26 Male 210lb 6ft2 Canada
I’ll start from the beginning. I had a cold in February, as it cleared up in late February I had tenderness, redness and crusting on my septum right at the end. I told myself it’s just from wiping/blowing. The crusting then would crack from movement and cause occasional bleeding. It was extremely tender.
After maybe a week or so it got a little better but then I developed extreme tenderness on the inside of my nostril itself. After a few days I used my camera to look in as it hurt very bad. It was like a pimple, white head on a bump very swollen and red. My nostril on the outside was red and swollen. This turned into a sore and it was very painful.
The left side cleared up and then within a few days my right side developed a similar pimple, and the septum on my left side was still like raw and crusty. I went through the same thing with this new pimple.
Now I was left with just the raw/crusty septum and my upper nostril on the same side was crusty and sore to the touch or if I wiggled my nose (moved my mouth). Then I had more soreness appear at the entrance to my right nostril, it was swelling and redness, very painful no pimple. It got flaky and shed the skin. It cleared up after 4-5 days then my left side became extremely sore and swollen again and my septum started to bleed again. I’ve had 3 nose bleeds in less than 12 hours.
It’s just back and forth. My doc can’t get me in for a few days, should I be pursuing this more urgently? It’s been 2 months.

I have a ASUS laptop from 2019 that has USB 3.0 but not USB-c. I've spend days trying to make my JU254 adapter from J3.Create work. It works fine in windows but not in Endeavour. I found a Ubuntu driver .run file from the MCT website and it did work when I had Ubuntu. But now I'm using Endeavour, I've been unalbe to make it work even after going through the script and modifying it for Endeavour. So I'm figuring I need to stop beating my head against the wall and just get an adapter that is "known" to work with EndeavourOS? Any recommendations out there?

I've been reading/sorting through some interviews and other materials recently. It's a fascinating read and I kind of wish the wiki would include this more openly (it's linked to as a reference for many things but I didn't see any direct content from it anywhere). Lots of cool stuff to unpack - though until it's canon, to me, it's just talk.
With that in mind, I figured I'd compile information about whatever subject may be of interest and share it here instead of programming software that may change the world for the better (bored - need to improve a sorting strategy, might lighten the load with some bucketing system, IDC right now...). There's probably nothing new for big MiA buffs who are familiar with this content but for the lay-fan, it may be of interest.
This is a bit of a random grab-bag so let me know if any other subject is of interest - I'll scour the file for whatever I can find and sum it up if you're too lazy to do it yourself. :P Enjoy!
^{Note: Not all comments are from the big Tsuk himself - this is a mixed bag so don't put too much stock into what's here. Like I said, until it's canon, it's just talk.}

STAR COMPASS

• According to Tsukushi, the star compass is an important item and he didn't want it cut.
• The star compass comes from an MtG card. Tsukushi was inspired by its flavor text: "It doesn't point north. It points home.".
• The VA cast discussing the S2 trailer bring up how Vueko's Compass is the old version and Riko's, the new one. There's speculation that we might see it change in a scene (though as of season 2's end, this has yet to be a thing).

BLUE PENDANT

• "The blue pendant is an important item, so I made sure they didn't cut it out."
• Nope, that's all we get. Tsukushi is very tight-lipped about what this thing does...

INCINERATOR

• Like the Star Compass, this is apparently based on an MtG card name. [I couldn't figure out which for sure.]
• "The effects of Reg's Incinerator are based on some details that are still kept secret."
• The tree on layer 1 while the Ep 13 parcel is rising to Orth is the one Reg fired his Incinerator from.
• They considered using 3D for Reg's mega-Incinerator in DotDS to help convey its scale and size. Reg can apparently decide whether to affect living things or not with it (and possibly other settings), which is why Bondrewd and Nanachi survive.
• The incinerator can be fired multiple times during the ten minutes before Reg blacks out.

MITTY

• Mitty wasn't an intentional character. After Nanachi's creation, Mitty and Bondrewd "emerged spontaneously as a necessary piece of the puzzle".
• They wanted to emphasize the sound in the "Nanachi tries to kill Mitty with poison" scene, even though they felt like the scene should have had more visuals to it.
• Tsukushi specifically requested that Mitty's eyes bulge in the elevator scene, because he is a sick, sick man. :D
• "The First Layer" originally was supposed to be Mitty's theme.
• Mitty's bird doll is made-up nonsense. There's no birds like that in MiA; it's not the one that "attacked" the orphans on the way down to Ido Front.
• "Speaking of Mitty, it's an unknown creature from Reg's perspective."
• She is described as "A cute, innocent treasure. Feels like a silkworm, to the touch."
• Originally, Mitty was planned to be Nanachi's little brother.
• "There's a Mitty hidden in the credits [of DotDS]. Some people are reporting having found her "moving from the bottom middle of the screen to the top-left when the Kinema Citrus logo appears"."

NANACHI'S HIDEOUT

• This place was originally likely used to grow mushrooms long ago. It's described as "small for adults, but it is just the right size for Nanachi and Mitty."
• Shed fur collects in the storage annex because it hasn't been cleaned - Nanachi apparently sheds.
• There is an outside toilet. "Lots of grass grows where they pooped." Now you know.
• The entrance to Mitty's room looks like her. This is not intentional.
• Actually there's some great info on the rooms and such in the Doorbeetle Report 2 - I haven't replicated the full entry, just the more interesting parts. "Small for adults" my butt. >_>;

WHITE WHISTLES

• Tsukushi created the White Whistles "as if they all could be the final boss".
• [On embellishing Life Reverberating Stones] "Only a part of the association/guild and the White Whistles know the exact location. There is nothing on the surface that looks like it, and according to one theory, the place where it can be processed is in the Abyss."
• Tsukushi turned down writing a relationship chart between them because "it will be involved in the future". Whatever that means.
• White Whistle titles originate from "when a member of a White Whistle Delver team began calling them that for fun". There's no official process, it's just what ends up sticking by popular consent. "Sovereign of Glasses and Forehead", by this logic, is likeliest to become Riko's title. :)
• The keyhole in Lyza's whistle is probably useless and Tsukushi seems to have no plans for it. In response to a question about it, he said that if it's used in the future, it was because of "this" question.
• Whistle colors are inspired by the night sky's colors. Red whistles are associated with early morning. White whistles are special because they're not a part of the "night sky theme".
• "Who is Lyza's White Whistle?" -> "Ask Lyza, I don't know." Pretty sure he does, it's doubtful Doni won't ever be explained, so I guess he was dodging the question.
• Bondrewd's whistle can't "whistle" - it vibrates instead. "He uses it by enveloping it with both his hands. By hiding the true Bondrewd in darkness, it symbolizes that the other "Bondrewds" are just shadows."

FAPUTA

A small animation exists of her. I don't remember seeing this, personally, and am a little curious...

The story being based on the key visual for the event, which depicts the two perspectives one after another of Riko's squad, who depart from the Narehate village, and Ganja's squad, who had just arrived at the sixth layer.
Irumyuui picks up a pot, Ganja looks for ingredients and begin making the "Ganja stew." Since Irumyuui knows which are inedible mushrooms and which ones are edible mushrooms, they were able to make a splendid and delicious "Ganja stew." After that, the recipe improved over time and the "Ganja stew" was passed down to the residents of the Narehate village.
As generations went by, we follow Riko's squad. Faputa picks up a pot and Riko proposes to make the "Ganja stew" she heard about from the Narehate village. Riko, while struggling to differentiate between edible and inedible mushrooms, heard a voice coming from the pot, who taught her about the different kinds of mushrooms. After safely enjoying the delicious meal, Riko wondered whether the curious pot was a relic or not and named it "The Rationing Pot, Talking Lag Pot".

FORCE FIELD

• Nanachi can see the force field but cannot avoid its effects.
• The water supports in layer 5 are supported by the force field.
• On light: [Starting on the 3rd layer and lower, the light coming from below is actually stronger than the sunlight outside. Delvers intuitively understand that the light is probably coming from the sun. As Nanachi said, "The force field carries light to the subterranean world acting as the life blood of the Abyss and carrying nutrients everywhere." Exposure to this light has healing properties on a range of things. Incidentally, the light around the first layer is supposed to be approximate to sunset.]
• Regarding Faputa's "monster-repelling charm": [A Dread-Owle's "body fluid" has a sort of "structure" that interferes with the "insignia" of the force field, which is guided by the beasts living in the environment. This "insignia" is unique to each living creature, and whether they are aware of it or not, their mere presence imprints a faint mark on the force field. (Just a metaphor but think of it like a fingerprint on a force field.) Organisms that can perceive this can read the information in the force field more finely, and thus are thought to be able to track and select their prey. By spraying "body fluid" on the prey, the Dread-Owle disguises the prey's insignia as "somehow disgusting, negligible" and monopolizes it so that it cannot be found by predators. Interestingly, even if the body fluid is applied to the disguise of this insignia, such as "sebum and hair that has fallen from the prey," the effect extends to the "crest carved by the prey itself." It is not known whether this is unique to a Dread-Owle's body fluids or a property of the Abyss force field. The fluid is structurally capable of interfering with the insignia, so even if the Dread-Owle dies, it will continue to interfere with the insignia until the structure of the fluid is destroyed. Faputa uses this characteristic by intuitively understanding it from experience and observation.]
• On depth gauges: [Some of the minerals harvested in the Abyss differ depending on the depth of the layer they were mined in. Depth gauges make use of these minerals. Barometers cannot be used in the Abyss because of the force field. Within the device, the minerals change slightly to gas or back to solid. Of course, it can also be used to measure the depth in places other than the Abyss. The gauge used by Riko and Reg, which can measure quite deep, is a rare version of this. It's usually used by Black Whistles.]

