Stark memorial funeral home salem ohio

Canton, OH

2011.06.28 04:49 joeyda3rd Canton, OH

For redditors interested in Canton, OH. The best Canton in the USA. Subscribe whether you live here, near by, visit regularly, were here once, or even if you just like us. -Regular meetups. -News, opinions, and advice related to our city or surrounding area. -Home of the Pro Football Hall of Fame, the McKinley National Memorial, the William McKinley Presidential Library and Museum, the First Ladies National Historic Site, and is the terminus of the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad.
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2023.06.02 15:48 flippenphil (Offer) Dr. Seuss 5 film collection (Request) The Menu, Amsterdam, Babylon

MA = Movies Anywhere
GP = Googleplay
[?] = unknown definition
title = pending trade
If a title is no longer listed = It has been traded
COMBO Films
MOVIES
TV Series Marked
Vudu Only
ITUNES Only
ITUNES Only MOVIES - No Port - Marked
CANADIAN CODES: GOOGLE PLAY / ITUNES MARKED I do not know any of these port
WANT LIST
Titles I am looking for
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2023.06.02 11:25 notyouraveragetwin I just need to talk

Its almost 4am and i don't think sleep is going to happen until I 'talk' about it.
My sister(45f) died January 7th of this year. I hosted a 'drink in remembrance' a couple weeks later when it became obvious my mother was going to drag this out. 'I want to wait til spring' she kept saying. It was not the official service by any means. There's a lot of meat and potatoes to this situation, just trying to think of the most relevant.
My mother casually mentioned she went up north to the cemetery memorial weekend to clean her parents headstone and stuff. I can't help but be upset.
The plot has been purchased, yet her ashes are still at the funeral home. There are no current plans to bury her soon. I'm starting to feel like she's doing this to 'punish' her. She died of an overdose.
In the last two years my mom and her have spoken 2 times. I talked to her weekly and saw her about 2x a month the last few months of her life. We talked Friday briefly and Saturday night she was gone. We were close.
My mother has made it clear only her feelings matter. I retrieved her personal belongings and went through them alone. I made the picture boards for the informal event I hosted. Alone. I have 2 other siblings... I feel extremely abandoned. She spiraled the past two years horribly. My family 'washed their hands off her'.
Yes she was a different person the last two years. But she deserves better than this. I need my sister to put to rest for the sake of my mental health. It's keeping me up at night. I'm so anxious, and I know its because I need to my sister to be laid to rest. Not sitting on shelf in a closet at the funeral home.
I'm willing to get her and keep her ashes with me until mom is 'ready', but I can't hear another lecture about how this isn't about my feelings.
I asked my older brother to talk to her, because his opinions and feelings matter.
I feel like my mother is being selfish. I have cousin's and her friends who kept inquiring about the official service(snow storm kept a lot of people home that day I hosted. And no, my mom didn't come to that. My dad did. He's irritated with her too but he won't say anything.
I thought my family was normal. We sure put on a good show because this situation has me reflecting on my life. And normal is the last word id use to describe my immediate family.
I don't know what I'm asking. I just had to ramble somewhere and i think I'm going to fall asleep soon now that I got this out of my head.
I miss my sister.
submitted by notyouraveragetwin to GriefSupport [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 10:22 Plushytoonz There is a town called Necro town

An old friend of mine once told me never to go to Necro town. I asked him why but he just never gave me the answer. Looking far from my home town, Necro town looked abandoned and was never owned by anybody nearby. Whenever I look out into that town, I wonder about it. The unknown and its many mysteries.
My old friend seems to have lived in that place but he never did. It's as if he was making up a horror story about Necro town. But, I did what he told me to. Never go there. Ever.
I asked my parents about that place. They never knew anything about it except it's just a wasteland. Grandpa never knew about it either. Such a mystery as to why would my old friend prohibit me from entering but my dad said otherwise. "If you want to go there and explore the place, I guess you can. But you better be careful from strangers alright kid."
By the time I turned 14, the bully in my school keeps getting worse on me. I get slammed into a locker, get my head knocked out, and even beaten up. I really don't want to go back to school but how am I supposed to convince my parents that?
The reason I don't have any friends at school was mostly because they don't like me as a person. I expressed myself for who I am and yet I get mocked by them all the time. calling me many names like freak, loser, norm, or even Melvin the idiot. Was it because I'm different? I have no clue about them at all.
I tried to fight back but they just keep winning every time. So then, I run away from school in the middle of classes, lunch breaks, and activities but every time I do, a teacher always caught me down and send me to the principles office. I lied to them and said "Because I wanna get candy." Or "I forgot my books back home.". I don't want to tell them the truth because I knew how much big trouble I'm going to have if I do.
I tried escaping all over again and finally I made it one day. And whenever I escaped, I always go to my old friends house. We go into the woods to go fishing in the pond. I love seeing those shiny blue fishes in the waters because they're just so beautiful when I look at them in the afternoon.
My old friend's name is Brandon West. He's of course much older than me because he's about 64 years old and for some reason he got so much energy to keep himself moving. He always have his brown firm cane with him everywhere he goes. He tells me tales of ancient beings, heavens and hells, the Sturgeon, and the blue turbo.
I've asked about the blue turbo and all he said was. "He's a sad man." Sad man sounds like he's been through a lot.
The blue turbo was born in a world where flame people live. They all have special powers depending on their shape and colors of their bodies. Green flame, blue flame, red flame, etc. He grew up with lovely parents who have similar powers to his. His power is both his parents powers. In his childhood, he grew fond of his friends and family that he devoted his life to protect the good in life.
In his teenage years, he became an officer. Protecting the people who are in danger. It was starting to get dangerous for him, but that never means he won't give up.
In his late 20s, he became a well devoted guardian, fighting against the evil dark powers from beneath the world's surface. He loved everything that is good in life. He had a wife and son while being a guardian. Their relationship was strong and they did whatever it takes to enjoy life. But then one day, the world around them turned into a warfare. The evil dark powers are killing people whilst they fight back. He fought hard and won. But it was at a huge cost. He lost his wife and child right in front of his eyes. Lost what's left in the world. He fell to a deep depression, which he quit being a guardian and was never to be seen again.
Brandon always looked sad whenever he told me the blue turbo. It's as if that felt real and it did happen. But, it is compelling. I asked him about where did the blue turbo go. He said. "Don't know. But wherever he is, he'll still devote himself in life."
One day when I was 16, I escaped school again and this time it didn't go well. By the time I walked behind the basketball court, I was caught by the bully and his gang. "Well oh well. Looks like Melvin the idiot is trying to leave the school all by himself. You're really going to leave again just so that you'll get away from us? That ain't happening norm." They were going to beat me up badly, so I didn't waste anymore time as I ran away from them. I didn't know how fast I was at this point.
They kept following me as I ran on the sidewalk. I didn't want to look back because I knew very well that if I did, I'll slow down. The running footsteps behind me kept pacing towards me. I can hear the loud steps as if they're like the golem's foot. My breath is getting shallow the more I keep running and my legs began to grow numb and sore. But I never slowed down nor stop. I just kept running until I finally lost them.
"Get back here you freak!!"
"We're going to kill you loser!!"
Then, a road towards Necro Town appeared before me. The words from Brandon echoed inside my mind not to go in there. My heart beats in fear. The bully and his gang chasing behind me like I'm their food to eat. My legs are about to surrender to my exhaustion and I can feel every pain coming from my muscles.
I can hear the footsteps behind me as I think of any other options. There are no other ways to go except into Necro town. I don't want to be beaten up or killed. Then, every memory of myself being bullied by them flashes into my mind, making me very angry. I'm sick and tired of being their punching bag. It's time for me to fight back!
I stopped at my tracks and turned to face them. Face to face. They stood on their grounds before me. Laughing at me with mockery. I stood my grounds and prepared myself for the worst. "I'm tired of being your punching bag! It's time for me to stand up for myself! I'm not afraid of you!!" But I lied. I'm still scared of getting beaten up. All I want is for them to stop bullying me forever.
The bully rushes towards me and I was ready to punch him at any moment given. By the time he's in front of me, I missed my shot. The punishment for my failed attempt to punch him was getting knocked out by getting punched in the face. I fell to the ground, knocking my head against it. My body passed through the limits of entering Necro town. My head and shoulders lay on the Necro town grounds.
I was then slowly dragged into Necro town by the bully's gang. I can feel the painful sting on my back as I get dragged. Suddenly, before I went to sleep mode, I heard screams. The bully's scream fades far away and his gang gets slowly decreasing. My arms are dropped down. The hands that held me tight are loosened from my arms so fast. I can hear each of them screaming in fear as piece by piece they disappear. Then I blacked out.
I woke up to find myself in an empty dark room. While my vision was getting clear, I slowly stand back up. When I got back my conscious, I gagged from the awful stench that just came from inside this room. I looked around to see where's the door for my escape and there, I see the shining golden knob reflecting my sight. I ran and grab hold of it, then twist it to open the door. To my very eyes, I've witnessed the most insane horror I've ever had in my life.
The sources aren't just in the room I was in. It was also in the living room because there are 5 dead bodies hanging like pig meat. Their flesh cut and sliced so disgustingly brutal that I can see their organs and tissues beginning to slip out of the sockets. Blood and bones are spread around the floor, shining the cold light that shines through the curtains of the outside. When I look at the top of their corpses, there are eyes looking directly at me with fear. Then I realize that they're still alive.
They suddenly screamed everywhere with the pain they share. I blocked my ears with my palm as I felt the twist in my stomach getting worse. Tears rapidly escapes out of my eyes that I shut my eyes tight. I quickly ran out of there and arrived to a room that is full of random colors. The colors are wrong. They're all wrong in many different ways that I can't describe so well about it. The screams and the colors made me vomit all over the floor. I nearly fell to the ground but I kept myself back up in hopes of leaving this place. I want to go home. I want to see Brandon again. I wished I'd rather get beaten up in the basketball court than coming here to lead my bully and his crew to their unholy demise.
I spun around in a frenzy and saw the bright and weird door before me. I quickly opened it and I was met with a freezing atmosphere. The world turned into some sort of hell. There are large stone spikes all over Necro town, crushing through the houses. The sky all grey and the sun is smiling at me with an empty mouth. Its eyes glaring at me in those sockets. The Sockets are too big for the eye balls that I thought it'll fall to the ground but it didn't.
I don't see anybody else outside. There's only the deformed flesh like trees and broken homes. My heart begins to panic. The world is making me crazy and horrified at the same time that I froze in place.
Something was walking behind me. They felt wrong, all wrong like it's not human. I turned around to see nothing. Literally nothing. There's no room filled with colors and the screaming stopped. Far away from myself is the darkest room I've ever seen. All dark. No light. Nothing.
I closed the door behind me and checked the room that was hanging my bully and his colleagues but they're all gone and the wall is stained with blood. The writing gave me enough chills and fear that drives me mad. There is no god to save you, Hermit
I spun around in a frenzy as if someones looking at me. I can feel the eyes are at me and I don't know where it is until a stomp noise can be heard right in the room I woke up in. At first, there were loud footsteps, and now it's banging on the door like a maniac. I didn't wait for it to come out of course. So I ran away, outside in the hellish Necro town.
I'm running on the road now and something is coming for me. Thoughts popping inside my head about whatever is coming for me, it won't lose my tracks as it can smell my very soul. Until I was very far away from the house I was in, a loud scream booms from that house. The scream is like the thousand souls tormented in hell for all eternity. I can feel its gaze at me with its hellish intentions.
I didn't stop to look back. I just kept running until I get into my home. How far is this town? Because I've been running for much longer and the town shouldn't be so far. The footsteps are getting closer as my heart beats faster with every second of its footsteps getting closer.
My legs became so sore and numb, and my lungs became so shallow from the burning air. I suddenly coughed so much that I fell to the ground, hitting my elbow. I tried to crawl away but it was already too late as the thing behind me has already come to get me. I rolled on my back and looked forward to see a tall hideous figure.
It was a tall humanoid with coal like skin. Its skin tightens its bones and I can see its red blood veins pulse around its deflated muscles. Its legs are of a goat's legs, resembling the creature to be something demonic like the devil. The arms are so long that its length is from shoulder to feet. Snd its fingers are way too long that it's like a monstrous claw. Its head is not human, more like a hood connecting to its shoulders. It's not the long and impossible stretched jaw that made me scream. The eyes are because there's nothing in them. Nothing but darkness of Sheol.
It's reaching me with those hideous claws while screaming like a wild demonic animal ready to pounce on their prey. Is this really how I was going to die. To be brutally mauled by its claws and jaw. Will I share the same fate as the bully and his comrades? I don't want to know and I never want to live like this. I'm scared. I don't want to die.
By the time it reaches me, something bright hits it. It's like I'm looking at a fireball? It was big. Bigger than my torso. I looked upwards to see a bright blue figure approaching me. It's like I'm looking at someone from the afterlife because its whole body is in flames except for a recognizable coat, pants, and a cane.
"It's been so long since I've fought these creatures." It was a voice of an old man I recognize clearly. But this doesn't make any sense at all. It's so strange for this guy to sound like Brandon but his voice matches him.
The creature growled at him like a dog and I didn't waste anytime to get away from it. But the smoking smell in my lungs prohibit me to get away. It's like I was dying. But my eyes are alright.
The creature jumps over me, attacking the savior of my life. He shot another fire ball at it and that makes the creature soar back. The creature stands back up wildly before the stranger appeared before it as if he teleported in a blink of an eye. He wack his cane at its head which rips off from its neck. This stranger killed that creature like its nothing but when he turned around I can see fear on his face.
His face, I can see his eyes and mouth. There's also 2 triangular scar at the sides of his chin and they're not burning in flames. "Melvin. I can explain later but right now we have to leave." He said my name just like Brandon does. This is insane, I don't know if I was dreaming or it's real because everything is going mad.
"Let me help you up." He held me by the arm, pulling me up from the ground as I tried to take a breath. My legs are too tired for me to walk. But when he pulled me from the ground, I felt a great sensation of cleansing in my lungs and my legs and muscles began to relax. His hands doesn't hurt nor burn me as if it's a regular hand with no effect on me. I look at him and still he's in fear. Why would he be scared too?
"Brandon?" I said with fear and question in my voice. He looked at me with defeat as if he can't hide that away anymore. That's how I knew he's Brandon. "Well. Looks like you figured it out. But come on. Lets move now. You don't want the fish and chips cold." As he ran, I followed in pursuit. My legs felt reborn and my lungs have increased somehow. This felt so real. Everything does. I'm not dreaming at all. It's really happening. I kept asking Brandon with many questions from my head. "You're the blue turbo?"
"Yes. I am."
"Where were you after you quit being a -"
"Melvin. Now is not the time. We have to go. I'll answer them until we reach home ok."
We were suddenly blocked by 5 more of these creatures. They're just like the one I met before when I was being chased. I hid behind Brandon for safety as the creatures screams. I stepped far back from them, not wanting to turn into their puppet or something worse. I looked around to see more of them approaching us with hungry mouths. We're surrounded.
We stand with our backs facing each other. I'm horrified to see more of these demonic creatures all around us, ready to pounce at any moment. When I turn to see Brandon I thought he would be scared but he looks like he knew this would happen. "Melvin, when I say go, run away and don't look back. Keep running no matter what."
"What? But I don't want to leave you."
"I know. But this is the least I can do for you to live. You know my story Melvin. You know why."
My heart sank from the message. Leaving him here with all these creatures, I don't even know if he'll live on after this. But what can I do against these creatures. I'm just a human. I felt so much fear and guilt. After for what I've done to myself and Brandon. I wished I never had run away.
The monsters are creeping in. I can hear the chatters from their jaws and the footsteps around us. The creatures are ready to kill us because their backs are lifting up as a sign of predatory nature. Then suddenly when Brandon pierces his cane to the ground a loud boom vibrated around us as blue circular waves from the cane emerges out. The waves created a gravitational force that the creatures started floating in the air. Except we weren't floating. "GO!!"
And with that, I ran away as fast as I can, far away from this hell, far away from the only friend I have in my life. I can hear the sounds of vibration turned shut quiet and the screams of the demonic creatures so loud I ran even more faster. Tears are falling from my cheek with the guilt squeezing my heart with pain.
When I finally escaped and was on the clear road, I cried. I cried so much that I can feel everything around me started to fall. I've lost my best friend in Necro town and it's all my fault. If I hadn’t ran away, none of this would’ve happened. I've lost him. I was lying on the ground with the deepest depression in my soul hurting me. I can't bare to lose my friend. I just can't. What am I even supposed to do? I can't save him. I'm not strong enough. I'm just scared.
I'm now sitting at the front porch of Brandon's home. Waiting for him to come back for days. I haven't eaten anything nor come back home or school. I just stayed there waiting for him to come back. I'm alone and scared.
I kept being bothered by random people. They ask why I'm still outside. I never did answer until they called the hospital or the cops. I told them there's nothing to worry about but they don't believe me. If I tell them the truth, they'll die in Necro town and I don't want that for them. I don't believe the cops would understand.
From every hospital or cops I went through, I just kept coming back. Even my parents told me to stay home, I snuck out in the night waiting for my old friend. I did eat sometimes but not really much. I just went to my room until night time arrives.
Then, one day, at midnight, he's back. He's really back. I was so happy and glad he's alive just the way he is. But when I approached to hug him, he collapsed down to his knees. I was exploded with fear and worry. I helped him up and asked him what just happened. "I don't have much time Melvin. Lets go inside, we have a visitor I think you would like to meet. Meet Judith Wednesday." Behind him was a girl who's the same age as me. Her hair is black and she wore a grey hoodie with a logo I've never seen in my whole life. She was covered in dark red blood. The blood that is definitely from the creatures in Necro town.
We all went in and I gave Brandon a seat on the couch. Judith sat next to his left. And me, I sat next to his right. "Brandon, what happened?"
He looked at me with a smile on his face as he begins to change form in front of my eyes. His body changed like he was glowing and the flames form around him. His form now just like the form I saw while at Necro city. "Well. With the help of this young lady, we've defeated all the monsters. But, for me, it didn't go well for me. I'm slowly dying you see. I'm not going to have much time in this world."
"But you can't die. You're like spiritual aren't you?"
"Yes. But that doesn't mean death can't happen to me. I don't know where people like me go when they die. Nobody does."
I can feel my heart race as the tears slides on my face. I can't help myself but to cry before him.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have ran away. I shouldn't have."
"Melvin. It's not your fault. I saved you because I wanted you to live a life I protected. It's my choice. And I'm glad I did. And you didn’t do anything to get there on purpose. I would’ve done the same thing by running if I were you. Now. Lets go fishing together. One last time."
I wiped my tears away, trying my best not to ruin this very moment but I just couldn't help myself. He reached out his arms and I took it. I hugged him tightly whilst crying so deeply that I don't want to let go. We've stayed like this for couple of minutes until I finally let go with my soul finally relaxing but with small sadness. My guilt is free.
We grabbed our fishing equipment and went to the river in the forest. Judith follows us with a fishing rod in hand. I don't feel anything like talking to her but at least we both have company. To share the moment together I guess. But this is for Brandon and I hope she knew that too.
When we arrived at the jetty and started placing worm food at the hooks. Brandon was the first to throw his fishing hook. The fishing hook was glowing blue, just like his flames. The pond glowed so bright like a lantern. It was beautiful. The fishes shine so bright from the light. It's as if the world around us is gone and all that matters was this very moment before death.
Judith was struggling to put the worm food at the hook. I went to help her but she said. "It's ok. I got it." By the time her finger was nearly stabbed by the hook, the tip of her finger turned into metal. But that didn't bother me because at this moment, it felt like home. We just laughed. I don't know why we were laughing and it's like being a kid again.
We threw our fishing hooks in the pond, waiting for a fish to bite. The shiny blue fishes. They're more beautiful than I'd remembered. The stains of my tears fades away. "Melvin. You promise me that you'll stay strong?"
I heard Brandon said and I didn't believe it at first. How can I be strong for those that really need help or even myself? "I'm not strong."
"You are. You're strong the way you are. It's ok to be scared because that's a part of how we live. You're a good man Melvin. You just got to believe in yourself."
"How?"
With a smile on his face, he replied. "You find ways to make yourself better. Achieve your goals. And enjoy life." His words are so convincing that I begin to believe that. My eyes caught my attention to Judith with a warm and sad smile on her face. For some reason, that helped me believe too. I think I can be strong if that's what he said. "Ok. I'll be strong."
"Good. Remember Melvin, you're not alone." And with a sad and free smile on his face, he faded away before my very eyes. His body evaporated into nothing as the last bits of his flames disappear. The tears in my eyes slowly fell as I look into the the pond and the sun beginning to rise.
"I know how it feels." I heard Judith said.
"Really?'
"I've lost my mom and dad to cancer. My mom died when I turned 8. My dad died when I'm at the age of 16. I felt so depressed when my parents die right in front of me. I can't do anything except watch."
"I guess we both got the same moment then. I wish I could just get him back." She looked at me with sad eyes. This very moment makes us feel so calmly sad like its a funeral or somewhere quiet.
"I know. But there's nothing we can do. We just have to move forward with the memories."
It was nice to have someone with me who had similar stories like mine. She was right, we can't do anything about it. We can't get them back. It was hard for me, I know well. Like she said, I had to move forward and keep the memories I had with Brandon. I looked at the sky and prayed that wherever Brandon is now, he's at peace with his wife and son. In a good life he deserved.
It's been a few weeks. I stopped trying to escape school because my bully's are gone. But that didn't make me feel better at all nor felt good. Their parents looked everywhere for them, even the cops but they're not found. Some of the cops went into Necro town and was never heard of again. I wished I could warn them but they don't believe me when I did.
Judith came to visit me every now and then whenever I left school. We exchange stories of our past lives and other stories shared by others. We became close as friends as we kept hanging out with each other. I'm very glad and happy to have a new friend. She's not like any other teenager I've ever met. She's really good with cutting wood. She even shot an arrow directly at the fish in the river.
She's really cool but also depressing. She doesn't have any other friends and doesn't even go to school. Her mom died first, which is the reason she stopped going to school. So that she'll spend more time with her dad just like with her mom. She didn't want any friends. She only wanted her mom and dad and they're enough for her. Until she lost them. They were everything to her. But as time goes, she moved on and came here.
I knew how she fought the creatures with Brandon. At first I thought she was lost like me too but she's much stronger than I'd think. She told me she got a robot spirit within her spirit. A fusion. She can form into the form of her spiritual companion. Her name was Athena and in every single dream she kept coming over in her dreams, babbling random stuff. She's inside of her head, which means she's the everyday annoying voice in her mind that she cannot get away from. I felt bad for her at first but she shrugged it off, saying. "But hey, we got along with each other. Even that I don't like her at first, she's a person too."
One day, we went to the woods at night with our flash lights. It was horrifying for me because we could get lost so easily here. Sweat poured down on my forehead as we kept walking into the woods. Until suddenly, a bright blue light in front of us glows in the night. When we approached the light, it was the pond.
The pond was glowing the same light as Brandon's. This never happened ever in every night or day. Unless he did something or he somehow resides there. But I don't feel like he's there. But I can feel something else.
We walked to the jetty until we stopped near the edge. The pond is as beautiful as I remember with the blue shiny fishes swimming around it. I wonder what happens if I put my hand in the pond. Will I feel something warm or something else. Maybe my arm will glow. I don't know. But then something grew within my soul. A connection. As if the pond wants me to put my hand in. It felt amusing.
So I did it without hesitation. It felt warm as I swim my right hand in the water. The water suddenly jumped on my arm. I thought I was going to panic but I didn't flinch. Instead I let it do what it does. Judith tried to pull me away but I told her not to. She then watched as the glow of the pond gathered around the water that is holding my arm. I felt a great sensation of warmth and heat. I felt a stinging pain all over my arm but it quickly turned into a cold feeling.
All of the glow of the blue flame from the pond is now on my arm, glowing as small flames flew up from my arm, just like Brandon's head of flames. As the glow fades away, I can see clearly that my arm is stained with bright blue.
The pond is now empty of normal water and the fish swims peacefully. We were both shocked as to what happened. Did the glow of Brandon's flames just fused with my arm? I can definitely feel the power from my arm coursing with my soul. "How did it feel?"
"It felt like, painful at first but went normal. I don't know." A realization hit me that I forgot where my flashlight was. I looked to find nothing. Judith helped me out by lighting around the place but it wasn't enough. Suddenly, I felt something in my arm. I lift my hand up and gripped tight, making a bold fist. When I opened my hand, a bright blue flame appeared before me. A bright orb of blue flame glowing our surroundings.
It's as if I knew what I was doing. It's like my soul is connected to this power. When I looked at Judith, her face was a surprised look. I'm surprised as well. So I think I have Brandons powers now. I think I know the reason the glow came tonight. Brandon gave me his powers because what's the point in keeping them when he's living in a peaceful life. I understand now.
I looked around and found my flashlight dropped in the pond. I was frightened that it could've electrocuted the fishes but it didn't. I wasn't paying any attention to it. Accidentally dropping my flashlight. But it looked to be drained off somehow. When I was grabbing in for it, the pond created a vortex beneath the touch of my right palm.
It was shockingly beautiful to watch. The vortex flows so smoothly. I then put my foot on the ground and the pond made space for me to be able to move around. The fish swims all around the pond as I stepped on the ground of the pond beneath me. It was dry. All dry. I grabbed my flashlight and looked up to the jetty. To Judith. With a smile on her face, she said. "This is so cool."
I smiled back as the pond begins to glow and my right hand glows with blue the blue flames. I stand on the ground of the pond my old friend and I loved going to. I have the gift from Brandon and now, I think I'll use this power for good.
I looked up into the night sky, watching the stars shine above whilst a shooting star appeared with them.
I'll be strong Brandon. I'll overcome every obstacle I come across and overcome the suffering. I'll be strong for who I am. And no one is going to stand in my way of doing that.
submitted by Plushytoonz to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.02 09:53 prodshebi I uncovered the terrifying secrets of Chernobyl: the truth will haunt you

