knife or something I could use! I knew I’d only have a minute or so at best. Not a lot of time to grab a weapon but it would make getting out of that fucking house a lot easier!

I inhaled before I took a few steps back and charged at the wall. The drywall broke this time and I clumsily collapsed through it.
“The hell was that?” Prase snapped. I could hear his footsteps above me. He was coming for the basement.
I picked myself up and stumbled over towards the hanging carcasses. I saw a workbench nearby and what looked like a leather case that I presume held some knives.

Prase was at the top of the stairs. He was coming down and fast! I ran for the case and threw it open. Sure enough, there were butchers knives in there that gleamed in the darkness. I snatched one up and turned just in time to see Prase descending the stairs. He surveyed the damage I’d done with minor annoyance.
“Suppose I should’ve put you elsewhere.” He murmured. “Still, you ain’t got nowhere to run, boy. Put that knife down before you hurt yourself.”
“Fuck you!” I snapped. I held the knife in front of myself defensively but Prase hardly seemed intimidated. He advanced on me slowly, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Them knives are expensive, boy! Put it down!”
In an instant he was on me. I tried to swing the knife but he carelessly knocked it out of my hand and launched it across the room. With one meaty fist, he sent me down to the ground.

“Boy you’ve monopolized more of my time than I am comfortable with.” He growled. I tried to pick myself up but he grabbed me by the back of the shirt and tossed me towards the hole I’d left in his wall.
“I suppose it’s my own fault. Should’ve planned for somethin’ like this. Should’ve… But didn’t… Ah well…”
I looked at the fiberglass I’d torn out of the walls. It wasn’t so much a plan as it was a really crazy, half baked idea but I didn’t have a lot of options. Prase was advancing on me again. The floor shook with his every footstep.
“Live and learn.” The man grunted.

He bent down to grab me again and as he did, I grabbed a handful of fiberglass. In one fluid motion I stuffed it into his face. Prase let out a frustrated cry and stumbled back a step. I kicked out a leg and sent him tumbling to the ground with a mighty crash. I grabbed more of the torn out fiberglass. Even though it stung my hands, I had a feeling it hurt his eyes even more and I was more than happy to crush it onto his face. One of his massive arms swung and struck me in the head, knocking me aside as Prase clawed at his face.
“Fucking hell! Jesus, fuck! Scott!”

I could hear footsteps on the stairs and I saw a scrawny looking man race down the stairs. He froze at the sight of Prase writhing on the ground ripping fiberglass off his face and he didn’t do much to stop me as I hurried to my feet and ran for the stairs. I bodychecked Scott against the wall, stunning him just long enough for me to get past.
“Scott! Go get ‘im!” Prase yelled but by then I was most of the way up the stairs and back in the main part of the house.

I burst through the front door and into the morning sun. I could see a rusted tow truck by my car, down the road. I did consider trying to steal the tow truck but Scott’s brother was still there. By the looks of it, he was a lot bigger than I was and I was out of tricks.

There was only one place to go. In the daylight, I could see a forest behind the long metal barn. It was my one chance at escape and I took it. I took off at full speed towards the woods and I made it halfway across the field before I heard the crack of a rifle.

I glanced backwards to see Prase storming out of his house, gun in hand and taking aim at me. He’d missed his shot, but I wasn’t going to count on that happening again. The barn was closer than the trees and I ran for it. If nothing else, it would offer me some shelter from the lunatic with his rifle!

The agitated cries of the hogs barely registered to me as I bolted towards the barn and through the open door of it. I didn’t think about what would actually be in that barn… Not until I was actually inside. I’d seen pig farms on TV before. Industrial looking buildings with metal bars keeping groups of pigs separated. The inside of the barn I was in was a lot like that… But those things in the cages… Those things were not pigs, not entirely.

Their eyes were the part of them that were the most human. Looking into them, I saw recognition and understanding. I saw sentience. They regarded me with a mortal fear that I understood all too well. The sight of their warped, distorted bodies made me sick. A few of the healthier ones limped to the edges of their cages to look at me. Many others simply laid still, waiting for merciful death.

In the barn I could hear their squeals and screams. I’d noticed there was something off about them before… Now, I could finally put my finger on it. These screams were distorted and sounded almost human. I thought I heard fragments of human speech in there but I wasn’t sure. If these creatures were even capable of speech, they probably had never been able to truly learn it.

There couldn’t have been more than 40 or 50 of the creatures but that was still far more than ever should have existed. They looked at me, silently begging me for salvation but that wasn’t something I could offer them. I knew Prase was coming and I didn’t have much time. I forced myself to keep running down the single aisle in the center of the barn.

I was no more than halfway through the barn when I heard their squeals intensify. I knew it was Prase even before I heard the gunshot.
“Get back here you little motherfucker!” He snarled.
The center aisle was no longer safe. I was a sitting duck. I only glanced back quickly to confirm that Prase was lining up his next shot before I leapt into one of the cages.

The hybrids recoiled from me at first. Prase fired his gun in the instant after I hit the ground. I could hear his thundering footsteps following me. Glancing at the bars, I saw that they were narrow enough for me to slide through. The hybrids were too wide for them, but I was not.

Staying low, I slipped through the bars of the first cage and crawled frantically to the bars of the next one. The hybrids watched me suspiciously but they did not interfere. If anything, they kept their distance.

“Where in the hell are you?” Prase screamed. From the sounds of it, he was close and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep running! His footsteps got closer as he stormed down the aisle and I paused, not wanting to move or risk attracting his attention. I glanced at the door of the cage and spotted the latch for it. It was a simple sliding latch. Prase hadn’t locked it. The hybrids didn’t have the kind of hands that could open such a latch anyways. But I did. I shuffled towards the front of the pen. Prase had slowed down, checking each pen for any sign of me. He was only a few feet away.

I slipped my hand through the bars and undid the latch before I pushed the door open. Most of the hybrids in the pen with me looked up. I could see the gears in their head turning. Then one of the braver ones stood. It glanced at me, its expression unreadable before it made a run for it. A few other brave creatures followed it, making a desperate bid for freedom!

“Goddamnit!” I heard Prase snap. The hybrids didn’t run towards him. They ran away but they served as an ample enough distraction. Prase took aim at them and pulled the trigger. This time his aim was true and one of the creatures collapsed in the middle of the aisle. He’d stepped forwards, into my line of sight but he hadn’t seen me just yet.