My daughter is on a school trip to Washington D.C. and New York and their very first stop was the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum. She picked up a key ring as a gift for her father.
Unfortunately, the following day, she lost the key ring. Now she's crushed as the school group is already on their way through Pennsylvania and headed towards New York. No way they'll go back to the museum to get a replacement.
I checked the Smithsonian gift shop, eBay and even Amazon. No dice.
She didn't take a picture of it but she describes it as thus:

With red, white, and blue stars with the space ship

What caught her eye was how it "spins" in an unusual way and she wanted to surprise her (engineer) father and have him explain just how it spins.
It doesn't have a traditional keyring ring but uses an oval shaped ring with a threaded knob similar to similar to this one (Amazon link).
I tried calling the gift shop but it's just a message. I'm going to try and reach out to the email address and hope I'll reach a friendly staff member who can help.
Can anyone here can help me find a replacement or way to reach out to the gift shop?

Hello reader,
I hope you're doing well!
I'm in the market for a good (sturdy) tripod and a Gimbal Head to go with it.
I use the Sony A7iii with the Sony 200-600mm lens to go with it - this all totals 2.765 kilograms or 6.09lbs of weight.
My budget for both the tripod and gimbal is around £1,000 - £1,200. However, if there's good ones for cheaper, then even better, but I'd like to get durable items which will last years.
SIDE NOTE: I have seen a tripod I liked which is the 'Gitzo Series 3 4S Large Systematic Tripod'
Thanks for your help!

For context: AMAB, late 50s, NB (close enough), white (close enough), middle class, college-educated, in the US.
I made my first serious attempt at transition between 1988 and 1990. Desisted (more-or-less) around 2000, until I realized that the WPATH Standards of Care had caught up with me.
Things gatekeepers have written/pronounced/said to my face over the past 40-something years:

• you aren't a true transsexual because you get a sexual thrill from wearing women's clothing
• you aren't a true transsexual because you didn't play with dolls and want to wear pretty dresses when you were a (pre-sexual) child
• You aren't a true transsexual because you didn't suppress your gender identity disorder by going hard for "traditionally masculine" pursuits (this from a therapist who talked to me on the phone for 15 minutes, and declined to take me on as a client because he knew that all "true transsexuals" were either super effeminate gay men or Navy SEALs)
• you aren't a true transsexual because you don't want to wear high heels and false eyelashes (One of the only trans-friendly therapists in town was invited to speak at a short-lived TV/TS support group I attended sometime around 1990. She said said she could spot the "real transsexuals" in the room because they were the ones who "know how to apply false eyelashes and walk in heels". She also told us that she knew which of her clients were "real transsexuals" by checking to see if they'd left the seat up or down after using the toilet in her office).
• you aren't really transsexual because you are sexually attracted to women.
• you aren't really a transsexual because you don't hate your penis (the trans women I knew in the 1990s early 2000s warned each other about admitting to engaging in manual masturbation or to enjoying an "active role" during partnered sex)
• you aren't really a transsexual because you hate your penis too much (said that I wanted to get bottom surgery, but didn't want to socially transition)
• you aren't really transsexual because you haven't had "homosexual" experiences (same therapist told a trans woman I knew that she wasn't really transsexual because she'd lived as a gay man before her transition)
• you are a fetishistic pseudo-transsexual (and also neurotic) because you watch [t-slur] porn.
• real trans women would rather die than live as men
• real trans women "think like women" (one of my favorites -- this from the moderator of a TG message board in the early 2000s. Lots of "hear hear" and "Yeah. That's how you know!" responses from the other folks on that board. )
• real trans women look forward to the "Real Life Test", because it gives them permission to live as they have always wanted to live.
• there are no trans tomboys
• there are no trans butches
• Why cut it off, just so you can wear a strap-on?
• "[T-slur] women can't be feminist. Trans women are men who want to be the women that men want. Thats' why they call themselves sh*male." (In an email from the head of the LGBT Faculty Union, sent as a reply-to-all when one of the professors sent out a her "I am transtioning from male-to-female" announcement to the faculty and staff)
• [AMAB] Trans kids don't say "I want to be a girl" they say "I am girl"

I am guessing there might be down votes and corrections from folks who don't like the word "transsexual", even in quotation marks or as part of a literal quotation. To which I can only say: Happy Pride Month to you too.

Come on, I used the translator to write my question. I have a guitar that I used on the PS2 in Guitar Hero. If I buy a USB/PS2 adapter and use software to map the guitar's colors, can I use it at the festival? I mean map it as if it were an even simpler standard keyboard, right "df" "jk" Would it work? Has anyone already tested it? Thanks.

Just bought a 2024 MacBook. chuffed with it. Have used an old but souped up iMac for the 'brains' of my home music studio. But treated myself to a MacBook as needed something portable after my iPad went kaput.
As this is all new to me, are there any docks or at least manufacturers that are considerd the 'gold standard' that pretty much most people use. If there's any other 'gold standard' hardware / software etc people would reccomend id be eternally grateful.
As this will also be used with a small USB controller keyboard for anytime I go away and want to still make music. Ideas (& Dock recommendations) that would help that plan would be especially very handy - so I'm guessing the more the merrier both in number of and variety of ports the dock would have.
And for my last moon on a stick requirements the cheaper the better without scrimping on quality too much.
Cheers for any advice

Hello reader,
I hope you're doing well!
I'm in the market for a good (sturdy) tripod and a Gimbal Head to go with it.
I use the Sony A7iii with the Sony 200-600mm lens to go with it - this all totals 2.765 kilograms or 6.09lbs of weight.
My budget for both the tripod and gimbal is around £1,000 - £1,200. However, if there's good ones for cheaper, then even better, but I'd like to get durable items which will last years.
SIDE NOTE: I have seen a tripod I liked which is the 'Gitzo Series 3 4S Large Systematic Tripod'
Thanks for your help!

Long shory short. My partner died. We were together for 5 years, he was an alcoholic. I don't want to make this over emotional, just information for more context.
My friend's dad's has a new partner for few years and she had 3 kids. One of the boys, a teenager, had an accident on the day my partner died and died 3 days after my partner's death.
My friend, after I told her my partner died, continued to inform me about the boy's health on this day.
1.She didn't know him very well. She refered to them as (her dad's partner's name) KIDS. She has a miserable relationship with her father, she visited them rarely maybe twice a month, used to have arguments with her dad. She wasn't close to the kids nor her stepmom. 2. She knew I was devastated over my own tragedy and partner's death and she continued to tell me "they took him to hospital" "he is fighting for his life" during the day. I didn't know the boy and I really didn't need that information, I never saw him, SHE wasn't close to them, but she continued to shove this information down my throat when all I wanted was disappear and cry.
She told me some guy "comforted her" (because she flirts and texts with another guy while having a boyfriend) and she just said that "her brother died". Yes, she now refers to him as a brother, even though they were not family and never were close. But it seems more sad, right? If she said "its her stepmom's child" it wouldn't get so much compassion right?
Her boyfriend supported her "for 2 weeks". Yes, she had to admit it, that she needed support. Even though they were not close and not family related.
She texts me about something, I asked her "who's thing it is?" - "my brother's"
I didn't ask if she meant the boy who died, or the boy who is alive, HOWEVER, it pissess me off. They are not her brothers and it makes me feel like she makes this tragedy about herself. It's this boy's parent's tragedy. Her dad is not the parent of the child.
Today the last straw was the fact that she plans to make a tattoo in honor of this boy (they donated his organs).
It makes me feel like I am not grieving properly. I kinda moved on a little bit, I try to get better, however, I think my pain and grief is bigger because I was in a relationship with an addicted man, I tried to help him, he died alone, which causes guilt of course, I really loved him and always supported him. And she just continues to shove her "grief" down my throat day by day and this tragedy is not her's. She tries to make this tragedy her own, so people will tell her how sorry they are?
I lost it after information about tattoo. It's just BS to me. It's irrational, it's annoying and it makes me wonder what should I do to show people I am hurt too? Grieving is healing inside. Should I get a tattoo on my forehead now? I know I sound mean and I am not a supportive friend, but I think her bombarding me with information about this boy, after my tragedy, was not okay at all. I was a partner to this man for 5 years. I posted here on AlAnon for 2 years. I really tried to help. And now she spams me with her history about someone who she didn't had connection with. She tries to paint her body with a sad symbol so she will be heroic to people. It's just for attention and its not okay for me.
TLDR; My (24f) friend (24f) annoys me and makes her grief attention seeking

[Context: Still to read past the 2nd levels of Undermountain]
From the module:
"Rizzeryl works of two groups: house Auvryndar, a low-ranking drow house from Menzoberranzan that is slowly and secretly consolidatin its power in Undermountain, and the Zhentarim, which is trying to drive the Xanathar out of Skullport...The drow wizard and the wererats have no quarrel with adventurers who leave them alone...[Rizzeryl] refrains from divulging his allegiance to House Auvryndar. He will, however, reveal his allegiance to the Zhentarim in one or more characters identify themselves s members of the faction. If they need assistance, RIzzeryl urges such characters to seek out Booskyn Gorrb, a tiefling member of the Black Network who operates in Skullport. Rizzeryl also informs them that servants of Xanathar will allow safe passage to anyone who openly brandishes Xanathar's symbol (Rizzeryl himself uses a nonmagical wand with Xanathar symbol to move through Skullport unmolested."
Here's the situation with my campaign:

• Mad Mage has been added as an extension to Dragon Heist
• On the surface, each villain faction apart from the Xanathar is DONE; Jarlaxle is dead, Manshoon has been found and subdued, and the Casslanaters never got involved in the first place.
• The Face of the party is a loyal servant of Davil Starsong.
• The party's main tactic has been brandishing a faction symbol to get past security, get what they want, and then get out, sometimes avoiding combat altogether. It's how Nihiloor, Noska and Ahmeargo of the Xanathar are now dead, and how the party escaped Xanathar's lair once to rescue City Watch Captain Staget. So much so that I've made it so the Xanathar are taking measures against this, so I don't think Rizzeryl's advice would be helpful. The party's meddling MIGHT have even made Rizzeryl's life more difficult.
• Before death, Jarlaxle warned he had agents everywhere (this was intended to foreshadow a more powerful version of N'arl in the Xanathar)
• The party have caused mayhem for Xanathar outposts on Level 1 AND the Goblin bazaar on Level 2.
• The party have been captured, and feel forced to work for Shuun, to pick up Rizzeryl's key.
• The Barbarian player is actually controlled by a Xanathar Intellect devourer, and will carry out the key heist no matter what.
• Rizzeryl has NOT been telegraphed at all, not mentioned by Davil once so far.

I could go one of three ways with this:

1. Rizzeryl is loyal to Manshoon: Rizzeryl could pretend to offer allegiance in exchange for Shuun and Nadia's heads, with the intent to backstabbing them later; he knows of the existance of another Manshoon clone deeper in the Undermountain (secretly created by Halaster as a sick joke on adventurer's). Barbarian will not go against the Xanathar and will likely fight Rizzeryl and the party for the key.
2. Rizzeryl is loyal to Davil: Rizzeryl offers his full backing to The Face and informs them of Booskyn. Barbarian will not go against the Xanathar and will likely fight Rizzeryl and the party for the key.
3. Rizzeryl has been contacted by Jarlaxle: Similar to 1, except Rizzeryl's current goal is to resurrect Jarlaxle, after being assured Jarlaxle would "Make Auvryndar Great Again". Barbarian player lost a weapon to Bregan D'aerthe, and this would be a good time to bring it back, as this could be a gift from Jarlaxle to Rizzeryl. Haven't thought about how this would fly with (what I assume is) the matriarch of House Auvryndar.

Not sure which direction I want to go in...