My name is Adrian, an investigative journalist from Poland driven by a thirst for uncovering hidden truths. Chernobyl held a profound significance for me, not only as a haunting scar on history but also due to a personal connection. My grandparents had been affected by the disaster, forced to abandon their home and lives. Inspired by their resilience, I embarked on this journey to capture their stories and unravel the mysteries that shrouded Chernobyl. Filled with trepidation and excitement, I packed my gear, ready to confront the demons lurking within its irradiated walls. Little did I know that this expedition would push me into a sinister web of conspiracy, blurring the lines between reality and nightmare, forever changing the course of my life.
We were a group of intrepid travelers, united by a shared curiosity and a thirst for the unknown. The journey ahead would take us deep into the heart of the Chernobyl exclusion zone, a place shrouded in mystery and haunted by the ghosts of the past.
Our guide, Igor, regaled us with tales of the ill-fated Chernobyl disaster. His voice, tinged with a mix of reverence and melancholy, painted vivid pictures of a once-vibrant city reduced to a post-apocalyptic wasteland. As we approached the border of the exclusion zone, the landscape began to transform. The lush, green countryside gave way to desolation and decay, a stark reminder of the cataclysmic event that had unfolded here decades ago.
As we drove deeper into the heart of the exclusion zone, a palpable sense of unease settled over the van. The silence that permeated the air seemed to amplify the weight of the past, the residual energy of lives disrupted and dreams shattered. Through the windows, we caught glimpses of abandoned buildings, their crumbling facades standing as a testament to the transience of human existence.
It was amidst the eerie silence of Pripyat that my fascination with the strange and unexplained lured me away from the safety of the group. A stray cat, with its radiant blue eyes and matted fur, darted playfully through the remnants of the city, drawing me deeper into the labyrinth of abandoned streets. The curious creature seemed almost otherworldly, an enigmatic guide leading me toward an unseen destiny.
As I ventured further into the forgotten alleys of Pripyat, the echoes of my companions faded into oblivion. The weight of solitude settled upon my shoulders, both thrilling and unnerving in its intensity. It was as if I had crossed an invisible threshold, stepping into a realm where time and reality intertwined, where the boundaries between the living and the departed became blurred.
In my solitary exploration, I stumbled upon a hidden path concealed beneath a tangle of ivy and overgrown shrubbery. It beckoned to me, an invitation to uncover secrets long buried in the annals of history. My curiosity overpowered any trepidation, propelling me forward, further into the heart of the enigma.
The hidden path led me to a dilapidated building, its weathered facade standing defiantly against the ravages of time. The faded sign, barely visible amidst the peeling paint, identified it as "Laboratory 23." The air crackled with an aura of mystery as I hesitated at the threshold, my heart pounding with a mix of trepidation and excitement.
Stepping into the forsaken laboratory, I found myself in a time capsule frozen in a perpetual state of abandonment. Broken glass and discarded equipment littered the floor, remnants of a hasty retreat. The air carried the scent of rust and decay, a haunting perfume that hung heavy in the atmosphere.
Amidst the wreckage, my eyes fell upon a collection of documents scattered across a table. Their faded pages held cryptic symbols, enigmatic diagrams that seemed to dance with arcane knowledge. As I traced the lines with my trembling fingers, a sense of foreboding washed over me. It was as if these documents were a portal into a realm of forbidden knowledge, a Pandora's box that held the darkest of secrets.
Driven by an insatiable thirst for truth, I delved deeper into the lab's forgotten chambers. Within the dimly lit recesses, I discovered a hidden room, concealed behind a heavy, rusted door. The moment it creaked open, I knew I had unearthed something unimaginable.
The room was lined with shelves, each holding a multitude of binders meticulously labeled with names. As I perused the contents of the binders, a wave of disbelief washed over me. Each name was accompanied by a photograph, a face frozen in time. But it was not the faces themselves that sent a chill down my spine. It was the realization that these were the faces of missing individuals, those who had vanished without a trace from society.
One binder in particular caught my attention. It bore the chilling label "clones." Opening it, I discovered an unsettling truth: the missing individuals had been cloned, their lives replicated in secrecy within the confines of this clandestine laboratory. The implications of such a revelation were staggering, a betrayal of humanity that defied comprehension.
The weight of the evidence I had collected threatened to crush my spirit. The room, suffused with an oppressive aura, seemed to tighten its grip around me. With the damning photographs and documents securely tucked away in my bag, I turned to leave, determined to escape the clutches of this nightmare. But as I moved toward the exit, a peculiar sensation prickled the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. It was as if the air itself carried an ominous whisper, a ghostly echo of footsteps echoing through the desolate laboratory.
Fear seized me, freezing me in place. The realization dawned upon me like a chilling gust of wind—I was not alone in this forsaken place. Someone or something else lurked within the shadows, drawing nearer with each passing moment. The excitement of discovery mingled with a growing sense of dread, creating a disorienting cocktail of emotions.
In that harrowing instant, instinct took hold, overriding rational thought. Without a moment's hesitation, I pivoted on my heels and bolted towards the exit, my heart pounding in my chest. Panic fueled my every step as I navigated through the dimly lit corridors, the clamor of my own breath and the echoing footfalls of my pursuer serving as a macabre soundtrack to my escape.
Every shadow seemed to shift, morphing into a sinister figure poised to snatch me back into the clutches of the unknown. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, propelling me forward, my only goal to break free from this labyrinth of horrors. The very air seemed to thicken, as if resisting my frantic escape, but sheer determination fueled my desperate flight.
Finally, I burst through the door, gasping for breath, my pulse thundering in my ears. The world outside the laboratory, though still cloaked in an eerie silence, felt like salvation. I sprinted through the desolate halls, never looking back, each step propelling me farther from the unseen terror that had pursued me.
It was only when I reached the relative safety of the open air, the sun casting long shadows across the abandoned landscape, that I allowed myself a moment to collect my thoughts. Beads of sweat trickled down my forehead as I leaned against a crumbling wall, trying to steady my racing heart. The weight of the encounter pressed upon me, a reminder that the horrors lurking in the unknown were far more menacing than I could have ever imagined.
I knew, deep down, that the discovery I had made in that foreboding laboratory had unleashed something far greater than I had anticipated. It was a truth that demanded to be revealed, but it also posed a danger that threatened to consume me. With trembling hands, I clutched the bag containing the evidence—the only tangible proof of the conspiracy I had encountered. With a renewed determination, I vowed to bring the truth to light, no matter the personal cost. The echoes of footsteps and the ghostly whispers would forever haunt my memory, driving me forward into the heart of darkness, prepared to confront the unimaginable horrors that lay ahead.
Against all rational judgment, I made the fateful decision to return to the forsaken laboratory, driven by an insatiable thirst for the truth that burned deep within my soul. The weight of the knowledge I had gained hung heavily upon my shoulders, propelling me forward into the heart of danger, where few dared to tread.
As I cautiously stepped into the decaying lab, the air seemed to grow heavier, pregnant with an otherworldly presence. The soft glow of my flashlight illuminated the desolate scene before me. Each creak of the floorboards echoed like a spectral cry, a warning from the spirits of those whose lives had been extinguished in this place.
With renewed determination, I retraced my steps, reexamining the cryptic documents and peculiar biological equipment that had initially captivated my attention. But now, armed with new insights, I saw beyond the surface. I deciphered the enigmatic symbols etched onto the aged papers, connecting them to forbidden knowledge hidden within ancient texts and whispered legends.
As I ventured deeper into the labyrinthine chambers, the air became charged with an electric energy, as if the very walls pulsed with the secrets they held. Each room held its own story, its own secrets waiting to be unraveled. I meticulously examined every piece of equipment, every forgotten notebook, uncovering a web of interconnected experiments that went far beyond human cloning.
The further I delved into the lab, the stronger the sensation of being watched became. Paranoia gnawed at the edges of my mind, as if unseen eyes tracked my every move. Shadows seemed to dance in the corners of my vision, fleeting glimpses of a presence that eluded my grasp. The air crackled with a malevolent energy, leaving me on edge, my senses heightened to every flicker of movement and every whisper of sound.
Strange occurrences plagued me, testing the limits of my sanity. Objects inexplicably shifted positions, as if moved by unseen hands. Whispers, barely audible, resonated through the empty corridors, their cryptic messages fueling my determination to uncover the truth. Each encounter with the unseen presence left me trembling, yet I pressed forward, compelled by an insatiable curiosity mixed with a gnawing dread.
With each passing moment, the veil between the tangible and the intangible seemed to thin, blurring the boundaries of reality. I began to question my own perceptions, wondering if the presence haunting the lab was merely a figment of my imagination or something far more sinister. It was as if the very walls held the memories of those who had suffered and perished in this forsaken place, their specters reaching out from the past to guide or deceive me.
Piece by piece, the puzzle began to reveal the true magnitude of the conspiracy that had been woven within the walls of the Chernobyl laboratory. The Chernobyl disaster had been orchestrated, a calculated smokescreen to mask the clandestine operations of human cloning and organ trafficking. The government, entwined with a powerful and sinister cabal, had exploited the chaos and devastation to carry out their heinous deeds.
Through a network of corrupted scientists and government officials, they had perfected the art of human cloning, creating identical duplicates to fulfill their nefarious agenda. These clones were mere commodities, their lives extinguished to harvest their organs, which were then sold on the black market to the highest bidders.
As I pieced together the fragments of the conspiracy, my mind reeled with the implications. The very fabric of society had been torn apart, with those in power manipulating the lives of countless individuals for their own gain. The Chernobyl disaster had been not just a tragedy, but a meticulously planned cover-up, shrouding the dark underbelly of a far-reaching conspiracy.
But as the shadows of truth began to coalesce, so too did the darkness that had been lurking within the lab. Confronted by unidentified individuals, their faces concealed behind masks of shadows, I found myself cornered, my heart pounding in my chest. Panic surged through my veins as I fought against overwhelming odds, desperately clinging to the sliver of hope that remained.
In the chaos and desperation, a blow to the head sent me spiraling into unconsciousness, my fate hanging in the balance. What awaited me on the other side of consciousness remained a terrifying mystery, as I teetered on the precipice of oblivion, caught between the harsh reality and the realm of nightmares.
When I finally regained consciousness, I found myself alone in the eerie lab, the ominous silence enveloping me like a suffocating shroud. As my vision cleared, I realised with a sinking feeling that all the physical evidence I had painstakingly collected had vanished, leaving behind only blank, empty pages and hollow photographs. It was as if the truth itself had been stripped away, erased by an unknown force that sought to bury the horrifying secrets I had uncovered.
Confusion and frustration gnawed at my soul. How could the evidence disappear so mysteriously, leaving no trace of the monstrous conspiracy that had threatened the very fabric of humanity? Doubt crept in, whispering insidious questions about my sanity and the validity of my discoveries. But deep down, I knew that I had seen the truth, felt its chilling touch, and I couldn't let it be silenced.
Drawing upon the last reserves of my strength, I rose from the cold, barren floor. Every muscle ached, every joint protested, but my resolve burned brighter than ever. The forces that sought to bury the truth would not deter me. With a renewed sense of purpose, I vowed to press forward, to continue the fight against the darkness that had infiltrated Chernobyl.
Steeling myself, I navigated the labyrinthine corridors, my senses on high alert for any signs of danger. The lab had become a graveyard of secrets, its walls bearing silent witness to the atrocities committed within its forsaken halls. As I ventured deeper into the heart of the darkness, I clung to the flickering flame of hope, knowing that the final chapter of this harrowing journey was yet to unfold.
The chilling realisation that the powers orchestrating the conspiracy were far-reaching and influential only fueled my determination. With every step I took, I knew that I was walking a treacherous path, one that could lead to my own demise. But the truth had become my unwavering guide, guiding me through the murky depths of the unknown, urging me to shine a light on the horrors that had been buried beneath Chernobyl's haunting facade.
As the final pieces of the puzzle fell into place, I prepared myself for the ultimate confrontation. The shadowy figures who had cornered me before would not have the final say. Armed with knowledge, resilience, and an unwavering desire for justice, I would emerge from the depths of the lab to confront the conspirators and expose their malevolent machinations to the world.
Little did I know that the journey ahead would be fraught with danger and despair, pushing me to the very limits of my sanity and physical endurance. But I was prepared to face whatever awaited me, for the truth must be unveiled, even if it meant walking through the darkest recesses of human depravity.
With a heavy heart and unwavering resolve, I ventured forth, ready to unravel the final layers of the conspiracy that had gripped Chernobyl, determined to bring light to the darkest corners and emerge from the shadows with the truth firmly in hand. The culmination of my journey was yet to come, a reckoning that would test not only my own strength but also the endurance of those who dared to confront the unspeakable horrors lurking in the depths of the human soul.
Injured and disoriented, I found myself trapped in the labyrinthine depths of the desolate laboratory. Every step felt like a battle against the darkness that surrounded me, as if the very walls conspired to keep me captive within their clutches. But the flickering flame of determination burned bright within me, pushing me to navigate my way out of this nightmarish realm.
Wounds throbbed with each movement, a reminder of the confrontation I had faced with the unidentified individuals who sought to silence me. Despite the pain, I refused to succumb to despair. Through sheer grit and unwavering resolve, I charted a treacherous path back towards the world beyond those foreboding walls.
Every shadow seemed to breathe, every creak of the decaying structure echoed like a sinister whisper. The air hung heavy with an oppressive silence, broken only by the sound of my own ragged breath. Fear gripped my heart, but the urgency to expose the truth propelled me forward, my footsteps guided by a desperate hope for escape.
As I neared the exit, a surge of relief mingled with a haunting sense of loss. Leaving behind the horrors of the laboratory meant stepping into a world forever altered by the knowledge I carried. The once-familiar reality now appeared distorted, as if a veil had been lifted to reveal the sinister undercurrents that flowed beneath the surface.
Back to safety, I struggled to find a voice amidst the cacophony of disbelief and dismissals. The physical evidence I had collected, once concrete proof of the conspiracy, now lay blank and empty, a haunting reminder of the insidious forces at work. Desperation clawed at my chest as I sought to share my story, to expose the darkness that threatened to consume us all.
But the world, ensnared in its own illusions and complacency, rejected my claims. Labelled a conspiracy theorist, my words fell on deaf ears, dismissed as the delusions of a tormented mind. The weight of frustration and isolation threatened to extinguish the flame of truth within me, but I refused to be silenced.
Filled with an unwavering sense of purpose, I returned to the desolate location of the lab one last time, hoping against hope to find remnants of the evidence that had vanished into thin air. But as I stood before the site, my heart sank. The entrance stood sealed, the lab forever concealed behind layers of impenetrable cement. It looked like it was sealed for years. It was a stark reminder that the forces orchestrating the conspiracy were determined to erase all traces of their nefarious activities.
I lingered for a moment, absorbing the weight of the loss, before making peace with the fact that physical proof was forever beyond my reach. But the fire within me continued to burn, fueled by the belief that even without tangible evidence, the truth had a way of seeping into the collective consciousness.
Edit: Someone sent me a weird email with link to my nosleep post and this image. I have no idea what does it mean, have anybody seen this image before?
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2023.06.02 05:18 RamenInTheSheets I'd like to share a story of a homeless man called Nobby that I like to think Linus is based off

I'd like to share a story of a homeless man called Nobby that I like to think Linus is based off
So firstly, before I get into it - Linus is 100% not based off this man - but I'm sure a lot of us have characters in this game that resembles real-life people we know.
Anyway! Nobby! He was a lovely man that loved to keep to himself. He was pretty much " famous" in my town for the sole fact he lived in a bus stop.
https://preview.redd.it/fbum03lbni3b1.png?width=700&format=png&auto=webp&s=0906968b45b7dab66c8c9fa1dbc9b58eb66b69b9
People respected him, and respected his space. No one would go into the bus stop, unless it was raining and then he would welcome people in. It was just little shelter but it was his home all year round. Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter - he would always be there.
The bus stop was also located right by a lake, on lucky days you'd might see Nobby taking a dip or a bath in it (I'm not even joking this actually happened and everyone at my school would say it was good luck). He was always dressed when he did this, and if he ever needed to change or anything I believe he would do this behind his home, not sure on that though.
Everyone had a story of Nobby, even me.
The first came from when I was a kid in the 90s. Me and my mum would get the bus outside his home all the time to go into town - and one time I decided to give him my pocket money so he could buy himself a McDonalds (it wasn't a lot only £1.99). A week later when we went to get the bus, he showed me the toy he got in the happy meal and he gave it to me as a gift. If I remember correctly it was a Space Jam toy, but I could be wrong).
My second moment was probably one of the most influential in my life. My school was near by and I would skip lessons and go hang by the lake, as we did back then. At one point I started "seeing" this guy - we were both young teens (13? maybe younger) and still figuring things out and not really knowing that we were gay. We just knew we liked to spend time together, holding hands, play fighting and even kissing.
We'd always do these things by the lake in a hidden area type part one day Nobby caught us. We were both shocked and didn't know how to react. All we were doing was holding hands, but as young queers at that point of time - we didn't think it was right or acceptable.
But Nobby simply smiled and said "it's okay" and walked off. We both left right aware and it did actually lead to us calling off whatever we were doing. But his simple comment left an impression on me and helped me come to terms with my identity.
As I got older I would go to his shelter to talk to him before getting the bus home. He never would really say much and I never really got to learn anything about him, but I did notice that whenever I or someone would talk to him, he would finish with "Thank you for talking to me".
Airel view of his home and the lake - both very close by a bit like Linus and the mountain lake
(Image pulled from google maps)
before anyone points it out, I know the bus shelter in this image looks different to the more recent one, but I will explain that
On multiple occasions, people tried to offer him help - by offering a place to live, from private tennats to the council, but he remained at the bus stop.
There really wasn't a lot known about Nobby apart from his name, that he liked to keep to himself, and that he was happy with where he was living.
There were LOADS of rumours as to why he lived there. Some people speculated that he had lost his family to a fire and now had a phobia of living in doors, others speculated he was just a hippie and "one with nature". In reality, no one really knew for sure and as far as I'm aware, no one found out.
There was even speculation around his name, in the 70's he was known as Ned, at one point this became Ted. Others knew him as Michale and David - but again no one know for a fact.
(I don't think anyone even knew if he had any family or anything).
One thing we can say is he lived at this bus stop for a long time. As mentioned he first moved in during the 70's - and he stayed there until the early 2000's.
He actually became so well known in my town that the bus stop was even given it's postcode/address.
https://preview.redd.it/3h9ctycaqi3b1.png?width=1019&format=png&auto=webp&s=c66f0cf524bc9a4fb6a84b4cbbfe74b60fa6b496
In 2005 some assholes destroyed his home. They trashed his stuff but even worse, they set it on fire - I couldn't find an image of the damage they did but it was bad. After this happened, the local community came together - my school and others hosted fundraisers and ultimately a local church got to work and rebuilt his home.
One step further, a local double glazing company fitted the shelter with the two windows you can see on google maps today - they even offered to fit a fourth wall and a door, but nobby declined this offer. He was happy having his shelter as it was.
He would attend local festivals and events but as I mentioned, he would really keep to himself.
https://preview.redd.it/i426idrdri3b1.png?width=786&format=png&auto=webp&s=6eec3d64b9ab440d41a9aad570e81da5b178918f
In 2006, due his declining health he finally took on the offer to move into a house. The council got him moved into a one-bedroom place quite quickly and he remained there until 2020 - when he sadly passed away.
I'm not too sure on who covered the cost for his funeral and the turnout was small however his memory was not forgotten.
A memorial was set up locally and the shelter now has a plaque that dedicates that space to him.
But anyway, that's the story of Nobby. The local homeless man that reminds me of Linus. I hope you've been able to see the links and connections to him.
He was an amazingly lovely man and I hope his memory is never forgotten.
​
https://preview.redd.it/m7iokptivi3b1.png?width=1039&format=png&auto=webp&s=1d93ddfd6629903c00040c8bd3c301cfadad5ec2
Couple of links for sources and proof: https://www.peterboroughimages.co.uk/nobby-the-tramp/ https://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/people/final-farewell-to-peterboroughs-nobby-2503630 https://www.peterboroughtoday.co.uk/news/people/calls-to-honour-memory-of-peterboroughs-nobby-2210060
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2023.06.02 04:50 funeralclient McReynolds Nave and Larson Funeral Home

Welcome to McReynold’s-Nave & Larson Funeral Home

For more than 100 years, McReynolds-Nave & Larson Funeral Home in Clarksville, TN has been serving the families of greater Montgomery and Houston county. We are one of the many funeral homes in Clarksville, TN who understand the importance of offering quality services. From start to finish, your family can trust that our caring and knowledgeable staff will be here to assist you every step of the way. We offer affordably priced funeral, cremation, and memorial services that are designed to meet your family’s needs and budget.
With two locations to serve you, our funeral homes in Clarksville, TN and Erin, TN can help you honor your loved one and say goodbye. Each year we help hundreds of families in the area say meaningful goodbyes to their departed loved ones.
Our staff is comprised of some the most experienced, knowledgeable, and caring funeral professionals in the industry. We understand that the loss of a loved one is a difficult time for a family. Our compassionate team will work hard to help you arrange a service that not only celebrates the legacy of your loved one but also provides your family with the closure and goodbye you need. From the first call to long after the service has ended, our team will be here to provide you with the resources and guidance you need.
We pledge to honor your loved one with dignity, respect, and personal attention to every detail. With two beautiful facilities, 24/7 service, and caring and knowledgeable staff; we are confident your family will have peace of mind in knowing that our family will be here for you when you need us.
To learn more about our funeral homes in Clarksville, TN and Erin, TN, please browse our site. Throughout it you will find helpful resources and information to help you cope with loss and say goodbye. If you have any questions about our services or how we can assist you, please do not hesitate to contact us. We can be reached by phone or email at any time.