I lunged for him, catching him off guard and pushing him into the bars of another pen. Prase snarled and swore as I grabbed at his gun. He was stronger than I was. I knew I couldn’t wrestle it away from him, but I could cheat. I raised a knee into his groin and heard him grunt in pain. His grip on the rifle slipped, just enough for me to rip it free of his grasp.

I’d never fired a gun before in my life and in my panicked state, I had no time to learn or even to think. I just aimed it at him and fired blindly. I heard Prase scream. I saw a meaty hand press against his shoulder as he braced himself against the cage for stability and my pulse spiked. I’d hurt him! I’d actually wounded him.

His eyes met mine, burning with rage and hatred. Blood seeped through his gushing wound. If I was thinking straight, I would’ve fired again… But my brain was running off of pure adrenaline. I’d never actually killed someone before and in my current state, I’m not sure if I was ready to start. I’d stopped him! That was enough!

I kept a grip on his rifle as I backed up and continued to run for the back of the barn as fast as I could. There was a door near the back and I burst through it. The treeline was right there! I didn’t hear any thundering footsteps. Prase wasn’t still after me. I was as free as I was going to get. The woods sat ahead of me, ominous yet safe and I ran into them, letting myself vanish into the trees.

I abandoned Prase’s gun somewhere in the woods. I was hardly a gun expert, but I managed to figure out that it was out of ammo. It only seemed to hold about four rounds and I wasted the last of them wounding Prase.

It was a few hours before I made it to a road again and a few more hours after that until I found a passing car that I managed to flag down.

I went to the Police, of course but it didn’t do me much good. I didn’t exactly have the best idea of where I’d been in the first place and what I told them was… Well, judging by the look on the Officers face, I don’t think he actually believed me.

Truth be told, I’m not sure what to do now. It’s been a few weeks since my encounter. I haven’t heard anything from the Police. Nobody’s found my car and I haven’t heard a thing about a pig farmer named Jonah Prase. I know he’s out there, though. I’ll always know he’s out there.

At night, I can hear the inhuman screams of the pigs. I can see his burning eyes and I wish that I’d managed to kill him when I shot him that morning. I know that I got lucky, and I’ve got a sick feeling that whoever runs into Prase next won’t get that luxury.
submitted by HeadOfSpectre to nosleep [link] [comments]

