Introduction:

When it comes to sourcing aluminum products, quality assurance is of utmost importance. In Jaipur, one name that stands out in the industry is Jadon Aluminum. Renowned for their commitment to delivering top-notch products, Jadon Aluminum has earned the reputation of being the leading aluminum manufacturers in Jaipur. Let's delve into what sets Jadon Aluminum apart and why they are the preferred choice for quality aluminum solutions.

Uncompromising Quality Standards:

At Jadon Aluminum, quality is not a compromise; it is their guiding principle. They have established stringent quality control measures to ensure that each aluminum product that leaves their facility meets the highest industry standards. From the selection of premium-grade raw materials to meticulous manufacturing processes, Jadon Aluminum takes every step to deliver products that are durable, reliable, and built to withstand the test of time.

Cutting-Edge Manufacturing Techniques:

Jadon Aluminum stays at the forefront of the industry by leveraging cutting-edge manufacturing techniques. They invest in state-of-the-art machinery, equipment, and technology to streamline their production processes. This allows them to create aluminum products with exceptional precision, accuracy, and consistency. By embracing innovation, Jadon Aluminum ensures that their customers receive products that not only meet their expectations but exceed them.

Skilled Craftsmanship:

Behind every high-quality aluminum product is a team of skilled craftsmen. Jadon Aluminum takes pride in its team of experienced professionals who possess a deep understanding of aluminum manufacturing. Their expertise, attention to detail, and dedication to their craft contribute to the flawless finish and superior quality of each aluminum product. This commitment to skilled craftsmanship sets Jadon Aluminum apart as a leader in the industry.

Wide Range of Product Offerings:

Jadon Aluminum offers a diverse range of aluminum products to cater to various customer needs. From windows and doors to curtain walls and façade systems, they provide comprehensive solutions for both residential and commercial projects. Their extensive product portfolio, combined with the ability to customize designs, allows customers to find the perfect aluminum solution to meet their specific requirements.

Customer Satisfaction:

Jadon Aluminum places great importance on customer satisfaction. They prioritize clear and open communication, ensuring that customers' needs are understood and addressed effectively. Whether it is offering professional guidance, providing timely updates, or delivering products on schedule, Jadon Aluminum goes the extra mile to exceed customer expectations. Their commitment to customer satisfaction has earned them a loyal clientele who trust them for all their aluminum manufacturing needs.

Conclusion:

For those seeking high-quality aluminum products in Jaipur, Jadon Aluminum stands as the leading choice. With their unwavering commitment to maintaining the highest quality standards, utilization of cutting-edge manufacturing techniques, skilled craftsmanship, wide product range, and customer-centric approach, Jadon Aluminum has earned its reputation as the premier aluminum manufacturer in Jaipur. When you choose Jadon Aluminum, you can be confident that you are investing in exceptional aluminium solutions that meet your exact requirements and deliver long-lasting value.
Read More-: Aluminium company in jaipur
Jaipur Aluminium Trading Company

AMITA for not helping more?
I m(14) struggle with extreme insomnia I’ve tried different sleep aids and melatonin types to help me sleep, but nothing seems to work. Now because of this i end up sleeping very little and end up to tired to get up a do stuff around the house. My mom (42) does understand the fact i have insomnia so she tries to understand my behavior, but my step dad thinks i’m just lazy. Which coming from him is hypocritical anyway recently are household did a deep clean of the house. the night before I had only slept for around 3 hours so i was exhausted but instead of sleeping until 2 in the afternoon i woke up at 8 and help cleaned. i helped until 12 and by that time i has practically falling asleep standing up so i asked my mom if i could go take an hour long nap just to recharge a little. She told me it was ok and she would come wake me up in an hour, so i crawled up stairs and layed down. I was about to fall asleep when my door was pounded on waking me up i told them they could come in and guess who was their my Step-dad and my step brother(14) the dad was bright red and obviously mad. i asked if i over slept and they told me it was 12 15 I asked if mom had told them i was going to sleep for an hour and i would help more when i woke up they said yes, but then said my mom had left for the store and would be back in 30ish min. Telling me until she gets back i needed to help clean because they were getting tired i told them i needed to sleep just for a little while and i would help. then my step dad responded by telling i didn’t have insomnia and i am just on my phone to much (even though i’m diagnosed). He forced me to get up and made me clean the bathrooms while the two of them relaxed, finally as my mom opened the garage he told me to go up stairs and act like i was asleep, i started to because of how exhausted i was but instead i ran out to my mom and told her everything. they tried to stop me but i got their first my mom immediately told me to go to sleep and told the two of them to finish cleaning the rest of the house (they did, mother rage is nothing to mess with) i ended up sleeping til the next morning my step brother told me it was all my fault that they had to do extra work and how he couldn’t sleep that night. After that the two of them avoided me like a plague and blamed me for their sore bodies. which ended up making me feel bad because if i really pushed myself i could’ve helped more and if I just kept my mouth shut they wouldn’t have had to do more work. so am I the A-hole for not helping more?

I m(14) struggle with extreme insomnia I’ve tried different sleep aids and melatonin types to help me sleep, but nothing seems to work. Now because of this i end up sleeping very little and end up to tired to get up a do stuff around the house. My mom (42) does understand the fact i have insomnia so she tries to understand my behavior, but my step dad thinks i’m just lazy. Which coming from him is hypocritical anyway recently are household did a deep clean of the house. the night before I had only slept for around 3 hours so i was exhausted but instead of sleeping until 2 in the afternoon i woke up at 8 and help cleaned. i helped until 12 and by that time i has practically falling asleep standing up so i asked my mom if i could go take an hour long nap just to recharge a little. She told me it was ok and she would come wake me up in an hour, so i crawled up stairs and layed down. I was about to fall asleep when my door was pounded on waking me up i told them they could come in and guess who was their my Step-dad and my step brother(14) the dad was bright red and obviously mad. i asked if i over slept and they told me it was 12 15 I asked if mom had told them i was going to sleep for an hour and i would help more when i woke up they said yes, but then said my mom had left for the store and would be back in 30ish min. Telling me until she gets back i needed to help clean because they were getting tired i told them i needed to sleep just for a little while and i would help. then my step dad responded by telling i didn’t have insomnia and i am just on my phone to much (even though i’m diagnosed). He forced me to get up and made me clean the bathrooms while the two of them relaxed, finally as my mom opened the garage he told me to go up stairs and act like i was asleep, i started to because of how exhausted i was but instead i ran out to my mom and told her everything. they tried to stop me but i got their first my mom immediately told me to go to sleep and told the two of them to finish cleaning the rest of the house (they did, mother rage is nothing to mess with) i ended up sleeping til the next morning my step brother told me it was all my fault that they had to do extra work and how he couldn’t sleep that night. After that the two of them avoided me like a plague and blamed me for their sore bodies. which ended up making me feel bad because if i really pushed myself i could’ve helped more and if I just kept my mouth shut they wouldn’t have had to do more work. so am I the bad Apple for not helping more?

I just really want a clean cozy fantasy romance about a M/F couple with a similar sort of relationship and personalities to the ML and FL in "Fierce Heart". Bonus points if their families also get along well and see each as extended family.
I just absolutely love both main characters and their relationship in that book, which is slowly built on mutual trust, compassion, and self-sacrificial love. I love how genuinely cheerful (i.e. she wasn't forcing herself to try to be cheerful, that was just part of her personality) and optimistic the FL is in the face of great difficulty and sacrifice -- that attitude she has is a big part of what makes it cozy fantasy, despite the darker aspects of the story, IMO. And I love seeing the ML slowly begin to open to her and eventually to the rest of his family, due to the sheer compassion, kindness, and cheerfulness the FL consistently demonstrated towards him. And I also really liked that both characters showed a lot of agency -- her kindness and compassion had a huge beneficial impact on him, but it's also very clear that he willfully makes the choice to accept her compassion and help because he wants to, not because she pressures him in any way, and we end up seeing a lot of character growth from both of them.
Since finishing that series, I haven't come across anything where I've liked the couple and their relationship quite so much (though the couples in KM Shea's Magiford Supernatural City series' come close).
Please nothing with spice (i.e. nothing beyond closed-mouth kissing prior to marriage, and only closed-door sex, making out, etc. within marriage).

I absolutely love both main characters and their relationship in that book, which is slowly built on mutual trust, compassion, and self-sacrificial love. I love how genuinely cheerful (i.e. she wasn't forcing herself to try to be cheerful, that was just part of her personality) and optimistic the FL is in the face of great difficulty and sacrifice. And I love seeing the ML slowly begin to open up to her and eventually to the rest of his family, due to the sheer compassion, kindness, and cheerfulness the FL consistently demonstrated towards him. And I also really liked that both characters showed a lot of agency -- her kindness and compassion had a huge beneficial impact on him, but it's also very clear that he willfully makes the choice to accept her compassion and help because he wants to, not because she pressures him in any way, and we end up seeing a lot of character growth from both of them. Since finishing that series, I haven't come across anything where I've liked the couple and their relationship quite so much (though the couples in KM Shea's Magiford Supernatural City series' come close).
I'd prefer something in the fantasy genre, but it doesn't have to be -- I mainly want a clean romance about a M/F couple with a similar sort of relationship and personalities to the ML and FL in "Fierce Heart". Bonus points if their families also get along well and see each as extended family.
Please nothing with spice (i.e. nothing beyond closed-mouth kissing prior to marriage, and only closed-door sex, making out, etc. within marriage), or a lot of graphic descriptions of violence, body horror, or the like. It's fine if there are battles and injuries or whatever; I just don't want graphic descriptions of it.
I'd also prefer something where the overall theme/tone is hopeful and not overly dark -- I realized Fierce Heart and especially the rest of the series do actually have a significant amount of dark moments, but I feel the overall tone of the story is hopeful and there isn't an excessive amount of time. I also ask for something similar specifically to Fierce Heart, rather than the whole series, since the later books in the series are when the majority of the darker stuff happens.

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So despite my aunt knowing about my moms condition, knowing she gets BAD in the evening, she is dumb enough to believe her delusions. So mom called her to complain that I always keep the front door, the front gate and the garage door open and unlocked..... obviously it didn't happen, I've been robbed and thus have a security system and everything has multiple locks.
But my aunt believes her.... so I just got a phone call and got chewed out for leaving everything open and unlocked. I'm too tired to defend myself, after denying it and being told I'm a liar I just said it will never happen again and hung up on her.
Being a caretaker is truly thankless.

Please note that the ticket links are usually for general admission; for VIP tickets, if available, you may have to go to the band's website.
Monday, Jun 5, 2023

Rhapsody on Fire, Wind Rose, Seven Kingdoms	Conduit - Winter Park

Tuesday, Jun 6, 2023

Dying Whale, Dead Register, Moth Bite, The Path	Born Free Pub & Grill - Tampa
Heart Attack Man, Super American, Arm's Length	The Abbey - Orlando

Wednesday, Jun 7, 2023

Mike's Dead, The Haunt	Level 13 - Orlando
Within Chaos, Eyes Sewn Shut, Automatik Fit	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville
Jameson Tank, Parks & Razz, Outer Edge Band	1904 Music Hall - Jacksonville

Thursday, Jun 8, 2023

Subhumans, UpChuck, gilt	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville

Friday, Jun 9, 2023

Grass is Dead, The Coppertones	Underbelly - Jacksonville

Saturday, Jun 10, 2023

Halo Scars, Mind Virus, Cypher Machine, Re-Birth	Brass Mug - Tampa
Maul, Tombstoner, Plasmodulated	Conduit - Winter Park
Downswing, Falsifier, Bottomfeeders	Manna Tea & Kava Bar - Sarasota

Sunday, Jun 11, 2023

My Children My Bride, Extortionist, No Cure	Conduit - Winter Park
Bury Your Dead, Thirst, Edict	Tipsy Tiki - Fort Pierce

Monday, Jun 12, 2023

Maul, Tombstoner	Brass Mug - Tampa
Spotlights, Skyliner, The Darling Fire	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville

Tuesday, Jun 13, 2023

Halocene, Lauren Babic, Alphamega	Hooch & Hive - Tampa

Wednesday, Jun 14, 2023

Drain, Drug Church, Magnitude, Gel	Brass Mug - Tampa
Halocene, Lauren Babic, Alphamega	Level 13 - Orlando
The Convalescence, Summoner's Circle	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville
pulses., With Sails Ahead, I Met A Yeti	Will's Pub - Orlando

Thursday, Jun 15, 2023

Halocene, Lauren Babic, Alphamega	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville

Friday, Jun 16, 2023

Roxx, Re-Birth, Cyber Machine, Haloscars	Conduit - Winter Park
Hollow Leg, Clamfight, Moat Cobra	Will's Pub - Orlando
Every Avenue, Makeout, Say We Can Fly	Orpheum - Tampa

Saturday, Jun 17, 2023

Crossbreed, Cultus Black, Cypher machine, Davey Partain	Orpheum - Tampa
Defy the Tyrant, Losing Daylight, Shadow the Earth	Kona Skate Park - Jacksonville
Breed, Gillian Carter, Audible Parts	Will's Pub - Orlando

Sunday, Jun 18, 2023

Crossbreed, Cultus Black, NoSelf, The Dev	Level 13 - Orlando
Bodybox, No Zodiac, High Pressure	Conduit - Winter Park
Dikembe, Camp Trash, Glazed	Will's Pub - Orlando

Wednesday, Jun 21, 2023

Dream Theater, Devin Townsend, Animals As Leaders	Ruth Eckerd Hall - Clearwater

Thursday, Jun 22, 2023

Garbage, Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds, Metric	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa

Friday, Jun 23, 2023

Dream Theater, Devin Townsend, Animals As Leaders	Hard Rock Live - Orlando

Saturday, Jun 24, 2023

Misfits, Megadeth, Fear	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheater - Tampa
Intoxicated, Vacuous Depths, Ebullition	Conduit - Winter Park
black midi, YHWH Nailgun	Orpheum - Tampa

Sunday, Jun 25, 2023

No/Mas, Knoll, Shock	Conduit - Winter Park

Monday, June 26, 2023

We Are the Union, Kill Lincoln, Catbite	The Social - Orlando
No/Mas, Knoll	Orpheum - Tampa

Tuesday, Jun 27, 2023

Yungblud, The Regrettes, Caspr	Jannus - St. Petersburg

Wednesday, Jun 28, 2023

D.R.I., Metalriser	Underbelly - Jacksonville
Peter Frampton	St. Augustine Amphitheatre

Thursday, Jun 29, 2023

The Cure	Amalie Arena - Tampa
D.R.I., Metalriser	Will's Pub - Orlando

Saturday, Jul 1, 2023

D.R.I., Metalriser	Brass Mug - Tampa
Liliac, Fortune Child	The Twisted Fork - Port Charlotte

Sunday, Jul 2, 2023

Godflesh	Conduit - Winter Park

Thursday, Jul 6, 2023

Sad Summer Festival	Daily's Place Amphitheatre - Jacksonville

Friday, Jul 7, 2023

Sad Summer Festival	Coachman Park - Clearwater
Subdivisions, Violence System, The Fallen Sons	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville
Days Of Summer festival	Conduit - Winter Park

Saturday, Jul 8, 2023

Memphis May Fire, Norma Jean, Secrets	The Beacham - Orlando
Days Of Summer festival	Conduit - Winter Park

Sunday, Jul 9, 2023

Memphis May Fire, Norma Jean, Secrets	High Dive - Gainesville
Crown The Empire, Varials	Orpheum - Tampa

Monday, Jul 10, 2023

blink-182, Turnstile	Amalie Arena - Tampa
Orthodox, Cell, Chamber	Crowbar - Tampa

Tuesday, Jul 11, 2023

Analepsy, Cognitive, Wormhole, Nectoricgorebeast	Conduit - Winter Park

Wednesday, Jul 12, 2023

Analepsy, Cognitive, Wormhole, Nectoricgorebeast	Crowbar - Tampa

Thursday, Jul 13, 2023

Staind	Seminole Hard Rock - Tampa

Friday, Jul 14, 2023

Staind	Hard Rock Live - Orlando

Saturday, Jul 15, 2023

Obituary	Brass Mug - Tampa
Flag On Fire, Scatter Shot, Backslide, Regions	O'Malley's Alley - Ocala

Monday, Jul 17, 2023

Cenotaph, Horrific Visions, Architectural Genocide	Conduit - Winter Park

Tuesday, Jul 18, 2023

Agents of Chaos, Black Clash	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville
Buckcherry	Underbelly - Jacksonville

Friday, Jul 21, 2023

Joan Jett & the Blackhearts, Bryan Adams	Amalie Arena - Tampa
Mudvayne, Coal Chamber, Gwar, Nonpoint, Butcher Babies	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa
The Final Sound, Abbey Death, Layne Lyre	New World Music Hall - Tampa
Yosemite In Black, Endbringer, Murder Afloat	Orpheum - Tampa