My hands are trembling to the point where I've had to restart this several times. I'm a guy who doesn't scare easily, but this encounter has me shaking like a hit dog. I'm still sitting in my work truck, trying to work up the courage to step outside again. Worse, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to tell my boss what happened. I was already on thin ice with him, and this shit might cause me to break through to the freezing water below.
But fuck it, because this was weird.
I install cable for a living. I didn't have dreams of stringing cable when I was a little kid, but my previous life choices left me with few options. In high school, I fell in with the wrong crowd. It started with skipping school, sneaking alcohol at weekend parties, and some petty theft, but it didn't stay that way for long. Soon, I dropped out and dedicated my life to committing robberies to pay for my pill addiction. I wasn't living as much as I was running on a treadmill. I did whatever I could to stay on my feet but constantly felt myself slipping.
My bottom came when I was jumped by two guys who sold me pills. I had bought from them before and trusted them, but the feeling was not mutual. Someone had dimed a buddy of theirs out to the police, and he was looking at real jail time. They assumed it was me and beat me senseless.
I was greeted at the door with a punch to the jaw that sent me reeling. My brain, already addled and slowed by Oxi, was in the middle of putting together what was happening when the next punch caught me in the temple. I collapsed to the ground and covered my neck and face as best as I could. The next few minutes were a flurry of punches, kicks, and stomps. When it was all over, I had a broken jaw, a shattered wrist, several wounds that required fifty total stitches, and a concussion.
That's how I kicked my painkiller addiction.
I can joke now, but the next six months were the hardest in my life. The withdrawals I had were the worst thing I've ever experienced. Having them while I was recuperating from my injuries was a circle of hell I didn't think existed. I wanted to die most days and felt lost in the darkness. But sobriety was the beacon on the horizon. Even during my darkest moments, I could still see the fuzzy spark of white light off in the distance. It kept me going. Six months from my beat-down day, I came out the other side healthier but weaker.
I needed a job but had limited skills. Thankfully, I had a former pill buddy who managed to keep steady employment with the cable company. We always got along, and he called in a few favors and hooked me up. I got hired, but it was a struggle. Not the work, which was easy to learn, but dealing with the public without telling them to fuck off. Worse, was trying to avoid the flood of illegal substances that are around you at all times. Customers will offer you weed or pills for all the channels, or bored co-workers will have something to "make the day pass by." It's a lot to dodge, especially if you're in recovery. Whenever I felt the itch again, I'd feel the scar tissue from my wrist surgery, and the itch would pass.
The last week has been one of those "Shit, is it Friday yet?" weeks that seem to be growing in frequency these days. I don't want to bore you with the details, but needless to say, most nights, I needed to reach out to my sponsor and have them talk me off the ledge. We recently had a turnover at the executive level, and my new boss Rory was a tremendous cock. A rager at levels science hasn't ever seen before. Just the worst dude imaginable.
Part of Rory's new crusade was coming in and firing a bunch of guys. The company called it "checking for redundancies in the labor force," but we all knew what it was. He was picking off two classes of people: high earners and guys with spotty pasts. I was in the latter group and imagined it was just a matter of time before my number got pulled. I was on pins and needles all week. I made sure I was the greatest cable installer you'd ever meet. So far, I was getting high marks but the forced joviality was wearing thin.
It's safe to say my joy had left on a one-way ticket. I have no clue when—or if—she'd return.
Back to this shit. I had just finished up my last job of the day when my work phone started buzzing. I cursed and thought about not answering, but the threat of unemployment loomed too large for me to do that. I picked up and knew from the jump my day was far from over. Denise from dispatch asked if I could cover a job left hanging because of "scheduling conflicts" (see: the original installer had been let go). It was near where I was and was a simple install.
I gritted my teeth and agreed. I liked Denise and knew she was worried about the hammer falling on her, too. She thanked me profusely, and promised to bring me cookies tomorrow. Since she's a hellcat in the kitchen and getting close to a dispatcher never hurts, I said no worries. I hung up, balled up my jacket, and screamed into it. I felt better after that.
981 Maple Street was about five minutes away, but it felt like a world away. Maple Street was at the end of the neighborhood where large swaths of grass fields faded into a thicket of woods. The woods rose up into the foothills until they graduated to mountains. To borrow a phrase from Shel Silverstein, the house resided where the sidewalk ends.
The house, an off-white birdhouse ranch type, was a little run-down but no worse than any of the others that populated this neighborhood. This place had been hit hard by economic times, and property values had plummeted. It was slowly recovering. In five years, this would be a place most current residents wouldn’t be able to afford. The front yard had a large oak tree that looked amazing but had killed the grass under its canopy. The rest of the yard looked well cared for.
I knocked and heard a few voices talking on the other side of the door. It opened, and a man in his late 40s stood there with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. He was tall and thin, save for a middle-aged paunch. His face was starting to crinkle at the edges, but he was southern California middle-aged, which meant he was holding up pretty well. He did look tired, though—the bags under his eyes were full-on steamer trunks.
"You with the cable company?" he asked, knowing I was.
I nodded. "You requested an install, right?"
"Yes, I did. Please, come in."
He opened the door wide, and I walked in. The house was pretty bare with a bachelor pad aesthetic. That didn't make much sense since I heard a female voice talking to him. I assumed it was his wife. I believe in a lot of wild shit, but to think that a wife would be fine with their house decorated like a 23-year-old bachelor lived there was a bridge too far.
"I'm Tom," the guy said, extending his hand. I shook it. "What did you need from my end?"
"Do you know if there was a previous hookup here?"
"Ugh, yeah. There is one in this room and another in the back bedroom."
"Okay. I should put the modem in a spot that'll hit the whole house. The signal can get wonky if it's in a room behind a wall or bricks or anything."
"This room is probably the best spot then," he said.
"Perfect. I have to get under the house, check the old connections, and replace some parts. Where's your hatch to get under the house?"
"Oh, it's around back. You can exit out this side door and walk through the backyard. It's on the eastern side. You might need a screwdriver to remove the grate. Do you need one?"
I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket and showed him. "I should be good. Thank you, though."
"I should've guessed you'd have one."
"I appreciate your concern. Is there anything in the backyard I should be worried about? Dogs? Kids? Wild dogs? Wild kids?"
It was standard banter, and it always got a chuckle out of people. Same thing happened here. "Nothing to worry about," he said. "You should be good."
"Alright. I'll get started so you can get online as soon as possible."
"Great! If you need anything, I'll be doing some work in the back bedroom."
I nodded and headed for the side door. The dining room door led to the pie wedge-shaped backyard, which was larger in the back than the front made it look. The grass was as cooked as its kin in the front, but islands of green weeds seemed to be thriving. In the corner of the lot, an old metal shed stood, rusted to the point where I assumed divine intervention kept it standing. It seemed to have been there since the house had been built – or maybe several decades before.
When I turned the corner of the house, I spotted a woman and child staring into the corner of the yard, their backs facing me. The Woman wore a faded blue dress that fit her well. Tom had, it seemed, out-kicked his coverage with her. I didn't want to startle them, so I offered a friendly "hello" to the pair. The kid started to turn, but the mother placed a hand on their shoulder and kept their heads facing away from me. I squinted along the treeline, trying to see what they were concentrating on, but I didn't see anything unusual.
Just wanting to be done with the job, I let them be and moved on. I turned another corner to the house's short side and spotted the grate leading to the crawlspace. The grate looked as old as the shed, and I wasn't sure I would even need the screwdriver to open it. Hell, I was sure the thing would disintegrate in my hands as soon as I touched it.
I crouched and was about to pull it off when I heard something rustling near me. I glanced back to where I had seen the mom and kid, but they were gone. I assumed I had heard them leaving. I pulled the grate off – I was right, no screwdriver necessary – and as I set it aside, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
It was the kid. A boy around eight or so. But they weren't staring at me exactly. They were looking away from me, staring up at the roof line. I found it odd. Clearly, the kid wanted to talk to me but had turned their back on me. I coughed to let them know that I knew they were there, but they didn't respond.
"Hey man, what's up there?" I said.
"Nothing nice," he said, still keeping their gaze away from me.
"Oh," I said, "Not going to hurt me, is it?"
"Maybe," he said.
Not the answer I was expecting. "What is it?"
"They told me you'd know soon enough."
As he said that, I felt something crawling across my hand. I pulled my hand away from the house and shook it. I saw a spider land in a pile of leaves and scurry away. I let out a nervous laugh. I'm not scared of spiders or anything, but the shock of being told some unseen thing was watching me and didn't look pleased, coupled with the sensation of something on my skin, was enough to justify a quickened heartbeat.
I looked back at where the kid had been standing, but he was gone. I chalked it up to kids being little weirdos and went back to work. The faster I could get this installation done, the quicker I could go home and smoke a bowl. I let Kush be my guide. I put up my hood, turned on my small flashlight, and shimmied through the opening under the house.
I know guys who've worked for the company for years and still dread going into a crawl space. Granted, it's not my favorite thing to do, but I don't mind either. The bugs can be a nuisance but if you don't bother them, they tend to not bother you. Same with rats and mice. Raccoons, though? I crawl out and call animal control. Those little dudes are cute but nasty as all get out. My path today was nothing but cobwebs, so I was okay.
I flashed my light around and saw where the cable line went up into the living room floor. My job here was to ensure the coaxial line's integrity was still good. If it had been chewed on or anything, I'd replace it. Sometimes, I just replaced it anyway—saving myself a potential job later down the line.
I crawled over to where the line came in from the pedestal and started my once-over. I not only looked for any damage but also ran the line through my hands to make sure my eyes didn't miss anything. I was under the dining room area when I heard that side door close.
I stopped. Tom said something, but it was muffled. I wanted to be nosy, so I waited a beat to hear if anyone spoke back to him. Someone did. It was soft and quiet – I assumed it was the Boy – and I didn't make out what they asked, but I did hear Tom's response. In a firm voice, he said, "No, not right now. Run along."
There were footsteps over me that faded into another section of the home. Tom said, "He always wants to jump the gun. How many times do I have to tell him?"
I suppressed a laugh at the last line. It's the official father's lament. I kept moving my hand down the line and didn't feel nicks along the cable. In fact, on closer inspection, the line looked almost new. I was planning to change it, but this looked like it had been installed last week.
I could hear someone walk into the living room as I reached the spot where the line went through the house. Another pair of footsteps followed the first, and I heard a breathy but detached woman's voice ask, "Can we show our faces now?"
"I just told the boy 'no.' What makes you any different?" Tom said, an edge to his voice.
A chill raced through my body. I knew those words, but this conversation made me feel like I spoke another language. Can we show our faces? Why would you not?
"Do you think he'll see us?"
"If I have my way," he said, not finishing that thought. "Leave me be. I must try to get some things done before he leaves, and you two keep bothering me."
What did Tom mean to get some things done before I left? What did he have in mind? While trying to process all this, I heard something shuffle in the darkness just beyond my flashlight beam. I moved it around, trying to see the telltale glowing eyes of varmints, but nothing flashed back at me.
I heard something shuffling again, this time down by my feet. I cocked my head as best as I could and shone the flashlight into that corner of the house but, again, there wasn't anything else down here but me and a thousand spiders. I sighed and finished my inspection of the wire.
As I turned to crawl back out from under the house, I heard somebody sneaking around on the floor above me. The wood groaned as the person moved slowly. I wasn't sure what they were doing, but they wanted to keep it a secret. A shadow fell over the pinprick of light from where the cable went into the house. Someone was standing over it.
"Can you hear them down there? Moving in the dark?" It was the Boy. “They like the dark.”
"What are you saying?"
"The little shadows," he said, "They live down there. Do you hear them?"
This kid was creepy as hell. "I, ugh, I can't hear you, dude," I said, inching my body away from the wire, "We can talk inside."
"They're going to get you, but that's okay," he said, "It only hurts for a little bit, and then you're fine."
Fuck. That. I had no desire to respond to that nightmare of a statement. I hastened my inch-worming, heading back towards the open hatch. As I did, I heard more movement in the darkness around me. I tried to ignore it, but it was a fool's gambit. It was impossible to ignore.
I was getting closer to the opening when I saw a pair of tiny legs walk in front of the hatch. It was the Boy. How did he get there so quickly and without me hearing him run on the floor? I didn't have time to run through the scientific method because the Boy leaned down and placed the metal grate back over the hatch.
"Hey! Hey!" I yelled. "I'm still under here!"
The Boy didn't stop. Instead, he placed a trashcan in front of the grate, enshrouding the entire crawlspace in darkness and trapping me inside.
"Hey! I need you to move that!" I screamed. No response. I raised my fist as high as possible and punched the floor above me to hopefully get Tom’s attention. That was a mistake, as I managed to punch straight into an old nail. I felt it puncture in between my knuckles. The pain was instant, and I let out a howl.
I shook my hand and swore a blue streak. I reached up with my other hand, felt the tip of the nail I had managed to punch, and found a flat spot next to it. I banged hard on the floor and yelled again for some help. Nobody responded. Not at first.
Then I heard someone chuckle under the house.
I couldn't locate where it had come from because it sounded like it was all around me. I swung my light around as best as I could but didn't see anything. No glowing eyes, nothing. I inched forward a bit, and someone laughed again – this time, it was to my right. I turned my light in that direction and saw a sudden flood of light fill the space under the house.
"What the hell?" I said, my desire to leave overtaken by a desire to know what was unfolding next to me.
A pair of kid legs dropped down from the hole in the floor. I realized then that the hole must be an interior crawlspace. The kid had blocked off the metal grate and opened this hatch for some reason. While he dropped his legs down, he didn't move any further.
"Hey, you have to open that metal grate," I yelled. "I don't want to be trapped down here."
"They told me they needed you," he said, followed by a slight chuckle.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said, not caring that I was talking to a child. "Open the goddamn grate!"
"The shadows are approaching," he said, pulling himself back into the house. He placed the lid back on the hole, and I was trapped in the dark again. I cursed to myself and started pounding on the floor again.