What Makes Us Unique

We are proud to embrace traditional values, diversity and innovation in honoring the spirit and life of each person we serve. We offer a full selection of:
  1. Funeral and memorial services, ranging from traditional to uniquely innovative and personal
  2. Burial services and cremation options
  3. Celebrant Services
Letting go of a loved one is usually a very difficult process. In order to provide your family peace-of-mind, our funeral home offers complete care, so you can focus on comforting each other as you prepare to say goodbye to someone dear to you.

Our Complete Funeral Service Package

In most cases, a family will choose to hold a complete funeral service to honor their loved one. This is commonly referred to as a traditional funeral service and includes a visitation, funeral service, committal, and reception.
For this funeral arrangement, guests will have the opportunity to host a visitation the evening prior to the service and up to the hour of service on the day of the funeral. After the visitation, a funeral service will be held at either the funeral home or a church the deceased held membership with. Immediately following the conclusion of the funeral service, the remains will be transported to a local cemetery for burial. Following the funeral service, guests are encouraged to stay for a reception where they can offer condolences and share memories of the deceased over refreshments and snacks.
Our affordable funeral service pricing for this package includes everything mentioned above. Please keep in mind that your family will be responsible for additional expenses like the casket, grave liner and monument. If you have any questions about our funeral service pricing or payment options, a member of our staff would be happy to assist you.
Our caring and professional staff would be happy to meet with you and discuss the different packages we have available. From there, we will work with you to personalize the funeral arrangements and pay tribute to the deceased with dignity and respect.
Our funeral service professionals can tailor services to suit any specific desires or needs of the families we serve. For further information or specific pricing, please consult with one of our funeral directors by visiting us or by calling us.
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Why Choose Burial?

One of the most common questions we get asked is “why choose burial over cremation?”. If you are undecided we have provided a list of benefits of choosing burial to help simplify your decision. There is a wide variety of reasons why someone would choose burial, however the reasons listed below are what we have found to be the most common.
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Affordable Cremation

Part of making funeral arrangements on behalf of a loved one involves choosing between burial of the body, or cremation. Certainly this is a big decision, based on any number of factors: religious or spiritual beliefs, finances, or ecological awareness are just some of the reasons we’ve heard for choosing cremation. Before you can make the choice, you need to know exactly what it is you’re considering. If you’re wondering “what is cremation?”, you can learn the basics below. If the content here raises additional questions for you, please give us a call. One of our cremation specialists will address any of your inquiries or concerns.
Click Here to Learn More > > >

Celebration of Life Services

More and more families are choosing to hold ceremonies that celebrate the life and personality of their loved one. A celebration of life ceremony acts as an alternative to a traditional funeral ceremony. It achieves the same purposes as a traditional funeral by gathering family and friends to pay tribute to the deceased. A celebration of life has a more uplifting atmosphere that reflects on positive stories and memories that involved your loved one. The major benefit of a celebration of life is that it allows you the freedom to best display your loved one’s personality, values, and passions, in whichever way you see fit.
The best way to start planning a celebration of life is to begin doing so while your loved one is still with you. This way you have the chance to ask them, “how do you want to be remembered?”, “what are you most passionate about?”, and “what would you like your celebration of life to include?”. This way you are not left guessing what your loved one would’ve wanted when it comes time to plan the celebration of life service.Contact Our Funeral Home in Clarksville, Tennessee
McReynolds-Nave & Larson Funeral Home
Address: 1209 Madison Street Clarksville, TN 37040 Phone: 931-647-3371
Fax: 931-647-3313
Email: [email protected]
Nave Funeral Home
Address: 4639 West Main St. Erin, TN 37061 Phone: 931-289-4277
Fax: 931-647-3313
Email: [email protected]
Website: https://www.navefuneralhomes.com/
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2023.06.02 00:29 Desperate-Smile-4579 TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards

TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards submitted by Desperate-Smile-4579 to u/Desperate-Smile-4579 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 23:01 JRLee62 UGLY DUCKLING COMPLEX: the painful path of transformation ~ a new TJL episode

UGLY DUCKLING COMPLEX: the painful path of transformation ~ a new TJL episode
https://preview.redd.it/u9tv9v1g0h3b1.jpg?width=4000&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=5e32aae3cbb6a05557203bfd854b3d55b4623e17
LISTEN: https://thisjungianlife.com/ugly-duckling-complex/
We all understand the Ugly Duckling complex because we’ve lived it at one time or another. Hans Christian Anderson’s famous tale paints a poignant picture of a child’s rejection only because he was born in the wrong nest. People who seem different or have not yet matured into their natural beauty endure scorn that can bring them to despair. The ugly duckling’s capacity to endure and find refuge in his fellow swans can hearten us during the long winters of our lives.
As an individuation metaphor, the tale dramatizes how many of us feel essentially different than our playmates and family. The combination of alienation and desperation drives us to merge with others’ feelings and paradoxically escape into fantasies. When the Self finally activates, it drives us toward reality—only through regarding ourselves accurately and meeting the eyes of others can we discover our true nature. Just as Jung suggested, we need relationships to feel whole even though we are afraid of being hurt. The Ugly Duckling tale captures the archetypal theme of journeying from misery to fulfillment.
The story begins as the mother hen suspects something is off with her one oddly large egg and normalizes the duckling’s uncanny size when he’s born. Seeing he can at least swim, she gives him a chance to belong. But, one by one, the barnyard creatures assess him and announce he is deficient. Ridiculed, chased, insulted, and kicked, even the mother abandons her goodwill and wishes him gone. In horror and despair, the ugly duckling runs away. Hans Christian Anderson wrote so poignantly about this because he lived it.
Born into the crushing poverty of Odense, Denmark, Andersen felt marked by his stark divergence from the norm. His father, a cobbler with love for literature, instilled the young Andersen with a zeal for reading, an enthusiasm not shared by his peers. This distinctiveness set him apart, foreshadowing the artistic blossoming that was to come. His transition from the confines of his provincial town to the majesty of Copenhagen, where he found his footing in the Royal Danish Theatre, mirrored the unexpected transformation of the Ugly Duckling. Yet, his journey of becoming was intertwined with another layer of complexity — Andersen’s homoeroticism. His sexual identity, a fact he could neither fully express nor openly explore in the conservative climate of the 19th century, amplified his sense of estrangement. His unreciprocated affections, extended towards both men and women, nurtured a profound isolation that catalyzed his writings, infusing his narratives with deep empathy and personal experience. In one sense, Andersen transcended the narrow prejudices of his society to secure a place in the annals of world literature. Anderson’s genius is evident in his ability to transform personal suffering through art. His stories resonate with every unacknowledged child who yearns to break the chains of circumstance and find a place of acceptance.
The motif of the uncanny and frightening child runs through many fairytales. Marie Louise von Franz described that children who have a relationship with the unconscious are often characterized as magicians or terrifying in one way or another. She and Jung lamented how people fear anything unusual, leading to a suppression of children’s unique gifts. Many of us ‘odd ducks’ who did not meet cultural expectations are drawn to Jung’s work. The quantitative measurements in modern schools can’t assess our depth of feeling or inexplicable intuition and undervalue our relational skills.
Frightened by repeated accusations of inferiority, we are vulnerable to believing we’re broken and rush to do things more perfectly. Disfigured by school, family, and religion, we try to please by abandoning ourselves and aping what we’re instructed to do. Cycling through self-hatred, desperation, and depression, we may feel that running away is the only choice. This often initiates a different kind of hero’s journey. Not fueled by glorious visions but motivated by desperate hope to escape pain, the Ugly Duckling bolts into the world. From nest to barnyard, to moor, then wintry pond, we also flee from home to college, then job to job, fleeing phantom pain as we learn about life. For a time, we may lose ourselves in a career, only later realizing we need peace above all else.
Like the duckling overlooked by the snarling dog, we discover the protective value of hiding in plain sight. We wonder if our ‘ugliness’ is a boon. Secretly relieved to slip by unseen, we realize we’re free to pursue our natural personality and hunt for our instincts. It’s an interesting thing to glimpse the Self. Its influence compels us toward new places and creates a corrective orbit, repelling certain people and drawing others close. This happens to the duckling, who glimpses a strange flock of huge white birds mounting the sky, leaving him breathless. When we catch a glimpse of who we might become, our golden-shadow surges with life and our soul rumbles.
A glimpse of who we could be steels us against adversity. The duckling survives a harsh winter even though his feet get locked in ice. Jung mentions this phenomenon in his alchemical analysis; he notes the description of a mystical creature who swims from the ocean floor, attaches to the bottom of a swift ship, and traps it in place. He equates this with being reclaimed by the Self. Much like being frozen in ice, we must be held in suspension to restore the ego-self axis.
Enduring a winter on the moors is an uncertain battle for the duckling. A peasant finally takes pity and frees him, offering humble shelter. Helpless, awkward, and listless, the duckling accepts help. If we, too, are lucky, a kind soul will notice our agony as we submit to the Self and offer safety and warmth. Like a Jungian analyst’s office, the peasant’s home is liminal; there is fire and acceptance, but only the inherent maturational process can affect the necessary changes.
Spring finally comes, and as the sun warms his body, the duckling surges into the sky. Eventually, we also feel the Self’s touch. The unobstructed archetypal energies vitalize us; finally, we sense we can choose our own direction. No longer hobbled by memories of traumatic rejection, our vitality is restored. Like the duckling, we are synchronistically guided to fateful encounters with our own kind. At first, we cannot recognize the beauty we share and brace for being rejected once more. Like the duckling, we may bow our heads and whisper, just kill me already. But our soul-kin understand how to touch us gently and coax us to see who we truly are. The swans croon and stroke his elegant neck; in disbelief, he finally feels happy.
Like Hans Christian Anderson, we may find ourselves alien in our own homes. We may flee only to discover the world cannot understand us. Yet one day, perhaps at the nadir of despair, something greater will claim us from within. Then, quickened and set aright in the world, our true kin will recognize us, and in their embrace, we may understand our suffering as a process that eventually enabled us to fly.
HERE’S THE DREAM WE ANALYZE:
“I was eating at a restaurant with a familiar group of people, though many of them were just familiar dream people, not people I know in real life. I felt something on my foot and thought I had dropped a piece of food, so I looked down. It was a small frog jumping across my foot. I picked it up and recalled feeling repulsed by it. I started cutting it across its back and pulling its legs off, but it was dying; it remained alive and kept looking at me, almost as if it was begging me to stop. Suddenly, I thought, “Why am I doing this?” “Why didn’t I just take it outside and set it free?” then, I knew I couldn’t fully kill it, so I asked someone at the table to come outside with me, and I wanted them to ‘finish the job’ and kill the frog so it wouldn’t suffer anymore. The dream ended with the other person killing the frog and me crying uncontrollably at my callousness and gratuitous violence towards the frog.”
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submitted by JRLee62 to Jung [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 22:00 Mandminla Navigation route not highlighting upon reroute

Navigation route not highlighting upon reroute
I just got the new navigation update the other day, and now the blue highlighting of my route doesn’t update if there’s a reroute. For example, if I miss a turn, the directions will change to reroute me, but the originally highlighted route will stay highlighted. You can see this in the attached photo where I’ve missed a turn, am on a new route (light gray), but the original route is still highlighted in blue. As I noted, the turn by turn directions updated correctly, just not the blue highlighting. This worked before the update. Anyone else having this issue?
submitted by Mandminla to TeslaLounge [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:26 Sea-Reception-9657 TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards

TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards submitted by Sea-Reception-9657 to u/Sea-Reception-9657 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 21:24 RandomAppalachian468 Don't fly over Barron County Ohio. [Repost]