Saturday, Jul 22, 2023

Yellowcard, Mayday Parade, Story of the Year	Daily's Place Amphitheatre - Jacksonville
Less Than Jake, Voodoo Glow Skulls, Devon Kay & the Solutions	House of Blues - Orlando
Rising Up Angry, Tragic, Legions Blind	Kona Skate Park - Jacksonville

Sunday, Jul 23, 2023

Yellowcard, Mayday Parade, Story of the Year	Yuengling Center - Tampa
Endbringer, Yosemite In Black, Heavy Hitter	1904 Music Hall - Jacksonville

Tuesday, Jul 25, 2023

Fall Out Boy, Bring Me The Horizon, Royal & The Serpent	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa

Thursday, Jul 27, 2023

Havok, Toxic Holocaust, I AM, Hammerhedd	Conduit - Winter Park

Friday, Jul 28, 2023

Between the Buried and Me, Rivers of Nihil, Thank you Scientist	Jannus - St. Petersburg
Round Eye, No Fraud, Caffiends	Will's Pub - Orlando

Saturday, Jul 29, 2023

Between the Buried and Me, Rivers of Nihil, Thank you Scientist	Beacham - Orlando
Southpaw, Highest Crown, Fortitude, Dead Mirrors	Born Free - Tampa

Sunday, Jul 30, 2023

Crobot, Rickshaw, Billie's Burger Patrol	Orpheum - Tampa

Thursday, Aug 3, 2023

Underoath, The Ghost Inside, We Came As Romans	Yuengling Center - Tampa

Saturday, Aug 5, 2023

Disturbed, Breaking Benjamin	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa
Underoath, The Ghost Inside, We Came As Romans	St. Augustine Amphitheatre
Sanguisugabogg, Kruelty, Vomit Forth	Conduit - Winter Park

Sunday, Aug 6, 2023

The Queers, The Radio Buzzkills, The Jasons	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville

Wednesday, Aug 9, 2023

Pyrexia, Cerebral Incubation, Atoll	Conduit - Winter Park

Friday, Aug 11, 2023

The All-American Rejects, New Found Glory, The Starting Line	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa
Black Flag	High Dive - Gainesville

Sunday, Aug 13, 2023

Alesana, Vampires Everywhere, Limbs	Level 13 - Orlando

Wednesday, Aug 16, 2023

The Offspring, Sum 41, Simple Plan	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa
hed p.e., Lydia can't Breathe, Razorz Edge	Jack Rabbits - Jacksonville

Saturday, Aug 19, 2023

Left to Suffer, Distant, Justice for the Damned	Conduit - Winter Park

Sunday, Aug 20, 2023

The Smashing Pumpkins, Interpol, Rival Sons	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa

Tuesday, Aug 22, 2023

The Mezingers	Underbelly - Jacksonville

Wednesday, Aug 23, 2023

Bless The Fall, Caskets, Kingdom of Giants	Orpheum - Tampa

Thursday, Aug 24, 2023

Clutch, Giovanni & The Hired Guns, Mike Dillon	Jannus - St. Petersburg

Saturday, Aug 26, 2023

Rob Zombie, Alice Cooper, Ministry	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa

Wednesday, Aug 30, 2023

Ghost, Amon Amarth	Daily's Place Amphitheatre - Jacksonville

Thursday, Aug 31, 2023

Ghost, Amon Amarth	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa

Saturday, Sep 2, 2023

Baby Metal, Dethklok, Jason Richardson	Orlando Amphitheater

Sunday, Sep 3, 2023

Spitalfield, Rookie of the Year, The Future Perfect	Conduit - Winter Park

Tuesday, Sep 5, 2023

Bad Omens, ERRA, I See Stars	Jannus - St. Petersburg

Wednesday, Sep 6, 2023

Bad Omens, ERRA, I See Stars	House of Blues - Orlando

Friday, Sep 8, 2023

The Waning Moon, Palace of Tears, Rux Vendetta	Hooch & Hive - Tampa

Saturday, Sep 9, 2023

Kamelot, Battle Beast, Xandria	Hard Rock Live - Orlando

Sunday, Sep 10, 2023

Angelmaker, Vulvodynia, Flasifier	Conduit - Orlando

Tuesday, Sep 12, 2023

Black Veil Brides, VV, Dark Divine	Jannus - St. Petersburg

Wednesday, Sep 13, 2023

3 Doors Down, Candlebox	Daily's Place Amphitheatre - Jacksonville
Dance Gavin Dance, SiM, Rain City Drive	Hard Rock Live - Orlando

Friday, Sep 15, 2023

3 Doors Down, Candlebox	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa

Saturday, Sep 16, 2023

Movements, Mannequin Pussy, Softcult	The Ritz - Tampa

Sunday, Sep 17, 2023

Avenged Sevenfold, Falling in Reverse	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa
Wave to Earth, slchld	Orpheum - Tampa

Tuesday, Sep 19, 2023

Scowl, Militarie Gun, MSPAINT	Conduit - Winter Park

Thursday, Sep 21, 2023

Scowl, Militarie Gun, MSPAINT	1904 Music Hall - Jacksonville

Friday, Sep 22, 2023

Cavalera Conspiracy, Exhumed, Incite	Beacham - Orlando

Saturday, Sep 24, 2023

Boys Like Girls, State Champs, Four Year Strong	House Of Blues - Orlando

Sunday, Sep 25, 2023

The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus	High Dive - Gainesville

Friday, Sep 29, 2023

CIRCLE JERKS, TSOL, Negative Approach	Underbelly - Jacksonville
Shinedown, Papa Roach, Spiritbox	MIDFLORIDA Credit Union Amphitheatre - Tampa

Saturday, Sep 30, 2023

NOFX	Vinoy Park - St. Petersburg
Flogging Molly, The Bronx	House Of Blues - Orlando

Thursday, Oct 5-7, 2023

Absolution Fest	Crowbar - Tampa

Tuesday, Oct 10, 2023

Ne Obliviscaris, Beyond Creation, Persefone	Orpheum - Tampa

Wednesday, Oct 11, 2023

Ne Obliviscaris, Beyond Creation, Persefone	Conduit - Winter Park
Fit For a King, The Devil Wears Prada, Counterparts, Landmvrks	The Ritz - Tampa

Thursday, Oct 12, 2023

Dawn of Ouroboros, Fires in the Distance, Somnent	Conduit - Winter Park

Saturday, Oct 14, 2023

Beast in Black, Dance with the Dead	Orpheum - Tampa
Fame on Fire, Kingdom Collapse	The Social - Orlando

Sunday, Oct 15, 2023

Beast in Black, Dance with the Dead	Conduit - Winter Park
Motionless In White, Knocked Loose, After the Burial, Alpha Wolf	Hard Rock Live - Orlando