"Hey! Someone come help me!"
That's when I felt something run across my legs. I nearly jumped out of my skin. It didn't feel like the tiny claws of a passing rat. It was cold to the touch, but as it hit my skin, I felt a burn in my bones. It's hard to explain, but I felt both extremes simultaneously. Whatever it was skittered off into the darkness of the other side of the crawl space.
The kid started laughing again, which brought me back to reality. I army crawled as fast as I could to the grate. I balled up my fist and punched in the middle of the metal. The blow knocked the old nails out of the wall, and the grate broke up. I was about to push away the garbage can when it suddenly wheeled out of the way.
I saw Tom's legs standing there.
"You okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.
I got out from under the house so fast that I left a me-sized dirt cloud in my place. Once out, I shook my body loose as if I had things crawling all over me. Tom watched but didn't say anything at first. We finally locked eyes, and he could see the rage, fear, and confusion on my face. He wisely waited until I spoke first.
"What the hell is wrong with your kid? He blocked me under there and taunted me from the indoor crawlspace."
"What are you talking about?"
"He told me the shadow people or something were watching, and then he blocked me under the house!"
Tom's face twisted up into confusion. "I...I don't understand."
"I can't make it any simpler, Tom!" I screamed, letting unprofessionalism take root.
"I don't have a kid."
It hit me like an Ali right cross. My vision got dizzy, and I struggled to catch my breath. I stared at his face, looking for the sign of a lie or a joke, but he was as stone-faced as an Easter Island statue. After a beat, I found my sense again. "I heard you talking to him in the living room when I was under the house."
"One, I was on a phone call. Two, are you spying on me? What the hell, man?"
"I wasn't spying, and you weren't on the phone," I said. I also heard you talking to your wife. She asked you if she could show her face or something."
"I don't have a wife either."
I shook my head. "I fucking saw them in the backyard! They were staring at the fence!"
Tom paused and cocked his head to the side. When he spoke, it was softly, trying to calm me down. "Are you...did you have a few drinks before the appointment? Or a pill or something? No judging – I know pill heads. I won't report you or anything, but I understand if you need to come back tomorrow with a clearer head."
"I'm sober," I said, gritting my teeth. "But I know what I saw. What I heard."
"As the tree said to the lumberjack, I'm stumped," Tom said. "You look a little flush. You want a bottle of water or something? I can show you I'm here all alone."
My adrenaline had seeped out of my body, and I was starting to feel like myself again. I nodded at Tom, and he smiled. "I'll go grab you one. Do you want to come into the AC?"
"No, I'm okay. I need to double-check the connection to the pedestal."
"Sure. Be bright back," Tom said as he walked off.
But I had no intention of checking the connections. I was going to check on Tom. I didn't believe him at all. Something weird was going on, and I needed to know what. As soon as he turned the corner around the house, I broke out my flashlight and headed back to the crawlspace.
I dropped to the ground and shone my beam into the darkness. Something had crawled on me, and I wanted to see what it was. I moved my light into every section of the crawlspace but saw no eyes glowing back at me.
"If you're under there, call back."
There was nothing. I was starting to feel like a paranoid idiot. I called out once again just to be sure, but again, nothing called back. I shut off my light and sighed. I started pushing myself back to my feet when I heard a faint woman's voice call out, "Can we show our faces now?"
"Not yet," someone hissed from the trees above me. I snapped my head up, expecting to see someone hanging on a branch over my head, but I just saw green leaves.
"Can we show our faces now?" It was the Boy. It sounded like he was on the roof. I shielded my eyes and glanced at the roof but didn't see him.
"No. He's not ready yet," someone whispered in my ear. I snapped around, throwing a punch as I did, only to slam my fist into the fence. I felt one of my knuckles crack as it hit the wood, and the pain shot up my arm like lightning. Within seconds, my hand started to puff up, and blood dripped out the wounds.
The Boy chuckled again. It came from under the house. I looked down at the grate and saw his legs disappear into the darkness.
"Hey!" I called and dropped to the ground. I pulled out my flashlight and shone into the darkness again. I was confident I'd see him, but he wasn't there. Nobody was.
I sat up and felt goosebumps turn my arms into braille. I glanced over to the corner of the house and was surprised to see the disappearing hemline of the faded blue dress. I rushed over to the corner and didn't see the Woman. I saw Tom with a bottle of water.
"You okay?"
"Where did that woman go?" I asked, my voice panicking. "She was just here."
"Sir, do you need me to call your boss for you? You're starting to scare me."
"What's up with this house? Is it haunted?"
Tom started laughing. "I hope not. I just moved in. I'd hate to have roommates again, especially ones who leave ectoplasm all over the place."
As I stared at him, I saw the Woman and the Boy emerge from the other corner of the house. They looked up on the roof, their faces obscured by their hands and the sun. I pointed a finger at them and screamed, "They're right there!"
Tom spun around and looked, but there wasn't anything there. He turned back to me, not sure what to say. Instead, he handed me the bottle of water. "I gotta be honest. I didn't see anything. Drink the water...you might have heat stroke."
I threw the bottle on the ground. "I don't have fucking heat stroke. I have a man that's lying about these things." I got close to him. "What did you have planned for me? Why do they keep asking to show their faces?"
"I don't," he said, but I didn't stay to hear him finish his thought. I walked right past him and turned the corner of the house. As I did, I saw the blue hem disappear through the door that led to the kitchen. I followed right behind her.
I walked into the house, which was as silent as a corpse. The Woman and Boy were nowhere to be seen. "Hello?" I called out. "I just saw you guys walk in here. Where are you?"
The door behind me opened up. Tom walked in, his face reddening with anger. "You can't just walk into my house."
"I saw them walk in. Where are they?"
"I keep telling you, it's just me and you here. Now, if you want to finish your work…."
I walked away from him and headed toward the bedroom where I had seen the Boy standing. I wanted to check that crawl space. The room was empty, not even a moving box in there, so finding the hatch that led under the house was easy. I went into the closet and pried the hatch open.
Tom entered the room behind me, more confused now than angry. "I don't want a line run through here."
"The Boy was standing in this spot. I saw his legs. I spoke to him. He told me the shadows needed me for something." I glared down into the darkness under the house. Despite Tom's feigned declarations that there wasn't another person in the house, I knew he wasn't being honest.
"Okay, I'm pretty sure you're back on pills and in the middle of a delusion," he said.
"How did you know I had a pill addiction?"
"The way you're acting, it wasn't a hard guess."
"I'm sober, but I did have a problem with pills. I never told you. I don't tell anyone."
Tom stood there, confused about how to answer. I stood up and stared him down. He looked away, but I didn't move my gaze. "Who are you? Who put you up to this? Was it Rory? He trying to get me fired?"
Tom's shoulders sagged. "You got me," he said. "Rory hired me to get you in trouble. I'm... I'm sorry. He offered me free cable for a year and assured me you were a bad guy and, well…. I'm weak."
"That's really fuc…," I stopped. "You're lying. Right now. You're lying. Why?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dash past the open crawlspace hatch. I turned to the hatch opening and then back to Tom.
"Are you trying to stop me from looking in there?"
He didn't respond.
"What's under there?"
"He is," he said. "The Boy. He hides under there all the time. He has...friends down there."
"The shadow people?"
Tom shrugged, "What he calls them. I call them a menace. Impossible to get my work done with them causing a racket."
"What work?"
"Things you'd never understand in a million years," he said, "Things beyond your brain's capacity to imagine. Things that will help usher in a new world. Your kind's time is coming to a close. My work represents the new order."
I stared at him. I wasn't sure if I should run away or punch his lights out. Instead, I just spat out, "Bro, what the fuck?"
"Can we show our faces now?" the Boy called out from under the house.
I looked down at the hatch and then back at Tom. He nodded toward the opening. "Do you want to see your future?"
"Fuck it," I said. I got down, grabbed the sides of the opening, and lowered my head under the house.
I kept my eyes closed for a second, assuming I'd either see something horrifying or something would hit me in the face. When nothing struck me, I opened my eyes. It was dark, and I couldn't make out anything.
"There's nothing under here," I said.
"Can we show our faces now?" said the Boy from somewhere under the house.
"Show him," Tom said.
I sat back up, grabbed my flashlight from my pocket, and flipped it on. I looked at Tom, "If you try anything, so help me, God."
Tom just smiled. I looked back down at the hatch and sighed. I was suddenly hit with a bolt of common sense. What was I doing? My internal alarms were going off and I was ignoring them. Curiosity had gotten me this far, but my fight instincts were starting to lose to my flight. No job was worth this.
"Man, fuck this," I said, reversing course and standing. I turned to confront Tom, but he was gone. I hadn't heard him leave, but there wasn't a trace of him there. "Tom? Where the hell are you?"
He didn't respond, and I decided that I had hit my "weird shit" quota for the day. I closed the closet door and headed back into the living room to grab my gear. I'd call dispatch and tell them someone else had to come out and finish the….
The wood floor cracked, splintered, and gave way when I put my weight on it. I fell through the floor and landed with a thud on the dirt in the crawl space. On the way down, I hit my ribs on a crossbeam and heard them crack and knock the wind out of me. As I lay on the dirt, writhing in pain, my lungs did their damnedest to find a breath. It couldn't, and my vision started to blur at the edges. For a fleeting few seconds, I envisioned my death on a dirty crawlspace floor. It wasn’t comforting.
I rolled onto my back and finally took in a massive gulp of life-saving air. The blurring vision subsided, and all that remained was the aching pain of a busted rib. My muscles around my rib cage spasmed and pulled tight against my lungs. After the initial big breath, I could only take shallow gulps because the pain was searing.
I lay there for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts, when I felt something skitter across my legs again. I kicked out of instinct but didn't hit anything. Instead, I heard the chuckling again. My flashlight had fallen out of my hand. I found it and turned it on.
This time, I did see something. Pairs of eyes—dozens of them—watched me from the darkness that surrounded me. These weren't possums or rats. I never hoped to find a raccoon under the house more than I did at that moment. I knew whatever these things were, they weren't natural and they wanted to harm me.
"Still want to know what they plan to do to you?" the Boy asked from behind me.
I turned around and shone the light where I heard the voice. The Boy was lying on his stomach, his face looking down at the ground. All I could see at the moment was the top of his head.
"Wha-what's going on?" I said, the light bouncing from my trembling hand.
"I can show you my face now," he said. He raised his head and….
The Boy didn't have a face.
He had the space for a face, but there were no features whatsoever—nothing but pale pink skin pulled tight across the front of his head. At that moment, the image of a wooden art figure came to me.
“What the ever-loving fuck?"
"Want to see something really scary?" the Boy said, his lack of a mouth not stopping him from speaking. He raised himself onto the tips of his fingers and toes and started skittering toward me, laughing as he did.
I clambered out of the crawlspace as fast as my battered body could carry me. I got out of the hole and onto my feet and let out an ear-splitting scream.
The Woman in the blue dress was standing next to the hole in the floor. Like the Boy, she didn't have a face either. But I could feel her eyes on me. Looking into my mind. Into my soul. She stepped toward me, and I bolted for the front door.
I whipped it open and was greeted by Tom standing there, blocking me. He grinned. "Leaving so soon?"
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, checking behind me to see if the Woman was still coming toward me. She was, and she was gaining quickly.
"Can we show our faces now?" he asked with a laugh.
I turned back to Tom and nearly had a heart attack. His face was gone. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. My legs were jelly, but I kept myself propped up. The human desire to survive can perform miracles.
Tom reached out and pointed at a spot on the far side of the living room wall. I turned and saw three skinned human faces hanging from old nails: a man, a woman, and a boy.
"You're turn to join us," Tom whispered. But the voice wasn't said out loud. It came from inside my own head. "We can always use another body around here."
My brain clicked into action and sent an all-points bulletin to my limbs. The message was simple and actionable – "Get the fuck going, you dope."
I felt my hand ball into a fist and spun. It landed where Tom's nose would've been. It should've knocked him back, causing him to stumble and giving me time to run. But that didn't happen. Instead, his face pulled apart, letting my fist slide right through. It closed on my arm, trapping me.
I yanked and yanked, but my arm would not dislodge from his face. I glanced back and saw the Woman nearly next to me. The Boy was climbing out of the hole, moving like a cockroach. I looked back at the wall and saw Tom's hanging face silently laughing.
Something about those silent laughs cut me to my core. They were laughing because Tom thought he had outsmarted me. He had beat me. That my face would soon be hanging on the wall next to theirs. I wasn't going to let that happen.
I saw a loose brick on the walkway, and a plan flashed in my mind. I yanked hard, sending Tom stuttering forward enough for me to wrap my finger around the brick. I brought it up and sent it towards his face. As expected, the face parted again, and the brick flew through easily.
But as soon as the face curtains pulled aside, I yanked my arm free. With my limb free, I took off in a mad sprint for my truck. I got inside and fumbled my keys as I tried to start the engine. Tom, the Woman, and the Boy stood together at the front door and watched as I got the van going and rocketed down the street.
I drove like a madman for ten minutes, trying to put as much space between me and the house as possible. I finally stopped at a gas station to collect my thoughts. I was jittery, and my mind was swimming, but I was also relieved. I had gotten out.
I collected myself and called Denise to tell her I couldn't finish the installation at 981 Maple Street. I was going to suggest we cancel the order and not send another installer there. That's when the conversation took a turn I wasn't expecting.
"Where have you been? You were supposed to be off an hour ago," Denise said when I called her.
"I was trying to finish the install at 981 Maple, the one you sent me to."
"I didn't send you anywhere," she said. "With how insane Rory is being about overtime hours, I'm trying to keep everyone below the threshold."
"What are you talking about? You called and asked me. You don't remember," I said, a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.
She gave me a nervous chuckle, "I swear I didn't. Are you feeling okay? You gotta come back. People are waiting for the van."
"I can prove it. I have a record of you calling me on my phone," I said. I opened my call log, and my jaw dropped. There was no call from Denise. She was telling me the truth. But if she didn't call me, who did?
"Rory wants to talk to you when you get in. I wouldn't mess around, he seems pissed" she said before hanging up.
I haven't moved since. I wanted to write this down because I felt like it needed to be recorded. Something supremely fucked up is happening at 981 Maple Street. It nearly got me. It still might. To think, on any other typical day, a surprise conversation with my boss would be the scariest thing that could happen to me. Funny how seeing a faceless ghoul can prioritize your problems. If you're hired to do work there, turn it down. Trust me, it's not worth it.
"Can we show our faces now?" they asked. "Fuck no," should be the only response.