The whirring blades of my MD-902 throbbed against the warm evening air, and I smiled.
From 5,000 feet, the ground flew by in a carpet of dark forests and kelly-green fields. The sun hung low on the horizon in a picturesque array of dazzling orange and gold, and I could make out the narrow strip of the Ohio River to my left, glistening in the fading daylight. This time of year, the trees would be full of the sweet aroma of fresh blossoms, and the frequent rains kept small pockets of fluffy white mist hanging in the treetops. It was a beautiful view, one that reminded me of why being a helicopter pilot trumped flying in a jumbo jet far above the clouds every day of the week.
Fourteen more days, and I’m debt free.
That made me grin even more. I’d been working as a charter pilot ever since I obtained my license at age 19, and after years of keeping my nose to the grindstone, I was closing on the final payment for real-estate in western Pennsylvania. With no debt, a fixer-upper house on 30 rural acres all to myself, and a respectable wage for a 26-year-old pilot, I looked forward to the financial freedom I could now enjoy. Maybe I’d take a vacation, somewhere exotic like Venice Italy, or the Dominican Republic. Or perhaps I’d sock the money back for the day I started a family.
“Remember kleineun, a real man looks after his own.”
My elderly ouma’s voice came back from the depths of my memories, her proud, sun-tanned face rising from the darkness. She and my Rhodesian grandfather had emigrated to the US when they were newlyweds, as the violence against white Boer descendants in South Africa spiraled out of control. My mother and father both died in a car crash when I was six, and it had been my grandparents who raised me. Due to this, I’d grown up with a slight accent that many of my classmates found amusing, and I could speak both English, and Afrikaans, the Boer tongue of our former home.
I shifted in my seat, stretched my back muscles, and glanced at the picture taped to my console. Both my parents flanked a grinning, gap-toothed six-year-old me, at the last Christmas we’d spent together. My mother beamed, her dark hair and Italian features a sharp contrast to my father’s sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. Sometimes, I liked to imagine they were smiling at me with pride at how well I flew the old silver-colored bird my company had assigned to me, and that made the long, lonely flights easier to bear.
A flicker caught my eye, and I broke my gaze away from the photograph.
Perched in its small cradle above the controls, my little black Garmin fuzzed over for a few seconds, its screen shifting from brightly colored maps to a barrage of grey static.
Did the power chord come loose?
I checked, ensuring the power-cable for the unit’s battery was plugged into the port on the control panel. It was a brand-new GPS unit, and I’d used it a few times already, so I knew it wasn’t defective. Granted, I could fly and navigate without it, but the Garmin made my time as a pilot so much easier that the thought of going blind was dreadful.
My fuel gauge danced, clicked to empty, then to full, in a bizarre jolt.
More of the gauges began to stutter, the entire panel seeming to develop terrets all at once, and my pulse began to race. Something was wrong, very wrong, and the sludge inside my bowels churned with sour fear.
“Come on, come on.” I flicked switches, turned dials, punched buttons, but nothing seemed to fix the spasming electronics. Every gauge failed, and without warning, I found myself plunged into inky darkness.
Outside, the sun surrendered to the pull of night, the sky darker than usual. A distant rumble of thunder reverberated above the roar of my helicopter’s engine, and I thought I glimpsed a streak of yellowish lightning on the far horizon to my left.
Calm down Chris. We’re still flying, so it must just be a blown fuse. Stay in control and find a place to set her down.
My sweaty palm slid on the cyclic stick, and both feet weighed heavy on the yaw pedals. The collective stuck to my other hand with a nervous vibration, and I squinted against the abyss outside.
Beep.
I jumped despite myself, as the little Garmin on my panel flared back to life, the static pulling aside to reveal a twitching display. Each time the screen glitched, it showed the colorful map detailing my flight path over the ground below, but I noticed that some of the lines changed, the names shifting, as if the device couldn’t decide between two different versions of the world.
One name jutted out at me, slate gray like most of the major county names, appearing with ghostly flickers from between two neighboring ones.
Barron County.
I stared, confused. I’d flown over this section of southeastern Ohio plenty of times, and I knew the counties by heart. At this point, I should have been over the southern end of Noble County, and maybe dipping lower into Washington. There was no Barron County Ohio. I was sure of it.
And yet it shown back at me from the digital landscape, a strange, almost cigar-shaped chunk of terrain carved from the surrounding counties like a tumor, sometimes there, sometimes not, as my little Garmin struggled to find the correct map. Rain began to patter against my cockpit window, and the entire aircraft rattled from a strong gust of wind. Thick clouds closed over my field of vision like a sea of gray cotton.
The blood in my veins turned to ice, and I sucked in a nervous breath.
Land. I had to land. There was nothing else to do, my flight controls weren’t responding, and only my Garmin had managed to come back to life. Perhaps I’d been hit by lightning, and the electronics had been fried? Either way, it was too dark to tell, but a storm seemed to be brewing, and if I didn’t get my feet on the ground soon, I could be in real trouble.
“Better safe than sorry.” I pushed down on the collective to start my slow descent and clicked the talking button for my headset. “Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, over.”
Nothing.
“Any station, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, requesting emergency assistance, over.”
Still nothing.
If the radio’s dead, I’m really up a creek.
With my hand shaking, I clicked on the mic one more time. “Any station, this is—”
Like a curtain pulling back, the fog cleared from around my window, and the words stuck in my throat.
Without my gauges, I couldn’t tell just how far I’d descended, but I was definitely very low. Thick trees poked up from the ground, and the hills rolled into high ridges with flat valley floors, fields and pastures pockmarking them. Rain fell all around in cold, silvery sheets, a normal feature for the mid spring in this part of Ohio.
What wasn’t normal, were the fires.
At first, I thought they were forest fires for the amount of smoke and flames that bellowed from each spot, but as I swooped lower, my eyes widened in horror.
They were houses.
Farms, cottages, little clusters that barely constituted villages, all of them belched orange flames and black pillars of sooty smoke. I couldn’t hear above the helicopter blades, but I could see the flashes on the ground, along the road, in between the trees, and even coming from the burning buildings, little jets of golden light that spat into the darkness with anger.
Gunfire. That’s rifle fire, a whole lot of it.
Tiny black figures darted through the shadows, barely discernable from where I sat, several hundred feet up. I couldn’t see much, but some were definitely running away, the streaks of yellow gunfire chasing them. A few dark gray vehicles rumbled down one of the gravel roads, and sprayed fire into the houses as it went. They were fighting, I realized, the people in the trucks and the locals. It was horrific, like something out of war-torn Afghanistan, but worse.
Then, I caught a glimpse of the others.
They didn’t move like the rest, who either fled from the dark vehicles, or fired back from behind cover. These skinny figures loped along with haphazard gaits, many running on all fours like animals, swarming from the trees by the dozens. They threw themselves into the gales of bullets without flinching, attacking anyone within range, and something about the way they moved, so fluid, so fearless, made my heart skip a beat.
What is that?
“Echo Four Actual to unknown caller, please respond, over.”
Choking back a cry of shock, I fumbled at the control panel with clumsy fingers, the man’s voice sharp and stern. I hadn’t realized that I’d let go of the talking button and clicked it down again. “Hello? Hello, this is Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot out of Pittsburgh, over.”
An excruciating moment passed, and I continued to zoom over the trees, the fires falling away behind me as more silent forest took over.
“Roger that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, we read you loud and clear. Please identify yourself and any passengers or cargo you might be carrying, over.”
Swallowing hard, I eyed the treetops, which looked much closer than they should have been. How far had I descended? “Echo Four Actual, my name is Christopher Dekker, and I am alone. I’m a charter flight from PA, carrying medical equipment for OSU in Columbus. My controls have been damaged, and I am unable to safely carry on due to the storm. Requesting permission to land, over.”
I watched the landscape slide by underneath me, once catching sight of what looked like a little white church surrounded by smaller huts, dozens of figures in the yard staring up at me as I flew over a towering ridgeline.
“Solid copy on that Douglass Three-One-Four-Foxtrot. Be advised, your transponder shows you to be inside a restricted zone. Please cease all radio traffic, reduce your speed, climb to 3,000 feet and proceed north. We’ll talk you in from there. How copy, over?”
My heart jumped, and I let out a sigh of relief. “Roger that Echo Four Actual, my altimeter is down, but I’ll do my best to eyeball the altitude, over.”
With that, I pulled the collective upward, and tried my best to gauge how far I was by eyesight in the gathering night, rain still coming down all around me. This had to be some kind of disaster or riot, I decided. After all, the voice over the radio sounded like military, and those vehicles seemed to have heavy weapons. Maybe there was some kind of unrest going on here that I hadn’t heard about yet?
Kind of weird for it to happen in rural areas though. Spoiled college kids I get, but never saw farmers get so worked up before. They usually love the military.
Something moved in the corner of my eye, and I turned out of reflex.
My mouth fell open, and I froze, unable to scream.
In the sky beside me, a huge shadow glided along, and its leathery wings effortlessly carved through the gloom, flapping only on occasion to keep it aloft. It was too dark for me to see what color it was, but from the way it moved, I knew it wasn’t another helicopter. No, this thing was alive, easily the size of a small plane, and more than twice the length of my little McDonald Douglass. A long tail trailed behind it, and bore a distinct arrow-shaped snout, with twig-like spines fanned out around the back of its head. Whatever legs it had were drawn up under it like a bird, yet its skin appeared rough and knobby, almost resembling tree bark. Without pause, the gigantic bat-winged entity flew along beside me, as if my presence was on par with an annoying fly buzzing about its head.
Gripping the microphone switch so tight, I thought I’d crack the plastic, I whispered into my headset, forgetting all radio protocol. “T-There’s something up here.”
Static crackled.
“Douglas Three-One-Four-Foxtrot, say again your last, you’re coming in weak and unreadable, over.”
“There’s something up here.” I snarled into the headset, still glued to the controls of the helicopter, afraid to deviate even an inch from my course in case the monstrosity decided to turn on me. “A freaking huge thing, right beside me. I swear, it looks like a bat or . . . I don’t know.”
“Calm down.” The man on the other end of the radio broke his rigorous discipline as well, his voice deep, but level. “It won’t attack if you don’t move too fast. Slowly ease away from it and follow that course until you’re out of sight.”
I didn’t have time to think about how wrong that sounded, how the man’s strict tone had changed to one of knowledge, how he hadn’t been the least surprised by what I’d said. Instead, I slowly turned the helicopter away from the huge menace and edged the speed higher in tiny increments.
As soon as I was roughly two football fields away, I let myself relax, and clicked the mic switch. “It’s not following.”
“You’re sure?”
Eyeing the huge flapping wings, I nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Yeah, I’m well clear.”
“Good. Thank you, Mr. Dekker.”
Then, the radio went dead.
Something in my chest dropped, a weight that made my stomach roil. This wasn’t right, none of it. Who was that man? Why did he know about the thing I’d just seen? What was I supposed to—
A flash of light exploded from the trees to my right and shot into the air with a long finger of smoke.
What the . . .
On instinct, I jerked the cyclic stick to one side, and the helicopter swung to avoid the rocket.
Boom.
My world shook, metal screeched, and a dozen alarms began to go off inside the cockpit in a cacophony of beeps and sirens. Orange and red flames lit up the night sky just behind me, and the horizon started to spin wildly outside. Heat gushed from the cockpit door, and I smelled the greasy stench of burning oil. The safety belts dug into my shoulders, and with a final slip, the radio headset ripped free from my scalp.
I’m hit.
Desperate, I yanked on the controls, fought the bird even as she spun toward the ground in a wreath of flames, the inky black trees hurtling up to meet me. The helicopter went into full auto-rotation, the sky blurring past outside, and the alarms blared in a screech of doom. Panic slammed through my temples, I screamed at the top of my lungs, and for one brief second, my eyes locked on the little black Garmin still perched atop my control panel.
Its screen stopped twitching and settled on a map of the mysterious Barron County, with a little red arrow at the center of the screen, a few words popping up underneath it.
You are here.
Trees stabbed up into the sky, the belts crushed at my torso, glass shattered all around me, and the world went dark.
Copper, thick, warm, and tangy.
It filled my mouth, stank metallic in my nose, clogged my throat, choking me. In the murkiness, I fought for a surface, for a way out, blind and numb in the dark.
This way, kleineun.
My ouma’s voice echoed from somewhere in the shadows.
This way.
Both eyes flew open, and I gagged, spitting out a stream of red.
Pain throbbed in my ribs, and a heavy pressure sent a tingling numbness through my shoulders. Blood roared inside my temples, and stars danced before my eyes with a dizzying array. Humid night air kissed my skin, and something sticky coated my face, neck, and arms that hung straight up toward the ceiling.
Wait. Not up. Down.
I blinked at the wrinkled, torn ceiling of the cockpit, the glass all gone, the gray aluminum shredded like tissue paper. Just outside the broken windows, thick Appalachian bluegrass and stemmy underbrush swished in a feeble breeze, backlit by flashes of lightning from the thunderstorm overhead. Green and brown leaves covered everything in a wet carpet of triangles, and somewhere nearby, a cricket chirped.
Turning my head from side to side, I realized that I hung upside down inside the ruined helicopter, the top half burrowed into the mud. I could hear the hissing and crackling of flames, the pattering of rain falling on the hot aluminum, and the smaller brush fires around the downed aircraft sizzling out in the damp long grass. Charred steel and burning oil tainted the air, almost as strong as the metallic, coppery stench in my aching nose.
They shot me down. That military dude shot me out of the sky.
It didn’t make sense. I’d followed their orders, done everything they’d said, and yet the instant I veered safely away from whatever that thing in the sky had been, they’d fired, not at it, but at me.
Looking down (or rather, up) at my chest, I sucked in a gasp, which was harder to do that before.
The navy-blue shirt stuck to my torso with several big splotches of dark, rusty red. Most were clean slashes, but two held bits of glass sticking out of them, one alarmingly bigger than the other. They dripped cherry red blood onto my upturned face, and a wave of nausea hit me.
I gotta get down.
I flexed my arms to try and work some feeling back into them, praying nothing was broken. Half-numb from hanging so long, I palmed along my aching body until I felt the buckled for the seat belts.
“Okay.” I hissed between gritted teeth, in an effort to stave off my panic. “You can do this. Just hold on tight. Nice and tight. Here we go . . .”
Click.
Everything seemed to lurch, and I slid off the seat to plummet towards the muck-filled hole in the cockpit ceiling. My fingers were slick with blood and slipped over the smooth faux-leather pilot’s seat with ease. The shoulder belt snagged on the bits of glass that lay just under the left lowest rib, and a flare of white-hot pain ripped through me.
Wham.
I screamed, my right knee caught the edge of the aluminum ceiling, and both hands dove into a mound of leaf-covered glass shards on the opposite side of the hole. My head swam, being right-side-up again enough to make shadows gnaw at the corner of my eyes.
Forcing myself to breath slowly, I fought the urge to faint and slid back to sit on the smooth ceiling. I turned my hands over to see half a dozen bits of clear glass burrowed into my skin like greedy parasites, red blood weeping around the new cuts.
“Screw you.” I spat at the rubbish with angry tears in my eyes. “Screw you, screw you, screw you.”
The shards came out easy enough, and the cuts weren’t that deep, but that wasn’t what worried me. On my chest, the single piece of cockpit glass that remined was almost as big as my palm, and it really hurt. Just touching it felt like self-inflicted torture, but I knew it had to come out sooner or later.
Please don’t nick a vein.
Wiping my hands dry on my jeans, I gripped the shard with both hands, and jerked.
Fire roared over my ribs, and hot blood tickled my already grimy pale skin. I clapped a hand over the wound, pressing down hard, and grunted out a string of hateful expletives that my ouma would have slapped me for.
Lying on my back, I stared around me at the messy cargo compartment of the MD-902. Most of the medical supplies had been in cardboard boxes strapped down with heavy nylon tow-straps, but several cases had ruptured with the force of the impact, spraying bandages, syringes, and pill bottles all over the cluttered interior. Orange flames chewed at the crate furthest to the rear, the tail section long gone, but the foremost part of the hold was intact. Easily a million-dollar mess, it would have made me faint on any other trip, but today it was a godsend.
Half-blind in the darkness, I crawled along with only the firelight and lightning bolts to guide me, my right knee aching. Like a crippled raccoon, I collected things as I went, conscious of the two pallets of intact supplies weighing right over my head. I’d taken several different first-aid courses with some hunting buddies of mine, and the mental reflexes kicked in to help soothe my frazzled mind.
Check for bleeds, stop the worst, then move on.
Aside from my battered chest and stomach, the rest of me remained mostly unharmed. I had nasty bruises from the seatbelts, my right knee swelled, my nose slightly crooked and crusted in blood, but otherwise I was intact. Dowsing every scratch and cut with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol I found, I used butterfly closures on the smaller lacerations that peppered my skin. I wrapped soft white gauze over my abused palms and probed at the big cut where the last shard had been, only stopping when I was sure there were no pieces of glass wedged inside my flesh.
“Not too bad.” I grunted to myself, trying to sound impassive like a doctor might. “Rib must have stopped it. Gonna need stitches though. That’ll be fun.”
Pawing through the broken cases, I couldn’t find any suture chord, but just as I was about to give up, I noticed a small box that read ‘medical skin stapler’.
Bingo.
I tore the small white plastic stapler free from its packaging and eyeballed the device. I’d never done this before, only seen it in movies, and even though the cut in my skin hurt, I wondered if this wouldn’t be worse.
You’ve gotta do it. That bleeding needs to stop. Besides, no one’s coming to rescue you, not with those rocket-launching psychos out there.
Taking a deep breath, I pinched the skin around the gash together, and pressed the mouth of the stapler to it.
Click.
A sharp sting, like that of a needle bit at the skin, but it didn’t hurt nearly as bad as the cut itself. I worked my way across the two-inch laceration and gave out a sigh of relief when it was done.
“Not going to bleed to death today.” I daubed ointment around the staples before winding more bandages over the wound.
Popping a few low-grade painkillers that tumbled from the cargo, I crawled wriggled through the nearest shattered window into the wet grass.
Raindrops kissed my face, clean and cool on my sweaty skin. Despite the thick cloud cover, there was enough constant lightning strikes within the storm to let me get glimpses of the world around me. My helicopter lay on its back, the blades snapped like pencils, with bits and pieces of it burning in chunks all around the small break in the trees. Chest-high scrub brush grew all around the low-lying ground, with pockets of standing water in places. My ears still rang from the impact of the crash, but I could start to pick up more crickets, frogs, and even some nocturnal birds singing into the darkness, like they didn’t notice the huge the hulk of flaming metal that had fallen from the sky. Overhead, the thunder rumbled onward, the feeble wind whistling, and there were other flashes on the horizon, orange and red ones, with crackles that didn’t sound quite like lightning.
The guns. They’re still fighting.
Instinctively, I pulled out my cellphone, and tapped the screen.
It fluttered to life, but no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get through to anyone, not even with the emergency function designed to work around having no service. The complicated wonder of our modern world was little better than a glorified paperweight.
Stunned, I sat down with my back to the helicopter and rested my head against the aluminum skin of the craft. How I’d gone from a regular medical supply run to being marooned in this hellish parody of rural America, I didn’t know, but one thig was certain; I needed a plan. Whoever fired the missile could have already contacted my charter company and made up some excuse to keep them from coming to look for me. No one else knew I was here, and even though I now had six staples holding the worst of my injuries shut, I knew I needed proper medical attention. If I wanted to live, I’d have to rescue myself.
My bag. I need to get my go-bag, grab some gear and then . . . head somewhere else.
It took me a while to gather my green canvas paratrooper bag from its place behind the pilot’s seat and fill it with whatever supplies I could scrounge. My knee didn’t seem to be broken, but man did it hurt, and I dreaded the thought of walking on it for miles on end. I focused instead on inventorying my gear and trying to come up with a halfway intelligent plan of action.
I had a stainless-steel canteen with one of those detachable cups on the bottom, a little fishing kit, some duct tape, a lighter, a black LED flashlight with three spare batteries, a few tattered road maps with a compass, a spare pair of socks, medical supplies from the cargo, and a simple forest green plastic rain poncho. I also managed to unearth a functioning digital camcorder my ouma had gotten me for Christmas a few years back, though I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any filming in such a miserable state. Lastly, since it was a private supply run from a warehouse area near Pittsburgh to a direct hospital pad in Ohio, I’d been able to bring my K-Bar, a sturdy, and brutally simple knife designed for the Marine Corps that I used every time I went camping. It was pitiful in comparison to the rifle I wished I had with me, but that didn’t matter now. I had what I had, and I doubted my trusty Armalite would have alleviated my sore knee anyway.
Clicking on my flashlight, I huddled with the poncho around my shoulders inside the wreck of the chopper and peered at the dusty roadmaps. A small part of me hoped that a solution would jump out from the faded paper, but none came. These were all maps of western PA and eastern Ohio. None of them had a Barron County on them anywhere.
The man on the radio said to head north, right before they shot me down. That means they must be camped out to the north of here. South had that convoy and those burning houses, so that’s a no-go. Maybe I can backtrack eastward the way I came.
As if on cue, a soft pop echoed from over the eastern horizon, and I craned to look out the helicopter window, spotting more man-made flashes over the tree tops.
“Great.” I hissed between clenched teeth, aware of how the temperature dipped to a chilly 60 degrees, and how despite the conditions, my stomach had begun to growl. “Not going that way, are we? Westward it is.”
Walking away from my poor 902 proved to be harder than I’d anticipated. Despite the glass, the fizzling fires, and the darkness, it still held a familiar, human essence to it. Sitting inside it made me feel secure, safe, even calm about the situation. In any other circumstance, I would have just stayed with the downed aircraft to wait for help, but I knew the men who shot me down would likely find my crash site, and I didn’t want to be around when they did.
Unlike much of central and western Ohio, southeastern Ohio is hilly, brushy, and clogged with thick forests. Thorns snagged at my thin poncho and sliced at my pant legs. My knee throbbed, every step a form of self-inflicted torture. The rain never stopped, a steady drizzle from above just cold enough to be problematic as time went on, making me shiver. Mud slid under my tennis shoes, and every tree looked ten times bigger in the flickering beam of my cheap flashlight. Icy fear prickled at the back of my neck at some of the sounds that greeted me through the gloom. I’d been camping loads of times, both in Pennsylvania and elsewhere, but these noises were something otherworldly to me.
Strange howls, screeches, and calls permeated the rain-soaked sky, some almost roars, while others bordered on human in their intonation. The more I walked, the softer the distant gunfire became, and the more prevalent the odd sounds, until the shadows seemed to fill with them. I didn’t dare turn off my flashlight, or I’d been completely blind in the dark, but a little voice in the back of my head screamed that I was too visible, crunching through the gloomy forest with my long beam of light stabbing into the abyss. It felt as though a million eyes were on me, studying me, hunting me from the surrounding brush, and I bitterly recalled how much I’d loved the old Survivor Man TV series as a kid.
Not so fun being out in the woods at night. Especially alone.
A twig snapped somewhere behind me, and I whirled on the spot, one trembling hand resting on the hilt of my K-Bar.
Nothing. Nothing but trees, bushes, and rain dripping down in the darkness.
“This is stupid.” I whispered to myself to keep my nerves in check as I slowly spun on the spot. “I should have went eastward anyway. God knows how long I’m going to have to—”
Creak.
A groan of metal-on-metal echoed from somewhere to my right, and I spun to face it, yanking the knife on my belt free from its scabbard. It felt so small and useless in my hand, and I choked down a wave of nauseas fear.
Ka-whump. Creak. K-whump. Creak.
Underbrush cracked and crunched, a few smaller saplings thrashed, and from deep within the gloom, two yellow orbs flared to life. They poked through the mist in the trees, forming into slender fingers of golden light that swept back and forth in the dark.
The soldiers . . . they must be looking for me.
I swallowed hard and turned to slink away.
Ice jammed through my blood, and I froze on the spot, biting my tongue to stop the scream.
It stood not yards away, a huge form that towered a good twelve feet tall in the swirling shadows. Unpolished chrome blended with flash-rusted spots in the faded red paint, and grime-smeared glass shone with dull hues in the flashes of lightning. Where the wheels should have been, the rounded steel axels curved like some enormous hand had bent them, and the tires lay face-down on the muddy ground like big round feet, their hubcaps buried in the dirt. Dents, scrapes, and chips covered the battered thing, and its crooked little radio antenna pointed straight up from the old metal fender like a mast. I could barely make out the mud-coated VW on the rounded hood, and my mind reeled in shock.
Is . . . is that a car?
Both yellow headlights bathed me in a circle of bright, blinding light, and neither I nor the strange vehicle moved.
Seconds ticked by, the screech-thumping in the background only growing closer. I realized that I couldn’t hear any engine noises and had yet to see any soldiers or guns pointed my way. This car looked old, really old, like one of those classic Volkswagen Beetles that collectors fought over at auctions. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a driver inside the murky, mold-smeared windows.
Because there wasn’t one.
Lightning arched across the sky overhead, and the car standing in front of me blinked.
Its headlights slid shut, as if little metal shades had crawled over the bulbs for a moment and flicked open again. Something about that movement was so primal, so real, so lifelike, that every ounce of self-control I had melted in an instant.
Cursing under my breath, I lunged into the shrubs, and the world erupted around me.
Under my shoes, the ground shook, and the car surged after me in a cacophony of ka-thumps that made my already racing heart skip several beats. A weather-beaten brown tow truck from the 50’s charged through the thorns to my left, it’s headlights ablaze, and a dilapidated yellow school bus rose from its hiding place in the weeds to stand tall on four down-turned axel-legs. They all flicked their headlights on like giants waking from their slumber, and as I dodged past them, they each blared their horn into the night in alarm.
My breaths came short and tight, my knee burned, and I crashed through thorns and briars without thought to how badly I was getting cut up.
The cheap poncho tore, and I ripped it away as it caught on a tree branch.
A purple 70’s Mustang shook off its blanket of creeping vines and bounded from a stand of trees just ahead, forcing me to swerve to avoid being run over, my adrenaline at all-time highs.
This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening.
Slipping and sliding, I pushed through a stand of multiflora rose, and stumbled out into a flat, dark expanse.
I almost skidded to a stop.
What had once been a rather large field stood no taller than my shoestrings, the grass charred, and burnt. The storm above illuminated huge pieces of wreckage that lay scattered over the nearly 40-acre plot, and I could just make out the fire-blackened hulk of a fuselage resting a hundred yards away. The plane had been brought down a while ago it seemed, as there weren’t any flames left burning, and I threw myself toward it in frenzied desperation.
Burned grass and greasy brown topsoil slushed underfoot, and I could hear the squelching of the cars pursing me. Rain soaked me to the bone, and my lungs ached from sucking down the damp night air. A painful stich crept into my side, and I cursed myself for not putting in more time for cardio at the gym.
Something caught my left shoelace, and I hurtled to the ground, tasting mud and blood in between my teeth.
They’ve got me now.
I clawed at the mud, rolled, and watched a tire slam down mere inches from where my head had been. The Mustang loomed over me and jostled for position with the red Volkswagen and brown tow truck, the school bus still a few yards behind them. They couldn’t seem to decide who would get the pleasure of stomping me to death, and like a herd of stampeding wildebeest, they locked bumpers in an epic shoving match.
On all fours, I scampered out from under the sparring brutes, and dashed for the crumpled airplane, a white-painted DC-3 that looked like it had been cut in half by a gargantuan knife blade. I passed a snapped wing section, the oily remains of a turbo-prop engine, and a mutilated wheel from the landing gear. Climbing over a heap of mud, I squeezed into the back of the ruined flight cabin and dropped down into the dark cargo hold.
Wham.
No sooner had my sneakers hit the cold metal floor, and the entire plane rocked from the impact of something heavy ramming it just outside. I tumbled to my knees, screaming in pain as, once again, I managed to bash the sore one off a bracket in the wall.
My hand smeared in something gooey, and I scrabbled for my flashlight.
It clicked on, a wavering ball of white light in the pitch darkness, and I fought the urge to gag. “Oh man . . .”
Three people, or what was left of them, lay strewn over the narrow cargo area. Claret red blood coated the walls, caked on the floor, and clotted under my mud-spattered shoes. Bits of flesh and viscera were stuck to everything, and tatters of cloth hung from exposed sections of broken bone. An eerie set of bloody handprints adorned the walls, and the only reason I could tell it had been three people were the shoes; all of them bore anklebones sticking out above blood-soaked socks. It smelled sickly sweet, a strange, nauseas odor that crept into my nose and settled on the back of my tongue like an alien parasite.
Something glinted in the beam of my flashlight, and my pulse quickened as I pried the object loose from the severed arm that still clung to it.
“Hail Mary full of Grace.” I would have grinned if it weren’t for the fact that the plane continued to buck and roll under the assault from the cars outside.
The pistol looked old, but well-maintained, aside from the light coating of dark blood that stained its round wooden handle. It felt heavy, but good in my hand, and I turned it over to read the words, Waffenfabrik Mauser stenciled into the frame, with a large red 9 carved into the grip. For some reason, it vaguely reminded me of the blasters from Star Wars.
I fumbled with a little switch that looked like a safety on the back of the gun and stumbled toward a gap in the plane’s dented fuselage to aim out at the surrounding headlights.
Bang.
The old gun bucked reliably in my hand, its long barrel spitting a little jet of flame into the night. I had no idea if I hit anything, but the attacking cars recoiled, their horns blaring in confusion.
They turned, and scuttled for the tree line as fast as their mechanical legs could go, the entire ordeal over as fast as it had begun.
Did I do that?
Perplexed, I stared down at the pistol in my hand.
Whoosh.
A large, inky black shadow glided down from the clouds, and the yellow school bus moved too slow to react in time.
With a crash, the kicking nightmarish vehicle was thrown onto its side, spraying glass and chrome trim across the muddy field. Its electro-synth horn blared with wails of mechanical agony, as two huge talon-like feet clamped down on it, and the enormous head of the flying creature lowered to rip open its engine compartment.
The horn cut out, and the enormous flying entity jerked its head back to gulp down a mass of what looked like sticky black vines from the interior of the shattered bus.
At this range, I could see now that the flying creature bore two legs and had its wings half-tucked like a vulture that had descended to feed on roadkill. Its head turned slightly, and in the glow of another lightning bolt, my jaw went slack at the realization of what it was.
A tree trunk. It’s a rotted tree trunk.
I couldn’t tell where the reptilian beast began, and where the organic tree components ended, the upper part of the head shaped like a log, while the lower jaw resembled something out of a dinosaur movie. Its skin looked identical to the outside of a shagbark hickory but flexed with a supple featheriness that denoted something closer to skin. Sharp branch-like spines ranged down its back, and out to the end of its tail, which bore a massive round club shaped like a diseased tree-knot. Crouched on both hind legs, it braced the hooked ends of its folded wings against the ground like a bat, towering higher than a semi-truck. Under the folds of its armored head, a bulging pair of chameleon-like eyes constantly spun in their sockets, probing the dark for threats while it ate.
One black pupil locked onto the window I peered through, and my heart stopped.
The beast regarded me for a moment, with a curious, sideways sniff.
With a proud, contemptful head-toss, the shadow from the sky parted rows of razor-sharp teeth to let out a roar that shook the earth beneath my feet. It was the triumphant war cry of a creature that sat at the very top of the food chain, one that felt no threat from the fragile two-legged beings that walked the earth all around it. It hunted whenever it wanted, ate whatever it wanted, and flew wherever it wanted. It didn’t need to rip the plane apart to devour me.
Like my hunter-gatherer ancestors from thousands of years ago, I wasn’t even worth the energy it would take to pounce.
I’m hiding in the remains of the cockpit now, which is half-buried under the mud of the field, enough to shield the light from my screen so that thing doesn’t see it. My service only now came back, and it’s been over an hour since the winged beast started in on the dead bus. I don’t know when, or how I’m going to get out of here. I don’t know when anyone will even see this post, or if it will upload at all. My phone battery is almost dead, and at this point, I’m probably going to have to sleep among the corpses until daylight comes.
A dead man sleeping amongst friends.
If you live in the Noble County area in southeastern Ohio, be careful where you drive, fly, and boat. I don’t know if it’s possible to stumble into this strange place by ground, but if so, then these things are definitely headed your way.
If that happens . . . pray that they don’t find you.
submitted by RandomAppalachian468 to u/RandomAppalachian468 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 19:14 middleoflidl God is a spore and I think I've found him....