Tuesday, Oct 17, 2023

Atilla, Gideon, Until I Wake, Ten56	Underbelly - Jacksonville

Wednesday, Oct 18, 2023

Atilla, Gideon, Until I Wake, Ten56	Orpheum - Tampa

Friday, Oct 27-29, 2023

The Fest	Gainesville

Tuesday, Nov 7, 2023

Protest the Hero, Moontooth	The Abbey - Orlando

Wednesday, Nov 8, 2023

Protest the Hero, Moontooth	Orpheum - Tampa

Friday, Jan 24, 2024

Kansas	Florida Theatre - Jacksonville

​

“I just had an idea pop into my head about something to do this coming weekend, and I wanted to bounce it off you two before it slips my mind” My friend Natasha said those words as the three of us sat on my couch one afternoon. I found myself sitting up slightly. Normally, Natasha was the last of our group to suggest things to do, letting Vinny, the third member of our group, or I come up with the plans to keep our free time occupied. The fact she was about to suggest something intrigued me. “What have you got in mind?” I asked her. A smile played over her face as her brown eyes seemed to flash. “How about a little ghost hunting?”
I felt Vinny sit straight up beside me. She had clearly grabbed both our attention now. The three of us were what you might call amateur ghost hunters, using very basic items we bought offline to visit some of the spookier places in the area and posting our adventures on YouTube, sort of like a crappier version of Ghost Adventures. “Now that’s one hell of a good idea” Vinny said, before a puzzled expression spread over his face. “But, I mean, where? We’ve already done most of the places around town. The Tioga building won’t let us in after that…well, what that one resident claims we stirred up in the old ballroom, and I’m not about to make the hours long drive to the Wolf Creek Inn” Natasha’s smile grew wider. “No, we don’t have to even go out of town for this one” she said, her voice dropping low, “What I’m suggesting, is we check out…” her voice trailed off, letting the suspense grow for a few seconds before finishing, “The Egyptian Theatre”
Instantly, Vinny let out a harsh bark of laughter. “HA! Now that’s a good one. You know damn good and well that the society that runs the theater won’t allow us in after hours to ghost hunt. As far as I know, they’ve never allowed any paranormal teams into the place” He pulled a face. “So, how exactly do you propose we get in there? You flutter your eyelashes for the night janitor and use your feminine charms to get us in?” Natasha still grinned, but rolled her eyes at our friend’s quip. “No, actually, I was thinking about using my lock picking skills to get us in” she declared. It was my turn to give her an incredulous look. “You’re joking, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “Nope, I’m dead serious” I let out an incredulous, almost baffled snort of laughter and pulled my glasses off my face, rubbing my eyes.
The country, and, to a large extent, the entire world, became gripped in an interest, sometimes bordering on obsession with all things Egyptian when King Tut’s tomb was discovered over a century ago. Many things came out of this, including the classic 1932 monster movie The Mummy. But, one thing that also came of this fever gripping the country was a desire to build many Egyptian style buildings. And one of the buildings which took this design and ran with it, were the movie theatres. A decade after the legendary discovery, over a hundred theatres had gone up all around the country, their interiors clad with fake temple columns, paintings of sphinxes and Egyptian gods such as Anubis decorating the walls, and hieroglyphs adorning the archways. People flocked in droves to them, both to watch movies, and live performances. But, like all trends, eventually, the interest began to wane, and as the late 20th Century approached, many began to shut down and be either remodeled, or straight up demolished. Today, there’s only between five and eight Egyptian style theatres left in the entire country.
And one just so happens to be right in the town I live in.
When I moved to Coos Bay, Oregon nine years ago, I immediately fell in love with the place. Even though it’s the largest coastal town on the Oregon coast, it’s a place which is more or less perpetually frozen in time, still looking pretty much as it did between thirty and seventy years ago. And, as someone who is not exactly into the modern world, it made a perfect place for me to live and escape away from the 21st Century. I began exploring right away, driving every street of it and the town neighboring it, North Bend, along with walking every alley and back road I could to learn the layout. That’s how I learned about the supernatural element to the town.
There are many places in town which people claim supernatural occurrences take place. From the remains of the old logging buildings on the estuary, to the old Tioga Hotel which has been remodeled into apartments, there is no shortage of ghostly tales. There was even the old McCauley Hospital, which had once been the focal point of the town’s annual ghost walks until it was demolished in 2018. As a side note, I heard a rumor that a couple people broke into that place right before it got torn down. Something sure spooked them, because a friend of mine on the police force told me they gave him a fright, bursting in the night before Easter and rambling about something. I always wondered what they saw in there.
But, for me, the place in town I always loved the most, and enjoyed the most hearing about the ghostly accounts told, was the Egyptian Theatre.
Originally built as a garage in 1922, it was renovated by a man named Charles Noble into a movie theatre in 1925, where it drew in droves of people from around the area to watch films, and enjoy live vaudeville performances. It continued to operate almost to the end of the 20th Century, when other theatres began to attract younger moviegoers, and for a while, it almost seemed as though the historic building might even be closed for good and gutted. But, thanks to the efforts of local preservation societies, it was saved, and now operates as a theatre once again. They mostly play only older movies, along with live performances.
And, of course, it draws curious people for the paranormal rumors surrounding it.
For years, people have reported strange occurrences happening inside the building, both when it’s open, and after hours. Patrons and employees alike have spoken about a pervasive feeling of being watched inside the building, but finding no one there when the place was searched. There have been reports of being touched by invisible hands, a few even pushed slightly. Beyond physical interaction, employees have reported the sounds of old film projectors playing and unseen audiences laughing after hours, along with the eerie playing of the theatre’s Wurlitzer pipe organ, along with a host of other occurrences. No ghost hunting team has ever gone in to try and document these events. And to Natasha, that was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Legal, or not.
“Are you freaking nuts?!” Vinny exclaimed, “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in if we got caught breaking and entering? The cops around here are already a bit twitchy with the druggies and the homeless. You wanna give them a reason to throw us into jail alongside them?” Natasha held up a finger, flipping her black hair over her shoulder. “They won’t find out, because I have not one, but two aces in the hole here. The first is that thanks to being friends with Scott, I know the nighttime police sweeps, where they’re going to be and everything. There’ll be an hour long window where they’re not anywhere near the alley where the back door to the theatre is. We can get in and out with no threat of being spotted at all. And the second is, did you forget I’m dating Dylan now?” The realization washed over me like a wave; she had started dating the man who helped the preservation society run the theatre a month or so ago. Damn, she’s been planning this one for a while, I thought.
Vinny had a thoughtful look on his face, his green eyes darting around rapidly, but not seeing. “Hmm” he muttered, then looked at Natasha. “And you’re sure that there’s no chance of us getting caught?” he asked slowly. “Absolutely none” she said, then looked at both of us. “So, how about it?” For a few moments, there was silence, and then Vinny let out a chuckle. “What the hell, why not? The most exciting thing we’ve done the last few weeks is go down to the farmer’s market. This could shake things up a bit” I suddenly became aware that the two of them were looking at me, waiting for me to make my decision. I was always the most sensible of the three of us, doing all I could to keep us out of trouble with others as well as the law. But, I always had one nasty Achilles Heel ever since I had been a child, and that was peer pressure. So, despite the overwhelming feeling that I should tell them no, that I should say we should just find something else to do, I nodded. “Alright, let’s do it” I said simply, causing grins to break out on both of my friend’s faces.
I wish to God in retrospect that I’d just had the damn spine to stand up and say “No”
The rest of the week seemed to pass by faster than usual. Before I knew it, the weekend had arrived. We’d decided that late Saturday night would be the best time to do this, as most places downtown closed up between eleven and midnight, aside from the bars and strip club. To say I felt anxious about breaking the law, something I wasn’t used to doing at all, would be like calling a Megalodon a goldfish, but my worries about disappointing my friends ended up outweighing it. And so, at eleven-thirty, the three of us piled into my beat up Chevy Tahoe, and made our way towards downtown. As I drove us down Ocean Boulevard, which connected the two sides of town, something settled over me. I can’t exactly place it, even to this day. But it was the most uneasy feeling I’ve ever experienced. But I did my best to push it away. It’s nothing, Troy. It’s just because you’re, understandably, worried about this. Plus, the road being deserted isn’t helping much.
My mental chiding seemed to help center me a bit, which was a good thing. The road was now angling downward, and a moment later, we drove into downtown. The darkened shapes of the closed stores seemed to rise up higher on either side of us than they looked during the daytime. We’d decided to cruise by the front entrance first, just to see if anyone were still inside. As I turned the truck onto the main drag, the sign for the theatre rose high above us, a depiction of an Egyptian pharaoh next to the yellow and white letters which proclaimed its name to everyone who drove through town. I spared a glance as we passed it. The lit up marquee windows showed that The Blues Brothers and Jaws would be shown soon. For whatever reason, though, I couldn’t bring myself to look through the glass doors that showed the building’s darkened interior. The uneasy feeling had returned, and, for a moment, it felt as though if I did look, I would see someone, or something staring back out at me. And then we passed it, taking the next right and looping back around to Anderson Ave.
I turned the truck into the narrow alley drive which ran along the back of the theatre and neighboring buildings. Parking right next to the rear doors would be extremely conspicuous, so I pulled up a bit further and parked in a carport like area. Shutting off the engine, I turned to my two friends. “Well, this is it” I said, “Last chance to turn back if anyone’s having second thoughts” I’d hoped that either Vinny or Natasha would’ve gotten cold feet in the last few minutes, allowing us to go do something else. But there was no such luck. “Are you kidding me?” Natasha said from the passenger seat, “We are far too close to back out now!” Vinny grunted from behind me. Well, shit. Resigning myself to the fact they were determined to go through with this, I let a deep breath out through my nose and nodded. The others opened their doors and hopped out. A moment later, I followed.
The night air was cool and crisp on my skin as we slowly walked back down the alley to the rear of the yellow-ish, tan building. Three different sets of red double doors were built into the back of the theatre. Natasha pulled something out of her coat pocket, and I realized, with a small pang of surprise, that it was a lock pick set. A legitimate lock pick set. “Where the hell did you get that?” I whispered to her. She shrugged and smiled. “I have my ways of getting things” she said simply, then pointed to the far right set of doors. “We’ll have a bit of cover from that electrical box. You two keep an eye out while I deal with the lock” And with that, she scurried forward, bending down in front of the door handles. Vinny and I stood guard, each of us looking down both ends of the alley. As the soft sound of Natasha messing with the lock filtered over to me, I realized just how quiet it was. And how eerie hearing downtown so quiet was. Aside from a few distant booms and bangs, and the far off sound of a dog barking, all I could hear was the whistle of the wind as it whipped between the old buildings.
An involuntary shiver cascaded up my spine, and I tried again to reason myself back to a relative sense of calm. “Get a grip, dude, you’re gonna be fine” I whispered under my breath. But this time, it felt as though I weren’t able to entirely convince myself. I suddenly became aware of a creeping sensation, one which made me shoot a look around. Nothing moved in the stillness, no indication of anyone besides us being in the alley. And, yet…I was overcome with the distinct feeling of being watched. Not by either of my friends. But…by someone else. Before I had a chance to even think about it, I heard a rather loud click, and Natasha let out a soft laugh of triumph. “We’re in, ladies and gentleman!” she declared, standing up and pulling on the door. It opened silently, the streetlight in the alley casting a small shaft of light into the darkness beyond. Turning, she waved an arm at Vinny and I. “Come on, let’s get inside”
Before either of us could say anything, she turned and disappeared into the dark. I shot a look at Vinny, who simply shrugged. “After you, my man” he whispered. I let out a deep sigh, and then moved to the door. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small flashlight, and then pulled on the heavy metal, slipping inside, Vinny right behind me. The darkness swallowed us as the door closed. For a moment, a small rush of panic from not being able to see flashed through me, before a light appeared beside me. It wasn’t from a flashlight, though; instead, a small, orange flame flickered beside me. “Don’t turn on your flashlights yet, just follow me” Natasha said, the flame making her face seem to dance and move behind it. She turned and headed away, leaving us no choice but to follow. I listened to her and didn’t turn on my flashlight. But every fiber of my being was screaming at me to. Because the feeling of being watched out in the alleyway? Had quintupled in here. The best way to describe it, was that we were angrily being stared at. And I didn’t like the sensation one bit.
Natasha led us up a flight of steps and pushed open another door. “We’re here” she said, still keeping her voice low, “You can turn on your flashlights now” Thank you, God, I silently said, snapping mine on and casting a bright white light into the room we’d entered. A moment later, so did my two friends’ lights. The beams played around, and I heard Vinny let out a bit of a gasp. “Ho-lyyyy shit” he muttered.
Natasha had guided us into the main theatre. The ceiling rose high above our heads, almost out of sight of even the flashlights. Rows upon rows of red movie seats stretched out and away from us, seeming almost unending in the shadows. The walls were all covered in hieroglyphs, all still original from the 1920s. To our left, the second story, which housed a smaller row of seats, along with the projection room rose about twenty feet above us. And to the right, was the stage itself. It was flanked by two huge columns, the screen rolled up and revealing a mosaic of an Egyptian building on the back wall, with two men clutching staffs sitting on either side. Directly in front of the stage sat the organ, its seating bench tucked beneath it.
“Okay, this is a trip to be in at night!” Natasha exclaimed excitedly, then pulled the backpack she’d been wearing off her shoulders. Dropping it into a seat, she unzipped it and began pulling items from it. “Guys, here” she said, holding them out. Vinny stepped forward and grabbed the camcorder from her; as someone who’d had a lifelong dream of being a filmmaker, he was our resident cameraman. I stepped forward and took two items from her: an infrared thermometer and an EVP recorder. The rest, she placed on the ground, and then faced Vinny. “Alright, tell me when you’re recording” He fumbled with the camcorder for a second, then shot her a thumbs up. Instantly, she took on a somber, eerie expression, giving an admittedly creepy look at the camera. “Well, well, welcome back to The Three Ghostkuteers, everyone. I hope you all have been well since our last trip. Tonight, you join us in a very, very special place, and one close to home for us. We are currently in the Egyptian Theatre in Coos Bay, Oregon, one of the last remaining in the country. It was built in the 1920s by a man named Charles Noble-“
I turned away, tuning her out as I did. The woman really, really enjoys being in front of the camera. Better her than me. Shining my light around, I looked up at the balcony. I could see the small hole in the projection booth where the movie projector would shine out onto the screen. Something caught the beam’s light, reflecting off it slightly, and I aimed the light at the wall. It was a wrought iron light fixture, one which had been shaped into the figure of a King Cobra, poised to strike. Gazing around, I saw they adorned much of the walls. I let out a small shudder at it. God, do I hate snakes. Thankfully, though, the feeling of being watched I’d had in the alley and the darkened back of the theatre had seemingly disappeared. Yeah, see, what’d I tell you, Troy? Nothing but your nerves.
Natasha had finished her opening monologue and moved to the edge of the stage, on which she placed the small, square spirit box. “And now, let’s see if anyone would like to speak with us” she said, flicking it on. Instantly, the silence of the theatre was shattered by the sound of static, intermittently interrupted by quick snippets of radio shows being picked up. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to us?” she called out into the huge room. The static and snippets were the only sound to answer her. After a minute, she tried again. “Are there any spirits who’d like to communicate with us?” There was still nothing. Vinny panned the camera from the box to Natasha as she paced back and forth for a few minutes. A small look of disappointment flooded over her face, but she instantly plastered it over with the same look she’d given the camera before. “Well, it looks like the spirit box isn’t gonna work tonight, so we’re gonna have to try something else” She pulled out an EVP recorder identical to mine and switched it on. “Let’s try this instead, shall we? Remember, by the way guys, if you’re new here and want to see more, to like and subscribe-“
I turned away again, feeling a small pang of irritation flow through me. This is freakin’ ridiculous, man. The longer we stay in here, the more chance we have of getting caught. Truth be told, as much as I enjoyed ghost hunting, I didn’t even really believe in the paranormal. In all the years the three of us had filmed together, not once had we caught anything, on tape or otherwise. In fact, many times we’d had to fake spooky occurrences in order to make sure our videos got any views at all. This is your own fault, man, I silently chided myself, you’re the one who couldn’t stand up to them and say no. You really, seriously need to grown a spine and learn how to say no. The mental self lecture was furthering my rotten mood, and I began to feel a wave of anger at my two friends, as well as myself boil up.
“Hell with this” I finally muttered, then turned and began walking up the aisle. “Troy, where the hell are you going?” I heard Natasha call out behind me. I stopped, not looking over my shoulder, but quietly aiming my voice behind me and allowing a hint of irritation to seep into it. “I’m gonna go check out the second floor balcony, okay? I don’t exactly like just standing here” For a moment, there was silence, and then her voice came, soft and almost apologetic. “Okay, go ahead” Before she could say anything more, I strode away, walking to the open doorway which led out of the theater and into the concession area. I hooded my flashlight beam with one hand to make sure it wouldn’t accidentally shine out of the glass entrance doors into the street and looked around. The lobby and concession stand took up most of the front area, the darkened shape of it stretching along the far wall.
Taking a few steps ahead, I turned and looked up at the wall above me. Large, blue letters stretched out from one side of it to the other. Through these doors pass the most wonderful people. I snorted softly. “Yeah, unfortunately, not tonight” I shook my head, then looked around. And nearly jumped out of my skin. Something also seemed to jump back. I felt my heartbeat begin to race in my chest and my breath quickened. “Shit…” I let out weakly, then slowly moved forward. After a few steps, I suddenly realized what I’d seen and let out a soft laugh of relief.
“Your own damn reflection, you fucking pussy” Shaking my head, I turned away from the glass wall and headed for the stairs to the second floor. At the base of them, I stopped and shone my flashlight up. “Ooh, boy” I said quietly. Sitting next to the stairway like a sentry, was a huge, golden statue of a pharaoh. It towered over me, and I estimated that, were it be standing straight up, it’d easily be between eight and ten feet tall. It stared straight ahead at the wall ahead of it, and I couldn’t help but let out a small shiver as I stared at it. It just seemed so damn eerie in the dark, and I quickly moved past it, heading up the stairs and stepping out onto the second story balcony.
I shone my light around. Red seats again surrounded me, though this time far fewer. Ahead of me, I could see the balcony’s edge and the hulking shape of the main stage beyond. I could also see the beams of my friends’ flashlights playing over it, and hear both of their voices speaking softly. Deciding while I was up here to at least check out the projection booth, I strode over to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked. Feeling my irritation bubble over into exasperation, I jiggled the handle in some stupid attempt to open it. But the door stayed shut. I turned away and rubbed my eyes, again hearing the voices of my friends softly filtering up to me from down below.
“Hey, if there really are any ghosts, or spooks, or specters, or whatever in here? If you’re actually real, could you appear to us, please?” I whispered to no one, “That way my friends can get what they want and I can go home” I received only silence in reply. I hadn’t really expected anything, anyways. You know what? Screw this, I’m going back down there and telling them I’m going home, with or without them. This is beyond stupid, I just broke the law for what? For nothing! For something dumb as hell. And with that, I turned to walk away. But I hadn’t even taken a single step when something crashed into me like a wave. The breath was driven from my lungs as I felt a massive chill shoot through me, as though I’d been doused with ice water. “What the fuck?!” I hissed through gritted teeth, then froze, my eyes going wide. The feeling of being watched had returned with a vengeance, and it had seemingly been ramped up in its intensity. I shot a look around, but saw nobody.
Still, the feeling remained, and with each passing second, it almost seemed to grow stronger. Chill after chill rolled up my spine, and even though I didn’t really believe, something deep inside me told me that it was time to get out. Okay, time to leave, I said in my head, and headed quickly for the stairs. As I reached the head, I turned to look back one final time. That’s when I saw something. It disappeared when I aimed my flashlight at it, but I swear a second earlier it had been the outline of a person, standing in the shadows and watching me. The split second sight catapulted me into motion, and I hurried down the steps, shining my light every which way but loose. Believer or not, I knew something wanted us out. I’d planned on jumping off the second to last stair and running for the main theatre floor. But as I reached the bottom, I froze.
For a moment, I couldn’t place why. And then, the realization fell over me like a tsunami. I let out an involuntary gasp, and fear like I’d never felt before surged through me. I didn’t want to turn around and look. I wanted to pretend I hadn’t seen it. I desperately wanted to. But, like a dumbass character in a horror movie, I couldn’t help it. I needed to look. I slowly turned, aiming my flashlight back up. And I couldn’t help but let out a strangled scream, falling backwards over my own feet as I began to backpedal rapidly.
The statue of the pharaoh still sat where it had. It still towered over me, looking as imposing and eerie as ever. But it’s carved and painted eyes were no longer staring straight ahead at the wall. Instead, they had somehow moved. And when I’d turned, I’d come to find they were staring directly at me.
I scrambled to my feet, snatching the flashlight from the floor where I’d dropped it and aiming it at the statue again. It stared straight out at nothing again. But I knew what I’d seen. It hadn’t been a trick of my mind, or the light. The freaking thing’s eyes had moved to watch me as I passed down by it. I began to stammer out as I backed away from it. “Okay, that’s it, no no no no, we’re done here, fuck this shit, I’m officially a believer, we’re leaving, right now” I kept backing towards the doorway to the theatre, never taking my eyes off the statue. I was terrified I’d seen it suddenly stand up and turn to lumber after me like Boris Karloff or something.
The blaring sound of the theatre’s organ slashed through the silence, causing me to let out another strangled scream and jump almost a foot off the ground. I whipped around, thinking I would see my moronic friends tinkering with the instrument. Instead, I froze again. The theatre was no longer dark. Both of my friends had seemingly vanished from the room, as I could no longer see them. The movie screen had somehow been pulled down, and above me, I heard the whir of the movie projector playing. An old, black and white movie, one which had no sound, played on the screen, occasionally changing to show dialogue being displayed in white letters.
It was also no longer empty.
The entire theatre was packed. I saw people sitting at almost every single seat in the huge room. I could only see the backs of their heads as they watched the movie playing. At the edge of the stage, what looked like a man now sat at the organ, playing it in time with the film. A slapstick moment came across the screen, and the audience began laughing. In any other situation, it would’ve been a comforting sound. But at that moment, it was the most spine chilling sound I’d ever heard. Especially as another wave of realization crashed into me. From the little I could see, everyone in the theatre looked to be dressed in long passed fashions.
That’s when the voice, low and quiet, came from behind me. “Good evening, sir” it said. It sounded like a man’s voice, one rather low and deep pitched, but something about it paralyzed me on the spot. The voice continued, putting on an air of pleasant politeness. “We’re so glad you could make it, it’s been so long since we’ve had new patrons arrive at a showing. If I could just see your ticket, please?”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then, I managed to squeak out two words. “Uh, ticket?” The tone of the voice seemed to change somewhat. “Yes, your ticket. That’s the only way you could’ve gotten in. Please, let me verify it and show you to your seat” Ohhh, shit. Whoever, or whatever the voice belonged to, thought I had shown up like a regular moviegoer. The voice’s tone became less polite. “You do have a ticket, right, sir?” I was beyond terrified to answer, but I was more terrified to remain silent. For a moment, I considered lying. But I feared what might happen if I did. So I told the truth.
“I….uh, I, uh….I don’t have a ticket, sir” I stammered out, my voice barely above a whisper. Instantly, all sound stopped in the room like someone had flipped a switch. “You…don’t have a ticket?” the voice said, all pretense of manners vanishing from it, “Then how did you get in here for the late night showing?” Oh, god. I forced myself to speak, still unable to say anything except the truth. “My…my friends and I….broke in…through the back door…to…ghost hunt…” There was silence for a few moments, and then a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder. My head swiveled to look at it. Oh, fuck me sideways. It wasn’t a regular hand. It was a fucking claw. One with black skin, tipped with what looked like razor sharp nails. It sat there for a moment, then tightened; almost painfully so, making me let out a small whimper of pain.
That’s when I looked up. Everyone in the theatre had turned to look at me. My initial thought had been correct; they all wore clothing from almost a century ago, and not the stuff cosplayers wear, either. They also had very angry expressions on their faces, as if they’d just noticed the intruder among their midst. The voice finally came again, almost directly behind me. Its tone lowered, almost sounding guttural and animal, making my legs almost melt into jelly from the fear. “Then, might I make a suggestion to you and your trespassing little friends?” My breath came in rapid, ragged gasps, and I barely managed to force out the one word. “Yes?”
“LEAVE”
At the single word reply, which now more closely resembled a growl than a word, I did something I will forever wish I hadn’t. I finally turned and looked up at who was addressing me. The only way I can describe what happened is, my mind shattered. The next thing I remember, I was crashing into the back doors of the theatre into the night.
And I was screaming.
That was a month or so ago. When I’d stumbled back into the alley, I’d turned and, in what I can only call blind fear and panic, bolted for my truck. I hadn’t even heard my friends chasing after me. Not until Vinny caught up to me as I scrambled with my keys, grabbing me from behind and turning me to face him. He said the look I’d had on my face scared him and Natasha more than anything ever had before. I’d been pale as a sheet, my eyes wider than they ever thought a human’s could be. I'd been babbling softly. I’d been saying the words “They want us to leave” over and over. They didn’t ask me what had happened. They just pushed me into the backseat of my truck and drove away from there. It was clear, as I found out later on, that both of them hadn’t seen anything. As far as they were concerned before seeing me dash to the rear doors, it was just an empty theatre. Neither one of them ever asked me what I saw that night. And for that, I’m thankful. Because I could never utter from my lips what I did see.
But I’ve had nightmares since then. Horrible ones. Ones that’ve been so bad, I had to let out what happened to me, deciding to just post it here, regardless of whether people believe me or not.
Nightmares about being back in that theatre after hours. About seeing that pharaoh statue’s eyes flick in its painted sockets to look at me. About seeing all those people, people long since dead, sitting and watching the films they did when they were alive. About seeing that hand fall on my shoulder, hearing that voice, telling me not to come back until I have a ticket.
And about turning to see who the hand and voice belonged to.
The Egyptian Theatre will be celebrating its centennial this year. People are planning to show up in 1920s cars, dressed in period clothing. They’re even going to show an old, silent film as part of the festivities. But I won’t be attending it. I won’t ever go anywhere near it again. The one time I tried, a week or so ago, I started trembling with fear. And the mental image played over and over in my head.
The image of turning to see that horrible canine head attached to the human-like body, red, glowing eyes glaring down at me as it’s sharp teeth glinted in the light.
I pray to god I never will end up with a ticket to one of its late night showings.
But I can't help but fear that, like those packed into the theatre, sooner or later, we all will.