How to Survive Camping: Rule #2 - in which I ruin food for you

I run a private campground. Last post I threatened some of you and this time I thought I’d further alienate everyone by telling you about rule #2. If you’re new here, you should really start at the beginning and if you’re totally lost, this might help.
Bad years are just THE WORST. There’s the uptick in deaths, of course, that should never be understated. I don’t want to lose sight of that as our primary focus here because after all, dead campers can’t come back for another visit and they certainly can’t spend money at the camp store.
Of course dead campers also can’t leave 1-star reviews because they didn’t understand that a “primitive campground” means the only toilets that flush are a twenty minute walk away but hey, sometimes I have to make sacrifices.
But for me, personally, it’s the little things that take their toll. The constant fear and anxiety. The crushing sense of responsibility and guilt for everything that could go wrong and does go wrong. And of course, the signs. All the little ways the world tells me that something terrible is stirring on my land, that a foul air has settled over it, and all the miserable creatures of the darkness have come to breathe deep of its putrescence.
Like the spiders in my brussels sprouts.
I used to not like brussels sprouts and I’m sure many of you still feel that way. But then someone showed me that if you cut them in half, brush them with oil, sprinkle them with salt and pepper and broil them until they’re soft and a little bit charred on top, they’re delicious. I probably make them about once a month now. So I got a bag of nice big ones from the same grocery store we buy the camp store’s groceries at (and then resell at an upcharge) and started cutting them in half.
There was something dark inside of the first one. Something that crunched and then oozed white-green liquid onto the cutting board.
After I finished throwing the cutting board, knife, and brussels sprouts as far away from me as I could in a panic, I recovered my wits enough to carefully inspect what the hell was inside of my sprouts.
It was a spider.
A spider curled up at the heart, legs pulled in tight like it was incubating inside the leaves.
I cut another in half. It, too, made a sickening crunch as I sliced the knife through and a severed leg clung to the blade. Then I worked up my courage and instead of cutting one in half, I peeled the leaves back. One by one, I gingerly ripped them off, heart hammering. And finally, when only a handful of thin white leaves remained and I could see the shiny black body through the translucent tips… the spider moved.
Its legs shot through the seam between the leaves and the remains of the sprout surged as it clawed its way free. I shrieked and threw it to the ground and then grabbed the cutting board and tried to smash it into a pulp, but it’d escaped its leafy prison and it was fast. It scuttled across the floor even as I desperately chased it with the cutting board - which is an unwieldy weapon, to be honest, but there was no way in hell I was stomping on that thing with bare feet - and then it found a crack between the wall and the cupboards and it was gone.
I’m sure I won’t regret letting it get away at any point in the future.
I dropped the rest of the brussel sprouts into the garbage disposal and let it run for a good ten minutes. Then I called my niece who manages the camp store and told her we had a problem with our produce and to please spot check a couple to make sure there weren’t any spiders inside.
The apples were fine. The tomatoes were not. Nor were the snap peas. She just destroyed the cantaloupes without checking because no one wanted to see the size or quantity of the spiders that would crawl out of those. I’m not looking forward to seeing how much we lost in the weekly inventory report.
As I’ve said before, bad years are expensive.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the rules lately. We get new threats that wander in from time to time (seriously wtf is up with these spiders?) but they’re transient or can be easily dealt with. I reserve the rules for the things that are the most consistent, pervasive, and deadly threats. We might deal with the yarn balls only once every couple of years, but the man with the skull cup we deal with perhaps once every couple of weeks. Given enough encounters… without the rules, someone will die. Or creatures like the fairy, who is rarely angered, but the scale of their anger is so destructive that I can’t risk even one mistake.
All of this is magnified during a bad year. They show up more often. They are more hostile. And for some, they are more dangerous.
Rule #2 falls into the latter.
Fairy rings are generally benign. If there are the remains of a small animal inside the ring, however, inform camp management immediately.
The fairy ring problem has been around for generations. It’s one of those things that my family just dealt with. We’d set out traps and I remember tagging along with my father as a small child to check them in the morning and burn whatever we found inside. I remember the screams. Dad didn’t want to risk trying to get at the things that were biting at the wire confines of the trap in order to kill them humanely. He just doused the trap in gasoline and set it alight. I remember that he never talked much during these rounds. He seemed angry and I used to wonder if it was because I was being talkative or because I was distracted by things around me and eventually I learned to stay still and silent and watch the pyre.
Now that I’m older I understand his anger. It wasn’t at me. He hated killing things. Even the ones that would kill humans, if given the chance.
Maybe I’d be a better person if I turned out more like my father.
I have a lot of theories around how the world works and how these inhuman things function and where they come from. I can’t guarantee any of them are correct. I’m just trying to make sense of the world I live in.
Not every civilization has survived throughout history. Some were conquered, some were destroyed by disease or disaster, and some just vanished. I’ve already explained that inhuman creatures tend to stay close to the culture that spawned them, whether that’s staying on their ancestral land or finding a family whose roots trace back to that same region. So what happens to the inhuman things of a dead civilization?
Surely they would die as well?
I don’t think they do.
Ireland has what’s called “the Mythological Cycle” which is also sometimes called “Cycle of the Invasions”. The Mythological Cycle is an account of how the current inhabitants of Ireland got there. It also talks about the inhabitants that came before them. There were the Partholanians, who came from the west, the land of the “happy dead”, and were led by Partholan and his queen. They were afflicted by pestilence and after gathering together in one place so as to bury their dead together, perished as a whole.
Then came the Nemedians, who were also from the regions of the dead. They too died of plague.
After them were the Firbolgs, which you may have already heard of. They were defeated by the Tuatha De Danann, or the fairies, and were given Connacht to live in and some of the people of that region may even be their decedents.
Finally, the Tuatha De Danann were defeated by the Milesians, or… us. As the host of the Milesians approached Ireland in their ships, the Danaan drew mist around the island so the ships could not see it. But the mist was rebuked by the poet Amergin and the Milesians and the Danaan did battle. Many of the Danaan were slain and they withdrew into the hills, into invisibility and into a world that sits next to our own.
If you think, oh hey, the fairies can be killed - look. The Milesians had a poet. And I don’t mean the guy with a beard in your MFA classes that writes mostly about smoking weed, I mean a poet. One that could rebuke the wind itself with his words. Good luck finding one of those.
So that’s the early history of Ireland.
Bet you weren’t expecting to learn about that today.
Bryan’s family is from Ireland. They brought with them the creatures of their homeland. I’m not sure if they’re from Connacht for perhaps from some proximity to the field that houses the mass grave of the Partholanians, but I think they brought some remnant of one of those vanished civilizations.
We don’t know the real name for these creatures. We call them “gummy bears”. They’re attracted to fairy rings. Finding the remains of a small animal inside a fairy ring is rarely cause for concern, but if we get multiple reports then we know they’re leaving the remains of their meals behind and it’s time to set out the traps.
I don’t know what they look like in their original form. Perhaps they had no body at all and they were merely some spirit of pestilence, the same disease that killed off both the Partholanians and the Nemedians. Perhaps those people brought these spirits with them from the land of the dead.