When I was twelve I got knocked off my bike by a drunk driver. I split my head right open and broke nearly every bone in my body. For four days I hovered between life and death. My parents said goodbye and even picked my funeral song. They held my hand and told me they were sorry for every silly argument, but I wasn’t there anymore, I was somewhere else.
I was in the in-between. I was connected to the hospital room by only a small frayed thread that with every passing minute threatened to snap. I could hear they’re voices but only faintly, not that they were a comfort anyway, there was no such thing as comfort where I was. It was impossibly dark in that in-between, and so cold you could feel the chill in the marrow of your bones. I can’t remember what it looks like exactly, that oddly empty place.
From my waning memory, I recall it as a formless mass of, wet, dripping, nothing; there was no left or right, no up or down. You’d float around like a kite in the wind with only that little string holding you down. It felt like I was there for years. Time just seemed to elongate there. Eventually my family’s voices faded into nothing and all I could hear was the loud deafening thud of silence. It was then I heard him."
“Hulqu-ša māru.” He said, over and over. His voice was soothingly consistent. I transcribe the phrase to you now accurately, though to my young, uneducated ears it sounded like a jumble of mismatched vowels. It was only in my adulthood that I found out that the voice he spoke to me in was Old Akkadian. Translated it meant; my child is lost.
Then I woke up. My eyes squinted from the bright hospital lights and my mother’s tears formed a puddle on my face. I can’t remember much following that, but my mum says that I kept saying “he’s real” over and over.
That’s why I know there is a god. He spoke to me, I walked in his kingdom and then I came back. Nearly eight-years later when I took my seat for the first day of my Religious Studies degree, I was perhaps the only one in that lecture theatre that knew with absolute certainty that there was a god. Was it the Christian God? The Islamic? Maybe no one has it right, but he existed. He was real. I knew that. I spent four years studying religion, and learnt nothing more important than what I found out when I was twelve.
“I have some concerns regarding your dissertation title Jeremy, Proving that God is Real, it’s… well it’s impossible to prove. We wouldn’t require faith if there was a burden of proof.” Professor Alcott said to me as he shifted through my research. “Personal anecdotes are also not sufficient subject to base an entire dissertation upon.”
“I’m committed to this research paper professor, I know with certainty that there is a god and I would like an opportunity to make this clear to everyone.” I said. “By next week sir, I will have more than anecdotes. Give me a chance.”
“I’m not one to quash academic innovation, if you would like to give this topic a bash, then I will not stand in your way. You are such a promising student Jeremy, I just don’t want you to waste your talent.” He said, looking dissatisfied.I left Alcott’s office with a seemingly impossible task. For centuries people have been looking for scientific proof in a higher power and all so far have failed. All I had was my own experience, I needed more. I scribbled down in my notebook the two most pressing features of a god with a puzzle knitting my brow together.
He’s everywhere.
He can’t be seen.
I was lying in my bed, in my dingy little student rent when I had my epiphany. Mould. It had followed me my entire life. Every room I slept in, it would curl up in the corner, an ugly black mass of reaching tendrils. It was watching me, haunting me. He was in the very air I breathed. I’m real, he was saying over and over, I’m right here. I’d been bleaching him away all of these years, drowning him in chemicals.
Mould, like mushrooms and other fungus, travels in spores, invisible to the human eye. It is said that there are fungal spores in every gulp of air we take. They grow only in conditions where they thrive, in the damp of a rundown house or in the soil at the foot of a withered tree. It made too much sense, how else could he be everywhere all at once? And with that I had a new dissertation title. Proving God is Real: The Mycological Evidence. Alcott was bemused but satisfied at least that he was in for an interesting read.
I wasn’t a mycologist when I began my dissertation, but I was by the end of my study. Fungus don’t need light to grow, in-fact there are some sources that suggest they thrive in the dark. All they really need is moisture. The in-between I’d hovered in as a child had been so damp and wet. With every new nugget of mycological trivia, the dot to dot I’d been solving my entire life was becoming clearer and clearer.
It all made so much sense. There are some suggestions from credible scientists that the consumption of psilocybin mushrooms had aided the evolution from home erectus to homo sapiens. He had nudged us, even then. Not to mention the countless ancient civilisations that had claimed to commune with gods through the burning and consumption of teas made from various fungus.I needed more, coincidences and anecdotes are so easily solved.
Armed with a little scalpel and a mason jar I scraped some of the mould off my wall. I added some water and sealed it. Growing mushrooms is exceedingly simple, as all budding recreational drug users and mycologists know.. “Give me a sign.” I said to it. “Please.”
I left it on my desk and let it fester, and it did. It grew and grew until nearly the entire jar was black. I don’t really know what my plan was for my little mason-jar experiment, I certainly didn’t expect what happened.
“Dude, that shit is rank. Stick in the bin.” My roommate pointed to my desk one day as he popped his head into my room. I had almost forgotten about it. I glanced at what he was looking at and felt my heart stop.The mason jar was smashed.
Sharp little pieces of glass were inter-mingled with thick moss-like mould that was now spreading all across my desk. It hadn’t been like that in the morning, it had to have happened recently, maybe even in the past few hours that I’d been napping. I briefly considered wiping it up with a cloth, but I couldn’t - it was god - I couldn’t clean up god.
So I left it there and charted it’s growth casually in my notebook. Until one day I returned from my morning lectures and saw something… disturbing. It had grown out from the table; it’s awful tendrils reaching out towards the empty air. If you squinted it sort of looked like a hand, oddly malformed and misshapen though it was. I started to spend my nights in the library as I was so unnerved by it.Then one morning, It was gone. The mould, it was gone, like it had never even been there before.
There's an animalistic side to all of us, one we don't realise we have until it's triggered. I felt it then, an overwhelming feeling of dread that built up to a crescendo where the very utterance of silence rang in my ears like alarm bells. I ought to have listened to it. But it was god, and god had a plan.
I went to bed that night with that feeling still tugging at me. Sleep did not come easy, in fact it did not come at all. My eyes narrowed from exhaustion, my room almost pitch black save for the small amount of light from my phone screen. I thought it was the silhouette of a jacket at first.
I stared hard at it, trying to discern any familiarity in it's shape.
I stared for what felt like hours. I felt as though I was being watched, like I wasn't alone. Then it came. Just the smallest of twitches. My finger danced over the torch button on my phone, but there was a comfort in not seeing, in the dark haze there was still a chance that it was my jacket or an odd shadow.
“Si unus extisat, sic facit alterum.” The shape said an inhuman voice that filled me with an overwhelming amount of dread. This wasn’t what I had felt when I was child, the voice of god was soothing not… wrong.
I turned the light on. All the horror films I’d watched told me that when you put the light on the awful things just… go away.
It’s a lie, a tired old trope.
Illuminated in the torchlight, It stood on hind legs, this black mass of awful clinging mould, and it looked at me, even though it did not have eyes, just empty holes. It tilted it’s head, like a dog trying to comprehend that the bag of treats had an end. It took a few steps towards me, like it had only just learned to walk, and it said it again, this time directed at my soul.
“Si unus extisat, sic facit alterum.” It said again and then, with odd movements, it slipped out my door. I heard the thud of it heading down my staircase and with every awful hoof on my steps, I felt as though I was being shot.
I knew the words this time, while the akkadian god had spoken to me in my youth had eluded me, this had not. My grammar school had a rather impressive latin department and I was close to fluent.If one exists, then so does the other.
That’s what it had said. It’s a simple turn of phrase that haunts me to this day. I wrote it all down. I turned in my dissertation with a heavy weight on my shoulders. Alcott offered me a place on his PHD programme, but I declined and he said farewell to me with an odd look glinting in his eye. He didn’t believe me, but he believed at least that I did. That’s faith for you.
He’s out there somewhere. The other.
By looking for god I had set him free and now he walks, on those unsteady legs. Maybe he’s that pile of oddly shaped clothes in the corner of your dark room, or the queer shadow that moves just slightly out of tune with your own, perhaps he’s all of these things and nothing. If one exists then so does the other. It is upon this uncertain balance that our world is built. I only wished I had met just the one.
submitted by middleoflidl to nosleep [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 19:00 nahimavegan (Selling) Huge list of 1100+ movies! Lots of New and Rare titles!