Part 1: https://www.reddit.com/ReddXReads/comments/13lfqkw/vulturebeard_the_legbeard_that_ruined_roomies_fo Part 2: https://www.reddit.com/ReddXReads/comments/13u79ht/vulturebeard_bad_roomies_part_2/
^{Hi again, it’s the bunny. I’ve just barely stepped into Reddx’s discord, but Ezekial is still posting this saga for me so thank you, Z.}
Trigger warning: This will deal with a lot of aspects relating to child neglect (and possible abuse) and Kid being ignored or taking the brunt of Vulture’s anger. Sorry for the spoiler as well, but I think we saw this coming, too (especially if you’ve seen Z talk in the discord). Don’t push yourself to read if you’re not okay with these concepts.
The Cast List
Bunny (author): 33, female. Recovering lifelong doormat slowly building a spine. Neuro spicy gym rat with major depressive disorder, general anxiety disorder, and most recently diagnosed with ADHD. Unfortunately, very familiar with surviving trauma.
Z (poster): My partner. 31, nonbinary (they/them), also neuro spicy with depression, anxiety, OCD, BPD, autism, and also familiar with lifelong trauma.
One Liner Beard (OLB): 33, male, neuro spicy with ADHD and depression. His nickname here comes from the fact that in messenger, he usually has one-word replies like “oof” or “mmm” as an acknowledgement he had seen the message but has nothing further to contribute.
VultureBeard (Vulture): 30, female, neuro spicy and disabled with multiple conditions. She has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, POTs (postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome), autism, depression, anxiety, chronic migraines, but also possibly a list of things that may or may not be real. The star of this unfortunate circus. Her name comes from how she always pops up when I’m cooking food, complaining about how hungry is and how she’s unable to cook.
Kid: 3. Female. OLB and Vulture’s child. Likely neuro spicy like we all are, but she’s also only 3 years old. Slightly speech delayed and not potty trained yet.
Take a deep breath. Now take another one. This chapter will likely make you mad.
​
Chapter Three: “Do You Want Bologna?” Or, Vulture as a Parent
Imagine this: it’s eight in the morning and you’re cozy in bed. The blankets are warm, and you hit snooze on your early alarm so you can sleep in before you have to get up.
Your peace is shattered by a toddler crying, followed by the screech of, “WHAT!” or “GET DOWN FROM THERE!”
Yeah, welcome to The Life.
Vulture has a messed-up sleep schedule. It’s partially because Kid doesn’t sleep soundly through the night, but it’s also because Vulture’s sleep schedule is essentially flipped backwards to where she stays up all night and wants to sleep during the day. Vulture says it’s “insomnia” but sometimes she’s up late gaming with Discord friends or watching anime. I couldn’t tell you which issue it was day by day. Sometimes if I go to sleep late, I hear Kid crying from her room because she had night terrors or had potty troubles. Sometimes I hear OLB and Vulture awake shuffling between rooms in the hallway.
Because of this, Vulture and mornings don’t mesh well. Kid is usually put in her room for bedtime around 7 PM, usually with her tablet to keep her company and either give her something to watch, or to play white noises for sleeping. Kid does not have a real sleep routine as well. She’s just kind of shut in her room. Sometimes there’s a bit of a routine like winding her down with chocolate milk and giving her a countdown of “okay, ten more minutes and then bedtime,” but for the most part she just does not want to go to bed. Bedtimes are met with a lot of crying, and the beardy parents telling us that she will be upset for a bit.
Kid has an attempted daily schedule, if Vulture is awake enough. Theoretically:

• 9 AM: Awake and watching TV while Vulture is on her computer in the same room
• 1 PM: In the room for naptime (but it’s usually play time)
• 4 PM: Free to run around while dad is home
• 7 PM: Bedtime (but she’s usually playing then too)

But a lot of times, that schedule gets thrown out of whack depending on if Vulture gets up on time. When she sleeps in, Kid is in her room from 7 PM to 1 PM. Sometimes Kid will make a fuss to make Vulture get up earlier than 1 PM, and Vulture will be grouchy because she “went to bed at four in the morning” because she either had “insomnia” (read: gaming or watching anime) or because Kid wouldn’t sleep. Or Vulture will be up to take care of Kid and make sure she is in a clean pull up and has eaten. Then she shuts her into her room and goes back to sleep. Sometimes if Kid is too much of a handful, Vulture will say, “It’s 12:45. That’s close enough to 1.” And put Kid in the room because that’s close enough to nap time.
Sometimes because Kid won’t go to sleep, she’ll still be up at 9 PM and that breaks her schedule too. A lot of times, it works out that OLB is the “fun” parent while he’s home, because he’s up at 4 AM to leave for work by 6 and doesn’t come home until between 4 or 5 PM. Then she spends time with him while he’s home.
There’s also a child lock on the inside of Kid’s bedroom door, those doorknob covers that you have to push and turn, so she can’t open the door and wander around unsupervised. I was originally the one who suggested the child lock, back when she was younger, and they didn’t have the secondary child gate they currently do now that’s stored in the garage. Since then, with her potty training and Vulture’s likewise awful sleep schedule, I’ve suggested more than once that they take the door handle blocker off and put up the second kiddy gate they have to block the living room and kitchen off, so she can get up if she needs to, but the child lock still remains. At most, she would have access to their room, since it doesn’t have a kiddy lock on it. Me and Z’s bedroom has a child lock on it, as well as the bathroom door. She could freely wander between her room and her parents’ room that way.
I hear Kid playing in her room by herself a lot, squealing and having fun and playing pretend. Or moving her furniture around. And no, the furniture is not secured to the wall, so she can move her bed around the room. I’ve also told OLB and Vulture they needed to make sure she can’t topple it and chain it to the wall but, yeah, that hasn’t been dealt with.
When Kid really needs attention, she will cry and wail. And I mean wail. The two beardy parents don’t have baby monitors or anything that can hear into her bedroom, so she has to wail loudly enough to be heard through the walls. Luckily, the house has thin walls. Because of her early bedtime, she’s often awake early in the morning. Sometimes Vulture will respond, sometimes Vulture won’t wake up until around noon.
Yes, that means Kid is by herself a lot.
Kid is a bubbly three-year-old. She loves it when Z and I give her attention, which admittingly isn’t as often as I would like to give her. With my own Depression™, I spend so much time fighting to just gather enough mental energy to be a productive human. Despite me wandering in a mental fog, Kid remains a bright spot in my day. I met her when she was a fresh baby bean just barely out of the hospital, and I immediately fell in love. Since then, I’ve seen her grow almost her whole life, except for when they were all in north Texas. She has blue eyes and brown hair that will curl on its own. She loves dinosaurs, Baby Shark, Octonauts, and occasionally whatever anime the parents are watching. Don’t ask me how many times I’ve heard the Baby Shark song. I don’t want it stuck in my head for another solid week.
She used to watch a lot of Ms. Rachel’s Songs For Little videos, because originally Vulture wanted Kid to learn sign language to help communicate. I’ve rarely seen Vulture attempt to upkeep the sign language lessons. She did at one point. I think after Kid started becoming more vocal, the idea was dropped. I have heard some of the familiar videos so often that even I learned the kid’s songs, but I guess that’s also part of the collateral when dealing with kid’s media.
Kid usually exists in a half-dressed state, usually just wearing a pull up and that’s it. Unfortunately, because Vulture is so hard on her tangles when she tries to brush her hair, Kid doesn’t like hair care and will fight being brushed. Her hair used to exist in a perpetual state of being matted with at least one major knot, until Vulture’s mom ended up giving her a bath and getting her to stay still enough to endure the brushing, even with the wailing of a protesting Kid going strong. Her hair was then cut to make it more manageable, and strangely, that fixed a lot of the matting problems.
Kid is let out of her room when Vulture wakes up, usually needing a diaper change. At three years old, Kid is not potty trained yet. Just from what I’ve heard from my bedroom, it sounds like OLB and Vulture are finally starting to step up on potty training, but it’s been an uphill fight. I know a few of my other parent friends have had an extremely hard time potty training their kid. I’m not a parent, so I don’t actually know how challenging it can be. I do know though that it shouldn’t sound like the toilet is some kind of punishment for peeing in her cloth panties that they’re trying to switch her to. Or, that they try to get her to sit on the toilet when she has no interest in it and she ends up throwing a tantrum. Unfortunately, without much context, that’s how some bathroom trips sound.
Kid wears pull-ups to bed and the cloth underwear during the day, or sometimes just pull-ups. They’re trying to teach her how to recognize when her body has the potty urge, which she still doesn’t quite get right now. She has literally peed on the tile floor through her cloth undies. Vulture messaged the house chat once saying, “Kid just lifted her leg while in the rolling chair and peed all over the floor.”
You know. Like a dog.
With the potty-training trouble and Kid only sometimes in pull-ups that can contain her mess, Z and I don’t let her into our room as often as we’d like to, because she doesn’t recognize when she has to go. It sucks, because Kid adores spending time with us and our room has cool animals, like my retired psychiatric service dog and our three ferrets. She loves the ferrets. But if we spend time out in the living room with everyone, Z’s patience tends to have a shorter fuse because they can’t stand Vulture (that’s also another tale I have). We’re also stuck out in the general mess of the living room if we are out there with her. It’s either the general mess that toddlers make, spilled food, and general filth. The best times we’ve had spending time with Kid is just chilling in our room as she ooh’s and ahh’s over the ferrets or watches TV with us. Z and I quote SpongeBob line by line daily, and she has watched some of the show with us.
I feel awful about shutting Kid out so much, when I see the way Vulture interacts with her. On Vulture’s bad days (if you read the previous post, that’s almost every day), she acts like Kid is a chore. She will snap at Kid, act like Kid is choosing to act out of maliciousness and make “tired mom” jokes that sound like she just flat out doesn’t like Kid. When I had liquor in the fridge, Vulture would ask if she could take a shot because, “I need it. She’s trying me today.”
Some choice quotes talking down about the kid:
“I’m being hard on her because she’s not using her words. Like I know she can. She just doesn’t want to.” This was what Vulture said to me after Kid kept trying to get her attention and wouldn’t explain what she wanted. Kid was just making noises at her and getting frustrated. Vulture full on shouted, “WHAT!” at her, then turned to me to try and explain why she shouted.
“This is the bad part about being a mom. She’s not letting me do anything right now.” This was said after Vulture cleaned her desk and was attempting to watch YouTube videos and play her Switch.
On her good days, Vulture will be that kind of smiling parent that does some art activities and engages with Kid in a way that’s more than just screaming. They color together. She offers Kid choices so Kid can have some control over what happens in her day, like, “Do you want bologna or fruit?” It has helped Kid become more vocal and even though she’s still speech delayed, she talks more and has a bigger vocabulary.
The house has a different atmosphere when OLB is home, compared to when Vulture is just watching Kid by herself. I’ve told OLB that I think Vulture is burned out. Her entire life is her disabilities and being a mom. She only has friends on Discord really, and OLB had to push her to start talking to them again just so she had someone to socialize with.
Old Doormat me pitied her at the beginning of our friendship. I tried being her friend. I tried to include her and Kid in a lot of things. My own mental health, my daily obligations, my gym schedule, and just me changing rapidly since 2020 altered my life, exhausted me, and left me unable to deal with Vulture talking a million miles a minute, info dumping about whatever she’s currently doing every single time I run into her. And as I shed my doormat self, I started seeing her clearly.
I told OLB once that if Vulture is truly burned out or if her health problems are causing that much trouble, Kid might need daycare or another caregiver to help. OLB is aware but can’t afford other care. He’s working for bottom of the barrel pay at a full-time job. Most days after work, he just wants to zone out to his own games in front of his computer but has to step in and parent both Vulture and Kid, because Vulture often needs help organizing through executive dysfunction to do something. Or, because she will call for his help.
There was one time where Kid climbed on top of her, and Vulture called for OLB – who was in the same room – to pull Kid off her. There are quite a few times where Vulture calls for OLB for help with Kid, and I’ve heard him say that he’s also busy too. One time he asked, “Why are you asking for my help when you’re closer?”
Z has offered to look after Kid at times because they don’t mind Kid being in our room or just hanging out. She has hung out with us when I also have the mental energy and the room is clean enough to accommodate a toddler crawling on everything. The problem that we both see is that our stepping in isn’t a full solution. She can spend a few hours with us, but ultimately after, she goes right back to Vulture and OLB. Vulture is the one who acts like being a parent is a chore.
There are times that OLB has snapped at Vulture for the way she gets on to Kid, emphasizing, “She’s just a child.” Their parenting styles are like looking at two entirely different planets and trying to find similarities. OLB is very much into the gentle parenting side of Tik Tok. He talks about breaking generational trauma. He’s usually gentle with Kid, explaining why she’s not allowed to do things like stand on top of her highchair or why I’m too busy to play with her as I’m zooming around the house in and out repeatedly some days. He has talked her down from meltdowns and keeps his voice even to where she can’t bounce off him to amplify her tantrums. He spanks her, but as a last resort, and then also talks to her about why the punishment happened. She will wail through everything and likely isn’t fully listening, but ultimately, I see him trying to work with her. He very rarely loses his actual temper with her.
Vulture is the total opposite. She yells at Kid, spanks with no hesitation and doesn’t explain why. One of Kid’s favorite games to play is “Block the door” when I’m trying to get through the house. She will block my bedroom door, cling to me, then circle around me as Vulture or OLB tries to distract her or lure her away by asking “do you want chocolate” or some other treat. Sometimes Kid just likes to play ring-around-the-rosie around my legs, as her parents try to grab her. I try to make it fun and seem like I’m not mad at her, because I’m never actually mad at her for blocking my way. Usually, I’m just in the middle of some arbitrary task or running an errand or coming back from the gym with my one remaining brain cell barely hanging on for dear life. I try to engage with her and play it off as a game because she’s not actually doing anything wrong.
Vulture has lured her away with chocolate and treats, with offers of food, with trying to get her to pick a show to watch. If that fails, she will come and fetch Kid by hand. One time involved yanking her physically off me and spanking her on the bare bottom because Kid was happy playing a game instead of listening.
The bare bottom is a thing, too. Because Kid used to live in soiled diapers for much longer than she was supposed to, she had constant diaper rash that she had to see the doctor for sometimes. She also didn’t want OLB or Vulture to change her diapers and would scream when it was diaper change time. I don’t blame her. The diaper rash hurt, and Vulture wasn’t exactly gentle with changing. Kid bled sometimes with the changings. So now, sometimes Kid will be dressed like Donald Duck in only a top to air out her bottom. Or because now, with the cloth undies, she will pee straight through them, and they just let her air out after.
Kid always smells a bit like pee. So does her room. And her bedding. After I pointed out that her bedding straight out of the dryer smelled like urine, OLB went about cleaning the washing machine with a machine cleaner, and bought scent beads to help cut the smell, after I told him that a little vinegar in the wash load will cut the smells down. Now her bedding doesn’t smell so much like urine, but it’s still there.
Her bedroom frequently smells like a public bathroom. It always looks like her bedroom has been turned upside down, with toys everywhere, her bed pushed to the middle of the room, the mattress on the floor. Books she was given were shredded, even the cardboard ones. There was straight up garbage left in her room because she was given food to eat there that had wrappers. It usually takes Vulture a full day of cleaning to get the room organized when she had the energy to do it, but she usually sanitizes with just a baby wipe, if she does at all. Maybe a pet cleaner sometimes.
There was one time where I was letting the dogs outside and I stepped in a puddle on the tile floor. That was when I realized that it was a pee puddle and Kid’s cloth underwear was dripping. I asked Vulture to clean the puddle up. When she asked to use my steam mop, she didn’t clean the cloth pad after, so when I turned the mop on next, it smelled like hot, steamed urine. I had to clean the mop pad off myself and rinse the pee out of it. When Kid again peed in front of the TV in her cloth undies, I told OLB that if they’re going to use my steam mop to make sure that the mop pad is rinsed off or it will smell like pee the next time it’s used, but he said he was just going to use his mop and bucket. Thankfully.
Because of the diet that OLB and Vulture has, Kid also eats like them. She gets a lot of macaroni, a lot of random odds and ends like pieces of bread, baggies of cheerios, sometimes fruit and vegetables. Lots of chicken nuggets and frozen instant food. Occasionally, Kid will have an interest in vegetables she sees us cook with or that she’s never had. Like once she insisted that she wanted to eat canned peas, until she tasted them. She chewed on a lettuce leaf and put it down, then asked for another one because she wanted to eat something, and it looked tasty to her.
The two halves of the household make separate foods now and keep out of each other’s food, but sometimes Vulture will give Kid some of the food I cooked because Kid saw my spaghetti noodles in a bowl and insisted on having them by way of tantrum. Instead of asking me if it’s okay (which obviously, I’d say yes, Kid can have some), Vulture just gave her my food and then told me after. Maybe I’m just projecting my own frustration, but it feels like Vulture uses Kid as a shield sometimes, to get food. Unless I have a specific purpose for food like what I put in my meal prep containers, I wouldn’t say no to Kid.
Kid’s diet makes me worried for her as she grows up. OLB is big and tall, over 6 feet tall and over 300lbs. They aren’t an active family at all. Kid drinks soda when they get fast food. She eats as much processed food as Vulture. Right now, she’s growing like a weed and is tall and actually has some power in her tiny limbs, which is most noticeable when she climbs you like a ladder, but her parents are gamers that just sit around. Her own screen time is almost as lengthy as theirs is.
I worry about Kid, constantly. Z does too. We have theorized calling CPS, or trying to adopt her, or just getting her away from Vulture. We have thrown around ideas about talking to OLB and convincing him that Vulture isn’t a good person for Kid. A lot of it has stayed in theory because the anxious part of me is still afraid to make life-altering waves like that. I second-guess and gaslight myself into realizing how bad things are, but then telling myself, maybe I’m just blowing it out of proportion. Maybe it's just something they have to handle. Maybe it’s something a first-time parent needs to learn. Maybe Vulture just isn’t feeling good that day. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
It’s a leftover of the doormat I used to be, and I know that. The tiny fragment of anxiety that tells me I’m blowing things up into too big a deal. The tiny fragment that escaped a toxic marriage and just wants peace after arguing every single day. The side that hates confrontation.
Maybe I’m just a plain ol’ coward. I don’t know yet. I just know my patience is running thinner with every passing day.
I don’t think I could convince OLB to dump Vulture. From what I’ve seen on the surface, they’re not openly affectionate. Vulture complains all the time that OLB doesn’t give her any physical affection, and she (unfortunately) tells me when they’re intimate, which doesn’t sound often. They almost look like they could be friends that are co-parenting. She calls him her husband when they’re out in public, and OLB has stated that he doesn’t want anything to happen to her, because he doesn’t want a single parent. I assume at the very least that he does love her, even though he sounds exhausted all the time. Z and I wonder if maybe he feels trapped.
OLB is good at asking for help if he needs it, although he hates being a burden to others. He will speak up if Vulture needs a ride to a doctor’s office, and he forgot to leave the car seat at home. I’ve driven to his work to pick it up after he messaged me asking if I could. They ask his family to babysit Kid if they want to go out and just have a good date or see a movie together. They are clearly capable of asking for help.
This is just an acceptable standard for both, or at least that’s the way it seems to me. Sometimes, I don’t truly know if OLB is aware of what Vulture does while he’s at work. He didn’t know that she used his 11-year-old dog as a vacuum cleaner to clean up spilled table scraps until I pointed it out and then he pieced together why his dog wasn’t losing weight on a reduced kibble diet. Sometimes I have pointed out things to him that he might not notice in the house chat.
I started keeping a log in Google Docs about things I notice, and Z and I talk about it in discord, so it’s not heard by ears that are too close to our bedroom. The log started helping me see that I’m not just blowing out of proportion and that in turn helped me come here to reddit. As a former doormat in recovery, I still have to tell myself that it’s okay to realize that something is wrong, and that I may need help getting my voice to speak up.
I haven’t worked since 2017, when my mental health took a sharp nosedive. Z is currently looking for work. Both of us are home all day exposed to Vulture and how she treats Kid. With my own daily tasks, errands, struggling with mental health, there’s still a side of me that berates me that I need to be taking care of Kid. Getting her up, making sure she eats. Pestering Vulture to get up. This is also where I tangle with the former doormat that still lives in me, because one, I don’t want to enable Vulture to get even worse. With someone taking the burden off of her, that gives her more free time to just sit back and game. It isn’t my job to make sure that Vulture is a good parent, yet somehow, I feel like it’s also my fault that she’s as bad as she is while I sit by the wayside and just talk about her behind her back. There are times where I have pestered OLB through discord about Kid crying, or how Kid is trying to beat the door down, or asking if Vulture is up for the day because I haven’t seen her up at three in the afternoon.
I started speaking up when I noticed something that’s off. I call this the “cheese incident.” We had a block of cheese that was cut in the wrapper and not in anything else, so the exposed end got all hard and inedible. I cut it off and threw it away. Vulture made her way into the kitchen because Kid saw me cutting cheese and wanted some.
Vulture: Who threw away that cheese?
(SHE PICKS IT UP OUT OF THE TRASH CAN)
Me: Yeah, it’s got that hard bit
Vulture: So? I know someone who will eat it.
(She calls Kid over)
Me: But it was in the trash.
Vulture: It’s okay, I cut off the part that was touching the trash.
Me: Dude, that’s fucked up.
Vulture: (hesitating now) Should I not?
Me: That’s probably going to make her sick again.
(Kid has been sick back-to-back at this point)
Vulture: Okay, then I won’t.
(To this day, I don’t know if she threw the cheese away or ate it herself, and I’m afraid to ask)
That was the point where I started pointing out that what she’s doing is problematic. It’s a slow process, but it’s helped me put the doormat side of me away again. I’ve explained to Vulture that Kid isn’t crying to be malicious, she just can’t express what she wants. Especially with Kid’s speech delay! Kid gets frustrated fast when adults don’t understand her, and the wailing begins. There’s no maliciousness behind it, just frustration. Or how Kid doesn’t like being told “no” because she doesn’t always understand why. Strangely, every time I call something out, she doesn’t really have much of a fight against it.
But why am I having to say it in the first place?
There’s little things that just rub me the wrong way in how they interact. Sometimes Vulture will call Kid over in the same way you’d call a dog. Repeatedly. Sometimes Vulture, in a state of migraine or other illness-related grouchiness will scream at her “Leave me alone!” and OLB will have to fetch Kid. One time, Z told me that Vulture outright mocked her crying by making her own crying noise.
What’s awful to watch in person is that when Vulture’s mom or siblings are over, Vulture is suddenly a doting mom who isn’t perpetually exhausted or loudly complaining about how her “everything” hurts. She talks in an overly sweet voice to Kid. It unsettles me with how two-faced it seems. OLB, Vulture, and Kid go have dinner with OLB’s family every Sunday evening, and I can’t help but wonder how two-faced she is there, as well. Some of OLB’s family doesn’t like Vulture to begin with.
Slowly, I am losing patience at how Vulture behaves, especially with the Kid. I had to un-gaslight myself, start logging her behavior, and talk to other people to really see it for what it was. I told multiple friends about it and we all generally have the same consensus that Vulture is just an unfit parent. If her chronic illnesses are truly interfering with her life that much, she shouldn’t be the majority caregiver through the day. But it’s not like OLB would be able to work from home or be the stay-at-home parent. In a perfect world, I would be able to help more as well, but I’m barely the “fun” aunt. I’m barely equipped to help care for a three-year-old. Hell, most days I’m barely an actual person.
Kid deserves better.
Bottom line, Kid deserves better than what this house can give. I am upset with myself over my lack of action, but the logs have only been growing bigger. Every day, the doormat dies a little more.
Vulture herself though, will likely always be a side show. One thing that Z pointed out to me was that, as the doormat I used to be, I would give everything to help someone even when I was mentally exhausted. I enmeshed myself too much into the lives of my friends because I loved making them happy and making their lives easier. It’s gotten me into some awkward territory with Vulture, because some things were interpreted as more than friendship.
You ready to cringe more? Because the next part is going to deal with polyamory, the desire for open relationships, and the main reason why Z despises her – and that’s putting it mildly.
Take a moment to un-cringe yourself. It ain’t over yet.