Hello fellow primates! I just joined this group and I thought a great way to introduce myself would be to share my story of how I went from being a christian since I was a child to an agnostic atheist as an adult.
I am currently 23 years old, and I remember some of my earliest childhood memories being centered around religion when I was a toddler watching veggietales. I remember going to church every weekend and going to church camps every summer and having an overwhelming feeling of peace and security and joy and genuinely feeling like I was being led by a loving deity, and being taught that all other religions and ideas were incorrect, including an anti-evolution song that I learned in elementary school. I had some of my doubts here and there, but I stayed steadfast and continued to rely solely on faith (and faulty christians apologetics) to keep myself invested in the Bible and its teachings.
It wasn’t until I was 18 where the doubtful thoughts couldn’t be blocked out by faith alone, and I had the continuous thought in my head: “is any of this really TRUE…?”. This then prompted me to actually do research on the subjects I was told were wrong, including other religions, the Big Bang, evolution etc.
After doing this research, I was shocked and amazed to see the overwhelming amount of evidence for the science I was told wasn’t real, and I thought to myself “holy shit… I was lied to my entire life”. Not too long after I learned more about science, I have since then become an agnostic atheist, and I use that term specifically because I don’t make the statement “there is not god” but rather “I am personally not convinced that a god exists”. I am open to seeing evidence for a deity existing, but with everything I’ve learned, I see no evidence for the existence of ANY deity. I’d love to read some of your comments and have discourse with all of you as well :)