Diminished as they are, they can only inhabit the bodies of other, lesser creatures. Cats. Small dogs. Raccoons. Rodents.
While they certainly look terrifying, their size doesn’t make them much of a threat. A good kick will save most campers from them. However, an incident that occurred the year after my parent’s death made me realize their potential.
Since the rules didn’t exist yet, we didn’t receive reports from our campers about the remains of rabbits and squirrels that were appearing inside of fairy circles. I think this gave them time to grow in numbers. To congregate. It was Bryan’s dogs that found evidence of the problem and when Bryan followed the pack to where they were taking him he found the lead dog growling at the circle with its teeth bared and tail down. He told me and I set out traps.
One of my staff, Ed, went with me when I made the rounds to check them. This was unnecessary - I knew what to do - but I suspect that he came with me for different reasons. Ed was hired as a young man by my grandparents. He’d watched me grow up. And he knew that the last time I went to check the traps like this was with my father. So he went with me so I didn’t have to face that grief alone and I’m glad he did, because I was conflicted. Careless.
I was trying not to cry, to be honest.
The first couple traps were empty. Then we reached the third and I got the can of gasoline and began to walk towards it. I wasn’t paying much attention, as I was thinking of the fire and how the beast’s throat glowed in my nightmare as it ripped my dad apart. Ed grabbed my arm and stopped me before I could get too far.
“Look,” he said softly.
I did.
We call them “gummy bears” because once the fur and skin is removed from a creature and it begins to decay, that’s kind of how they look. Their bodies are intact, held together by the power of whatever inhabits it, but it's decaying in layers. The muscle shines with a jellied translucence and the withered bones are yellowing inside. The dark meat of organs float at the core of its body.
If you kick them really hard they’ll explode like you drop-kicked a jello mold. I don’t recommend it.
At Ed’s quiet warning I took a longer look at what was in the trap. I’d initially taken it for a rat - there was the elongated head, the arch of the spine - but now I saw while it was a rat… it wasn’t just a rat.
It was a multitude. Scrambling with translucent paws, gnawing at the wires with ivory teeth, all those bodies heaving and struggling and their tails bound together like a mass of yellow, glistening worms.
We’d trapped a gummy bear rat king.
If you’re not familiar with what a rat king is, I highly recommend you google it and just put the cherry on top of this gummy bear and brussels sprout horror sundae.
The cage shook as some of the rats noticed us. They lunged forwards, teeth snapping, liquid eyes conveying their madness as they fixed on where we stood. The entire trap lurched a few inches and the handful of rats stuck in the trap squealed as their bodies were violently raked against the sides.
The rat king was only stuck partway into the trap. Some of the rats at the fore had made it in, gotten stuck, and now they could not get out and the remainder of their attached brethren could not break free.
Ed suggested that he get the shovel from the four-wheeler and pin the trap down with it. I could douse it with gasoline then and we’d just ignite them from a safe distance. I agreed with the plan and waited while he carefully approached. The rat king pivoted to face him, the cage rattling on the ground as it turned. He took careful aim at the far limits of the shovel’s reach, and jammed it down onto the body of the trap.
And at the impact, the rat king was spurred to lunge at him in return. There was a wet sound like putty splitting and the tails broke away, leaving behind quivering lumps of flesh as the third of the rat king still stuck in the cage screeched in anguish. And the bulk of the rat king, now freed of the trap, leapt at Ed.
He got in one swing with the shovel, but it went wild, and the rat king hit their target. They wrapped around his ankle, chewing and biting, and Ed was overbalanced from his swing and he went over. He hit the ground hard and the rat king continued to bite, dozens of teeth latching into his flesh as they wrapped around his ankle like a blanket.
I remember his screams. They almost drowned out the screeching of the rats still trapped in the cage.
I ran for him. I didn’t know what else to do other than to get them off. So I reached down and with my bare hands I plunged my fingers into the gelatinous mass of rats and wrenched them free.
It was like dipping my hand into a bowl of tepid porridge.
And then they twisted and began biting me - I felt their teeth score deep and I cried out in pain - and I threw them as hard as I could into the nearest tree.
You know how I said I don’t recommend kicking them?
The rat king exploded into a shower of flesh, organs, and bits of yellowed bone. Some of it got in my hair. I stood there a moment, breathing shallowly, and slowly Ed’s cries subsided into groans of pain.
I radioed for help and while we waited for the ambulance, I wrapped Ed’s leg up to staunch the bleeding. Then I burned the remainder of the rat king.
We were both taken to the hospital. They kept us overnight with a drip of IV antibiotics. I was released the next day. Ed was released much later, after they amputated his leg from the knee down. It turned red, the color of the exposed meat of the gummy bears, and then translucent, and then black.
Ed is still around. He keeps saying he’s going to retire and I don’t think he will, because his job these days mostly consists of driving around the campsite and shooting the shit with my campers and drinking their beer. If any of my other staff complain I tell them Ed provides invaluable intel on what’s going on around the campsite, but also they can fuck right off because Ed has more seniority than anyone here and deserves the easy jobs.
Okay, so their bites cause disease, you’re thinking. Any animal bite can do that. And anyone that gets bit on my campsite is probably going to get a massive dose of antibiotics and rabies shots in response. Yes, this is all true. But there’s one more thing that happened after I was released from the hospital.
We kept finding the remains of animals in the fairy circles. And Bryan’s dogs were uneasy. They refused to go into the forest. Our traps kept turning up empty.
I decided to try another approach. We’d leave out bait. I talked to a local farmer and convinced him to part with one of his goats. We killed it and hung the body from a stout branch, high enough that the average animal in the forest couldn’t get at it. They’d smell it, though. And then I affixed a digital camera to a tree trunk.
In the morning I went to check on the bait. I found… half the goat still hanging from the tree branch. The rest of its body was gone. There was no trail of blood or broken branches. Whatever had taken it was big enough to reach the bait, rip it in half, and then carry that half off into the woods.
I took the camera home, viewed the footage, and then cancelled the open camping we had planned for the coming weekend and sent out a whole lot of refunds. Then for a week my staff and I scoured the campground in teams of three, armed with fire and guns and accompanied by a dog, until finally we had to admit that whatever was out there had clearly retreated into hiding, for we weren’t finding the remains of small animals in the fairy circles anymore. I reopened the campground and when I wrote my rules, I included it as rule #2.
I think I’ve said before that there’s no real order to the rules. Don’t read too much into it being the second rule. I think it occurred to me so quickly because I don’t know what’s out there and that frightens me.
And no, I don’t have the footage to share with you anymore. The file got corrupted quite some time ago when I transferred it to a new computer. Besides, there wasn’t much to see. When I reviewed it I saw the edge of something’s body, the translucence of flesh and the start of a bone. Then it bumps into the camera and dislodges it and all you can see is dirt.
I’m a campground manager. Some of the creatures I deal with are beautiful, like the fairy, or intriguing, like the dancers. And some are straight-up horrifying. I worry that with it being a bad year, the creature that took the goat will come back to the campground. I worry about a lot of things coming back or suddenly becoming more active. And now to top it off, I have to worry about my diet because I’m not sure I want to eat fresh vegetables ever again after the spider incident and my dinner tonight is literally beef jerky, some cheddar cheese, and popcorn; and I’m sure that’s not going to be healthy in the long-term. [x]
Finally, an update about the lady with extra eyes.
Read the full list of rules.
Visit the campground's website.
submitted by fainting--goat to nosleep [link] [comments]