If you are interested in something, lmk and I can send or upload pics and pull model numbers. If you are interested in a bunch, we can setup a time to come by.
Sometime the week of 6/12 whatever is left will be donated to the tool library/maker spaces/Habitat Restore.
Corded power tools in great shape with storage cases if they came with them.

• Makita 5007MG 7 1/4" circular saw + a variety of blades, several brand new
• HPT corded 1/2 drill
• HPT grinder, brand new
• Dewalt sawzall
• B&D Jigsaw
• Belt Sander
• Bosch fixed & plunged base router kit, opened but never used. Includes a dozen or so router bits.
• 12 inch Hitache dual bevel compound mitre saw + custom rolling base & cabinet with 4 foot foldable extensions (one for each side)
• 12 inch harbor frieight compound mitre saw used for a few cuts
• Tons of 12 inch blades, lightly used or brand new
• 1 rockwell oscillating saw
• 1 oscillating saw (forget brand, acquired at costco)
• Several dozen new oscillating saw blades
• 20 year old craftsman 1/2 inch drill, well used but very reliable

Large corded tools:

• Dewalt D24000S 10" wet saw with blade, clean water bucket, pump, slides, stand, power source, etc.
• Delta 10" contractor table saw model 34-444. Original fence & rails as well as 50" biesemeyer clone, blade guard, etc. Cast iron table is perfectly flat, unpitted, no rust. Includes original stamped wings in good shape. It's the last model made in USA before Delta closed the tupelo plant. Tons of blades including Forrester Woodworker II (needs manufacturer reconditioning which is like $75 + shipping), varios Freud blades (new & lightly used) & some Diable blades
• Older Delta DC-380 15" four poster planer in good shape & working, dust extraction hookup & feed tables. Needs plug replaced as it was damaged when relocating. Will consider it a part out piece if I cannot replace plug before you come to look at it.
• Older craftsman radial arm saw on mobile base, + 7 or so blades

Pneumatic tools

• Porter Cable 16, 18, finish nailer & pin nailer pneumatic nailers
  • tons of unused nails
• Porter Cable 5 gallon oilless compressor, lightly used
• Sanborn Magna Force 25 gallon oil compressor, good shape. Needs the regulator knob replaced ($40 part online) but working otherwise
• Several air compressor cords, various lenghts 10 ft to 50 ft.
• HPT stapler & staples
• Freeman pneumatic flooring nailer, opened never used.
• Ramset w/ nails & powder cartridges

Wood/Woodworking

• 1400 - 1600 sq ft of 3/4 inch x 3.25 inch rustic white oak solid hardwood flooring, new in bundles. A couple bundles were opened. Includes a dozen packs or so of oak splines, possibly underlayment.
• A variety of stain-grade wood including red oak, white oak, maple, poplar, hickory, walnut. Mostly oaks & maple (some but not much tigeburled maple). It's all full dimension 1x1, 1x2, 1x3 in 8'-16' lengths for cabinet face frames. Stacked together, it would be 6-8' tall x 2.5' wide. Most of it is longer lengths.
  • Can include a lumber storage shelf that is 16' l x 3' w x 12'.
• Large chemical resistant work table & base, 3'x7'
• 20 or so rough sawn 1x6 or 1x8 ~16' local blue stain pine boards.
• A dozen or so pairs of Bessey 3/4 inch pipe clamps, 4-8' long
• A few pairs of 1/2 pipe clamps, 4' long
• 8 pair folding saw horses

Remodeling

• Never installed 60" inch vanity, white with separate molded counter & sinks. Will include delta faucets new in box if I still have them
• Several vanity style mirrors 2x4
• Black granite single basin large & deep sink with American Standard garbage disposal & kohler commercial style pull down faucet (stainless). Installed then pulled. I think the sink is Frankie. Never caulked in & I believe we have the top mount & flush mount hardware & cut templates.
  • Also have a matching black granite baprep sink. Opened, never used. Includes installation templates, etc. Frankie brand
• American standard garbage disposal new in box
• New door handles, hinges, hardware in aged bronze (color matched to Kwikset handles & Delta fixtures). Also matching curtain rods, other hardware, new. Also some matching 3 or 4 light wall mount light fixtures.
• Paper backed bat insulation for 2x4 & 2x6 exterior walls. Never opened.
• Never installed light grey large format tiles, enough for 1.5 5' tub surrounds (front, back, side)
• Bunch of 4" mdf trim 8' or 10' lengths. New
• 2 pair extendible/adjustable halogen work lights (2 lights each)

Appliances

• Set of 2 year old LG stainless steel kitchen appliances. 25 cu ft fridge, gas range + gas convection oven, dishwasher. Verifying length left on extended warranty.
• 36 inch black range hood exhaust. Opened never installed.
• Whirlpool commercial standup garage freezer, 28 cu ft, white, approximately 12 years old. Great shape.
• Danby 20ish cu ft garage freezer, 2 years old.
• 20 year old whirlpool clothes washer & dryer. Well maintained, 3 year old heater core. Washer has a $4 coupling (still available on amazon) that has to be replaced every 7 years or so. $20 because nobody ever seems to take it when it's "free"

Networking/electrical

• Dozens of new work/old work outlet boxes
• New circuit breakers for GE panels including AFCI & 80-100W breakers
• 14 gauge romex rolls, 100' or 250'
• Heavy duty 25' electrical cords, used for 20 amp tools
• 2 spool of cat 6 ethernet. About 150' on each. Will include fishtape, pull rods, connectors & pull reiliefs, crimp tools, line testers, etc.
• A 2 post network rack, full sized
• Server cabinet, full-sized with fans.
• Rackmount power ports
• 2 24-port gigabit switches (Cisco). I believe they are POE. Will verify when I get the model #s

Storage/furniture

• 6' x 2' x 7' steel adjustable storage shelf. Great shape used for steel/metal storage, never been able to overload.
• Various other wood/basement storage shelving sized for 45 gallon storage tubs. 6-8 long, 8' tall
• T5 grow adjustable shelf with 3 @ 4'x8' T8 light fixtures. Can convert to LED by removing the ballasts. Built out of pine 1x4s.
• Folding 3'x6' Costco composite table
• Solid Oak child's low dressor & high dressor. Painted white.. Needs a bit of cleanup but built like a tank.

Misc Tools

• 6-8 foot i-beam & box levels, like new
• Ridgid shop vac
• Husqvarna battery operated string trimmer with charger, string
• Worx corded blowevac
• Dozens of unopened caulk & sealent.
• Several pieces of new 4'x8' 1/2 & 5/8 inch drywall
• 28' warner aluminum extension ladder
• several aluminum or fiberglass extension & step ladders 10-18 feet
• Plumbing tools

Miscellaneous

• Oreck XL Gold stand up vacuum
• Several Cabela's rod with various bait casting or spin casting reals. Spooled & ready.
• Pair of harbor freight loading ramps, 7.5' long
• Heavy duty furniture dolly & wheeled furniture movers
• A number 5 gallon buckets of SW paint in grey & white (interior & exterior). Never opened. Will include buckets & filters to screen/box paint. -- Need to reinventory as some paint walked off. Will update 06/05/2023
  • Tons of new roller covers/brushes purdey & wooster mostly
  • Some heavy duty paint tarps, a few large rolls of plastic drop cloth

I managed to close my garage door on the trash can and unspooled the wire for the opener. Probably a quick fix for someone who knows what they're doing -- any suggestions?
Thanks!

I live in a townhouse and we each have our own garage with door. My door swings outward a little when opening. I have no way to seeing what's out there. Today, I open the door and it hits my neighbors car who is parked right in front of my garage for some reason. Now she wants me to fix whatever scratch it caused. Who's at fault here?