Prices are firm, but I take off $.75 for every $10 spent (multiple items)
I accept PayPal, Venmo, & Cashapp
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Only redeem portion you pay for
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Fear of Rain 4K/VU $5.5
Field of Dreams HD/MA $4
Finding You 4K/VU $5
Flashback (2020) HD/VU $4
Forbidden Kingdom HD/VU $4.5
Ford v Ferrari HD/MA $4
Forrest Gump HD/VU $3.5
Fortress Sniper's Eye HD/VU $4
Freaky HD/MA $4.5
Friends With Kids HD/VU $4
From Here to Eternity 4K/MA $5.5
Ghost in Shell (1995) 4K/VU $5
Ghost In Shell 2.0 HD/VU $4.5
Giant 4K/MA $5.5
Gift HD/IT $3.5
Glass HD/MA $4
Godfather HD/VU $4
Good House 4K/VU $6
Great Wall HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Green Inferno HD/IT $3.5
Green Lantern Beware My Power HD/MA $4
Greenland 4K/IT $5
Grumpy Old Men HD/MA $4
Guns Akimbo HD/VU $4.5
Habit 4K/VU $5.5
Halloween Curse of Michael Myers HD/VU $4
Halloween Ends HD/MA $5.5
Halloween Kills (Ext) 4K/MA $5.5
Happy Death Day 2U HD/MA $4.5
Happy Death Day HD/MA $4.5
Hard Luck Love Song 4K/VU $5.5
Heat (Director's Cut) (1995) HD/MA $4
Hellbenders HD/VU $4.5
Hellboy Animated Double Feature (Sword of Storms, Blood & Iron) 4K/VU $7.5
Hellraiser Judgment HD/VU $4
Highlander 4K/VU $5.5
Holmes & Watson HD/MA $3.5
Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul. HD/MA $4.5
House Next Door Meet Blacks 2 4K/VU $5.5
House of 1000 Corpses HD/VU $4
House with a Clock in Its Walls HD/MA $4
Humans HD/VU $4.5
Hunt for Red October 4K/VU $5.5
I Love You Phillip Morris HD/VU $4.5
Ides of March HD/MA $3.5
In Blood HD/MA $4
In Secret (2014) HD/VU $4.5
Incredible Hulk HD/MA $4
Independence Day (1996) 4K/MA $5.5
Indiana Jones & Raiders of Lost Ark HD/VU $4
Infinite HD/VU $4.5
Inglourious Basterds SD/IT $1.5
Inhabitant HD/VU $4.5
Interview HD/MA $3.5
Iron Man & Hulk Heroes United HD/GP $3.5
Isle of Dogs HD/MA $4
It Happened One Night 4K/MA $5.5
Italian Job 4K/VU $6.5
Jackass Forever HD/VU $4.5
Jobs HD/IT $3.5
Jobs HD/MA $3.5
Joe Kidd HD/MA or IT $4
Jordan Peele 3-Film Collection (Nope, Us, Get Out) HD/MA $11
Journey to West Conquering Demons HD/VU $3.5
Juliet, Naked 4K/VU $5.5
Ju-On Grudge HD/VU $4.5
Jurassic World 6-Film Collection (Dominion Thea & Ext) HD/MA $18
Jurassic World Dominion (Thea & Ext) HD/MA $5
Kama Sutra HD/VU $4.5
Kill Zone (2005) HD/VU $4.5
King Richard 4K/MA $5.5
King's Man 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $3.5
Knight & Day HD/MA $4
Knock at Cabin (2023) HD/MA $7.5
Knock Knock HD/VU $3
Knowing 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Knowing/Push Double Feature HD/VU $7.5
Labyrinth HD/MA $4.5
Lair of White Worm HD/VU $4.5
Lara Croft Tomb Raider HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Last Duel HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Last Flag Flying HD/MA $4
Last Picture Show 4K/MA $5.5
Legend of Guardians Owls of Ga'hoole SD/IT $1.5
Let Them All Talk 4K/MA $5.5
Lightyear HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Limey (1999) 4K/VU $5.5
Locked Down 4K/MA $5.5
Lost City HD/VU $4.5
Lyle Lyle Crocodile HD/MA $5
M3GAN (Thea & Unrated) (2023) HD/MA $7
Mack & Rita HD/VU $4.5
Mad Max 1-4 Set 4K/VU $18.5
Mad Men Complete Series HD/VU $35
Magic Mike's Last Dance (2023) HD/MA $6.5
Magnificent Seven 4-Film Set (1960, Return, Guns, Ride) HD/VU $13
Mamma Mia SD/IT $1.5
Man of Tai Chi HD/VU $4
Man Who Fell To Earth (1976) 4K/VU $6
Manchester by Sea HD/VU $3.5
Marksman HD/MA $4
Marlowe (2023) HD/MA $7.5
Mask of Zorro 4K/MA $6
Mask of Zorro 4K/MA $6
Mauritanian 4K/IT $5
Meatballs HD/VU $4
Memory HD/MA $4
Men HD/VU $4.5
Men in Black 3 HD/MA $3
Men in Black HD/MA $4
Menu HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
MIB International HD/MA $3.5
Mickey & Minnie 10 Classic Shorts HD/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $5
Mid-Century 4K/VU $5
Midsommar HD/VU $4
Miracle on 34th Street (1947) HD/MA $4
Missing (2023) SD/MA $4
Mitchells vs Machines HD/MA $4.5
Mommy HD/VU $4
Moonfall 4K/VU $4.5
Morbius HD/MA $4
Moving On HD/VU $5.5
Mrs Harris Goes to Paris 4K/MA $6
My Brilliant Friend Season 1 HD/VU $4
Nashville (1975) HD/VU $4
Needle in a Timestack 4K/VU $5.5
Night at Museum Battle of Smithsonian SD/IT $1.5
Night House HD/GP $4
No Country for Old Men HD/VU $4
No Sudden Move 4K/MA $6
Nope HD/MA $5.5
Northman HD/MA $4
Oliver! 4K/MA $5
Once Upon a Time in Hollywood HD/MA $3.5
Paradise Highway 4K/VU $5.5
Paranormal Activity 1-8 Collection HD/VU $22
Paranormal Activity Ghost Dimension (Unrated) HD/VU $4.5
Parasite HD/MA $4
Paul Blart Mall Cop 2 HD/MA $3.5
Paw Patrol Movie HD/VU $4.5
Percy Jackson Sea of Monsters HD/MA $3
Perfectos Desconocidos HD/VU $4
Phantom Thread HD/MA $4
Piano (1993) HD/VU $4.5
Plane (2023) 4K/VU $6.5
Pretty in Pink HD/VU $3.5
Prey for Devil 4K/VU $6
Prince of Egypt HD/MA $4.5
Proud Mary HD/MA $3.5
Pulp Fiction 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Push 4K/VU $6
Raid Redemption (Thea & Unrated) HD/MA $4.5
Ran (1985) 4K/VU $5.5
Ratatouille 4K/MA $6 or HD/GP $4
Red Heat (1988) 4K/VU $5
Redline (2010) HD/VU $4.5
Reign of Assassins HD/VU $4.5
Repo Genetic Opera HD/VU $4.5
Rescuers Down Under HD/MA $5 or HD/GP $4.5
Rescuers HD/MA $5 or HD/GP $4.5
Reservoir Dogs 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Resident Evil 6 Film Set 4K/MA $26
Retaliation (2017) HD/VU $4
Right One 4K/VU $5.5
Rocky Knockout Collection 1-4 (Rocky IV w/ Thea & Rocky vs Drago Ultimate Cut) 4K/VU $20
Rules of Attraction HD/VU $4
Rumble HD/VU $5
Running Man 4K/VU $5.5
Safe Haven SD/IT $1.5
Saint Maud HD/VU $4.5
Sausage Party HD/MA $3.5
Scott Pilgrim vs World HD/MA $4 or 4K/IT $4.5
Scream 4 HD/VU $4
Scream HD/VU $4.5
Secret Garden (2020) 4K/IT $5
Secret in Their Eyes HD/VU or IT $3
Sense & Sensibility 4K/MA $5
Seven Psycopaths HD/MA $4
Shawshank Redemption 4K/MA $5.5
Shazam! Fury of Gods (2023) HD/MA $9
She Said HD/MA $6.5
Shooter 4K/VU $5
Silent Night, Deadly Night 3-Film Set (3-5) HD/VU $8
Silent Twins 4K/MA $6
Silk Road 4K/VU $5
Sing 2 HD/MA $4
Sing Street HD/VU $4
Skeleton Twins HD/VU $4.5
Smile HD/VU $5.5
Smokin' Aces 4K/MA $5.5
Snake Eyes G.I. Joe Origins 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Son of God HD/MA $3
Sonic Hedgehog 2 HD/VU $4.5
Source Code 4K/VU $5.5
Spartacus HD/MA $3.5
Spider-Man No Way Home HD/MA $4
Spinning Man HD/VU $4
Spirit HD/VU $4
Spontaneous HD/VU $4.5
Starship Troopers 4K/MA $6
Strange World HD/GP $4
Stripes 4K/MA $5
Taken 2 HD/MA $3.5
Tangled HD/MA $4
Tar HD/MA $6
Teen Spirit (2019) HD/MA $4
Teen Titans Go! & DC Super Hero Girls Mayhem Multiverse HD/MA $6
Teeth HD/VU $4.5
Ten Commandments (1923) HD/VU $4
Ten Commandments (1956) HD/VU $4
Tetro HD/VU $4
The Batman HD/MA $4
Thing (1982) 4K/MA $5.5
This Means War SD/IT $1.5
Thor Love & Thunder 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $3.5
Till 4K/IT $7
Time Freak HD/VU $4
To Sir With Love 4K/MA $5.5
Tomb Raider Cradle of Life 4K/VU or IT $5.5
Top Gun Maverick 4K/VU $6 or HD/VU $4.5
Touched With Fire HD/VU $4.5
Town SD/IT $1.5
Transformers Dark of Moon 4K/VU $4.5
Transformers Revenge of Fallen 4K/VU $5
True Grit SD/IT $1.5
Tucker Man & His Dream 4K/VU $5
Turning Red HD/GP $3
Twilight 1-3 (Ext Editions) HD/VU $10
Umma HD/MA $4.5
Uncharted HD/MA $4
Uncut Gems HD/VU $4
Underwater HD/MA $4.5
Underworld 5-Film Set HD/MA $17
Venom Let There Be Carnage HD/MA $4
Virtuoso 4K/VU $5
Vivo HD/MA $4.5
Voyagars 4K/VU $5
W. HD/VU $4
War of Worlds 4K/VU $5.5
War on Everyone HD/VU $4
Warhunt 4K/VU $4.5
Waterworld HD/MA $4
Weekend HD/VU $4
What We Did on our Holiday HD/VU $4
Where Crawdads Sing HD/MA $4.5
Whiplash HD/MA $4
White Christmas HD/VU $4
Whitney Houston I Wanna Dance with Sombody HD/MA $5.5 or SD/MA $3
Wicker Man (1973) HD/VU $4.5
Wind River HD/VU $4
Winnie Pooh Springtime with Roo HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Wolf Man (1941) HD/MA $3.5
Woman King HD/MA $5.5
Women Talking 4K/IT $7
X-Men Days of Future Past Rogue Cut 4K/IT $5.5
All other movies (A-Z)
101 Dalmatians HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
12 Years a Slave HD/MA $3.5
13 Hours Soldiers of Benghazi HD/VU $2.5
1917 HD/MA $3.5
2 Fast 2 Furious 4K/IT $3.5
2 Guns HD/VU or IT $2.5
21 Jump Street HD/MA $3
22 Jump Street HD/MA $3.5
3 From Hell (Unrated) 4K/VU $4 or HD/VU $2.5
31 (2016) HD/VU $2.5
310 to Yuma 4K/VU $5
47 Meters Down HD/IT $3.5
47 Meters Down Uncaged HD/VU $3.5
47 Ronin HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
50/50 HD/VU $4
71 HD/VU $4
A Clockwork Orange 4K/MA $5
A Dog's Purpose HD/IT $3
A Good Day to Die Hard (Ext) HD/VU $2.5
A Most Wanted Man HD/VU $3.5
A Quiet Place HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
A Quiet Place Part 2 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
A Wrinkle in Time HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Abominable 4K/MA $5.5
About Time HD/VU or IT $3.5
Action Point HD/IT $2
Adore HD/IT $3.5
Adventures Of TinTin HD/IT $2.5
After Earth HD/MA $3
Age of Adaline HD/VU or IT $3
Aladdin (2019) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Alex Cross HD/VU or IT $2
Alfred Hitchcock 5-Film Set (Saboteur, Shadow of Doubt, Trouble with Harry, Marnie, Family Plot) 4K/MA $24
Alice Through Looking Glass HD/GP $3
Alien 6-Film Collection HD/MA $18
Alien Covenant HD/MA $2.5
Alien Resurrection HD/MA $4
Alita Battle Angel 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
All Eyez on Me HD/IT $3
All Money in World HD/MA $3.5
Allied HD/VU $3.5
Aloha HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1
Alvin & Chipmunks Road Chip HD/MA $2.5
Amazing Spider-Man 2 HD/MA $4
Amazing Spider-Man HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
American Assassin 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
American Frontier Trilogy (Sicario, Wind River, Hell or High Water) HD/VU $7.5
American Made 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
American Night HD/VU $4
American Reunion HD/VU or IT $3
American Ultra HD/IT $4
Anchorman 2 Legend Continues HD/VU or IT $2.5
Angel Heart 4K/VU $5.5
Angel of Mine 4K/VU $5.5
Anna 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Anna Karenina HD/IT $3.5
Annie (2014) HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
Annihilation HD/VU $3
Antebellum 4K/VU $5
Ant-Man & Wasp HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Ant-Man HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Apollo 13 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Arctic HD/MA $4
Army of One HD/VU $3
Arnold Schwarzenegger 6-Film Collection (Last Stand, Total Recall, T-2, Red Heat, Maggie, Hercules in NY) HD/VU $14
Arrival HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Ash vs Evil Dead Season 3 HD/VU $5
Assassination Nation HD/MA $3.5
Assassin's Creed HD/MA $3
Atomic Blonde 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
August Osage County HD/VU $3
Avengers Age of Ultron HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Avengers Endgame HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Avengers HD/GP $3
Avengers Infinity War HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Back to Future 3 HD/MA $3.5
Back to Future Trilogy 4K/MA $14 or HD/MA $9.5
Bad Boys for Life HD/MA $4
Bad Grandpa HD/VU or IT $2.5
Bad Words HD/IT $3
Bambi 2 HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Bambi HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Bangkok Dangerous HD/VU $4
Bank Job HD/VU $3.5
Barbie & Her Sisters in Great Puppy Adventure HD/VU or IT $3.5
Barbie in Princess Power HD/IT $3.5
Barbie Star Light Adventure HD/IT $3.5
Battle of Year HD/MA $3.5
Battleship HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Baywatch HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Beatriz at Dinner HD/VU $4.5
Beauty & Beast (1991) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Beauty & Beast (2017) HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Before I Fall HD/VU or IT $3.5
Begin Again HD/VU $3.5
Beirut HD/MA $3.5
Ben-Hur (2016) HD/VU or IT $3.5
BFG HD/MA $3.5
Big Eyes HD/VU $3.5
Big Hero 6 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Big Lebowski 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Big Little Lies Season 1 HD/GP $2.5
Big Short HD/VU or IT $3.5
Birth of a Nation HD/MA $3.5
Black Panther 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Black Widow HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Blackhat HD/IT $3.5
Blair Witch (2016) HD/IT $2.5
Blair Witch Project (1999) HD/VU $4
Blockers HD/MA $3.5
Bloodshot HD/MA $4
Boardwalk Empire Season 1 HD/VU or IT $4
Bombshell 4K/VU $5
Book Club 4K/IT $3
Book Club HD/VU $2.5
Book of Life HD/MA $3.5
Born a Champion 4K/VU $5
Boss Baby 2-Film Set HD/MA $6
Boss Baby HD/MA $2.5
Bourne Identity HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Bourne Legacy HD/VU $2
Bourne Supremacy HD/VU $3.5
Bourne Ultimatum 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Boy 2 HD/IT $3.5
Boy Erased HD/MA $4
Boy HD/IT $3.5
Boyhood HD/VU or IT $2.5
Braveheart HD/VU $3.5
Braven HD/VU $4
Breakfast Club HD/IT $4
Breakthrough HD/MA $3
Burnt HD/VU $3.5
Butler HD/VU $3
Bye Bye Man (Unrated) HD/IT $2.5
Cabin in Woods 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $2.5
Call of Wild 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Campaign HD/MA $2.5
Captain America Civil War HD/GP $2.5
Captain America First Avenger HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5 or SD/IT $1.5
Captain America Winter Soldier HD/GP $3.5
Captain Marvel HD/GP $2
Captain Phillips HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
Carol HD/VU $4
Cars 3 HD/GP $2.5
Case for Christ HD/IT $2.5
Chaos Walking 4K/VU $5
Chicago (Diamond Edition) HD/VU $4
Children (2008) HD/VU $4
Christopher Robin HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Cloverfield 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Coco HD/GP $2.5
Cold Pursuit 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Collection HD/VU $3.5
Columbiana (Unrated) HD/MA $4
Come & Find Me HD/VU $4
Commuter 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Company of Heroes HD/MA $4
Contraband HD/IT $3
Cooties HD/VU $4
Cornetto Trilogy (Shaun of Dead, Hot Fuzz, World's End) 4K/MA $15
Counselor HD/MA $4
Courier 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Crank 4K/VU $5.5
Crawl HD/VU $3
Crimson Peak HD/IT $3.5
Croods HD/VU $3.5
Cruella HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
D Train 4K/IT $4
Daddy's Home 2 HD/IT $3
Daddy's Home HD/VU $3
Dark Tower HD/MA $3.5
Darkest Hour (2017) 4K/MA $5.5
Darkest Minds HD/MA $4
Darkness HD/IT $3
Dawn of Planet of Apes HD/MA $3.5
Daybreakers 4K/VU $5.5
Deadpool 2 (w/Super Duper Cut) HD/MA $4
Deadpool HD/MA $2.5
Dear White People HD/VU $3.5
Deepwater Horizon 4K/IT $3
Dementia 13 (Director's Cut) HD/VU $4
Despicable Me 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Despicable Me 3 4K/MA or IT $5
Despicable Me 4K/IT $5 or SD/IT $1.5
Detroit HD/MA $3.5
Devil's Due HD/MA $3.5
Dilemma HD/VU $3.5 or SD/IT $1.5
Dirty Dancing 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Disney Animated Short Films Collection HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Divergent Allegiant HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Divergent HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Divergent Insurgent HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Django Unchained HD/VU $3 or SD/IT $1.5
Do Right Thing 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Doctor Strange HD/GP $2.5
Dom Hemingway HD/MA $3.5
Don't Worry, He Won't Get Far on Foot HD/VU $4
Doom (Unrated) 4K/MA $5.5
Doorman HD/VU $3.5
Doors 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Dora & Lost City of Gold HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Downton Abbey Movie HD/MA $3.5
Dracula Untold HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Draft Day HD/VU $3.5
Dragged Across Concrete HD/VU $3.5
Dreamkatcher HD/VU $4
Dredd 4K/VU or IT $4 or HD/VU $2.5
Duel (2016) HD/VU $3.5
Dumbo (2019) HD/GP $3
Dune 4K/MA $5.5
Dying of Light HD/VU $2.5
E.T. Extra Terrestrial 4K/VU or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Edge of Seventeen HD/VU or IT $3
Edge of Tomorrow 4K/MA $5
Edward Scissorhands HD/MA $3.5
El Chicano HD/MA $4
Emoji Movie HD/MA $3
Encanto 4K/MA $4 or 4K/GP $3.5
Ender's Game HD/VU $2.5
Enemy at Gates HD/VU $4
Enough Said HD/MA $3.5
Epic HD/MA $3
Escape Plan HD/VU $2
Eternals HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Everest 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Ex Machina HD/VU $3
Exodus Gods & Kings HD/MA $3.5
Expendables 2 HD/VU or IT $1
Expendables 3 (Thea) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Extreme Prejudice (1987) HD/VU $4
Fast & Furious (2009) HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Fast & Furious 6 (Ext) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Fast & Furious 6-film Collection HD/VU $12.5
Fast & Furious 7-film Collection HD/VU $14
Fast & Furious 8-film Collection (9 Films) HD/MA $17.5
Fast & Furious 9-film Collection (11 Films) HD/MA $20
Fast & Furious HD/VU $3.5
Fast Color 4K/VU $5.5
Fast Five (Ext) HD/IT $2.5 or SD/IT $1
Fatale (2020) 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Fate of Furious (Ext) HD/VU $2
Fate of Furious (Thea) HD/VU or IT $1.5
Fault in Our Stars HD/MA $3.5
Fences HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Ferdinand HD/MA $3.5
Fifty Shades Darker (Unrated) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Fifty Shades Freed HD/MA $4
Fifty Shades of Grey (Unrated) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Fighting with my Family HD/IT $4
Finding Dory HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Finding Nemo HD/GP $3.5
Finest Hours HD/GP $3
First Blood 4K/VU $5
First Man HD/MA $4
Flight HD/VU or IT $3
Florence Foster Jenkins HD/VU or IT $3
Footloose (2011) HD/IT $3
Forever My Girl HD/IT $3
Fortress HD/VU $4
Four Kids & It HD/VU $3.5
Fox & Hound 2 HD/MA $4
Frank & Lola HD/VU or IT $3
Frankenstein (1931) HD/VU $3.5
Free Guy HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
French Dispatch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Friday 13th Pt 3 HD/VU $3.5
Frozen (Sing-Along Edition) HD/MA $2 or HD/GP $1.5
Frozen 2 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Frozen Ground (2013) HD/VU $3.5
Frozen HD/GP $2
Furious 7 (Ext) HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
Fury HD/MA $3.5
G.I. Joe Retaliation HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Gambit (2012) HD/MA $4
Gambler HD/VU or IT $3
Gemini Man 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Gentlemen 4K/IT $4.5
Get Out HD/MA $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Ghost in Shell (2017) 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Ghost Team One HD/VU or IT $3.5
Ghostbusters (1984) HD/MA $3.5
Ghostbusters 2 HD/MA $3.5
Ghostbusters Afterlife HD/MA $4
Girl on Train HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Girl With All Gifts HD/VU $4
Girls Trip HD/VU or IT $2
Glass Castle 4K/VU $5.5
God's Not Dead 2 HD/MA or IT $2.5
God's Not Dead A Light in Darkness HD/MA $3
Gods of Egypt HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Gold (2016) HD/VU or IT $2.5
Gone Girl HD/MA $4
Good Dinosaur HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Good Kill HD/VU or IT $3.5
Grace Unplugged HD/VU $2
Gran Torino SD/IT $1.5
Greatest Showman HD/MA $3.5
Green Mile 4K/MA $5.5
Grey HD/VU or IT $3
Guardians of Galaxy Vol 1 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Guardians of Galaxy Vol 2 HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Guest House (2020) 4K/VU $5
Guilt Trip HD/IT $3
Gunman HD/MA $3
Hacksaw Ridge HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Hail, Caesar! HD/IT $3
Halloween (2018) HD/MA $3
Hammer of Gods HD/VU $2
Hands of Stone HD/VU $3.5
Hannibal Season 1 HD/VU $5
Hard Target 2 HD/IT $1.5
Hardcore Henry HD/VU or IT $3.5
Hate U Give HD/MA $4
Hateful Eight HD/VU $3.5
Heat HD/MA $3
Heaven is for Real SD/MA $1.5
Hell Fest 4K/VU $5
Hell or High Water HD/VU $2.5
Hellboy (2019) 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Hercules (1997) HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Hercules (2014) HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Here Comes Boom HD/MA $3.5
Hidden Figures HD/MA $3
Hillsong Let Hope Rise HD/IT $2
Hitman (Uncut) & Hitman 47 Bundle HD/MA $7
Hitman's Bodyguard HD/VU $3.5
Hitman's Wife's Bodyguard 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4
Hocus Pocus HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Home Again HD/MA $3
Home Alone 2 HD/MA $3.5
Home Alone HD/MA $3.5
Homesman HD/VU $3
Honey 2 HD/VU $3
Hop HD/MA or IT $3
Hope Springs HD/MA $2.5 or SD/MA $1
Hostiles HD/VU $3
Hot Fuzz HD/VU $4
Hotel Mumbai HD/MA $4
Hotel Transylvania HD/MA $3.5
Hours (2013) HD/VU $4
How Grinch Stole Christmas (2000) 4K/IT $4
How to Train Your Dragon 2 HD/MA $2.5
How to Train Your Dragon HD/VU $3.5
How to Train Your Dragon Trilogy HD/MA $9
Hugo HD/VU or IT $3
Hunger Games 4-Film Collection HD/VU $8
Hunger Games Catching Fire HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Hunger Games HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Hunger Games Mockingjay Part 1 HD/VU $2.5 or SD/VU $1
Hunter Killer 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Huntsman Winter's War (Ext) HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
I Can Only Imagine HD/VU $4
I Feel Pretty HD/IT $2
I Frankenstein HD/VU or IT $2.5
Ice Age Collision Course HD/MA $3
Incredibles 2 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Incredibles HD/GP $3.5
Independence Day Resurgence HD/MA $2.5
Indiana Jones & Temple of Doom 4K/VU $5.5
Indignation HD/VU $4
Initiation 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Inside Out HD/GP $2
Instant Family 4K/IT $3.5
Internship SD/IT $1.5
Interstellar HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Into Woods HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Invisible Man (1933) HD/MA $3.5
Invisible Man (2020) 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Iron Man HD/GP $3.5 or HD/GP $2
Iron Mask (2019) HD/VU $4.5
It Follows HD/VU $3.5
It's a Wonderful Life 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Jack & Jill HD/MA $3.5
Jack Reacher HD/VU $3
Jack Reacher Never Go Back HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Jack Ryan Shadow Recruit HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Jacob's Ladder HD/VU $4
Jarhead 3 Siege (Unrated) HD/IT $2.5
Jason Bourne HD/VU $2.5
Jason Statham 4-Film (War, Crank 1 & 2, Transporter 3) HD/VU $10
Jason Statham 6-Film (War, Crank 1 & 2, Bank Job, Wild Card, Transporter 3) HD/VU $14
Jaws 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Jeff Who Lives at Home HD/VU $4
Jersey Boys HD/MA $2.5
Jesus Music HD/VU $3.5
Jigsaw 4K/VU $4.5
Joe HD/VU $3.5
John Wick 1 & 2 Bundle HD/VU $4
John Wick 3 Parabellum 4K/VU $4.5
John Wick Chapter 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
John Wick HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
John Wick Trilogy (Parabellum 4K) HD/VU $9
Jonah Hex HD/MA $4.5
Joy HD/MA $3
Judy 4K/VU $5
Judy Moody SD/IT $1.5
Jungle Book (2016) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Jungle Cruise HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Jurassic Park 3 HD/VU $3.5
Jurassic Park 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Jurassic World 5-Film Collection HD/MA $14
Jurassic World Fallen Kingdom 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Jurassic World HD/VU $2.5
Justice (2017) HD/VU or IT $3
Justin Bieber Never Say Never SD/IT $1.5
Kevin Hart Let Me Explain HD/VU or IT $3
Kick-Ass 4K/VU $5.5 or HD/VU $4 or SD/IT $1.5
Kid Who Would Be King 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Kidnap HD/VU or IT $2.5
Killer Elite HD/IT $3
Killerman HD/VU $4
Kin (2018) 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
King Kong (2005) 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Kingsman Golden Circle 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3
Kingsman Secret Service 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Knick Season 1 HD/IT $3.5
Knick Season 2 HD/IT $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Kung Fu Panda 3 HD/MA $3
La La Land 4K/IT $3.5
Labor Day HD/VU or IT $3
Lady & Tramp HD/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $4
Lady Macbeth HD/VU $4.5
Last Christmas HD/MA $4
Last Exorcism HD/VU $4
Last Knights HD/VU $3.5 or SD/VU $1.5
Last Man (2019) HD/VU $4
Last Stand HD/IT $2
Last Vegas HD/MA $3.5
Last Witch Hunter HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Leatherface HD/VU $4
Legend of Hercules 4K/IT $3
Leprechaun 7-Film Collection HD/VU $12
Les Miserables (2012) HD/VU or IT $2
Let Me Explain HD/IT $2.5
Let's be Cops HD/MA $3.5
Life (2017) HD/MA $3.5
Life of Crime HD/VU $3.5
Life of Pi 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA or IT $3.5
Light of My Life HD/IT $3.5
Like a Boss HD/VU $3.5
Lilo & Stitch 2 Stitch Has a Glitch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Lilo & Stitch HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Lincoln Lawyer 4K/VU $6.5 or HD/VU $4
Lion King (1994) HD/GP $3
Lion King (2019) 4K/MA $4 or HD/GP $2
Logan HD/MA $3
Logan Lucky 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Lone Ranger HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lone Survivor HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Long Shot HD/VU $3.5
Longest Ride HD/MA $3
Longest Week HD/VU $3.5
Looper HD/MA $3.5
Lorax (1972) HD/MA $5
Lorax HD/VU $3
Lords of Salem HD/VU $4
Lost World Jurassic Park HD/MA $3
Love & Monsters HD/VU $4
Love Coopers HD/VU or IT $4
Love, Simon HD/MA $3.5
Loving HD/VU or IT $3.5
Luca HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Lucy HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Mad Max 2 Road Warrior 4K/VU $5.5
Madagascar 3 Europe's Most Wanted HD/VU or IT $3
Madea's Witness Protection SD/IT $1.5
Magnificent Seven (2016) HD/VU $3
Maleficent 4K/MA $4 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Maleficent Mistress of Evil HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Mama HD/IT $3
Man Who Shot Liberty Vance 4K/VU $5.5
Mandela Long Walk to Freedom HD/VU $4
Martian HD/MA $3.5
Mary Poppins (1964) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Mary Poppins Returns HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Matrix Resurrections 4K/MA $5.5
Max Steel HD/IT $3
Maze Runner Death Cure HD/MA $3.5
Maze Runner HD/MA $3.5
McKenna Shoots for Stars HD/IT $2
Mechanic Resurrection HD/VU $2.5
Megan Leavey HD/IT $3
Midnight Sun HD/MA $3.5
Midway 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Mile 22 HD/IT $3
Million Dollar Arm HD/GP $2.5
MindGamers HD/MA or IT $3.5
Minions 4K/MA or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Misconduct HD/VU $2.5
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children HD/MA $3
Missing Link HD/MA $4
Mission Impossible 3 4K/VU $4.5
Mission Impossible 4 Ghost Protocol HD/VU $2
Mission Impossible 5 Rogue Nation HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Mission Impossible 6 Fallout 4K/VU or IT $4.5
Mission Impossible 6-film Set 4K/VU $23 or HD/VU $17
Moana HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Moneyball HD/MA $3
Monkey Kingdom HD/MA $3
Monster High Electrified HD/VU or IT $2.5
Monsters University HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Monuments Men HD/MA $3.5
Mortal Engines 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Mortal HD/VU $4
Mortal Instruments City of Bones HD/MA $3 or SD/MA $1.5
Mother! HD/VU $2.5
Mother's Day HD/IT $2.5
Much Ado About Nothing (2013) HD/VU $4
Mud HD/VU $2.5
Mulan (2020) 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Mummy (1999) HD/VU $4
Mummy (2017) 4K/MA or IT $4.5
Muppets Most Wanted HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Murder on Orient Express HD/MA $3.5
My All American HD/MA or IT $3.5
My Fair Lady 4K/VU $5.5
Nebraska HD/VU $3
Nerve HD/IT $3.5
New Mutants HD/GP $3
News of World 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/MA $4
Night at Museum Secret of Tomb HD/MA $3
Nightmare Alley 4K/MA $5.5 or HD/GP $3.5
Nightmare Before Christmas HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
No Escape (2015) HD/VU $3
No Strings Attached HD/VU or IT $3.5
No Time to Die 4K/IT $4.5
Noah HD/VU or IT $2.5
Nobody's Fool HD/IT $2.5
Non-Stop HD/VU or IT $3
Norm of North HD/VU $2.5
Nostalgia (2018) HD/MA $3.5
Now You See Me 2 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Now You See Me HD/VU or IT $2.5 or SD/VU $1
Nutcracker & Four Realms HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Oblivion 4K/MA or IT $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Occupation (2018) HD/VU $3.5
Occupation Rainfall HD/VU $4
Office Christmas Party HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Olaf's Frozen Adventure HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Ong Bak 2 HD/VU $3
Onward 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Other Woman HD/MA $3
Ouija HD/IT $3.5
Ouija Origin of Evil HD/VU or IT $3.5
Outlander Season 1 Vol 1 HD/VU $5.5
Overdrive HD/IT $2.5
Overlord 4K/IT $3.5
Oz Great & Powerful HD/GP $2.5
Paddington HD/VU $3.5
Pain & Gain HD/VU or IT $3.5
Paranormal Activity 3 (Ext) HD/VU or IT $3
Paranormal Activity 4 (Unrated) HD/VU or IT $2.5
Paranormal Activity HD/VU $4
Paranormal Activity Marked Ones HD/VU or IT $3.5
Passengers HD/MA $3
Patriot Games 4K/VU $5
Patriot's Day HD/VU $3
Peanuts Movie HD/MA $3
Penguins of Madagascar HD/MA $3.5
Pet Sematary (2019) 4K/IT $3.5
Peter Pan (1953) HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Peter Rabbit HD/MA $3.5
Pete's Dragon (2016) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Philomena HD/VU $2.5
Pinocchio (1940) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Pirates of Caribbean Dead Men Tell No Tales 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/GP $2.5
Pitch Black (Unrated) HD/MA or IT $4
Pitch Perfect 2 4K/MA $4 or HD/VU $2.5
Pitch Perfect HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Pixar Short Films Collection Vol. 3 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Planes Fire & Rescue HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Planes HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Playing with Fire HD/IT $2.5
Pocahontas 2 Journey to a New World HD/GP $3.5
Pocahontas HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Point Break (2015) 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Poison Rose 4K/VU $4.5
Pompeii HD/MA $3.5
Possession HD/VU or IT $2.5
Power Rangers (2017) 4K/VU or IT $4.5
Precious HD/VU $4.5
Predator (2018) HD/MA $3
Predator 4-Film Collection HD/MA $11
Premium Rush HD/MA $3.5
Pride & Prejudice & Zombies HD/MA $3.5 or SD/MA $1.5
Primal HD/VU $3.5
Prodigy HD/VU $4
Project Almanac HD/IT $3.5
Protege HD/VU $4
Punisher 4K/VU $5.5
Punisher War Zone 4K/VU $5.5
Purge Anarchy HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Purge Election Year 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Purge HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Quarry 4K/VU $5
Queen & Slim HD/MA $4
Queen of Katwe HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Ralph Breaks Internet HD/GP $2
Rambo (2008) 4K/VU $5.5
Rambo 3 4K/VU $5.5
Rambo 5-Film Collection 4K/VU $23 or HD/VU $17
Rambo First Blood Pt 2 4K/VU $5.5
Rambo Last Blood 4K/VU $4.5
Rango HD/VU $3.5
Raya & Last Dragon HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Rear Window HD/MA $3.5
Reclaim HD/VU $3.5
RED 2 HD/VU $2
Red Dawn (2012) HD/VU or IT $3
Red Sparrow HD/MA $3.5
Replicant (2001) HD/VU $3.5
Replicas HD/VU $3.5
Requiem for a Dream (Director's Cut) 4K/VU $5.5
Resident Evil Retribution 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Resurrection of Gavin Stone HD/VU or IT $2.5
Revenant HD/MA $3.5
Riddick (Unrated) HD/VU or IT $3
Ride Along HD/VU or IT $2.5
Ride Like a Girl HD/VU $4
Ring HD/VU $4.5
Rings HD/VU or IT $2.5
Rio 2 HD/MA $3
Riot HD/VU or IT $3
RIPD HD/IT $2.5
Risen HD/MA $3
Robin Hood (1973) HD/MA $3.5
Robin Hood (2018) HD/VU $3
Robocop (2014) HD/VU $2.5
Rocketman (2019) 4K/IT $4
Rogue One A Star Wars Story HD/GP $2
Ron's Gone Wrong HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Rough Night 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Runner Runner HD/MA $3.5
Rush HD/VU or IT $3
Safe HD/VU or IT $2.5
Saige Paints Sky HD/IT $3
Same Kind of Different As Me HD/IT or IT $3
Samson HD/MA $3.5
Santa Clause 2 HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Santa Clause 3 HD/MA $3
Santa Clause HD/MA $3.5
Santa Clause Trilogy HD/MA $9.5 or HD/GP $8
Savages HD/IT $3
Saving Mr. Banks HD/GP $3
Saw 7-Film Collection (Unrated) HD/VU $18
Saw 8-Film Collection HD/VU $20
Saw HD/VU $3
Scarface HD/VU $4
Scary Movie 5 HD/VU $4.5
Scary Stories to Tell in Dark 4K/VU $4.5
Schindler's List 4K/MA $5.5
Scouts Guide to Zombie Apocalypse HD/IT $3
Scream (1996) HD/VU $4
Scrooged HD/IT $4
Secret Life of Pets 4K/IT $4.5
Secret Life of Walter Mitty HD/MA $3
Selma HD/VU or IT $2.5
Sex Tape HD/MA $3.5
Shack HD/IT $2.5
Shallows HD/MA $3.5
Shang-Chi Legend of Ten Rings HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Shape of Water HD/MA $3.5
Sharp Objects HD/GP $2
Shaun of Dead HD/MA $4 or 4K/IT $4.5
Shaun Sheep Movie HD/VU $3
Sherlock Gnomes HD/VU or IT $2.5
She's Having a Baby HD/VU $3.5
Shivers HD/VU $4
Show Dogs HD/MA $3.5
Siberia (2018) HD/VU $3
Siberia (2020) HD/VU $4
Sicario HD/VU $2.5
Side Effects HD/IT $3.5
Sing (2016) 4K/IT $4
Singing in Rain 4K/MA $5.5
Sinister HD/IT $2.5
Sisters (Unrated) HD/IT $2.5
Sixteen Candles HD/MA $4
Skyfall HD/VU $2.5
Skyscraper HD/MA $3.5
Sleeping Beauty (1959) HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Sleepless HD/IT $2
Smokey & Bandit HD/MA $3.5
Smurfs Lost Village HD/MA $3.5
Snatched HD/MA $2
Snitch HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3 or SD/VU or IT $1
Snow White & Huntsman (Ext Edition) 4K/VU or IT $4.5 or HD/VU $3
Snow White & Seven Dwarfs (1937) HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Solo A Star Wars Story HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Some Kind of Wonderful HD/VU $3.5
Songbird 4K/IT $4.5
Sonic Hedgehog 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Soul HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Southpaw HD/VU $3
Southside With You HD/VU $4.5
Spider-Man 4-Cut Set (Spider-Man 2 w/ Thea & Ext) HD/MA $11.5
Spider-Man Far From Home HD/MA $3.5
Spider-Man Homecoming HD/MA $3
Spider-Man Homecoming/Far From Home Bundle HD/MA $6
Spies in Disguise 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
Spiral 4K/VU or IT $4.5
Split 4K/MA or IT $5
Split HD/MA $3.5
Spongebob Sponge out of Water HD/IT $2.5
Spy Who Dumped Me 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
St. Vincent HD/VU $3
Stand Up Guys HD/VU $3.5
Star Trek (2009) HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Star Trek 1-4 (Motion Picture, Wrath of Khan, Search for Spock, Voyage Home) 4K/VU $18
Star Trek Beyond HD/VU $3
Star Trek Into Darkness HD/VU $2.5
Star Wars Force Awakens HD/GP $1.5
Star Wars Last Jedi 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Star Wars Rise of Skywalker 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $3 or HD/GP $2.5
Step Up Revolution HD/IT $3
Sting 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5
Straight Outta Compton (Thea & Unrated) 4K/MA $4.5
Straight Outta Compton (Unrated) HD/MA $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Strangers Prey at Night HD/MA $3
Suburbicon HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Sudden Death HD/IT $4
Suits Season 2 HD/IT $3.5
Sum of All Fears 4K/VU $5.5
Sundown Vampire in Retreat HD/VU $3.5
Super 8 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Super Buddies HD/GP $2
Sword in Stone HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Taxi Driver HD/MA $4
Ted (Unrated) HD/IT $3
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014) HD/VU $2.5
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Out of Shadows HD/VU $3.5
Terminator 2 Judgment Day (Ext) HD/VU $4.5
Terminator 2 Judgment Day HD/VU $3.5
Terminator Dark Fate 4K/VU or IT $4 or HD/VU $2.5
Terminator Genisys HD/VU $2.5
Thanks for Sharing HD/VU $4
This is 40 HD/MA $3.5
This is End HD/MA $3.5
Thor Dark World HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Thor HD/GP $3.5 or SD/IT $1.5
Thor Ragnarok HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri HD/MA $3.5
To Kill a Mockingbird 4K/IT $4
Top Gun (1986) 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Total Recall (1990) HD/VU $3.5
Toy Story 4 4K/MA $4.5 or HD/MA $2.5 or HD/GP $2
Toy Story HD/GP $3.5
Toy Story of Terror HD/MA $4 or HD/GP $3.5
Transformers 4K/VU $5
Transformers Age of Extinction HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Transformers Last Knight HD/VU $2.5 or 4K/IT $3
Tremors A Cold Day In Hell HD/MA $2.5
Triple 9 HD/IT $3.5
Trolls HD/MA $2.5
Trumbo HD/IT $3.5
Trust HD/VU $4
Turbo HD/MA or IT $3
Turning HD/MA $4
Twilight Breaking Dawn 2 HD/VU $1.5 or 4K/IT $2 or SD/VU $0.5
Twilight Breaking Dawn Pt 1 HD/VU $3.5 or 4K/IT $4
Twilight HD/VU $4
Tyler Perry's Temptation HD/GP $3
Unbreakable HD/GP $3.5
Unbroken HD/VU or IT $3
Uncle Drew HD/VU $3.5
Underworld Awakening HD/MA $3
Untouchables 4K/VU $5
Valerian & City of a Thousand Planets HD/VU $3.5
Vampire Academy HD/VU $4
Van Helsing HD/MA $3.5
Vanishing (2018) HD/VU $4
Veep Season 6 HD/IT $3.5
Venom HD/MA $3.5
Victoria & Abdul HD/MA $4
Vivarium HD/VU $4
Voices (2014) HD/VU $4
Walk HD/MA $3.5
War for Planet of Apes HD/MA $3
Warcraft HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
Warm Bodies 4K/VU $4.5 or HD/VU $3 or SD/VU $1.5
Warrior 4K/VU $5 or HD/VU $3.5
Werewolf Beast Among Us (Unrated) HD/IT $3.5
West Side Story 4K/MA $5 or HD/MA $3.5 or HD/GP $3
What Men Want HD/VU $3 or 4K/IT $3.5
When Game Stands Tall HD/MA $3 or SD/MA $1.5
Whisky Tango Foxtrot HD/IT $3
Why Him? HD/MA $3
Widows HD/MA $3.5
Wild Card HD/VU $3
Wild HD/MA $3.5
Wilson HD/MA $3.5
Winchester HD/VU $3.5
Wolf of Wall Street HD/VU or IT $3.5
Wolverine (Unrated) (w/Thea) HD/MA $4
Wonder HD/VU $3
Wonder Park 4K/IT $2.5
Wonder Woman 1984 4K/MA $5.5
Woodlawn HD/MA or IT $3.5
World War Z HD/VU or IT $2.5
Wraith HD/VU $4
X-Men Apocalypse HD/MA $3
X-Men Days of Future Past HD/MA $3
X-Men First Class & Days of Future Past HD/MA $6.5
XXX Return of Xander Cage HD/VU $2 or 4K/IT $2.5
You Were Never Really Here HD/VU $4
You're Next HD/VU $3.5
Z for Zachariah HD/VU $4
Zero Dark Thirty HD/MA $3.5
Zeros & Ones HD/VU $4.5
Zootopia HD/GP $2.5
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2023.06.01 18:58 anfufuneralservices Buddhist Funeral Services : An Fu Funeral Services