Tales of a lonely security guard part 8: The mill of horror

Please read my other posts to best understand everything: Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Two weeks ago at the time of posting, Nick showed up at my door. He told me it was time to go. I assumed we were on our way to the Aspin Heights or the woods nearby. He however, informed me he had a lead on the man we were in pursuit of. He told me to pack light for maneuverability. I'd like to mention that, as I was readying to go, this is where I learned of a new ability of Echks, the talking rock. Turns out, the little shit is telepathic.
At first I was curious how Nick would respond to this. Yet he did not. Confused, I told Nick I would be just a moment , and made my way into my room. Opening the drawer that was Echks home, I began
"Echks dude, I can't just take a talking rock with me. First of all, not everyone I meet will exactly.. Respond well to a talking rock. Second, Nick might wanna take you away an lock you in a cage.. or something. The point is it's not saf-"
He interrupted me
I pause. This rock is full of surprises
"First of all" I started "gross.
Second of all, why am I just learning about this. And how does it work?"
I roll my eyes.
"Obviously not. Fine." I pack Echks into one of my many pockets, before going for my phone only to remember its lost in Aspin somewhere. I grab my work phone, and head back to the door. As I do so I remember that I had work that night though obviously, would likely be unable to make it to the shift.
I give Conan a call
"Hey Conan.. I have a thing that's unfortunately gunna have me tied up for the entirety of the day, i won't be able to make it to work tonight"
"Mark" she begins "look after youre disappearing act.. Are you alright?"
I insist I am. Begrudgingly, she says alright and the conversation is over. I pocket the phone and head back.
"Sorry man, just had to grab a few things"
He nods understandingly
"I do believe you've made contact with the man we're after. I.. have reason to believe he's made contact with… other planes"
For several reasons this struck me as odd, almost unsettling. The most concerning thing of course being how Nick would know about whom I've made contact with. Though, I quickly brushed this thought away. It was, after all.. Nick, and he had always been a mysterious character.
"Alright." I said after only a slight moment of hesitation, "where are we off to?"
"A little neighborhood , other side of the forest. We'll have to take a slight.. Out of the way route, but it's the only choice what with Aspin.. "
We walk together to the parking lot. There's an old military style humvee, I can see through the morning fog. Nick hops into the front and gestures for me to join him. I do so, taking a seat in the front passenger seat. He starts the engine and we're off. As we drive, Nick plays some black sabbath from the stereo. Annoyingly. Echks sings along, though how he would know our 'primitive human' music is beyond me. Echks sits next to me as I type this and he's saying it's
yeah yeah, alright buddy.
Anyway back into it.
We drive for what feels like hours. Because it was. After a while, because of boredom and Echks constantly annoying me with his incessant singing, I notice a jeep wrangler which looks oddly familiar , has been following us for several miles.
I point this out to nick, who oddly enough hisses in response. Before I can comprehend that, we're speeding off, in attempt I assume to lose the pursuing vehicle. This works because Nick is a fucking psycho.
"Ah yes, here we are" nick says as we pull into the small neighborhood.
After asking a few locals for leads, we find an old homeless man with an eyepatch and torn old clothes.
"We're looking for a.. Strange homeless man" nick begins "he's likely very very new in town, probably socially inept. Know anyone who may fit that description? Long unkempt hair , although thats all of you people"
The old man snickers
"Oh yes, I think I know just the guys. Stayed with a couple of us at the old mill for a while. Be careful though, you see son, even we lot thought he was right bonkers. Everyone staying in that area with him done left weeks ago. He's likely up there all alone, see, I was the last to leave. I ain't gon stop you but; I'd advise against it"
with this, he slunk back down and smirked, holding out his hand for some kind of reward. Surprisingly Nick gave the man a handful of what looked like gold coins, before we drove off towards the mill.
When we arrive, we pull up next to an old worn silo of some sort. We prep, and as per usual Nick grabs a large assault weapon from the back. He loads up, I grab a flashlight and a knife, and we make our way towards the building
"MARK THIS SEEMS LIKE A TRAP!" Echks shouts apparently in my brain as Nick doesn't flinch.
"Shut up" I think.
Echks does. For a mere moment, before BOOM!
Suddenly the silo is exploding. Fire surrounds us for , as it topples and lands- directly om the humvee
"Fuck!" Nick shouts out. "Into the building, hurry your ass up" we sprint fast, and make our way into the old mill. I notice a sign ; Chesters toothpick mill.
"Sixth floor; whatever that was came from the sixth" nick shout as we step through the door.
"REALLY? MARK STOP" Echks shouts. Aweh how cute. The rock is worried about me.
Nick barely pushes me out of the way of a barrell , heavy and riddled with nails. I'm shocked; I hadn't even noticed we were about to be crushed yet, he got me out the way quickly, so fast I was left thinking it was almost inhuman.
Quickly, we find the stairs. As we step up an industrial sawblade swings, fast as lighting, threatening to cut us in half. But ronmy shock, Nick swats the damn thing to the side
"Holy fuck" I shout
"MOVE" Nick responds. So I do.
We reach the second floor, and I speed towards the stairs again as I faintly hear Nick yell
"Careful!" But as he yells, the floor falls from under me. I catch myself on the edge, but hardly, and drop my light and knife, which clank below me.
Next thing I know, Nick is reaching a hand towards me.
”OH BOY WE’RE FALLING MARK”! Echks screeches in my ear; “No shit” I think back, which he apparently hears as he mutters incoherently in annoyance.
"Get up asshole" he pulls me up
”WOW WHATTA DICK” Echks comments to my inner thoughts in response to Nick.
We collecte a nearby plank, and used it to clear away the rest of the loose panels. With a few close calls, we made it to the stairs. I claim the idea to be mine for lack of time to explain anything, although as Echks is currently reminding me, it was actually him who gave it to me.
On the third floor we were met with tripwires all over the place. This slowed our ascent down, but was hardly as dangerous as previous traps. Echks hummed in my ear the entire time making it hard to focus on not tripping any wires. I would later come to realize this was basically a cheap trick to slow us down without very much work put in beyond the trip wires. What I’m trying to say is they didn't actually do anything.
As we reach the top of the stairs we notice an axe trap. We crawl under it, and disable it. Whoever we're after really is fucking insane, I remember thinking. Echks agreed
Once we reach the fifth floor we notice what appear to be slingshot catapult esque traps. Nick begins to freak out. However, I quickly note we had plenty of room to squeeze by on the sides.
So I did that without much hesitation. I suppose it was possible this was done intentionally to trick foolish people to do exactly what I did.
Nick yells
"What are you doing!"
wHaT aRe yOu dOiNg” Echks mocked, still in my mind. I laugh slightly and Nick frowns. I make it to the stairs no problem. He looks ticked and confused almost like he didn’t quite gauge that we could fit, yet he quickly shrugs and follows, grumbling to himself.
We reached the floor we decided was our destination, and I noticed right away who it is we are apparently after. Remember those guys from, earlier, who almost sort of teleported in front of us while we were in the woods with the toad? Well , the man, the one who didn’t turn to dust, is standing in the room with us. Nick notices at the same time I do and smirks, looking almost smug.