My hands are trembling to the point where I've had to restart this several times. I'm a guy who doesn't scare easily, but this encounter has me shaking like a hit dog. I'm still sitting in my work truck, trying to work up the courage to step outside again. Worse, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to tell my boss what happened. I was already on thin ice with him, and this shit might cause me to break through to the freezing water below.
But fuck it, because this was weird.
I install cable for a living. I didn't have dreams of stringing cable when I was a little kid, but my previous life choices left me with few options. In high school, I fell in with the wrong crowd. It started with skipping school, sneaking alcohol at weekend parties, and some petty theft, but it didn't stay that way for long. Soon, I dropped out and dedicated my life to committing robberies to pay for my pill addiction. I wasn't living as much as I was running on a treadmill. I did whatever I could to stay on my feet but constantly felt myself slipping.
My bottom came when I was jumped by two guys who sold me pills. I had bought from them before and trusted them, but the feeling was not mutual. Someone had dimed a buddy of theirs out to the police, and he was looking at real jail time. They assumed it was me and beat me senseless.
I was greeted at the door with a punch to the jaw that sent me reeling. My brain, already addled and slowed by Oxi, was in the middle of putting together what was happening when the next punch caught me in the temple. I collapsed to the ground and covered my neck and face as best as I could. The next few minutes were a flurry of punches, kicks, and stomps. When it was all over, I had a broken jaw, a shattered wrist, several wounds that required fifty total stitches, and a concussion.
That's how I kicked my painkiller addiction.
I can joke now, but the next six months were the hardest in my life. The withdrawals I had were the worst thing I've ever experienced. Having them while I was recuperating from my injuries was a circle of hell I didn't think existed. I wanted to die most days and felt lost in the darkness. But sobriety was the beacon on the horizon. Even during my darkest moments, I could still see the fuzzy spark of white light off in the distance. It kept me going. Six months from my beat-down day, I came out the other side healthier but weaker.
I needed a job but had limited skills. Thankfully, I had a former pill buddy who managed to keep steady employment with the cable company. We always got along, and he called in a few favors and hooked me up. I got hired, but it was a struggle. Not the work, which was easy to learn, but dealing with the public without telling them to fuck off. Worse, was trying to avoid the flood of illegal substances that are around you at all times. Customers will offer you weed or pills for all the channels, or bored co-workers will have something to "make the day pass by." It's a lot to dodge, especially if you're in recovery. Whenever I felt the itch again, I'd feel the scar tissue from my wrist surgery, and the itch would pass.
The last week has been one of those "Shit, is it Friday yet?" weeks that seem to be growing in frequency these days. I don't want to bore you with the details, but needless to say, most nights, I needed to reach out to my sponsor and have them talk me off the ledge. We recently had a turnover at the executive level, and my new boss Rory was a tremendous cock. A rager at levels science hasn't ever seen before. Just the worst dude imaginable.
Part of Rory's new crusade was coming in and firing a bunch of guys. The company called it "checking for redundancies in the labor force," but we all knew what it was. He was picking off two classes of people: high earners and guys with spotty pasts. I was in the latter group and imagined it was just a matter of time before my number got pulled. I was on pins and needles all week. I made sure I was the greatest cable installer you'd ever meet. So far, I was getting high marks but the forced joviality was wearing thin.
It's safe to say my joy had left on a one-way ticket. I have no clue when—or if—she'd return.
Back to this shit. I had just finished up my last job of the day when my work phone started buzzing. I cursed and thought about not answering, but the threat of unemployment loomed too large for me to do that. I picked up and knew from the jump my day was far from over. Denise from dispatch asked if I could cover a job left hanging because of "scheduling conflicts" (see: the original installer had been let go). It was near where I was and was a simple install.
I gritted my teeth and agreed. I liked Denise and knew she was worried about the hammer falling on her, too. She thanked me profusely, and promised to bring me cookies tomorrow. Since she's a hellcat in the kitchen and getting close to a dispatcher never hurts, I said no worries. I hung up, balled up my jacket, and screamed into it. I felt better after that.
981 Maple Street was about five minutes away, but it felt like a world away. Maple Street was at the end of the neighborhood where large swaths of grass fields faded into a thicket of woods. The woods rose up into the foothills until they graduated to mountains. To borrow a phrase from Shel Silverstein, the house resided where the sidewalk ends.
The house, an off-white birdhouse ranch type, was a little run-down but no worse than any of the others that populated this neighborhood. This place had been hit hard by economic times, and property values had plummeted. It was slowly recovering. In five years, this would be a place most current residents wouldn’t be able to afford. The front yard had a large oak tree that looked amazing but had killed the grass under its canopy. The rest of the yard looked well cared for.
I knocked and heard a few voices talking on the other side of the door. It opened, and a man in his late 40s stood there with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. He was tall and thin, save for a middle-aged paunch. His face was starting to crinkle at the edges, but he was southern California middle-aged, which meant he was holding up pretty well. He did look tired, though—the bags under his eyes were full-on steamer trunks.
"You with the cable company?" he asked, knowing I was.
I nodded. "You requested an install, right?"
"Yes, I did. Please, come in."
He opened the door wide, and I walked in. The house was pretty bare with a bachelor pad aesthetic. That didn't make much sense since I heard a female voice talking to him. I assumed it was his wife. I believe in a lot of wild shit, but to think that a wife would be fine with their house decorated like a 23-year-old bachelor lived there was a bridge too far.
"I'm Tom," the guy said, extending his hand. I shook it. "What did you need from my end?"
"Do you know if there was a previous hookup here?"
"Ugh, yeah. There is one in this room and another in the back bedroom."
"Okay. I should put the modem in a spot that'll hit the whole house. The signal can get wonky if it's in a room behind a wall or bricks or anything."
"This room is probably the best spot then," he said.
"Perfect. I have to get under the house, check the old connections, and replace some parts. Where's your hatch to get under the house?"
"Oh, it's around back. You can exit out this side door and walk through the backyard. It's on the eastern side. You might need a screwdriver to remove the grate. Do you need one?"
I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket and showed him. "I should be good. Thank you, though."
"I should've guessed you'd have one."
"I appreciate your concern. Is there anything in the backyard I should be worried about? Dogs? Kids? Wild dogs? Wild kids?"
It was standard banter, and it always got a chuckle out of people. Same thing happened here. "Nothing to worry about," he said. "You should be good."
"Alright. I'll get started so you can get online as soon as possible."
"Great! If you need anything, I'll be doing some work in the back bedroom."
I nodded and headed for the side door. The dining room door led to the pie wedge-shaped backyard, which was larger in the back than the front made it look. The grass was as cooked as its kin in the front, but islands of green weeds seemed to be thriving. In the corner of the lot, an old metal shed stood, rusted to the point where I assumed divine intervention kept it standing. It seemed to have been there since the house had been built – or maybe several decades before.
When I turned the corner of the house, I spotted a woman and child staring into the corner of the yard, their backs facing me. The Woman wore a faded blue dress that fit her well. Tom had, it seemed, out-kicked his coverage with her. I didn't want to startle them, so I offered a friendly "hello" to the pair. The kid started to turn, but the mother placed a hand on their shoulder and kept their heads facing away from me. I squinted along the treeline, trying to see what they were concentrating on, but I didn't see anything unusual.
Just wanting to be done with the job, I let them be and moved on. I turned another corner to the house's short side and spotted the grate leading to the crawlspace. The grate looked as old as the shed, and I wasn't sure I would even need the screwdriver to open it. Hell, I was sure the thing would disintegrate in my hands as soon as I touched it.
I crouched and was about to pull it off when I heard something rustling near me. I glanced back to where I had seen the mom and kid, but they were gone. I assumed I had heard them leaving. I pulled the grate off – I was right, no screwdriver necessary – and as I set it aside, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
It was the kid. A boy around eight or so. But they weren't staring at me exactly. They were looking away from me, staring up at the roof line. I found it odd. Clearly, the kid wanted to talk to me but had turned their back on me. I coughed to let them know that I knew they were there, but they didn't respond.
"Hey man, what's up there?" I said.
"Nothing nice," he said, still keeping their gaze away from me.
"Oh," I said, "Not going to hurt me, is it?"
"Maybe," he said.
Not the answer I was expecting. "What is it?"
"They told me you'd know soon enough."
As he said that, I felt something crawling across my hand. I pulled my hand away from the house and shook it. I saw a spider land in a pile of leaves and scurry away. I let out a nervous laugh. I'm not scared of spiders or anything, but the shock of being told some unseen thing was watching me and didn't look pleased, coupled with the sensation of something on my skin, was enough to justify a quickened heartbeat.
I looked back at where the kid had been standing, but he was gone. I chalked it up to kids being little weirdos and went back to work. The faster I could get this installation done, the quicker I could go home and smoke a bowl. I let Kush be my guide. I put up my hood, turned on my small flashlight, and shimmied through the opening under the house.
I know guys who've worked for the company for years and still dread going into a crawl space. Granted, it's not my favorite thing to do, but I don't mind either. The bugs can be a nuisance but if you don't bother them, they tend to not bother you. Same with rats and mice. Raccoons, though? I crawl out and call animal control. Those little dudes are cute but nasty as all get out. My path today was nothing but cobwebs, so I was okay.
I flashed my light around and saw where the cable line went up into the living room floor. My job here was to ensure the coaxial line's integrity was still good. If it had been chewed on or anything, I'd replace it. Sometimes, I just replaced it anyway—saving myself a potential job later down the line.
I crawled over to where the line came in from the pedestal and started my once-over. I not only looked for any damage but also ran the line through my hands to make sure my eyes didn't miss anything. I was under the dining room area when I heard that side door close.
I stopped. Tom said something, but it was muffled. I wanted to be nosy, so I waited a beat to hear if anyone spoke back to him. Someone did. It was soft and quiet – I assumed it was the Boy – and I didn't make out what they asked, but I did hear Tom's response. In a firm voice, he said, "No, not right now. Run along."
There were footsteps over me that faded into another section of the home. Tom said, "He always wants to jump the gun. How many times do I have to tell him?"
I suppressed a laugh at the last line. It's the official father's lament. I kept moving my hand down the line and didn't feel nicks along the cable. In fact, on closer inspection, the line looked almost new. I was planning to change it, but this looked like it had been installed last week.
I could hear someone walk into the living room as I reached the spot where the line went through the house. Another pair of footsteps followed the first, and I heard a breathy but detached woman's voice ask, "Can we show our faces now?"
"I just told the boy 'no.' What makes you any different?" Tom said, an edge to his voice.
A chill raced through my body. I knew those words, but this conversation made me feel like I spoke another language. Can we show our faces? Why would you not?
"Do you think he'll see us?"
"If I have my way," he said, not finishing that thought. "Leave me be. I must try to get some things done before he leaves, and you two keep bothering me."
What did Tom mean to get some things done before I left? What did he have in mind? While trying to process all this, I heard something shuffle in the darkness just beyond my flashlight beam. I moved it around, trying to see the telltale glowing eyes of varmints, but nothing flashed back at me.
I heard something shuffling again, this time down by my feet. I cocked my head as best as I could and shone the flashlight into that corner of the house but, again, there wasn't anything else down here but me and a thousand spiders. I sighed and finished my inspection of the wire.
As I turned to crawl back out from under the house, I heard somebody sneaking around on the floor above me. The wood groaned as the person moved slowly. I wasn't sure what they were doing, but they wanted to keep it a secret. A shadow fell over the pinprick of light from where the cable went into the house. Someone was standing over it.
"Can you hear them down there? Moving in the dark?" It was the Boy. “They like the dark.”
"What are you saying?"
"The little shadows," he said, "They live down there. Do you hear them?"
This kid was creepy as hell. "I, ugh, I can't hear you, dude," I said, inching my body away from the wire, "We can talk inside."