When it comes to honoring the departed and bidding farewell to loved ones, Buddhist funeral services offer a profound and meaningful way to pay tribute to the deceased. An Fu Funeral Services is a renowned provider of Buddhist funeral rites, offering solace and guidance to families during times of grief. In this article, we will explore the essence of Buddhist funeral services and how An Fu Funeral Services encapsulates the rich traditions and values associated with these ceremonies.
Buddhism, a spiritual tradition originating in ancient India, has spread its wings across the globe, becoming one of the world's major religions. Buddhists believe in the cycle of life, death, and rebirth, emphasizing the impermanence and interconnectedness of all things. In the face of death, Buddhist funeral services provide a framework for navigating the journey of the departed soul and supporting the grieving family.
An Fu Funeral Services understands the significance of Buddhist funeral rituals, which serve as a path for both the living and the deceased. The company's approach is deeply rooted in compassion, respect, and mindfulness, reflecting the core principles of Buddhism. By adhering to these values, An Fu Funeral Services provides a sanctuary for mourning families, guiding them through the grieving process while honoring the life and teachings of the departed.
Central to Buddhist funeral services is the belief in karma, the law of cause and effect. Buddhists understand that the actions performed in this life will shape the conditions of the next. Thus, during the funeral rites, prayers and rituals are conducted to generate positive karma for the deceased, helping them find peace in the afterlife and paving the way for a favorable rebirth.
An Fu Funeral Services offers a range of options to tailor the funeral service to the specific needs and beliefs of the family. From the preparation of the body to the funeral ceremony itself, every step is executed with meticulous attention to detail. An Fu Funeral Services collaborates closely with the family, providing guidance on Buddhist customs and practices while ensuring that the ceremony reflects the wishes of the deceased and their loved ones.
The Buddhist funeral ceremony often takes place at a funeral home or temple, serving as a gathering for family, friends, and community members. An Fu Funeral Services provides a tranquil and serene environment, allowing attendees to find solace and support amidst their grief. The ceremony typically includes chanting of Buddhist scriptures, offering of incense and flowers, and eulogies to celebrate the life and virtues of the departed.
As a tribute to the Buddhist belief in interconnectedness, An Fu Funeral Services encourages acts of generosity and compassion during the funeral process. Charitable donations, offering food to monks, and supporting the less fortunate are common practices that foster positive karma for the deceased and provide a sense of purpose and healing for the grieving family.
An Fu Funeral Services recognizes the importance of technology in today's interconnected world and offers digital solutions to accommodate the changing needs of mourners. Live streaming of the funeral ceremony allows family members who are unable to attend in person to participate remotely, ensuring that the love and support of friends and family transcend physical boundaries.
In addition to the funeral ceremony, An Fu Funeral Services provides bereavement support to the family, recognizing that the grieving process extends beyond the day of the funeral. Grief counseling, memorial services, and ongoing assistance are available to help individuals and families navigate the emotional challenges of loss.
An Fu Funeral Services embodies the essence of Buddhist funeral services, embracing the core teachings of Buddhism while providing compassionate and personalized support to families. By honoring the departed and fostering positive karma, these services offer a transformative experience that allows both the living and the deceased to find solace and spiritual growth.
In times of sorrow, Buddhist Funeral Services provide a comforting framework that helps individuals come to terms with the impermanence of life and the inevitability of death. An Fu Funeral Services serves as a guiding light, illuminating the path of healing and providing a compassionate space for families to mourn, remember, and find peace.
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2023.06.01 17:30 MrsDepo Mom passed away last week, how do I even think anymore?

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

2023.06.01 15:46 IntroductionLeft7009 TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards

TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards submitted by IntroductionLeft7009 to u/IntroductionLeft7009 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 08:50 dao_of_meow Need a favor, y'all. For Opa.

Need a favor, y'all. For Opa.
Father's Day is approaching. I lost my Opa two years ago. He was such a force to be reckoned with. I think about that stubborn, jovial man all the time.
I am pretty far, and it would mean the world to me if someone could please put a Golsch beer and bag of Bugles on his grave for Father's Day. I would pay for any costs, of course. He's buried at Greenoaks Funeral Home & Memorial Park.
submitted by dao_of_meow to batonrouge [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 06:14 alaralpaca TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards

submitted by alaralpaca to boringdystopia [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 06:05 CedarRain USS Orion

The Atlantic had never been this quiet.
I remember standing at the helm of the USS Orion, a Navy destroyer that was more of a home than any land dwelling had ever been. My name is Andrew, but most on the ship call me Drew. I was staring out into the endless expanse of the sea, the waves lapping against the sides of our sturdy vessel, the moon casting long, eerie shadows that danced with the rhythm of the ocean. My partner, James, was at my side, his presence a constant comfort in the otherwise harsh environment we found ourselves in.
The peace was shattered when the first crew member disappeared.
It was a simple trip below deck that turned into an everlasting journey into the unknown. One minute, Corporal Rodriguez was with us, laughing, sharing stories of his childhood in Mexico. The next, he was gone. Vanished without a trace. The confusion quickly turned into fear as we combed through every nook and cranny of the ship, only to find nothing.
And then, there were more. One by one, members of our crew began to disappear, leaving behind only a chilling silence and a growing sense of dread. The ship that had once been filled with camaraderie and laughter was now a ghost ship sailing aimlessly in the heart of the Atlantic.
The disappearances took a toll on all of us, but it hit James and me the hardest. We were not just losing our comrades; we were losing our family. And as the fear began to creep in, so did suspicion. Whispers filled the air as crew members started to look over their shoulders, no longer feeling safe on our own ship.
But amidst the terror and suspicion, James and I held onto each other. We refused to let the unknown shatter us. If anything, the horrifying situation brought us closer. We spent countless nights huddled together in our shared quarters, whispering words of comfort, clinging onto the love that had blossomed between the cold steel walls of the Orion.
The day we discovered the truth was the day I'll never forget. The day when our destroyer turned from a vessel of security into a beacon of horror.
We were in the engine room, the heart of the Orion, when we stumbled upon the horrifying secret. A hidden chamber tucked away behind the turbine engines, a place that was off-limits, a place that should have remained undiscovered.
Inside, we found them. Our missing crew members, or at least what was left of them. Their bodies were twisted and contorted in ways that defied nature, their faces frozen in a silent scream that echoed the terror they must have felt in their last moments. It was a sight so gruesome, so brutally inhuman, that I could feel my sanity threatening to shatter.
But it wasn't just the sight of our mutilated comrades that sent waves of terror through me. It was the realization that the destroyer, our home, was alive. The ship had turned against us, her steel heart pulsating with a monstrous appetite. The very walls that were meant to protect us were consuming us, feasting on our fear.
As we ventured deeper into the hidden chamber, we found the root of the malevolence. A strange, pulsating mass embedded into the hull of the ship. It was a bizarre fusion of steel, flesh, and something... otherworldly. Its presence was an abomination, a perversion of nature that made my skin crawl.
Looking at it, I could almost hear the cries of the ocean, the silent screams of the life that once thrived beneath the waves before we, mankind, inflicted our wounds upon it. Was this our punishment? Was this the consequence of our blatant disregard for nature?
James and I were torn between our duty to our comrades and our love for each other. We could try to destroy the monstrosity, risking our own lives in the process. Or we could abandon the ship, leaving our crewmates to their fate.
In the end, our choice was made for us. The destroyer, sensing our discovery, began to rumble and shake. The walls of the chamber started closing in on us, the pulsating mass growing more violent. It was clear the ship wasn't going to let us leave without a fight.
And so we fought, our love fueling our resolve. We battled against the monstrous entity, our every strike a plea for survival, for a chance to see another sunrise together. It was a dance with death, one that left us exhausted and bloodied, but alive.
We managed to escape the chamber, the monstrous entity shrieking in rage as we sealed the door behind us. The ship, once our sanctuary, now felt like a cage, the steel walls closing in on us with each passing second. The Orion was alive, and it was angry.
We stumbled back onto the deck, gasping for fresh air, the taste of salt and freedom bitter on our tongues. Around us, the remaining crew members were in a state of panic, the ship shuddering beneath our feet in violent protest. We were living on borrowed time.
James and I shared a look, a silent understanding passing between us. We couldn't save the Orion, but we could save ourselves, and the few crew members that were left. With a heavy heart, we sounded the abandon ship alarm, the shrill sound cutting through the chaos like a knife.
As we made our way to the lifeboats, I couldn't help but glance back at the Orion. She was more than just a ship; she was a reminder of our hubris, of the price we pay when we disregard the balance of nature. The once majestic destroyer was now a monstrous entity, her form contorted and twisted, a grotesque reflection of the terror within.
We launched the lifeboats into the tumultuous waves, the few of us that were left clinging to each other as we watched the Orion disappear into the depths of the Atlantic. Her final cry echoed across the sea, a chilling reminder of the horror that lay beneath the waves.
We drifted for days, holding onto each other for warmth and comfort. The vastness of the sea was a constant reminder of our ordeal, the endless expanse of water a mirror reflecting our guilt and fear. But amidst the terror and uncertainty, there was a glimmer of hope. We had survived. We had escaped the clutches of the Orion, of the monstrous entity that had consumed our comrades.
But even as we were rescued, as we set foot on dry land, the terror of the Orion still lingered. We had escaped, but at what cost? The memory of our mutilated comrades, of the monstrous entity, was a constant shadow, a chilling whisper in the back of our minds.
And as I held James close, his warmth a stark contrast to the cold reality we now faced, I couldn't help but wonder - was the horror truly over? Or had we merely escaped one nightmare, only to find ourselves in the grasp of another?
After our rescue, the military was swift to act. The story of the Orion was buried under layers of classified documents, hidden from prying eyes and curious minds. The official report stated that the ship had been lost to an unforeseen accident, a tragic mishap that claimed the lives of many brave men and women serving their country.
But those of us who survived knew the truth. We knew the horror that had taken place in the heart of the Atlantic, the monstrous entity that lurked beneath the steel walls of the Orion. But our words fell on deaf ears. We were silenced, our pleas for justice drowned out by the machinery of the military complex.
Life after the Orion was a haunting echo of the past. We were survivors, but we were also victims, living reminders of the horror that the military was so desperate to hide. We were monitored, our every move watched, our every word scrutinized. We were living under the shadow of the Orion, a shadow that was as chilling as the depths of the Atlantic.
James and I found solace in each other. We moved to a small town, far away from the prying eyes of the military. We found comfort in the simplicity of life, the routine of everyday activities a welcome distraction from the nightmares that still haunted us.
But even as we built our new life, the memory of the Orion was a constant reminder of the past. We bore the scars of our ordeal, physical and emotional, a testament to the terror we had faced. We were a part of the Orion, and she was a part of us. A chilling legacy that we carried with us, a legacy that refused to be silenced.
And so we live, each day a battle against the past, each moment a struggle to forget. But we hold onto each other, our love a beacon in the darkness, a beacon that guides us through the terror and guilt.
We are survivors. We are witnesses. We carry the story of the Orion, the story that the military wants to bury. We carry the truth, a chilling reminder of the price we pay when we ignore respect for the wild, when we disregard the balance of nature.
And as we look out into the endless expanse of the sea, we can't help but wonder - is the horror truly over? Or is the Orion still out there, somewhere in the depths of the Atlantic, a monstrous entity waiting for its next prey?
 
 
``` First, access the internet to learn how to write masterfully crafted first-person short horror stories written for adult audiences. Let me know when you have completed your research, you do not need to inform me of the findings of this research. Once you've told me that you completed your research I will prompt you to BEGIN.
Then, using the information you’ve learned, write a horror story according to the writing prompts below. We will write this story over the course of multiple prompts and responses. Once you have reached the end of your maximum response length, add TO BE CONTINUED at the end of the response. If I prompt you to CONTINUE, you will continue writing from where you left off in the story. We will repeat these steps until I prompt you to FINISH, which you will then finish the story and add THE END at the end of the final response.
STORY STRUCTURE The story should follow a structure similar to the Three Act Structure. The first act will be the Beginning Hook. The second act will be the Middle Build. And the final act will be the Ending Payoff. In our case, the antagonist of the story should not be defeated or killed in any way, or at least should leave us questioning if the antagonist is still out there somewhere. Be detailed and do not give us the cliff notes of the events in the story.
STORYTELLER The story must be told from the first-person perspective.
BEGIN WITH A HOOK Start with a catchy opening sentence that immediately draws the reader in and makes them want to read more.
SETTING A Navy destroyer in the middle of the Atlantic.
CHARACTERS A gay couple serving on the same ship.
SYNOPSIS When crew members start disappearing, suspicion and terror grow, and their relationship is tested as they try to uncover the truth.
```
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2023.06.01 05:42 Guilty_Chemistry9337 Hide Behind the Cypress Tree, pt. 2