“ well well well.. I have some question for you” Nick says, still smirking.
“Demon! He's a demon!” the man began to shout , pointing at nick. Of course I blew this off, because I’d known Nick for years, and the man was clearly off his rocker to some extreme level. Behind him I notice the red and orange glow of the flames below, where the silo had exploded and crushed the humvee earlier. I also take not of two other things; the swords I had seen the man take off his fallen comrade before fleeing were leaning against the wall, next to the knapsack, and the car which I had noted as following us, was parked outside, a safe distance away from where the silo had fallen. Before being able to further process that, however, shit in the room got real crazy, real fast. The man quickly throws a bone white knife with outstanding speed and aim, directly at Nicks throat. I see it all play out almost in slow motion, and I think Im about to watch my long time friend die, however, quicker still, Nick is able to catch the projectiled blade by the hilt. The smirk on nicks face has turned into a much darker, much more sinister looking smile.
“Demon!” the man shouts, this time directly to me “look! Look for yourself. Quick! He's a demon!” he's thrusting something forcibly into my hands. I look down and it's a tiny cylindrical glass object with a bronze frame. It seems to be made up of two glass parts, clear on one side and green on the other. I also take note of what appears to be an almost fluorescent purple fog inside of it, much like that left behind when Echks appeared or the toad disappeared. ”LISTEN TO HIM MARK!” Echks shouts in my ear ”I KNOW THIS MAN HE’S-” But as Echks is talking I've already looked through the glass and at the man. He looks normal, if a bit tinged over with green. The last of Echks words fade away as I turn to say something to nick; yet I do not see nick. I see what appears to be a man shaped, tall, slender beast of sorts standing at what must be atleast 7 feet. His skin is charcoal black, his ears and teeth are pointed, with the later appearing razor sharp, much like the claws he now has instead of fingernails. His bright red eyes stare back into mine as I take note of the wings perched upon his back. His shoulders are oddly shaped , almost coming to a point. Naturally I freak out, jumping a significant amount, causing me to drop the eyeglass thing. I now see nick as he seemed to be before, though his grin is most certainly evil-esque in nature. “Well” he says, in a voice much more demonic then that of what I am used to “I guess thats that, the jig is up”
As he speaks, I, wide eyed with terror, begin to move towards the aforementioned wall swords. I grab one, as Nick.. or the thing I thought to be Nick, as I still am unable to wrap my brain fully around what exactly this all means, though part of me hopes that this thing in fact was not nick.. Still, that may be wishful thinking; removes a tiny , very familiar object from his pocket, as his body begins to contort and shift in shape and appearance. As ‘Nick’ goes to put on the ring, I grasp firmly to the sword's hilt and pull it free, watching as Nick's nails become more and more pointed. Before the ring can fully fall into place on his finger, I swing, mostly out of the adrenaline fueled shock and horror of the moment; stop him from using his mind altering capabilities was all I could think. The blade connected with his wrist, and cut clean through, leaving Nick's hand on the floor, ring still halfway on the finger.
Nick yells out as it all happens, though seemingly more out of frustration then pain. His body begins to convulse and change quicker now, much like the old man from Aspin. He knocks the sword away from me, and starts to swing down at me with his remaining, now razor sharp clawed hand, I notice the other man has unsheathed the other sword. However, before Nick can slice me, and before the man can react in any way, BANG! Followed by several more. It’s gunshots. Nick stumbles and ends up closer to the window, hissing much like earlier, but now much more guttural and animalistic. I kick Nick hard before the stubs on his back have time to grow out. I kick him directly into the window, which shatters with a resounding CRACK, and I watch in stunned silence as my old friend falls into the flames below. I turn wordlessly to meet my saviour. Of course, it's connan whose face I see. I also notice the man now has both swords sheathed again. Echks tells me he actually knows this guy and had been communicating with him the same way we do. They apparently have a history. This man is apparently his Cole, and actually our Cole. The security guard who held my position at the mill before me. A lot of what Im about to say may seem confusing, because it is. Apparently, from Echks perspective, Cole had gone through the portal with their friend, who's apparently named Fredickson, who as it turns out, is actually from our future. After many years... yes, years, of messing around with different magics, which was hard for Echks as, he’s literally a rock; he was able to teleport himself close to the specific time and location that Cole and Fredickson had come through. But as you know, Echks actually appeared first from my perspective, at least a week or so before Cole and Fredickson appeared. They apparently all spent quite a significant amount of time together, in some other.. Place. Neither went on to tell me very much about this other worldly area, due mostly to lack of time. Ill attempt to pry more information from this lil shit head rock as soon as I can, however, I’ve been stuck in a bit of a rut since everything happened. Following me murdering my long time friend, Conan had some things to say “After your three day disappearance, I become suspicious and concerned that something may be up. I started keeping tabs on your work phone, however it never left the house, and you did not answer when I came by your place, though your roommates did. They too had not seen you and asked if everything was alright, which of course I said yes….” She keeps talking, about how when id called out earlier that day, she once again became concerned and decided to check the phone, even though itd remained stationary last time. Of course as you know, I had indeed taken it with me this time.. Guess thats how she was able to follow us, which I suppose makes sense. However , as she drones on, I zone out, the realization of what I had just done really starting to kick in. The man had collected all his things together, while I picked up nicks ring off the floor and pocketed it. Conan and Cole had their heartwarming reunion, with hugs and catching up for what must have been a while. I kept small talk up when it felt required for me to do so, however I was still having trouble processing everything. Thoughts of nick and the damn toad flood my mind.. Cole says something in response to Conans comments on his somewhat awful traps “They work a lot better on monsters” He admits Echks apparently also Makes conversation mentally with Cole, though of what I am not sure. I see the building rusty, faded sign as we leave, a big sign that reads “fosters toothpick mill” We all ride with Conan for obvious reasons, and I fall asleep. They take me to my place, and Echks informs me he's decided to remain with me for now, which I hadn’t even realized was something being debated. Conan and Cole Head out together, I assume to continue catching up with one another and maybe to file reports or whatever. But not before she tells me to rest up, and tp please please please keep her informed about everything, even outside of work from now on. I nod, but of course not. Not with the promise I’d made.. I'll leave you off with this; I made a phone call the following day I wish I never had to make.
Rest easy buddy, I'll miss you Nick. You were always a good kid. I’m sorry I killed you. This will probably be my last post for a while, and I'm sorry It took me so long to be able to post this. Until next time, this is officer lichfield.. Signing off
submitted by Officer_Lichfield to nosleep [link] [comments]