I park my car in the incredibly nice upper-middle class Huntington Beach neighborhood, just down the street from the ‘New Reality’ (editor's note: fake name) sober living I got kicked out of. I take a second to pull myself together while in the darkness. I’m starting to feel very weak, very frazzled. I’ve been awake for at least 60 hours straight now, and I’m well aware of that. It is 1AM. I can’t decide if I should get a hotel or not.
I am so weak. I need to eat. I need water. I need to sleep. My mouth tastes TERRIBLE – like I am decaying from the inside out. I need to shower. I am aware that I have many physical needs that go beyond my need for more drugs.
See how you feel after the next shot, Lonnie.
I text Kace:
Here
I pat my pockets, making sure I have two separate bags: a bag in my left pocket, which has my furanylfentanyl and clean syringes in it, and a bag in my right pocket, which has both their meth and their dilaudid pills in it. I do not want to sell them furanylfentanyl because I don’t want them to die in the sober living house that has already seen 2 overdoses because of it.
I get out of my car and lock it. I walk through the sprawling, meticulous Huntington Beach neighborhood full of spacious and decorous houses, heading towards the sober living, though I stay on the other side of the street. I walk past several houses, with perfect green lawns and perfect landscapes, walking past the sober living. I walk a few houses past it, and then cross the street. When I arrive on the other side of the street, I glance all around me, checking for surveillance.
I double back, heading towards the sober living. I cut into the side yard, heading for the side door that leads into the garage. It is already cracked open, just as we planned. I open the door just enough so that I am able to slide through. I see two phone lights on in the far corner of the big 3-car garage.
“Yo,” I whisper-yell in the direction of the phone lights. One of the lights starts moving in a circular motion, beckoning me closer. I walk up, moving as quietly as I can. It would be terrible if the house manager, Jack, came in here right now.
I pull out their bag of dilaudid and meth. I see a hand with money in it being held out in my direction. I take the money and replace it with their bag of drugs.
“Nice, thanks,” Kace whispers, as I count the money. It's right on. The phone lights move closer to the ground, so I move with them. I see 3 fresh bottles of water on the ground, just like I asked for. I pull out the bag of needles and hand each of them 2 clean needles, putting one on the ground for myself.
“You got the Q-tips,” I whisper, looking towards Kace. His hand is already outstretched, a Q tip in it. I open the water bottle and put the bottle cap on the floor, beginning to prepare my shot of furanylfentanyl as quietly as I can, while they break up their dilaudids. The phones are propped up on the floor, giving me an eerie feeling. I have seen this before.
Déjà vu hits, and something inside me works to flash me back to my horrible half-ounce psilocybin trip. I suppress the embodied, hellish memories and the feelings of absolute terror, doom, and panic by preparing the shot as fast as I can.
“Where are you going after this?” Kace whispers to me, while we all work. I don’t even know the third boy, I only know that his name is Shane, he is white, he came here from the east coast, he’s in his 20s, and that he came to the wrong place if he wants to survive and recover from his addiction.
“I might go get a hotel, depends on how I feel,” I whisper back.
“Well, take a piece of this, mix it in there, that’ll help,” Kace whispers, his hand outstretched with a shard of meth in it. Meth is Kace’s panacea. I hesitate for a second, only because I know that this meth came from Sloan, which means it came from Lucky, which means it is very clean and very, very strong.
A small amount added to my shot of furry would ensure that I could stay awake for a little while longer. Now that I am coming down from the 2-day cocaine binge and haven’t yet slept, I run the risk of passing out at any moment.
“Maybe I should, just to be on the safe side,” I whisper, before involuntarily watching my hand take the small shard of meth and add it to the bottle cap. I take pleasure in the fact that this is fresh water from a clean water bottle, a fresh cotton, a clean bottle cap, and drugs that I sourced myself and am familiar with.
Listen to you, Lonnie. This is your third day in a row, and now that you don’t have cocaine, you’re doing meth? You were chugging cough syrup, you went on a cocaine binge, now you’re doing some goddamn meth? The dirtiest, most disgusting drug on the planet? And you’re selling it to these poor kids, at their sober living? Shame on you.
I shake my head slightly, hoping to shut it up.
I push the limits in my preparation of the dose: adding meth to this shot enables me to add more furanylfentanyl than I normally would, since the meth will keep me awake and therefore alive. I look up from the phone light when I am done, and I am surprised to see somebody else is done prepping and has completed their injection before me.
“Whoa, god damn,” Shane whispers. I chuckle.
“He’s never done a dilaudid before,” Kace whispers. I can hear the smile on Kace’s face, even in the darkness. I don’t smile, for something terrible has happened on this night. Shane’s soul has been infected by another parasite, and I will burn in the deepest level of Hell for being the one that brought it to him.
“Can you light me up?” I ask. One of the phone lights turns towards me. I find a vein quickly and easily, though I am having to rotate injection sites constantly. I cap the needle when it’s done and lean back, putting my hands on the concrete floor of the garage behind me. I count mentally, and barely make it past 3.
Every cell that I consist of alights with the jolting electric euphoria of meth. My chest tightens with power and ecstasy. I feel electric light waves of raw energy emanating from my heart as my heart rate dramatically increases with feelings of excited arousal.
All weakness and negativity have disappeared from my body. I could fight a tiger right now. I should go play basketball right now. I’d be unstoppable. I’d win every game. Nobody else would even have a chance.
“Fuck, I hate meth,” I whisper, overly alert, my heart racing in my ears. Now it feels like the house manager will open the door any second. Police are certainly watching us. My heart races in nonstop anticipation; I can feel my heartbeat in my trembling hands. Only the massive shot of furry I did can prevent the paranoia from causing me to panic. I take solace in the sensations of peace and relaxation that underlie the meth high. My lady, the Opioid - even though She is the cold, robotic Miss Furryfent, She is with me. I have nothing to fear.
“Nobody hates meth,” Kace whispers.
“It’s too good. It makes me feel too powerful. It makes me feel crazy,” I say.
“Yeah, it’s awesome,” Shane whispers, as we watch Kace inject himself. There are a few seconds of silence, all of us waiting for Kace to get his rush.
“Shit, that dilaudid gives you a good rush. I forgot how good it is,” Kace whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, before standing up. I walk to the exit, loath to be physically alone again, even though I feel lonely all the time. I wish I didn’t have to leave, but I know that this is another place that I am not welcome. The world is shrinking around me by the day. I am wearing out my welcome at the few places I am still allowed to go.
I need to go back to another treatment center, but life feels hopeless. More talk therapy, more 12-step meetings, more jail-rehabs, more vacation-rehabs – none of it has worked for me, and more of the same thing won’t help me. I am so hooked on these drugs; the drugs are a torrent, and every method of treatment is like a two-by-four piece of wood laying in the way. These drugs have my soul. Death is closing in on me.
“Thanks for coming out here. Be safe, brother,” Kace whispers, before closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, which hurts my feelings, even though I don’t blame him for locking me out. I’d lock me out, too.
I step out into a warm summer California night – back into a world that I don’t belong in; back into a world that doesn't want me.
Where are you going to go, Lonnie?
Not here. Anywhere but here. I start walking, and then start jogging across the street. Surprisingly, I feel no pain in my ankles at all. Jogging feels good. I make it across the street, and then keep jogging.
I jog up to my car. I open the door and get in it. I sit for a second. I check in on my body.
I feel amazing. I could run 3 miles right now. I feel great. I should keep moving.
I check in with my stomach. Although I couldn’t be less hungry, I know I need to consume some nutrients, even if they’re just liquid. I've been injecting cocaine continuously; I haven’t eaten a solid meal or slept in days.
I know what to do. I put my drugs and paraphernalia in the center console of my car. I get out of the car with only my phone, wallet, and keys in my pockets. I lock the car, checking it twice so it registers in my meth-addled brain, which is often riddled with unreasonable paranoia, that it is locked, and nobody can steal my drugs.
I start to walk away from my car, then stop mid-step. What if Kace or one of those guys comes looking for my car, knowing that it is full of drugs?
I am frozen with indecision. I notice I am licking my lips with overstimulation and force myself to stop my tongue. My heart is racing. I’m shaking with excitation. My brain is screaming at my body to do something, but I don't know what to do. They will certainly come looking for my car, hungry for more drugs.
You're being ridiculous, Lonnie. Nobody is going to steal your drugs.
I tell my feet to move. They won't move. I feel the urge to scream. I have to get away from here, I have to do something.
I start to jog again. I can get a quick workout in and get my brain to shut up at the same time. I start to jog, doing the old breathing trick I did when I was a kid trying to run the fastest 1-mile time in gym class.
I focus on my breath, to which I apply a specific breathing pattern. In, in, out. I jog, and I breathe. I jog, and then I jog faster, and my breathing sharpens – and then I jog even faster. I jog out of the neighborhood and onto the main road that connects these huge, gorgeous housing developments in Huntington Beach. I jog in the direction of a gas station that I know is just down the street from me.
I jog, and my mind turns to college basketball. I visualize myself playing in my mind, shooting 3-pointers and knowing that they’re in the hoop as soon as they leave my hand. I shoot a few more 3-pointers in my mind before losing myself completely.
The big, bright, lights, the smell of the hardwood, the sound of the ball bouncing on the floor and echoing off of every wall. The sound of solitude, and hard work, and everything that is good in life. The sound of the ball hitting nothing but net. Watching the net flip up after a perfect swish. I take myself back to some of my favorite moments playing basketball: back to Frederick, Maryland, where I scored 16 points on an overseas professional in a competitive men’s league game.
Back to West Palm Beach, Florida, where I got invited to try out for the semi-pro ABA team, the Miami Storm.
Back to Atlanta, GA, where I got made fun for doing ball handling drills with a tennis ball and then picked last, only to lead my team to victory several times in a row, scoring almost all of our points, winning in silence.
Showing up day in and day out, scoring and shooting and winning. Even when I was losing, I was getting better, so I was winning.
I press onward, jogging harder. I am going to play college basketball. Nothing is going to stop me. I notice that my shirt, which is drenched in sweat, is sticking to my skin. I peel my shirt off, barely slowing my pace. I glance up and to my right. There is a brown apartment complex. I throw my shirt in one of the bushes, making a mental note to get it out of the bush on my way back, certain that I’ll remember exactly how it landed in the bushes and precisely where it is.
I start to jog again, pretending that I have a basketball. I cross the invisible ball back and forth on the sidewalk, going out of my way to cross bushes up, crossing the imaginary ball hard and then going straight into a spin move. I lose myself in the movements. Thoughts cease, and there is nothing but my instinct telling me which dribble move to pantomime next against invisible defenders.
I stop. Why am I even going to the gas station? I should just get my car, go to 24-hour fitness, and play basketball for real. I turn around and start the journey back the way I came. I continue to run and do fake basketball moves on the shadow people. Finally, I find myself back in the residential neighborhood of Huntington Beach that my car is in.
I look around again. Is this the right neighborhood? Where am I? I walk around, looking for a landmark or something that I recognize.
There was something I was supposed to remember.
That’s right, I have to get to work. I need to find my car.
A white truck pulls up in the street next to me and stops.
That’s right, there’s a white truck coming to pick me up and take me to work! I walk up to the white truck, which has stopped in the middle of the road. Though the windows are tinted, I know that Todd is in this truck, and that he is here to pick me up to take me to Cinepolis for work. I pull on the passenger side door handle of the truck, so I can get in and go to work. The handle slips out of my hand when the door doesn’t pop open. The truck starts to drive away.
Why would Todd do that to me?! I look up at the sky. The sun is coming up? Shit, I’m going to be late for work now! I jog away from the truck. I need to go back to Todd’s house. I jog up to Todd’s house, which is the brown house right down the street. I walk up to the door and twist the doorknob. It doesn’t open.
Of course, it didn’t open, dumbass. Todd went to work.
I jog away. How am I going to get to work? I jog some more and start to feel sick.
Where am I?
“HEY! You left your stuff, like, way back there!” a random lady yells at me. I look at her, and then around at my surroundings. I don’t know where I am.
“What?” I yell back at her.
“You took your shorts off and left your stuff, like, way back there. I’ve been watching you. I think you should go home!” she yells, from across the street. I reach for my pockets.
I look down at my lower half. I have no shorts on. I am wearing nothing but black Nike compression underpants and basketball shoes. Realization strikes me like a thunderbolt: I have been running around in a state of meth-induced delusion for the entire night, playing with an invisible basketball.
I jog across the street, over to the lady.
“I’m sorry. I had a little too much to drink last night. Do you mind showing me where I left my stuff?” I ask, evaluating the woman. She is in her 40’s or 50’s, with long dark hair and a kind face. She has a small dog with her. He looks like a mutt.
“I figured. I was walking my dog, and saw you take your shorts off. I wanted to stop you when you tried to get in the truck, but I thought maybe you knew them. Then you tried to get in that house. You seemed very confused and out of it. Your pants are back this way,” she says, walking her dog down the sidewalk, back the way I came.
“Thanks,” I say, too embarrassed and ashamed to say much else. The sun is up. I try to walk naturally, like I am wearing pants instead of not wearing pants, which is a difficult thing to do. She leads me several minutes down the sidewalk, to somebody’s front yard. I see my shorts sitting in the grass in somebody’s yard, right by the sidewalk. I grab my shorts and put them on. My wallet and my phone are still in the pockets.
My keys. Shit, where are my keys?
“Do you know where my keys are?” I ask the woman, too embarrassed to look her in the eyes.
“No. I saw you take off your shorts here. I’ve been watching you, and I’m sure I’m not the only one. I wouldn’t be surprised if police are on their way,” she says, her eyebrows raised at me knowingly.
“Ok. Well, thanks for your help. I’m going to go. My house is in the neighborhood over there,” I lie, pointing further away from her and walking away. The word “police” forces me into action. I powerwalk until she is out of sight, and then I start to jog again.
Jog faster, Lonnie. Train harder.
No. I have to slow down. I’m becoming psychotic from overexertion, lack of nutrition, sleep deprivation, and methamphetamine. I have no drugs on me. I can slow down.
I force myself to start walking. I become aware, again, of my racing heart. It has been beating like this for days on end. It could easily explode and kill me at any second. Wait, when was the last time I did any opioids? The furanylfentanyl has been making me dopesick within 6 hours. I search my body for opioid effects. There are none.
I’m in the no man’s land between the opioid high and the withdrawal where I actually feel normal. The more I binge, the shorter the breaks become, and I’ve been binging, hard. If I feel normal now, that means I’ll be dopesick any second. I whine out loud. I want to scream up at the sky. My stomach starts to hurt terribly – it feels like it is bleeding.
I am dying.
I open my phone’s GPS and set it to my old sober living.
Shit, I don’t have a car key. I can’t get into my car! I call a locksmith, and then I start to run back towards the ironically named ‘sober living.’
I attempt to cling to reality.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington Beach. I am going to Jack’s sober living, so I can do some fentanyl, so I don’t get dopesick. I did some meth, and I haven’t slept or ate in days, so I might hallucinate. Hallucinations aren’t real.
My name is Lonnie. I am in Huntington beach. I went to Florida for rehab for sniffing oxy, and I started to shoot dope. I came to California to stop shooting dope and picked up a meth habit.
STOP!
My name is Lonnie. The world would be better off if I were dead.
I start to walk. I can’t take this. I need some music. No, playing music would be suspicious. I start to jog again, trying not to think about my racing heart. I should focus on my breathing.
No, I can’t do that. That’s what made me go psychotic.
My name is Lonnie. I am going back to Jack’s sober living…