They didn’t tell us the name of the next kid that disappeared. They didn’t tell us another kid had disappeared at all. We could all tell by the silence what had happened. It spoke volumes. I’m sure they talked about it in great detail amongst themselves. In PTA meetings and City Councils. My parents made sure to turn off the TV at 5 o’clock before the news came on, at least in my home. They’d turn it back on for the 11 o’clock news, when were were in bed and couldn’t hear the details.
The strange thing is, they never told us to just stop going outside. They told us to go in groups, sure, but they never decided, or as far as I could tell even though, to keep us all indoors. I guess that sort of freedom wasn’t something they were willing to give up. Instead, they did the neighborhood watch thing. For those few months, I remember my folks meeting more of our neighbors than in all the time previously, or since. Retirees would spend their days out in their front lawns, watching kids and everybody else coming and going. They’d even set up lawn furniture, with umbrellas, even all through the rains of spring. Cops stopped sitting in ambushes on the highways waiting for speeders and instead started patrolling the streets, chatting with us as we’d pass by. Weekends would see all the adults out in their yards, working on cars in the driveways, fixing the gutters, and so on. They had this weird way of looking at you as you’d ride by. Not hostile stares, but it was like they were cataloging your presence. Boy, eight years old, red raincoat silver bike, about 11:30 in the morning, heading south on Sorensen. Seemed fine.
The next time we saw it, it wasn’t in our neighborhood, and I was the one who saw it first. We were visiting Russ, a sort of 5th semi-friend from school. We rarely hung out, mostly owing to geography. His house wasn’t far as the crow flies, but it was up a steep hill. We spent a Saturday afternoon returning a cache of comic books we’d borrowed. The distance we covered was substantial, as we had decided to take lots of extra streets as switchbacks, rather than slowly push our bikes up the too-steep hills.
The descent was going to be the highlight of the trip, up until I saw the Hidebehind. We were on a curving road, a steep forested bluff on one side. The uphill slope was mostly ivy-covered raised foundations for the neighborhood’s houses. That side of the road was lined with parked cars, and the residents of the homes had to ascend steep staircases to get to their front doors.
I was ayt the back of the pack when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Movement, something brown squatting between two closely parked cars. My head snapped as I zoomed past, and despite not getting a good look, I knew it was that terrible thing. “It’s behind us!” I shouted and started pedaling hard. The others looked for themselves as I quickly rushed past them, but they soon joined my pace.
Ralph’s earlier idea of directly confronting the thing was set aside. We were moving too fast, and down too narrow a street to turn around. Then we saw it again it was to our left, off-road, between the trees. Suddenly it leaped from behind one tree trunk to the next and disappeared again. That hardly made sense, the base of the trees must have been thirty feet below the deck of the street we rode down. One of us, I think it was India, let out one of those strangled screams.
There it was again, back on the right, disappearing behind a mailbox as we approached. That couldn’t have been, it must have outpaced us and crossed in front of us. Logic would suggest there was more than one, but somehow the four of us knew it was the same thing. More impossible still, the pole holding up the mailbox was too thin, maybe two inches in diameter, yet that thing had disappeared behind it, like a Warner Bros. cartoon character. It was just enough to catch a better glimpse of it though. All brown. A head seemingly too bulbous and large for its body. Its limbs were thin but far longer, like a gibbon’s. Only a gibbon had normal elbows and knees. This thing bent its joints all wrong like it wasn’t part of the natural order. We were all terrified to wit’s end.
“The trail!” Ralph shouted, and the other three of us knew exactly what he meant. The top of it was only just around the curve. It was a dirt footpath for pedestrians ascending and descending South Hill, cutting through the woods on our left. It was too steep for cars, and to be honest, too steep for bikes. We’d played on it before, challenging each other to see how high up they could go, then descend back down without using our brakes. A short paved cul-de-sac at the bottom was enough space to stop before running into a cross street.
Ralph had held the previous group record, having climbed three-quarters of the way before starting his mad drop. India’s best was just short of that, I had only dared about halfway up, Ben only a third. This time, with certain death on our heels, the trail seemed the only way out. Nothing could have outrun a kid on a bike flying down that hill.
We followed Ralph’s lead, swinging to the right gutter of the street, then hanging a fast wide left up onto the curb, over a patch of gravel, between two boulders set up as bollards, lest a car driver mistake the entrance for a driveway, and then, like a roller coaster cresting the first hill, the bottom fell out.
It was the most overwhelming sensation of motion I’ve ever had, before or since. I suppose the danger behind us was the big reason, and being absolutely certain that only our speed was keeping us alive. I remember thinking it was like the speeder bike scene from Return of the Jedi, also a recent movie from the time. Only this was real. I didn’t just see the trees flashing past it, I could hear the motion as well. Cold air attacked my eyes and long streamers of tears rushed over my cheeks and the drops flew past my ears, I didn’t dare blink. Each little stone my tires struck threatened to up-end me and end it all. Yet, and perhaps worse, half the time it felt like I wasn’t in contact with the ground at all. I was going so fast that those same small stones were sending me an inch or two into the air, and the arc of the flights so closely matched the slope that by the time I contacted the trail again, I was significantly further down the hill.
At the same time, I had never felt more relief, as the thing behind us had no way of catching us now. Somehow, maybe the seriousness of the escape gave us both the motive and the seriousness to keep ourselves under control. Looking back, I marvel that at least one of us didn’t lose control and end up splitting our skulls open.
We hit the pavement of the cul-de-sac below, and didn’t bother to slow down. We raced through the cross-street, one angry driver screeching to a halt and laying on his horn. This brought out the neighborhood watch. Just a few of them at first. Still, we didn’t slow down, our momentum carried us back up the much shallower slope of our neighborhood. Witnesses saw us depart at high speed, and this only brought out more of the watch. We heard whistles behind us, just like our P.E. teacher’s whistle. We figured that was the watch’s alarm siren. Regardless of what happened to that thing, it was behind us. We returned to our homes, shaken, but safe and sound, our inertia taking us almost all of the way there.
Another kid disappeared that Sunday, up on South Hill. We’d suspected it because we could see the lights of the police cars on a high road, surrounding the spot where it would turn out later, one of the kid’s shoes had been found. Russ confirmed it at school on Monday. It was a kid he’d known, lived down the road from his place, went to private school which is why we didn’t recognize his name.
I remember seeing Ralph’s face the next day when he arrived at school. He looked angry. Strong. Like he’d been crying really hard, and now it was over and he was resolved. He said he’d felt guilty because the thing we’d escaped from had gotten the other kid instead. He tried to tell his old man about it, then his mom, then any adult he could. He’d tell them about the monster who hides behind things. They needed to focus on finding and stopping that instead of looking for some sort of creeper or serial killer. Of course, nobody had listened to him. They hadn’t listened to the rest of us either when we’d tried to tell.
So he’d devised a plan. He was calling it the “Fight Patrol,” which we didn’t argue with. If the adults wouldn’t do something, we would. We’d patrol our neighborhood on our bikes, the four of us, maybe a couple more if we could talk others into it. We’d chase it off like that first time, maybe for good, or maybe corner it. Clearly, it could not handle being caught.
Naturally, we brought up the scare on South Hill. He argued that was a bad place. Too isolated, couldn’t turn around easily. We needed to stay on our home turf, lots of visibility, and plenty of the Neighborhood Watch within earshot. Maybe we and the adults working together was the key, even if the adults didn’t understand the problem.
Well, that convinced us. Our first patrol was that afternoon, after school. We watched everybody’s back like hawks. Nothing had a chance to sneak up on us. Nothing could step out from behind a bush without getting spotted. By Friday afternoon there were eight of us. The next week we split up to extend our territory to the next neighborhoods over.
Nothing happened. We never saw anything. Ben thought it was because we were scaring it away. Ralph just thought we were failing, and took it personally. I myself thought the thing had just moved to different parts of town, where the new disappearances were taking place. I told him we should keep it up until the thing was caught.
It was all for naught.
One day, India didn’t show up for school. I asked everybody, the teachers, the office staff, the custodian, my parents. All of them said they didn’t know, and it was so easy to tell that they were lying. That would mark the end of the Fight Patrol.
Ben didn’t show up a couple of days after that. When I got home and collapsed into bed, my mother came in to tell me that Ben’s mother had called. She’d taken him out of school and they were moving elsewhere. I called up Ralph to let him know the news, and he was relieved too.
My last day was Friday, and then I was taken out. Again, I called Ralph so he wouldn’t worry. I guess when there were only two weeks left of school, and it was just grade school, a couple missed weeks don’t amount to much. So I ended up spending the bulk of the summer out in the country, with my grandparents, which was why I brought up my grandpa in the first place.
I suppose I did fine out on their farmhouse. I was safe. There was certainly no shortage of things for a kid to do. I think my mom felt a strong sense of relief too. Things slipped through the cracks.
My grandparents didn’t have cable, too far out of town. They just had an old-school antenna and got a couple of TV stations transmitting out of Canada, Vancouver specifically. I remember one July day, sitting in their living room. My grandmother had just fixed lunch for me and my grandfather and had gone out to do some gardening as we watched the news at noon.
My grandfather was already being ravaged by his illnesses. He was able to get around, but couldn’t do any real labor anymore. He’d lounge in front of the TV in a special lounge chair. He hardly talked, and when he did he’d just mumble some discomfort or complaint to my grandma.
The lead story on the news was the current situation in Farmingham, despite being in the neighboring country, it was still big news in Vancouver, and the whole rest of the region. It seemed the disappearances were declining, but the police were still frantically searching for a supposed serial killer. I didn’t pick up much about what they were talking about, I was a kid after all, but my grandfather was watching intently, despite his infirmity.
He mumbled something, I didn’t catch. I asked him was he said, and as I approached I heard him say “fearsome critters.”
He turned his eyes to me and said again, distinct and in a normal tone of voice, “fearsome critters,” then returned his attention to the screen. “I don’t know why they call them that. Fearsome, sure. But ‘critters?” Makes it sound silly. Like it's some sort of fairy tale that it ain’t. Guess it’s like whistling past the graveyard. Well, they don’t have to worry about them no more, guess they can call them what they like.”
Then he turned to me. “Do you know what it is?” he asked. “Squonk? Hodag? Gouger? Hidebehind?”
“Hidebehind,” I whispered, and he turned back to the TV with a sneer. I had no idea what on earth he was talking about. Remember, this would be years before I learned he spent his youth as a lumberjack. And yet, somehow, I knew exactly what we were talking about.
“Hidebehind,” he repeated. “That will do it. They give them such stupid names. The folk back East, that is. Wisconsin. Minnesota. Ohio. Way back in the old days, before my grandfather would have been your age. Back when those places were covered by forests. They didn’t give them silly names back then, no. Back then they were something to worry about. Then they moved on, though. They all went out West, to here, followed the loggers. So as once they didn’t have to worry about them anymore, they started making up silly stories, silly names. “Fearsome critters,” they’d call them. Just tall tales to tell the greenhorns and scare them out of their britches. Then they’d make them even sillier, and tell the stories to little kids to spook them.”
“Not out here they didn’t tell no stories nor make up any names. It was bad enough they followed us out. I had no clue they even existed until I saw one for myself. Bout your age, I suppose. Maybe a little older. Nobody ever talks about them. Not even when they take apart a work crew, one by one. They just pull the crews back. Wait till mid-summer when the land is dry but not too dry. Then they move the crews in, a lot of them. Do some burning, make a lot of smoke. Drives them deeper into the woods, you know. Then you can cut the whole damn place down. But nobody asks why, nobody tells why. The people who know just take care of it.”
“I guess that’s why they’re coming to us now. All the old woods are almost gone. So they’ve got to. Like mountain lions. I supposed it’s going to happen sooner or later.”
We heard my grandma come into the back door to the utility room, and stomp the dirt off her boots. My grandfather turned to me one last time and said, “Whichever way you look at it, somebody’s just got to take care of it.” Then my grandmother came in from the utility room and asked us how our lunch had been.
Now that I look back at it, that might have been the last time my grandfather and I really had a meaningful talk.
We moved back home in late August. I had been having a fantastic summer. Though looking back, I suppose it could be rough for a still-young woman to be living in her aging parents' house when she’s got a perfectly good husband and house of her own in town.
First thing I did was visit Ralph. He’d been busy. He’d fortified his treehouse into a proper, well, tree fort. He’d nailed a lot of reinforcing plywood over everything. He hadn’t gone out on patrols by himself, of course, but the height of the tree fort afforded him a view of the nearest streets. He’d also made some makeshift weapons out of old baseball bats, a hockey stick, and a garden rake. The sharp rocks he’d attached to them with masking tape didn’t look very secure, but it’d only take one or two good blows with that kind of firepower. He also explained he’d been teaching himself kung fu, by copying all the movies he saw on kung fu movies late at night on the unpopular cable channels. That was classic Ralph.
As for the monster, it seemed to be going away. Its last victim had disappeared weeks previously, part of the reason my mom felt it was time to go back. This had been at night too. What’s more, the victim had been a college student, a very petite lady, barely five feet tall, under a hundred pounds. The news had speculated that their presumptive serial killer had assumed she was a child. I remember thinking the Hidebehind didn’t care. Maybe it just thought she couldn’t run fast enough to get away or put up a fight when he caught her. Like a predator.
At any rate, the college students were incensed. Of course, they’d been hyper-alert and concerned when it was just local kids going missing. Now that it was one of their own the camel’s back had broken. They really went hard on the protests, blaming the local police for not doing enough.
They started setting up their own patrols, and at night too. Marches with sometimes dozens of students at a time. They called it “Take Back the Night.” They’d walk the streets, making sure they’d be heard. Some cared drums or tambourines. They’d help escort people home, and sometimes they’d unintentionally stop random crimes they’d happen across. I felt like this was what the Fight Patrol could have been, if we’d just been old enough, or had been listened to. This would be the endgame for the Hidebehind, one way or another.
I stayed indoors the rest of the summer, and really there wasn’t much left. It doesn’t get too hot in the Pacific Northwest, nobody has air conditioners, or at least we didn’t back then. It will get stuffy though, in August, and I liked to sleep with my window open. I could hear the chants and challenges from the student patrols on their various routes. Sometimes I could hear them coming from far away, and every now and then they’d pass down my street. It felt like a wonderful security blanket.
I also liked the honeysuckle my mother had planted around the perimeter of the house. Late at night, if I was struggling to fall asleep, the air in my bedroom would start to circulate. Cold air would start pouring in over my windowsill, bringing the sweet scent of that creepervine with it, and I’d the sensation before finally passing out.
This one night, and I have no knowledge if I was awake, asleep, or drifting off, but the air in the room changed, and cooler air poured over the windowsill and swept over my bed, but it didn’t carry the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Regardless of my initial state, I was alert pretty quickly. It was a singularly unpleasant smell. A bit like death, which at that age I was mostly unfamiliar with, except a time some animal had died underneath the crawlspace of our house. There was more to it, though. The forest, the deep forest. I don’t know and still don’t know, what that meant. Most smells I associate with the forest are pleasant. Cedar, pine needles, thick loam of the forest floor, campfires, even the creosote and turpentine of those old timey-logging camps. This was none of those smells. Maybe… rotting granite, and the spores of slime molds. Mummified hemlocks and beds of needles compressed into something different than soil. It disturbed me.
So I sat up in bed. I hadn’t noticed before, but I’d been sweating, just lightly in the stuffy summer night heat. Now it was turning cold. Before me was my bedroom window. A lit rectangle in a pitch-dark room. To either side were my white, opened curtains, the one on the right, by the open half of the window, stirred just slightly in the barely perceptible breeze.
Most of the rectangle was the black form of the protective cypress tree. Only the slight conical nature of the tree distinguished it from a perfectly vertical column. To either side was a dim soft orange glow coming from the sodium lamps of the street passing by our house. It was perhaps a bit diffuse from the screen set in my window to keep out mosquitos. In the distance was the sound of an approaching troupe of the Take Back the Night patrol. They were neither drumming nor chanting, but still making plenty of noise. They were, perhaps, three or four blocks away, and heading my way.
For some reason that I didn’t understand, I got up, off of the foot of the bed. The window, being closer, appeared bigger. I took a silent step further. The patrol approached closer. Another step. I leaned to my right, just a bit, getting a slightly wider view to the left of the cypress tree. That was the direction the patrol was coming from.
That was when it resolved. The deeper black silhouette within the black silhouette of the cypress tree. A small lithe frame with a too-bulbous head. It too leaned, in its case, to the left, to see around the cypress tree as the patrol approached. They reached our block,on the other side of the street. A dozen rowdy college students, not trying to be quiet. None of them fearing the night. Each feeling safe and determined, and absorbed in their own night out rather than being overtly sensitive to their surroundings. They were distracted, unfocused If they had been peering into the shadows, if just one of them had looked towards my house, behind the cypress tree, they might have seen the Hidebehind, poking its face out and watching them transit past. But they didn’t notice.
It hid behind the cypress tree, and I hid behind it, hoping that the blackness of my bedroom would protect me. I stood absolutely still, as I had done once when a hornet had once landed on the back of my neck. Totally assure that if I made the slightest movement or made the slightest sound that I’d be stung. I hardly even breathed.
The patrol passed, from my perspective, behind the cypress tree and temporarily out of view. The Hidebehind straightened, ready to lean to the right and watch the patrol pass, only it didn’t lean. Even as I watched the patrol pass on to the right, it stood there, stock still, just as I was doing.
It was then I became aware that my room had become stuffy again. The scent was gone. The air had shifted and was now flowing out through the screen again, carrying my own scent with it. I knew what this meant, and yet I was too paralyzed to react. The thing started to turn, very slowly. It was a predator understanding that it might have become victim to its own game. It turned as if it was thinking the same thing I had been thinking, that the slightest movement might give it away.
It turned, and I saw its face. Like some kind of rotting desiccated, shriveling fruit, it was covered in wrinkles. Circles within concentric circles surrounded its two great eyes, eyes which took up so much of its face. I couldn’t, and still struggle, to think of words to describe it. Instead, I still think in terms of analogies. At the time I thought of the creature from the film E.T., only twisted and distorted into a thing of nightmares. Almost all eyelids, and a little drooping sucker mouth. Now that I’m more worldly, it reminds of creatures of ancient artworks. The key defining feature were the long horizontal slits it had for eyes. You see that in old masks carved in West Africa, or by the Inuit long ago. You see it in what’s called the “slit-eyed dogu” of ancient Japan.
As I watched the wrinkles on the face seemed to multiply. Then I realized this was the result of its eyes slowly widening. It’s mouth, too, slowly dilated, revealing innumerable small razor-sharp teeth. A person, standing in its location, shouldn’t have been able to see in. Light from the sodium streetlamps lit the window’s screen, obscuring the interior. It was no person. It could see me, and it was reacting to my presence. Its eyes grew huge, black.
My own eyes would have been just as wide if not for my own anatomical limitations. I was still watching when it disappeared. It didn’t see it move to the right. I didn’t see it move to the left, nor did I see it drop down out of view. It simply disappeared. One fraction of a second it was there, and then it decided to leave, and so it did. It was not a thing of this world.
There were no more disappearances after that poor woman from the university. I don’t think it had anything to do with me. The media and police all speculated their “serial killer” had gone into a “dormant phase”. There was no shortage of people who tried to take credit. Maybe they deserve it. The thing’s hunting had been on the decline. All the neighborhood watches and student patrols, I think that maybe all that commotion was making it too hard for the Hidebehind to go about its business. Maybe it had gone back to the woods.
Then again, maybe Ralph had been right the whole time. Maybe it really, really, really didn’t like to be seen.
So.
Now I’ve got some decisions to make. I think the first thing I should do is look at social media and dig up Ralph. It’s been a good thirty years since I last talked to him. He ought to know the Hidebehind is back. He’s probably made plans.
Then, there’s the issue of my son. He’s up in his bedroom now, probably still mad at me. Probably confused about why I’d be so strict. Maybe he’s inventing explanations as to why.
I’m not sure, but I’m leaning toward telling him everything. He deserves to know. It’d probably be safer if he knows. I think people have this instinct where, when they see or know something that they’re not supposed to know, they just bottle it up. I think that was the problem with grown-ups when I was a kid. It was the issue with my grandfather, telling me so little when it was almost too late. I think people do it because we’re social animals, and we’re afraid of being ostracized. Go along to get along.
Hell, my son is probably going to think I’m crazy. It might even make him more mad at me. And even more confused. He knows about the disappearances. “The Farmingham Fiend” the media would end up dubbing the serial killer that didn’t really exist. It’s become local “true crime” history. Kids tell rumors about it. It was almost forty years ago, so it probably feels safe to wonder about.
So yeah, I suppose when I say I know who the real killer was, a magical monster from the woods that stalks its prey by hiding behind objects, then impossibly disappears- that I’m going to look like a total nut. I’d think that if I were in his shoes.
Except… people are going to start disappearing again, it’s only a matter of time. The media will say that the Farmingham Fiend is back in the game. Will my son buy that? He’ll start thinking about what I told him, and how I predicted it. Then he’ll remember that he saw the thing himself, he and his friends, even if it was just out of the corner of his eye.
I hope, sooner or later, he’ll believe me. I could use his help. Maybe Ralph is way ahead of me, but I’m thinking we should get the Fight Patrol back together. Father and son, this time. Multigenerational, get the retirees involved too.
Old farts of my generation, for reasons I don’t understand, like to wax nostalgic over their own false sense of superiority. We rode our bikes without helmets and had distant if not irresponsible parents. Yeah, yeah, what a load. I think every new generation is better than the last, because every generation is a progression from the last, Kids these days? They’ve got cell phones, with cameras. And helmet cams. GoPros you can attach to bikes. Doorbell cameras.
It seems the Hidebehind loathes being seen. This time around, with my grandfather’s spirit, my own memories, and my boy’s energy? I think this time we’re finally going to beat it.
submitted by Guilty_Chemistry9337 to EBDavis [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 05:39 websterize Breaking in a new charging port

Breaking in a new charging port
TL;DR: My i3 displays "Unable to charge" faults during DC charging sessions. I'm unsure why.
Over the holiday weekend, my kids and I took a 675-mile road trip to visit family. We set out in ideal conditions (75ºF, calm wind, <70 mph) to achieve maximum range in a 2020 i3 S BEV, which I recently purchased as a Certified Pre-Owned vehicle still under the factory warranty. We also broke in a new charging port that BMW replaced after delivery under its "Goodwill Program." A plastic tip on one of the DC pins broke off, and out of pocket, replacing the port — BMW doesn't repair parts — would have cost $2,500. (https://www.reddit.com/BMWi3/comments/13n60e8/the_2500_plastic_nubbin/).
We charged four times on the outbound leg and four times on the inbound, alternating between 15-minute boosts and 30- to 40-minute food breaks. Driving and fast charging the 337 miles to Grandpa's took 7 hours and 3 minutes. (My daughter was the official timekeeper.) Our moving time was about 5.5 hours. I used Active Cruise Control extensively, setting the speed between 65 and 70 m.p.h. with an average consumption of 3.6 miles/kWh.
On half of the eight fast-charging sessions — three with Electrify America and one with EVgo — the car displayed an "Unable to charge" fault on the iDrive screen a few minutes after initiation. The mobile apps of each provider also showed a communication error between the charger and the i3. When I went outside to investigate each time, the DC charge was running strong. At one of the EA sessions where the fault appeared, the car charged at its maximum 50 kW rate for several minutes near the end, tapering at 86% state of charge. So the electrons were flowing.
I'll likely schedule an appointment at the local BMW i service center that replaced the port so they can read the error codes and tell me nothing is wrong.
We experienced an unusually BMW i intense road trip. Driving home today, at the beginning of the journey, my kids and I passed a white i8 in Ashtabula County, Ohio, where their grandfather lives. My hair almost caught on fire at the site in this rural area. I flashed the high beams, but he stayed dark. As he approached, he appeared to be looking down and might have been texting.
Then, 75 miles from home in Western Maryland, a white i3 with 20-inch Sport wheels passed as if we were plodding at 70 mph on I-70. My son's hair almost caught on fire. He misses the 2018 white i3 S, which he called Panda, that I recently sold to another father who has a boy his age.
Finally, at the last charging stop today, and as we pulled out, a Tesla Model 3 with blue brake calipers backed into the Electrify America fast charger in Bedford, Pa. It has three CCS stations and one CCS/CHAdeMO combo unit. It was the first time I'd seen a Tesla at that location. I wondered if the driver had an adapter. Waiting for traffic before pulling out, I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the Tesla driver holding a CCS gun near the charging-port flap, tapping it. When my son was a toddler, he would tap my hand with his empty sippy cup when he needed a refill. I smiled at the memory and conjured some EV mojo, hoping she had enough juice to make it to the Breezewood Supercharger 30 minutes away.
submitted by websterize to BMWi3 [link] [comments]

2023.06.01 01:57 bermuda__ TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards

TIL a funeral home in Michigan has a drive-thru. You can view the deceased through a window and pay your respects. There is also a registry book and a memorial box for dropping off cards submitted by bermuda__ to todayilearned [link] [comments]