I'm on display at Mr. McCallister's Odditorium. Someone please, help me escape. (Part 1)

My name is Alice. I need to write that down before I forget it. I don’t know how much time I have before he comes back, so I’m going to try to write this down as fast as humanly possible. We’re all so terrified. There’s about 10 of us, and he hasn’t finished his collection. I need to stop him before- I don’t know. Sorry, let me calm down and start over.
I’ve always been a loner. No siblings, not many friends. I guess I’ve always been more focused on my work. I’ve dated guys, but none of them stick around. They always said I’m too “detached”. I didn’t mind then. I lived in Manhattan, and I always had work to keep me busy. That is, until my parents died unexpectedly. Car crash. I was upset, sure, but I wasn’t very close to my parents if I’m gonna be honest. So imagine my surprise when I got a call from my family’s attorney saying that they left me the house. My childhood home. In the middle of east bumb-fuck nowhere. I begrudgingly packed up my shit and moved down there, hoping I could sell it quickly and get back to my life.
My hometown is very small, an “everybody knows everybody” type of place. So it was very unsurprising that all of my neighbors took extreme interest in me moving back home. The first couple days I was home I was bombarded by neighbor after neighbor pounding on my door, wanting to see “how I was doing” or “what I was up to”, which very quickly became borderline unbearable. It wasn’t until the third day I was there that my childhood friend, Ray, knocked on my door.
“Alice- hey!”
“Oh my god Ray, is that really you?” I’m not a hugger, but when he went in for one, I didn’t pull away.
“Yeah! I heard you were in town, so I figured I would stop by! I’m really sorry about your parents…”
I didn’t really know what to say, so I muttered a thank you. We stood there for a moment, an awkward silence permeating the air. Eventually, Ray spoke again.
“Hey… do you remember that carnival we went to as kids?”
“Oh my god, yes!” I laughed, “Those were always so fun! God, I’m sure there’s about a million cheap stuffed animals from the ring toss stuffed in a box somewhere…”
Ray laughed heartily, “Oh my god, yes! You killed that game!”
“Yeah, I always beat you!” I laughed, and he put on an offended face, clutching his pearls.
“Well excuse me! I was going to ask you to go with me tonight, but apparently I’m not good enough for the ring toss queen, so I’ll just be going…” He joked, dramatically turning around, pretending to leave.
“Wait! The carnival is in town?”
He spun around, a stupid grin on his face. “You bet it is! What do you say?”
I laughed. This was the most interesting thing to happen to me since I got back. “Yeah, that would actually be great! Meet you at 8?”
“Deal!” He smiled, before jogging back to his car and driving away.
We spent the entire evening talking and laughing. I beat him at ring toss (again), and after stuffing our faces with funnel cake, we took a lap around the fair. We stopped in front of a structure I had never seen before.
It was a worn tent in a red and black striped pattern. One flap of the tent was pinned open, the darkness inside almost permeating the air. I shuddered. I don’t know what it was, but something about this tent seriously creeped me out. A large sign was staked into the ground, written in a very floral font, matching the tent in coloring.
Mr. McCallister’s Odditorium
“Oh I heard about this place!” Ray exclaimed, breaking me out of my fog. “It’s a freak show, you know, bearded ladies, conjoined twins, that kind of stuff. Let’s go in!” He said, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the tent. I stayed still, pulling my arm out of his grasp.
“Um, I don’t know Ray, I don’t really feel okay with gawking at people’s deformities…”
“Come on, Alice, it’ll be fun!” He said with a tight lipped smile, annoyance in his eyes. Something was off with him. I shook my head, and he grabbed my arm so tight I could see the blood beneath his grip drain from my wrist.
“Alice, let’s just go!” He forced me toward the tent, but I stood my ground, pulling against him, before eventually yanking my arm from his hold.
“Ray, seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t want to go in!”
He rubbed his hand over his face, frustrated, before sighing at looking at me.
“Sorry. I just really wanted to go in, it was actually the reason I wanted to come to the fair. But nevermind, I’ll come back another time.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“It’s fine Ray, let’s just walk around some more, okay?”
We walked around for a little while longer, before it seemed like the carnival was starting to shut down for the night. We hopped into Ray’s car and he drove me home. As I was getting out after saying goodnight, Ray stopped me, putting his hand on my arm gently.
“Hey, Alice. I.. I just want to say I’m really sorry.”
“Ray don’t worry about earlier, it’s totally fine.”
There was a strange look in his eyes. He looked almost guilty. His eyes were glistening, tears threatening to fall.
“Alice, I’m so, so sorry.”
Weirded out by his behavior, I just nodded at Ray, getting out of his car and jogging to my parent’s house.
It was almost one in the morning, so I quickly got ready for bed, suddenly really exhausted. I quickly checked that the door was locked, still weirded out about Ray, and I passed out as soon as my head hit the pillow.
At around three in the morning, I woke up to a creaking sound coming from the living room. Trying to tell myself that it was just the house settling, I attempted to go back to sleep, but the creaking seemed to get closer. Getting slightly nervous, I quietly crept out of bed, looking for any sort of weapon, eventually grabbing a decorative clock off the bedside table. This’ll have to do, I guess, I thought to myself, internally rolling my eyes at my behavior. This is a super safe neighborhood, it’s probably nothing, I kept repeating to myself, as I slowly opened the door, peeking out into the darkness. I didn’t see anything, so I quietly crept into the living room, double checking that the door was locked. I breathed a sigh of relief when it was, and just as I was about to turn around and head back to bed, someone grabbed me, wrapping me in a bear hug. He was strong. Inhumanly strong, and I could see his massive arms and bulging veins, even in the darkness. I tried to scream, but he fought me, dragging me further into the house. He held me with one arm, and I felt him reach into his back pocket, before brandishing a white cloth. He shoved it into my face, holding it over my nose and mouth. I fought, I fought so hard, kicking and screaming, but my vision quickly started to get blurry, and soon, I passed out.
I woke up in a dimly lit room, the fluorescent lighting hurting my eyes. It was bare, save for the metal table I was strapped to. I tried to move, but the restraints were tight. It was when the initial haze wore off that I realized that my entire body was on fire, like I was stung by a million hornets. I wanted so desperately to look and see what was wrong, but my head was in some sort of trap. The pain was agonizing, and I let out a whimper, trying to make as little noise as possible. A few moments later, I heard a metal door open and shut behind my head. A deep voice chuckled, immediately chilling me to the bone. Eventually, a man loomed over my head, a surgical mask covering his face.
“Well, well, well. My little treasure is awake.”
I tried to speak, but I realized my mouth was also in agonizing pain, so I kept it shut.
“You’ll make a fine addition to my collection, Tabitha.”
My eyes widened. I spoke weakly, despite the pain.
“Tabitha? You… you have the wrong person. My name is Alice.”
He laughed, his eyes dancing. “Not anymore it’s not.”
He began undoing my restraints, before eventually releasing my head from the trap I was held in.
“Wha- what are you doing?”
“Well, I figured I would let you be the first to see your new look.”
“My- what?”
He ushered me over to an object covered by a tarp in the corner of the room, before ripping it off with a flourish. I fought back a scream at what I saw.
Tattoos covered my body from head to toe. All over my face, my stomach and arms, my feet. Every inch of skin was covered. I was clad in a small leather bikini and a choker. My hair was dyed black and styled in finger waves, and my makeup was meticulously done to resemble that of the 1920’s. My eyes were electric green, and my pupils were slits, like a cat’s. I slowly opened my mouth, to reveal razor sharp fangs, and a forked tongue.
“Presenting… Tabitha the tattooed lady!” He cackled, insanity in his eyes. I fled to the corner of the room to throw up, and he only laughed harder at my reaction.
“Don’t worry Tabitha, you’ll get used to it eventually.” And with that, a large man burst into the room. Before I knew what was happening, a white cloth was pressed against my nose and mouth, the world fading to black once more.
I woke up in a cage. I recognized the coloring of the small tent immediately. I looked around, taking in the many cages that lined the tent. Every cage was filled with a person, faces twisted with misery. I looked to the tops of the cages, seeing that atop each one, a sign in that similar floral font from the front sign, displayed their names:
The Siamese Twins
The Lobster Girl
The Human Skeleton
The Reptilian Man
Those were the only ones I could make out in the dim lighting, the others were too far away to see. A few moments later, people started flooding the tent, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at us. I rushed up to the front of the cage, holding tight to the bars. I called out to the closest people.
“Please, please help me! They kidnapped me, and they’re holding me hostage!”
The couple looked at me, taking in my eyes and body, before beginning to laugh.
The man turned to the woman, “Wow, they train these freaks well, it really ups the creep factor!”
The woman laughed, and they continued their walk, taking in the morbid curiosities surrounding them.
I tried to catch the attention of several other patrons, but they all laughed me off. Tears began to spill down my face, when I heard a mumble to my left.
“Don’t bother, they won’t believe you.”
It was a man in a suit, hair parted down the middle and slicked down. He was traditionally handsome, blue eyes and a strong jaw. It wasn’t until I looked down that I saw his third leg. My jaw dropped.
“It isn’t mine.”
“What?” My eyes snapped up.
“The leg,” he whispered, “It isn’t mine.”
I just stared at him, unable to fully process what was going on.
“Look,” he said, “I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re on the road. He won’t be able to listen in on us then. But until then, I’m James, the three legged man.”
“I’m.. Tabitha, I guess.” I said, eyes lowering, anger warming my belly.
“You can tell me your real name later, okay?” He offered a small smile.
I nodded, before returning to the small stool that sat in my otherwise empty cage. I sat there for what felt like hours, watching the patrons laugh and whisper at my appearance. Tears spilled down my face, but it only seemed to make the patrons laugh more. I could see the sun was starting to set through the small opening created by the tent flap. As I was about to turn away, he walked in.
He perused the cages, taking his time. Shock quickly turned into fury as I ran to the front of my cage, growling in pure anger. I shook the bars, screaming until he finally looked over and saw me. The color drained from his face, and he ran over to my cage, making sure he was out of my reach.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen, Alice I’m so sorry-”
“How could you do this to me?!” I yelled, swiping at him.
“He threatened to take my sister unless I could find a replacement- I- I had to save her, I’m so sorry…” Tears were spilling down his face.
“Fuck you. FUCK YOU. As soon as I get out of this hellhole I’ll fucking kill you!”
It was then I heard that familiar cackle that I froze.
“Well hello again, Ray! You’ve brought me a lovely specimen,” He said, patting him on the back, “I can’t thank you enough!” He said, tipping his bowler, before straightening his suit jacket and walking toward the bars of my cage. I attempted to swipe at him, but he caught my wrist, squeezing it until I yelped in pain.
“Now Tabitha, you’re going to be a very good girl, otherwise I’m going to have to sedate you.”
I growled at him, pushing against the bars.
“Fuck you.”
He squeezed my wrist tighter, crushing it. “Now that’s not very nice language to use in front of my guests. Very well- I’ll get Bruce to administer-”
My eyes widened. “No! No, I’ll be good. I promise.”
He smiled, revealing crooked, yellowing teeth, before releasing my wrist. “Very good. Now sit in your chair like a good girl. And, push up your breasts, would you? I want everyone to see my excellent handiwork.” And with that, he turned on his heel, his coattails catching air, before strutting away. I started crying once more, shoulders shaking with my silent tears, before doing as I was asked, and returning to my stool.
I looked at Ray, pure despair reflected in my eyes.
“Please, go.”
He looked at me one more time, before leaving the tent. He never came back.
For the next two days I did as I was told. I sat, and stayed silent as people took in my appearance. But all the while rage burned in my gut. I needed to get out of here, I just didn’t know how. Towards the end of the night, a drunk man stumbled into the tent. He shook the bars, sneering at all of us, spitting out insults and reaching inside the bars, attempting to grab us. After reaching for me, he spun around, leaning against the bars of my cage. It was then when I saw it. His iPhone was hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans. I saw it, relief flooding my eyes. My golden opportunity. I crept up behind him, slowly plucking his phone out of his pants pocket, before stuffing it in the back of my bikini bottoms. He whirled around at me, taking in my appearance.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I froze. “I- uh…” An idea struck me, and I swallowed my pride. “I just… wanted to say hello to you, handsome.” I winked at him, trying to keep down the bile rising in my throat.
He smirked, using the bars of my cage as an attempt to steady himself.
“Well… you’re pretty hot, for a freak. Why don’t you let me in that cage of yours?”
It was then that Mr. McCallister showed up, quickly apologizing for my behavior and ushering him out the door. He stalked over to me, lowering his voice.
“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you better go back to your chair and sit like a good girl.”
I tried to hide my smirk as I nodded, returning to my stool.
The idiot didn’t have a passcode on his phone, thank god. I can’t call anyone, but there’s no service anyway. He had this app on his phone and I figured this might be a good place to write this down. He’ll be coming back any minute, but please, if you can, help us. We’re about to go on the road to the next town, so hopefully I’ll be able to get some answers from James. I have no clue where we’re going, and there’s no one in my life to come looking for me. I’m scared. God, I’m so scared. Earlier today, I saw them moving several empty cages, blank name plates placed on top.
He wants more of us. And there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
Part 2
submitted by vlbrown1997 to nosleep [link] [comments]