You've armed yourself with a VPN to guard your online exploits, making your browsing, streaming, and torrenting more elusive than Bigfoot himself. Thanks to your VPN's Fort Knox-level encryption, network overlords and ISPs are left scratching their heads, unable to spot which corners of the web you've been poking around in or what files you've been downloading. But there's one problem - they can still sense your VPN, like an invisible yet palpable phantom in the room. Lucky for us, there are several methods in the vault to make a VPN as undetectable as a needle in a haystack.
Scanning through the swathes of online advice on rendering your VPN undetectable is a bit like diving into a murky sea of misinformation, half-truths, and wild guesses. So, armed with a spirit of relentless curiosity, I donned my digital Sherlock Holmes hat and set out on a weeks-long fact-finding mission. My tools? Piles of articles, guides, and VPN support articles, numerous conversations with VPN customer service detectives, my personal expertise and experience, and multiple rounds of good ol' fashioned testing.
The result? This guide. Consider it a condensed field guide to making your VPN connection as elusive as a chameleon (well, to some extent). And because we're not half-baking things here, I've also included my personal recommendations for the top-tier VPNs that can deftly sidestep VPN detection and blockade like a pro.
The Art of Invisible VPNing: A Guide to the Why
Why would you want to render your VPN invisible, you might ask? Well, as much as I admire transparency, in the realm of VPNs, stealth pays off. Here's why.
In the case of a VPN block party - nations like China, Iran, and Indonesia have often been known to use their cutting-edge technology prowess to sniff out and thwart VPN connections. Even educational institutions and workplaces sometimes employ firewalls as bouncers, keeping VPNs at bay.
Secondly, who doesn't love a good streaming spree? Unfortunately, streaming sites often act like a suspicious bouncer, routinely rooting out and blocking VPN connections due to licensing red tape. But if you can make your VPN connection as invisible as a ghost, you could swan dive into your favorite shows from anywhere with a VPN.
Lastly, it's all about privacy, isn't it? Although your VPN's encryption acts like a cloak of invisibility, preventing your ISP from seeing your digital shenanigans, your ISP can still sense the presence of a VPN. Also, websites can sometimes recognize VPN IP addresses. In the name of privacy, some folks just prefer not to broadcast to their ISPs or visited sites that they're employing a VPN. After all, a good magician never reveals his secrets.
An Invisible Surfing Spree: Selecting the Right VPN
The most straightforward path around those pesky VPN detection dogs and firewall barricades is to employ a VPN that's adept at playing hide and seek. What you're really looking for is a VPN that changes its IP address as often as a chameleon changes color, expertly cloaks its VPN traffic, and offers an impressive suite of security and privacy features.
After sending several VPNs through a gauntlet of tests, I came to the conclusion that ExpressVPN should be your first port of call if you want to cruise the internet undetected — here's the evidence:
The master of disguise, ExpressVPN, seems to have a revolving door for IP addresses. During my test-run of its New York server, I noticed a different IP address each time, as if I was flipping through a book of random digits. The prowess of ExpressVPN is further demonstrated by its ability to grant you access to top-tier streaming platforms and its seamless operation even in countries with internet restrictions tighter than a tick.
Also, it supports Tor over VPN connections, adding another layer of camouflage to your VPN's IP address.
Your data and privacy are guarded like crown jewels with its no-logs policy and a suite of advanced security features, including robust leak protection, all backed up by audits.
Shuffling the Deck: Switching Your VPN’s IP Address
When a streaming giant or network sleuth has put your VPN's IP address on the blacklist, you'll need to give your VPN server's IP a makeover to sidestep this little roadblock. The most straightforward approach? Simply reconnect to the VPN server or waltz over to a different VPN server.
Certain VPNs come with in-built tools that permit you to shuffle the server's IP address like a deck of cards. Others, with a flair for automation, do the reshuffling for you — unobtrusively changing the IP address while you're sailing through the VPN server, akin to a magician who never reveals his tricks. Take VyprVPN for example, it has a trick up its sleeve known as the Chameleon protocol. This obfuscation tool is a master of disguise, seamlessly changing your IP address mid-journey without as much as a hiccup in your VPN connection.
Musical Chairs: Juggling Your VPN Protocol
Sometimes, in a land of restrictions and watchful network overseers, certain VPN protocols can be halted in their tracks if the ports they love to party in are shut down. They can also be outed and barred by a savvy bouncer known as Deep Packet Inspection (DPI). Your ticket out of this restrictive soiree is a simple protocol switcheroo.
If you find yourself grappling with port blocks, OpenVPN or WireGuard could be your new best pals. Should their default stomping grounds be barred, you can manually shepherd them to a different port — a tour WireGuard is prepared for with thousands of options, and OpenVPN is not far behind. Some VIPs on the VPN scene, such as ExpressVPN and PrivateVPN, have taken it a step further. They've programmed these protocols to play nice with ports that are hard to put in lockdown, saving you the hassle of handpicking a port. Quite the lifesaver if you're new to the shindig.
Playing Hide-and-Seek with Your VPN
Obfuscation, or as I like to call it, the "VPN invisibility cloak", wraps your VPN traffic in an extra layer of encryption, making it appear as unassuming as your run-of-the-mill internet traffic. It's your best defense against the ever-probing eye of DPI detection and blockade.
While a fair share of VPNs come with access to protocols that are masters of disguise, a select few have a built-in obfuscation feature that doesn't require them to borrow from the protocols they use. TunnelBear, for example, has its GhostBear feature, and PrivateVPN boasts StealthVPN. Activate these tools, and your VPN data magically transforms into regular, everyday internet traffic. Abracadabra, your online activities have just pulled a Houdini!
Opening the 443 Doorway: A Sneak into Internet Autobahn
If VPN-related ports seem like they are sealed tighter than a sous-vide bag, it's high time you make a run for TCP port 443. This magical portal is the very same used by HTTPS traffic, which pretty much is the main freeway for most of our internet travels. If an ISP or network overlord dared to barricade this gateway, they might as well bid adieu to all websites that use HTTPS – say, those tiny, irrelevant sites like Facebook, Google, Twitter, and YouTube. Imagine the uproar!
However, this precious TCP port 443 is only compatible with a select few VPN protocols:
OpenVPN, the people's champion of protocols for its robust security, is one of them. Some VPN providers like Private Internet Access let you pick TCP port 443 when you’re feeling the OpenVPN groove. Others, like ExpressVPN, streamline the process, automatically pairing OpenVPN with TCP port 443.
SSTP, a protocol not as widely embraced, uses TCP port 443 by default. But it's hard to find, tucked away in the menus of only a few VPN providers like IPVanish.
Then, there's SoftEther. This protocol is like the unicorn of VPN services - you hear of it, but you barely see it, primarily because it's as tricky to integrate into the VPN client as untangling your headphones after they've been in your pocket.
The High-Roller IP: A Reserved Seat in the VPN Concert
In the world of VPNs, shared IP addresses are the norm, akin to the nosebleed section in a concert - you share the space (or IP in our case) with a gaggle of other VPN users. But what if you fancied a front-row experience? Enter: the dedicated IP address. This VIP seat, exclusive to you, ensures that you don't share the IP spotlight with anyone else. It's like renting your own private island in the vast VPN sea.
Should you opt for a dedicated IP, streaming sites might struggle to detect your VPN connection. Picture this: instead of identifying a mob of 100+ people logging in from the same IP address (quite the red flag for shared IPs), websites would witness only a lone user logging in. Less conspicuous, less likely to be flagged and blocked.
If a dedicated IP address whets your appetite, Private Internet Access and CyberGhost VPN are solid options. They both roll out the red carpet of dedicated IPs for a nominal additional fee. For those of you scrimping, PrivateVPN is a sensible choice, providing free access to dedicated IP addresses.
Moreover, some VPNs, such as TorGuard, even offer dedicated residential IP addresses, the crème de la crème of detectability. These IPs belong to residential ISPs rather than data centers, making them appear as regular internet users to anyone scrutinizing these IPs. However, fair warning, TorGuard’s VPN plans tend to be on the pricier side. It's akin to paying for box seats at the opera, not exactly penny-pinching.
The Tor-tuous Trail: A VPN Voyage to the Dark Side
Tor, a cloak-and-dagger network that grants passage to the infamous dark web, is like a secret labyrinth. It leads your traffic through multiple servers, engaging in some digital masquerade, frequently changing your IP and encrypting your traffic repeatedly. The best part? It’s like a secret society with no membership fee. Simply download and install the Tor browser and you have a ticket to the Tor network.
Here's a trick up the sleeve: you can snake a Tor connection through a VPN connection. This nifty move ensures internet and dark web hotspots are none the wiser about your VPN IP address. The VPN connection, draped in several layers of Tor encryption, would be harder to detect than a chameleon on a Jackson Pollock painting. In essence, your connection path looks a bit like this:
You, then VPN, then Tor Server #1, Tor Server #2, Tor Server #3, and finally, the Dark Web.
Several top-shelf VPNs support the Tor over VPN connection, with ExpressVPN garnering my personal favor due to its impressively quick speeds. Because let's face it, Tor over VPN connections often move at the pace of a snail riding a turtle. Proton VPN also deserves an honorable mention, boasting servers in 7 countries that automatically route your traffic through the Tor network. This unique setup lets you access dark web sites with pedestrian browsers like Chrome and Firefox — no need to whip out the Tor browser.
Playing Hooky with your VPN: A Cellular Strategy
You know how workplaces and institutions of learning morph into fun sponges with their stringent anti-VPN rules on their networks? And getting caught using one can earn you an unceremonious trip to the principal's office or worse.
In such a tricky situation, it's time to tap into the untamed frontier of mobile data. By flipping the switch to your cellular data, you're using the network of your telecommunications provider instead of the school or company's network. It's like swapping the 'schooled' network's version of domesticated, house-trained internet for the wild, VPN-friendly terrain of mobile data.

Part 4
Day 14

**Chloe and Fred stood guard by the doorway to the stairs, their guns trained on it. Multiple screeches could be heard upstairs and slowly carefully they both started going up. SCREECH! One of the hounds appeared** **Fred looked like he was going to argue but he lowered his head and nodded.** **“Wait, where's mom?” I asked the worry heavy in my voice.** **Fred looked down somberly and Gretchen started sobbing.** **“N… no sh… she’s… she can’t be dead.” I stammered out.** **“I’m sorry Joey, if I could’ve done something I would’ve.” He apologized.** **I looked down in despair beginning to fill my very soul. My mom, the person who’d raised me, was gone. She was gone forever. I felt the tears begin to pool in my eyes and Chloe gave me another tight hug.** **SLAM! The pile of junk against the door rattled and one of the boys screamed. Chloe let out a small yelp and then we all stood there in silence. SLAM! This time it was followed by a cracking sound.** **“They’re going to get in,” Fred growled, “We all need to be quiet.”** **We all sat there for a moment as the things tried, again and again, to break through, but finally, they stopped. Fred turned back to us and his eyes went wide.** **“Y’all need to get patched up real quick.” He said.** **The next few minutes were a stress-filled roller coaster. Chloe sat me down on the couch and ran to the bathroom to get the medical supplies, and she also got the sewing kit. I thought getting my back and leg stitched up while still conscious was painful, but what I felt that day I never want to feel again. I felt the needle go in and out of my face. I felt my face slowly begin to pull back together, and it was all excruciating. While Fred did his work Chloe had to sit there and cover my mouth to hold back my screams. Even through the pain and the tears in my eyes, I could see she was also crying. Finally, after what seemed like an eon he finished the last stitch and was done.** **Then he started with Chloe. I was too weak to sit up, but I held her hand as he quickly stitched up her shoulder. With each stroke of the needle, I saw the pain in her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he finished his work. We were all patched up, but oh I wish that could’ve fixed the sorrow we felt.** **Chloe helped me walk to our bedroom to finally get some shut-eye. My whole body hurt and ached and it all felt broken. She sat me down on the bed and gave me a grim look. She looked tired and worn. Her normally straight hair was a curly mess and little specks of dried blood were about her face.** **“I suppose you need to get changed.” She said, looking at me.** **I looked down at my still blood-soaked clothes and then back at her.** **“I suppose I do,” I said, a little embarrassed that she would have to help me.** **Once we were both settled I finally laid down with Chloe crawling into bed next to me.** **“I’m so happy you’re ok,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her.** **She smiled but it quickly faded, “Joey I’m scared.”** **“I know, I’m too, we just have…” I started but she interrupted me.** **“It just… I don’t know what’s going on. It shouldn’t be snowing still. It's almost May.” She said, her eyes tearing up, “I’ve been trying to stay strong, but I just can’t anymore. I'm scared.”** **“Chloe, it’s ok to be scared. I’m terrified.” I told her.** 

“I… I have to be the brave one,” She said.
“No, you don’t, you can just be the wonderful person I love. I don’t care if you’re scared or afraid I love you.” I said, pulling her into a tight hug.
She started crying, totally sobbing is probably a better word.
“I don’t want to lose you,” She sobbed.
“I’ll be ok, I promise.” I tried to say but she wasn’t hearing me so I just held her tightly while she sobbed.
Finally, after a long while of crying, she pulled away and looked at me.
“Can I tell you what happened?” She asked shyly.
“Yes of course,” I said, knowing that venting always helped.
And so she finally told me what had happened that day in the Garrison’s house. Every little detail. When she finally finished I felt a shiver go down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” Was all I could manage to say.
She didn’t say anything else, she just cuddled up next to me and cried softly into my shoulder. I gently ran my hand through her hair and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Day 15

**We spent the early morning preparing supplies and everything we needed then finally around noon we loaded the jeep.** **“Chloe, I’m going to get the snowplow you stay here and keep everyone safe.” He said quietly.** **“Ok, be careful,” She said, all too happy that the man wasn’t expecting her to come with him.** **Fred slowly made his way upstairs quietly and carefully creeping one step at a time. Each step he took felt like a marathon. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst. One step, then another, then another still, and despite his fear he finally made it upstairs.** **It looked just the way he’d seen it the evening before. Thrown around with the creeper’s large body lying near him. The massive amounts of blood around it had frozen making a large icy sheet on the carpet.** **He couldn’t help but look at the body. Its black exoskeleton reminded him of beetles. It was smooth with no color variation. There were small gaps around the joints and the legs had more exposed flesh than the exoskeleton. He looked at the small gap where the back met the thighs. He drove his fingers into the gap and started peeling the section of the exoskeleton off. It peeled nicely until he got to a certain point where it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, he walked away and towards the front door. A frozen trail of Gretchen’s blood was still visible and partially buried in snow was my mom’s body. Fred grimaced at the sight and hurriedly continued onward. The quickest route to the snowplow lot was through a few backyards.** 

The fences were mostly buried and at this point only stood 6 inches or so out of the snow. Stepping over them was easy, and they hardly hindered his path. What did begin to hinder his path was the storm. It howled and screamed at him throwing all the snow and wind it could at him. It reminded him of an angry toddler throwing their food at you. It was odd but that was the best way to put the storm. It was angry, very angry, and he didn’t know why.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Fred stopped and slowly scanned his surroundings to see where the sound had come from but he saw nothing. He wasn’t sure why he looked; he could barely see his hand if he held it out. He guessed it was out of instinct but he wasn’t sure. He stood there listening but whatever had made the sound seemed to have also stopped. He was somewhat confused because that wasn’t really what the creatures sounded like on snow. Nor did it sound like other animals he knew. Suddenly a thought crept into his head, and in a either very dumb or very intelligent move, he spoke.
“Who’s there?” He asked in as loud and as stern of a voice as he could muster.
There was a small pause of silence and right as Fred began to worry he’d made a mistake he heard something on four legs sprint off in the other direction. Must’ve been a deer he thought a little annoyed that he’d thought even for a moment that it was a person. He continued onward with even more caution. He kept the shotgun up constantly now worrying something would sneak up on him. He couldn’t control his now-shaking body despite how much he tried to calm himself.
He stopped walking and started taking deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He said to himself as he did the breathing exercises. After a minute he pulled himself together enough to continue. He walked on and on for what seemed like an eon before finally he arrived. He saw the large building ahead of him. It was a large warehouse-type building with multiple massive garage doors on the sides.
He saw a normal-sized door the size of the building and pulled at the handle. Locked! Of course, it was locked. Slam! The first kick shook the door. Slam! The second it started to cave slightly. Slam! Crash! The door toppled onto the ground and Fred walked into the building, gun raised and ready for a fight.
Chloe sat on the couch eyeing the stairs to the first floor. The responsibility to keep everyone safe was now on her, and she was determined to do that. All she could think about was the monsters outside and likely right upstairs. For all, she knew they were right upstairs conspiring to kill them. She didn’t know how right she was.
CRASH! The window in the window well next to her burst open sending shards of glass all around.
“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked from the other room.
“Babe?” I asked in a worried frenzy.
She pulled herself from the ground in a daze. She felt odd then she felt a wetness begin trickling down her face. She’d been cut up pretty well in a few places on her face. Before she could think of anything else SCREECH!
She looked over and saw a hound crawling in through the now-shattered window. Shoot where’s the gun? She thought scanning the room. Her eyes scanned until they met the semi-automatic. She’d set it on the couch right where the hound was crawling through. She dove for the gun but its large clawed foot slammed onto the gun pinning it under the beast. Darn, it! Slowly she eyed the creature as it pulled itself in. It was just standing there watching her, it seemed very odd and not normal behavior. Then a faint ticking sound came from outside. SCREECH! It charged for her and she pulled her knife. BANG! The blast threw the hound off balance slamming it into the ground. She found herself looking over to see Gretchen wielding the smoking shotgun.
Chloe was about to thank her when the thing got back up changing its course for Gretchen. BANG! The second shot hit the thing square in the face and it screeched in anger and pain. Chloe took the opportunity and jumped atop the thing plunging the knife deep into one of the eye sockets. It screeched again and jumped up, throwing Chloe off with the knife still wedged in its eye. In the meantime, Gretchen reloaded the shotgun BANG! She shot it in the face again, but it only seemed to anger the thing.
“LEGS!” Chloe screamed, pulling herself off the floor.
At the same moment, Gretchen pulled the trigger and two more hounds started their way through the window.
The shot hit the first hound square in one of the back legs, shattering it, and the two hounds were already halfway through the window.
Fred walked into the building relieved to see it was nothing more than dark and empty. He scanned the room he’d entered. It was a small office area. His eyes fell on the small cupboard near the door. Each drawer was small and numbered 1 to 4. He pulled one open and saw keys on a hook. His heart leaped with excitement and he took his eyes and turned around. There was a small door that looked like it would be to the garage so he popped it open. Inside the garage were four large snow plows with big numbers painted on the side of them. He checked to see he had 4 so he ran to the other side of the garage to snowplow 4. Fred climbed up the door and tried to pull it open. Locked. He put the keys in and unlocked the door then hopped in and started the vehicle. It roared to life sounding like he’d woken a large sleeping lion. On the dashboard were a few bobbleheads and a small remote. He grabbed the remote and pressed button 4. Slowly with the sound of breaking ice accompanying it the garage door in front of the plow began to lurch open.
He scanned around the mess of levers and buttons until he found the truck's lights. He switched them on and then slowly put pressure on the gas. The massive plow immediately began to roll forward. He’d have to be slow as even with its powerful lights it was still extremely hard to see. So with much caution, the plow pulled out of the garage pushing the snow out of its way and making its way for the road.
The two hounds hissed and growled as they both pulled themselves fully through the window. Then in a quick move one made for Gretchen while the other charged for Chloe. Gretchen finished putting in the new bullets. BANG! The shot was aimed at its leg but hit it on the side. Chloe looked around and realized they’d kicked the semi-auto onto the floor. She reached for the gun, grabbed it just in time, and turned around. RAT-A-TATATATA!! Its two front legs were instantly shattered, toppling it over, causing the rest of the shots to hit it square in the face. BANG! Gretchen's second shot broke one of its front legs, but the creature unfolded its mantis arms and continued on those. Chloe didn’t even think she saw the hound going for Gretchen and pulled the trigger. RAT-A-TATATATA!! She nailed perfect shots. She hit all six limbs right at the joints causing them to collapse to the ground.
They both looked around at the three broken hounds. All three still growled in pain and tried to get up, but each attempt just seemed to break them more. Chloe walked over to the first one and pulled the knife out of its eye. SCREECH! It continued letting out progressively weaker screeches until as blood poured from its eye finally, it was silent. Silently and efficiently, Chloe opened the mouths of both the others and stabbed upward piercing the brain instantly killing them.
The plow soured through the snow pushing all of it aside leaving mountains of snow on both sides of the road. Suddenly there was a loud metal scraping sound and something big was thrown over and to the side. Fred stopped the plow and looked out the rearview mirror to see a now-destroyed car lying in one of the snow piles. He couldn’t help but be impressed; he didn't think the plow would be so powerful that it could hurl a car like that.
He continued on and then he slowly turned onto the street the house was on. He now drove down the road and noticed as he got close to the house a large creeper standing outside. It stood there menacingly, looking down into the window wells. Worry shot through him and in an instant, he turned the plow toward the creature and rammed straight into it. He pulled forward pinning the creeper between the plow and the brick wall of the house. It lay there pinned screeching its lungs out in pain. Slowly and nervously Fred stepped out of the plow shotgun gripped tightly. SCROAr! Its call becomes much weaker. Its body was a twisted broken mess and its head only barely poked out above the plow. He walked over to the creature looking into its eyes.
Jess. He thought staring into the brown eyes he’d once loved. BANG!!! The bullet tore through its already broken exoskeleton and its head exploded onto the brick wall next to it. Tears rolled down his face and he fell to his knees.
“I love you, honey,” He said to the dead creature. “I’m sorry.”
He hoped in his mind that she was free now, or better yet that she was already dead. Although, those eyes, those eyes, it seemed that until the moment he’d shot her she was still inside there somewhere. He started sobbing, dropping the shotgun and collapsing onto the snow.
The flow of snow finally stopped and Chloe pulled herself off the ground. She looked around to see the entire basement had been partially flooded with snow. She helped me up and Gretchen hurried her kids and the dogs out of the basement. Slowly and patiently she helped me up the stairs and onto the first floor. My eyes landed on the corpse of the creeper; it was covered in icy crystals made of its own blood. I looked out the window and saw the snowplow right next to the house except it was missing a driver. Chloe sat me on the couch and hurried outside.
After Fred collected himself we all packed the jeep and snow plow. Me and Fred got in the plow while the others got in the jeep. Slowly the plow lurched forward and the jeep pulled out of the driveway and followed.

Part 4
Day 14
Chloe and Fred stood guard by the doorway to the stairs, their guns trained on it. Multiple screeches could be heard upstairs and slowly carefully they both started going up. SCREECH! One of the hounds appeared
Fred looked like he was going to argue but he lowered his head and nodded.
“Wait, where's mom?” I asked the worry heavy in my voice.
Fred looked down somberly and Gretchen started sobbing.
“N… no sh… she’s… she can’t be dead.” I stammered out.
“I’m sorry Joey, if I could’ve done something I would’ve.” He apologized.
I looked down in despair beginning to fill my very soul. My mom, the person who’d raised me, was gone. She was gone forever. I felt the tears begin to pool in my eyes and Chloe gave me another tight hug.
SLAM! The pile of junk against the door rattled and one of the boys screamed. Chloe let out a small yelp and then we all stood there in silence. SLAM! This time it was followed by a cracking sound.
“They’re going to get in,” Fred growled, “We all need to be quiet.”
We all sat there for a moment as the things tried, again and again, to break through, but finally, they stopped. Fred turned back to us and his eyes went wide.
“Y’all need to get patched up real quick.” He said.
The next few minutes were a stress-filled roller coaster. Chloe sat me down on the couch and ran to the bathroom to get the medical supplies, and she also got the sewing kit. I thought getting my back and leg stitched up while still conscious was painful, but what I felt that day I never want to feel again. I felt the needle go in and out of my face. I felt my face slowly begin to pull back together, and it was all excruciating. While Fred did his work Chloe had to sit there and cover my mouth to hold back my screams. Even through the pain and the tears in my eyes, I could see she was also crying. Finally, after what seemed like an eon he finished the last stitch and was done.
Then he started with Chloe. I was too weak to sit up, but I held her hand as he quickly stitched up her shoulder. With each stroke of the needle, I saw the pain in her face. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he finished his work. We were all patched up, but oh I wish that could’ve fixed the sorrow we felt.
Chloe helped me walk to our bedroom to finally get some shut-eye. My whole body hurt and ached and it all felt broken. She sat me down on the bed and gave me a grim look. She looked tired and worn. Her normally straight hair was a curly mess and little specks of dried blood were about her face.
“I suppose you need to get changed.” She said, looking at me.
I looked down at my still blood-soaked clothes and then back at her.
“I suppose I do,” I said, a little embarrassed that she would have to help me.
Once we were both settled I finally laid down with Chloe crawling into bed next to me.
“I’m so happy you’re ok,” I said, leaning forward and kissing her.
She smiled but it quickly faded, “Joey I’m scared.”
“I know, I’m too, we just have…” I started but she interrupted me.
“It just… I don’t know what’s going on. It shouldn’t be snowing still. It's almost May.” She said, her eyes tearing up, “I’ve been trying to stay strong, but I just can’t anymore. I'm scared.”
“Chloe, it’s ok to be scared. I’m terrified.” I told her.
“I… I have to be the brave one,” She said.
“No, you don’t, you can just be the wonderful person I love. I don’t care if you’re scared or afraid I love you.” I said, pulling her into a tight hug.
She started crying, totally sobbing is probably a better word.
“I don’t want to lose you,” She sobbed.
“I’ll be ok, I promise.” I tried to say but she wasn’t hearing me so I just held her tightly while she sobbed.
Finally, after a long while of crying, she pulled away and looked at me.
“Can I tell you what happened?” She asked shyly.
“Yes of course,” I said, knowing that venting always helped.
And so she finally told me what had happened that day in the Garrison’s house. Every little detail. When she finally finished I felt a shiver go down my spine.
“I’m sorry,” Was all I could manage to say.
She didn’t say anything else, she just cuddled up next to me and cried softly into my shoulder. I gently ran my hand through her hair and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Day 15
We spent the early morning preparing supplies and everything we needed then finally around noon we loaded the jeep.
“Chloe, I’m going to get the snowplow you stay here and keep everyone safe.” He said quietly.
“Ok, be careful,” She said, all too happy that the man wasn’t expecting her to come with him.
Fred slowly made his way upstairs quietly and carefully creeping one step at a time. Each step he took felt like a marathon. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst. One step, then another, then another still, and despite his fear he finally made it upstairs.
It looked just the way he’d seen it the evening before. Thrown around with the creeper’s large body lying near him. The massive amounts of blood around it had frozen making a large icy sheet on the carpet.
He couldn’t help but look at the body. Its black exoskeleton reminded him of beetles. It was smooth with no color variation. There were small gaps around the joints and the legs had more exposed flesh than the exoskeleton. He looked at the small gap where the back met the thighs. He drove his fingers into the gap and started peeling the section of the exoskeleton off. It peeled nicely until he got to a certain point where it wouldn’t budge. Annoyed, he walked away and towards the front door. A frozen trail of Gretchen’s blood was still visible and partially buried in snow was my mom’s body. Fred grimaced at the sight and hurriedly continued onward. The quickest route to the snowplow lot was through a few backyards.
The fences were mostly buried and at this point only stood 6 inches or so out of the snow. Stepping over them was easy, and they hardly hindered his path. What did begin to hinder his path was the storm. It howled and screamed at him throwing all the snow and wind it could at him. It reminded him of an angry toddler throwing their food at you. It was odd but that was the best way to put the storm. It was angry, very angry, and he didn’t know why.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Fred stopped and slowly scanned his surroundings to see where the sound had come from but he saw nothing. He wasn’t sure why he looked; he could barely see his hand if he held it out. He guessed it was out of instinct but he wasn’t sure. He stood there listening but whatever had made the sound seemed to have also stopped. He was somewhat confused because that wasn’t really what the creatures sounded like on snow. Nor did it sound like other animals he knew. Suddenly a thought crept into his head, and in a either very dumb or very intelligent move, he spoke.
“Who’s there?” He asked in as loud and as stern of a voice as he could muster.
There was a small pause of silence and right as Fred began to worry he’d made a mistake he heard something on four legs sprint off in the other direction. Must’ve been a deer he thought a little annoyed that he’d thought even for a moment that it was a person. He continued onward with even more caution. He kept the shotgun up constantly now worrying something would sneak up on him. He couldn’t control his now-shaking body despite how much he tried to calm himself.
He stopped walking and started taking deep breaths. In and out. In and out. He said to himself as he did the breathing exercises. After a minute he pulled himself together enough to continue. He walked on and on for what seemed like an eon before finally he arrived. He saw the large building ahead of him. It was a large warehouse-type building with multiple massive garage doors on the sides.
He saw a normal-sized door the size of the building and pulled at the handle. Locked! Of course, it was locked. Slam! The first kick shook the door. Slam! The second it started to cave slightly. Slam! Crash! The door toppled onto the ground and Fred walked into the building, gun raised and ready for a fight.
Chloe sat on the couch eyeing the stairs to the first floor. The responsibility to keep everyone safe was now on her, and she was determined to do that. All she could think about was the monsters outside and likely right upstairs. For all, she knew they were right upstairs conspiring to kill them. She didn’t know how right she was.
CRASH! The window in the window well next to her burst open sending shards of glass all around.
“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked from the other room.
“Babe?” I asked in a worried frenzy.
She pulled herself from the ground in a daze. She felt odd then she felt a wetness begin trickling down her face. She’d been cut up pretty well in a few places on her face. Before she could think of anything else SCREECH!
She looked over and saw a hound crawling in through the now-shattered window. Shoot where’s the gun? She thought scanning the room. Her eyes scanned until they met the semi-automatic. She’d set it on the couch right where the hound was crawling through. She dove for the gun but its large clawed foot slammed onto the gun pinning it under the beast. Darn, it! Slowly she eyed the creature as it pulled itself in. It was just standing there watching her, it seemed very odd and not normal behavior. Then a faint ticking sound came from outside. SCREECH! It charged for her and she pulled her knife. BANG! The blast threw the hound off balance slamming it into the ground. She found herself looking over to see Gretchen wielding the smoking shotgun.
Chloe was about to thank her when the thing got back up changing its course for Gretchen. BANG! The second shot hit the thing square in the face and it screeched in anger and pain. Chloe took the opportunity and jumped atop the thing plunging the knife deep into one of the eye sockets. It screeched again and jumped up, throwing Chloe off with the knife still wedged in its eye. In the meantime, Gretchen reloaded the shotgun BANG! She shot it in the face again, but it only seemed to anger the thing.
“LEGS!” Chloe screamed, pulling herself off the floor.
At the same moment, Gretchen pulled the trigger and two more hounds started their way through the window.
The shot hit the first hound square in one of the back legs, shattering it, and the two hounds were already halfway through the window.
Fred walked into the building relieved to see it was nothing more than dark and empty. He scanned the room he’d entered. It was a small office area. His eyes fell on the small cupboard near the door. Each drawer was small and numbered 1 to 4. He pulled one open and saw keys on a hook. His heart leaped with excitement and he took his eyes and turned around. There was a small door that looked like it would be to the garage so he popped it open. Inside the garage were four large snow plows with big numbers painted on the side of them. He checked to see he had 4 so he ran to the other side of the garage to snowplow 4. Fred climbed up the door and tried to pull it open. Locked. He put the keys in and unlocked the door then hopped in and started the vehicle. It roared to life sounding like he’d woken a large sleeping lion. On the dashboard were a few bobbleheads and a small remote. He grabbed the remote and pressed button 4. Slowly with the sound of breaking ice accompanying it the garage door in front of the plow began to lurch open.
He scanned around the mess of levers and buttons until he found the truck's lights. He switched them on and then slowly put pressure on the gas. The massive plow immediately began to roll forward. He’d have to be slow as even with its powerful lights it was still extremely hard to see. So with much caution, the plow pulled out of the garage pushing the snow out of its way and making its way for the road.
The two hounds hissed and growled as they both pulled themselves fully through the window. Then in a quick move one made for Gretchen while the other charged for Chloe. Gretchen finished putting in the new bullets. BANG! The shot was aimed at its leg but hit it on the side. Chloe looked around and realized they’d kicked the semi-auto onto the floor. She reached for the gun, grabbed it just in time, and turned around. RAT-A-TATATATA!! Its two front legs were instantly shattered, toppling it over, causing the rest of the shots to hit it square in the face. BANG! Gretchen's second shot broke one of its front legs, but the creature unfolded its mantis arms and continued on those. Chloe didn’t even think she saw the hound going for Gretchen and pulled the trigger. RAT-A-TATATATA!! She nailed perfect shots. She hit all six limbs right at the joints causing them to collapse to the ground.
They both looked around at the three broken hounds. All three still growled in pain and tried to get up, but each attempt just seemed to break them more. Chloe walked over to the first one and pulled the knife out of its eye. SCREECH! It continued letting out progressively weaker screeches until as blood poured from its eye finally, it was silent. Silently and efficiently, Chloe opened the mouths of both the others and stabbed upward piercing the brain instantly killing them.
The plow soured through the snow pushing all of it aside leaving mountains of snow on both sides of the road. Suddenly there was a loud metal scraping sound and something big was thrown over and to the side. Fred stopped the plow and looked out the rearview mirror to see a now-destroyed car lying in one of the snow piles. He couldn’t help but be impressed; he didn't think the plow would be so powerful that it could hurl a car like that.
He continued on and then he slowly turned onto the street the house was on. He now drove down the road and noticed as he got close to the house a large creeper standing outside. It stood there menacingly, looking down into the window wells. Worry shot through him and in an instant, he turned the plow toward the creature and rammed straight into it. He pulled forward pinning the creeper between the plow and the brick wall of the house. It lay there pinned screeching its lungs out in pain. Slowly and nervously Fred stepped out of the plow shotgun gripped tightly. SCROAr! Its call becomes much weaker. Its body was a twisted broken mess and its head only barely poked out above the plow. He walked over to the creature looking into its eyes.
Jess. He thought staring into the brown eyes he’d once loved. BANG!!! The bullet tore through its already broken exoskeleton and its head exploded onto the brick wall next to it. Tears rolled down his face and he fell to his knees.
“I love you, honey,” He said to the dead creature. “I’m sorry.”
He hoped in his mind that she was free now, or better yet that she was already dead. Although, those eyes, those eyes, it seemed that until the moment he’d shot her she was still inside there somewhere. He started sobbing, dropping the shotgun and collapsing onto the snow.
The flow of snow finally stopped and Chloe pulled herself off the ground. She looked around to see the entire basement had been partially flooded with snow. She helped me up and Gretchen hurried her kids and the dogs out of the basement. Slowly and patiently she helped me up the stairs and onto the first floor. My eyes landed on the corpse of the creeper; it was covered in icy crystals made of its own blood. I looked out the window and saw the snowplow right next to the house except it was missing a driver. Chloe sat me on the couch and hurried outside.
After Fred collected himself we all packed the jeep and snow plow. Me and Fred got in the plow while the others got in the jeep. Slowly the plow lurched forward and the jeep pulled out of the driveway and followed.

So I wired up my shelly plus 1 with direct 230v ( in UK ) to the Live and Neutral.
The I and 0 go to a 3-way wago connector. On the "I" line, I have the first of the two wires used for the switch button that toggles the door open and close, the 0 line goes to another 3-way wago with the second of the toggle button wires. In the third slot on the 3-way, I have essentially a "pig tail" that goes back to the garage unit, and plugs into the two slots that the original button toggle was wired to, in exactly the same order.
Able to see the device, get it on the wifi, access it from the ip gui webpage no issues.
Here's my issue. When I hit the button to trigger the garage door, I hear the relay click, but nothing happens. When I hit the door toggle button, or the remotes in the cars, the door opens as it should.
​
What am I doing wrong?