Call Me A Safe Bet, I'm Betting I'm Not... I'm ever so post-modern. You'll find me in empty corners of nightclubs There's something I've been meaning to say But the words keep getting lost in the breeze. The sky is turning the colour that says It's morning soon. This will all be forgotten. Call me a safe bet I'm betting I'm not I'm glad that you can forgive Only hoping as time goes, you can forget [Verse 2] And if it makes you less sad I'll move out of the state You can keep to yourself Call options give you the right to "buy" a stock at a specified price. You buy a Call option when you think the price of the underlying stock is going to go up. In the example above let's say you bought an IBM December 95 "Call option" instead. This option gives you the right to "buy" IBM stock for $95 on or before the 3rd Friday of December. astrologichole:. Aries: tries to do everything at once, doesn’t know when to stop and take care of themselves, bends over backwards for everyone even if someone did them dirty, has entirely too much on their plate Taurus: idealistic, spends a lot of time trying to impress others, doesn’t like to apologize, eating is a coping mechanism or just addictive personalties in general, a tad Bet 1 25 => 30,39. Bet 2 30 => 40,79. Bet 3 40 => 52. Bet 4 50 => 71,49. Bet 5 75 = > 107,27. As you can see im not betting the exact amount that i win, no particular reason for this to be honest. At an avg of 1.35 we will be at 1236 in 13 bets. I'll probably start over around 800, because i dont got that type of balls to continue.

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