"They're going to get you, but that's okay," he said, "It only hurts for a little bit, and then you're fine."
Fuck. That. I had no desire to respond to that nightmare of a statement. I hastened my inch-worming, heading back towards the open hatch. As I did, I heard more movement in the darkness around me. I tried to ignore it, but it was a fool's gambit. It was impossible to ignore.
I was getting closer to the opening when I saw a pair of tiny legs walk in front of the hatch. It was the Boy. How did he get there so quickly and without me hearing him run on the floor? I didn't have time to run through the scientific method because the Boy leaned down and placed the metal grate back over the hatch.
"Hey! Hey!" I yelled. "I'm still under here!"
The Boy didn't stop. Instead, he placed a trashcan in front of the grate, enshrouding the entire crawlspace in darkness and trapping me inside.
"Hey! I need you to move that!" I screamed. No response. I raised my fist as high as possible and punched the floor above me to hopefully get Tom’s attention. That was a mistake, as I managed to punch straight into an old nail. I felt it puncture in between my knuckles. The pain was instant, and I let out a howl.
I shook my hand and swore a blue streak. I reached up with my other hand, felt the tip of the nail I had managed to punch, and found a flat spot next to it. I banged hard on the floor and yelled again for some help. Nobody responded. Not at first.
Then I heard someone chuckle under the house.
I couldn't locate where it had come from because it sounded like it was all around me. I swung my light around as best as I could but didn't see anything. No glowing eyes, nothing. I inched forward a bit, and someone laughed again – this time, it was to my right. I turned my light in that direction and saw a sudden flood of light fill the space under the house.
"What the hell?" I said, my desire to leave overtaken by a desire to know what was unfolding next to me.
A pair of kid legs dropped down from the hole in the floor. I realized then that the hole must be an interior crawlspace. The kid had blocked off the metal grate and opened this hatch for some reason. While he dropped his legs down, he didn't move any further.
"Hey, you have to open that metal grate," I yelled. "I don't want to be trapped down here."
"They told me they needed you," he said, followed by a slight chuckle.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said, not caring that I was talking to a child. "Open the goddamn grate!"
"The shadows are approaching," he said, pulling himself back into the house. He placed the lid back on the hole, and I was trapped in the dark again. I cursed to myself and started pounding on the floor again.
"Hey! Someone come help me!"
That's when I felt something run across my legs. I nearly jumped out of my skin. It didn't feel like the tiny claws of a passing rat. It was cold to the touch, but as it hit my skin, I felt a burn in my bones. It's hard to explain, but I felt both extremes simultaneously. Whatever it was skittered off into the darkness of the other side of the crawl space.
The kid started laughing again, which brought me back to reality. I army crawled as fast as I could to the grate. I balled up my fist and punched in the middle of the metal. The blow knocked the old nails out of the wall, and the grate broke up. I was about to push away the garbage can when it suddenly wheeled out of the way.
I saw Tom's legs standing there.
"You okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.
I got out from under the house so fast that I left a me-sized dirt cloud in my place. Once out, I shook my body loose as if I had things crawling all over me. Tom watched but didn't say anything at first. We finally locked eyes, and he could see the rage, fear, and confusion on my face. He wisely waited until I spoke first.
"What the hell is wrong with your kid? He blocked me under there and taunted me from the indoor crawlspace."
"What are you talking about?"
"He told me the shadow people or something were watching, and then he blocked me under the house!"
Tom's face twisted up into confusion. "I...I don't understand."
"I can't make it any simpler, Tom!" I screamed, letting unprofessionalism take root.
"I don't have a kid."
It hit me like an Ali right cross. My vision got dizzy, and I struggled to catch my breath. I stared at his face, looking for the sign of a lie or a joke, but he was as stone-faced as an Easter Island statue. After a beat, I found my sense again. "I heard you talking to him in the living room when I was under the house."
"One, I was on a phone call. Two, are you spying on me? What the hell, man?"
"I wasn't spying, and you weren't on the phone," I said. I also heard you talking to your wife. She asked you if she could show her face or something."
"I don't have a wife either."
I shook my head. "I fucking saw them in the backyard! They were staring at the fence!"
Tom paused and cocked his head to the side. When he spoke, it was softly, trying to calm me down. "Are you...did you have a few drinks before the appointment? Or a pill or something? No judging – I know pill heads. I won't report you or anything, but I understand if you need to come back tomorrow with a clearer head."
"I'm sober," I said, gritting my teeth. "But I know what I saw. What I heard."
"As the tree said to the lumberjack, I'm stumped," Tom said. "You look a little flush. You want a bottle of water or something? I can show you I'm here all alone."
My adrenaline had seeped out of my body, and I was starting to feel like myself again. I nodded at Tom, and he smiled. "I'll go grab you one. Do you want to come into the AC?"
"No, I'm okay. I need to double-check the connection to the pedestal."
"Sure. Be bright back," Tom said as he walked off.
But I had no intention of checking the connections. I was going to check on Tom. I didn't believe him at all. Something weird was going on, and I needed to know what. As soon as he turned the corner around the house, I broke out my flashlight and headed back to the crawlspace.
I dropped to the ground and shone my beam into the darkness. Something had crawled on me, and I wanted to see what it was. I moved my light into every section of the crawlspace but saw no eyes glowing back at me.
"If you're under there, call back."
There was nothing. I was starting to feel like a paranoid idiot. I called out once again just to be sure, but again, nothing called back. I shut off my light and sighed. I started pushing myself back to my feet when I heard a faint woman's voice call out, "Can we show our faces now?"
"Not yet," someone hissed from the trees above me. I snapped my head up, expecting to see someone hanging on a branch over my head, but I just saw green leaves.
"Can we show our faces now?" It was the Boy. It sounded like he was on the roof. I shielded my eyes and glanced at the roof but didn't see him.
"No. He's not ready yet," someone whispered in my ear. I snapped around, throwing a punch as I did, only to slam my fist into the fence. I felt one of my knuckles crack as it hit the wood, and the pain shot up my arm like lightning. Within seconds, my hand started to puff up, and blood dripped out the wounds.
The Boy chuckled again. It came from under the house. I looked down at the grate and saw his legs disappear into the darkness.
"Hey!" I called and dropped to the ground. I pulled out my flashlight and shone into the darkness again. I was confident I'd see him, but he wasn't there. Nobody was.
I sat up and felt goosebumps turn my arms into braille. I glanced over to the corner of the house and was surprised to see the disappearing hemline of the faded blue dress. I rushed over to the corner and didn't see the Woman. I saw Tom with a bottle of water.
"You okay?"
"Where did that woman go?" I asked, my voice panicking. "She was just here."
"Sir, do you need me to call your boss for you? You're starting to scare me."
"What's up with this house? Is it haunted?"
Tom started laughing. "I hope not. I just moved in. I'd hate to have roommates again, especially ones who leave ectoplasm all over the place."
As I stared at him, I saw the Woman and the Boy emerge from the other corner of the house. They looked up on the roof, their faces obscured by their hands and the sun. I pointed a finger at them and screamed, "They're right there!"
Tom spun around and looked, but there wasn't anything there. He turned back to me, not sure what to say. Instead, he handed me the bottle of water. "I gotta be honest. I didn't see anything. Drink the water...you might have heat stroke."
I threw the bottle on the ground. "I don't have fucking heat stroke. I have a man that's lying about these things." I got close to him. "What did you have planned for me? Why do they keep asking to show their faces?"
"I don't," he said, but I didn't stay to hear him finish his thought. I walked right past him and turned the corner of the house. As I did, I saw the blue hem disappear through the door that led to the kitchen. I followed right behind her.
I walked into the house, which was as silent as a corpse. The Woman and Boy were nowhere to be seen. "Hello?" I called out. "I just saw you guys walk in here. Where are you?"
The door behind me opened up. Tom walked in, his face reddening with anger. "You can't just walk into my house."
"I saw them walk in. Where are they?"
"I keep telling you, it's just me and you here. Now, if you want to finish your work…."
I walked away from him and headed toward the bedroom where I had seen the Boy standing. I wanted to check that crawl space. The room was empty, not even a moving box in there, so finding the hatch that led under the house was easy. I went into the closet and pried the hatch open.
Tom entered the room behind me, more confused now than angry. "I don't want a line run through here."
"The Boy was standing in this spot. I saw his legs. I spoke to him. He told me the shadows needed me for something." I glared down into the darkness under the house. Despite Tom's feigned declarations that there wasn't another person in the house, I knew he wasn't being honest.
"Okay, I'm pretty sure you're back on pills and in the middle of a delusion," he said.
"How did you know I had a pill addiction?"
"The way you're acting, it wasn't a hard guess."
"I'm sober, but I did have a problem with pills. I never told you. I don't tell anyone."
Tom stood there, confused about how to answer. I stood up and stared him down. He looked away, but I didn't move my gaze. "Who are you? Who put you up to this? Was it Rory? He trying to get me fired?"
Tom's shoulders sagged. "You got me," he said. "Rory hired me to get you in trouble. I'm... I'm sorry. He offered me free cable for a year and assured me you were a bad guy and, well…. I'm weak."
"That's really fuc…," I stopped. "You're lying. Right now. You're lying. Why?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dash past the open crawlspace hatch. I turned to the hatch opening and then back to Tom.
"Are you trying to stop me from looking in there?"
He didn't respond.
"What's under there?"
"He is," he said. "The Boy. He hides under there all the time. He has...friends down there."
"The shadow people?"
Tom shrugged, "What he calls them. I call them a menace. Impossible to get my work done with them causing a racket."
"What work?"
"Things you'd never understand in a million years," he said, "Things beyond your brain's capacity to imagine. Things that will help usher in a new world. Your kind's time is coming to a close. My work represents the new order."
I stared at him. I wasn't sure if I should run away or punch his lights out. Instead, I just spat out, "Bro, what the fuck?"
"Can we show our faces now?" the Boy called out from under the house.
I looked down at the hatch and then back at Tom. He nodded toward the opening. "Do you want to see your future?"
"Fuck it," I said. I got down, grabbed the sides of the opening, and lowered my head under the house.
I kept my eyes closed for a second, assuming I'd either see something horrifying or something would hit me in the face. When nothing struck me, I opened my eyes. It was dark, and I couldn't make out anything.
"There's nothing under here," I said.
"Can we show our faces now?" said the Boy from somewhere under the house.
"Show him," Tom said.
I sat back up, grabbed my flashlight from my pocket, and flipped it on. I looked at Tom, "If you try anything, so help me, God."
Tom just smiled. I looked back down at the hatch and sighed. I was suddenly hit with a bolt of common sense. What was I doing? My internal alarms were going off and I was ignoring them. Curiosity had gotten me this far, but my fight instincts were starting to lose to my flight. No job was worth this.
"Man, fuck this," I said, reversing course and standing. I turned to confront Tom, but he was gone. I hadn't heard him leave, but there wasn't a trace of him there. "Tom? Where the hell are you?"
He didn't respond, and I decided that I had hit my "weird shit" quota for the day. I closed the closet door and headed back into the living room to grab my gear. I'd call dispatch and tell them someone else had to come out and finish the….
The wood floor cracked, splintered, and gave way when I put my weight on it. I fell through the floor and landed with a thud on the dirt in the crawl space. On the way down, I hit my ribs on a crossbeam and heard them crack and knock the wind out of me. As I lay on the dirt, writhing in pain, my lungs did their damnedest to find a breath. It couldn't, and my vision started to blur at the edges. For a fleeting few seconds, I envisioned my death on a dirty crawlspace floor. It wasn’t comforting.
I rolled onto my back and finally took in a massive gulp of life-saving air. The blurring vision subsided, and all that remained was the aching pain of a busted rib. My muscles around my rib cage spasmed and pulled tight against my lungs. After the initial big breath, I could only take shallow gulps because the pain was searing.
I lay there for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts, when I felt something skitter across my legs again. I kicked out of instinct but didn't hit anything. Instead, I heard the chuckling again. My flashlight had fallen out of my hand. I found it and turned it on.
This time, I did see something. Pairs of eyes—dozens of them—watched me from the darkness that surrounded me. These weren't possums or rats. I never hoped to find a raccoon under the house more than I did at that moment. I knew whatever these things were, they weren't natural and they wanted to harm me.
"Still want to know what they plan to do to you?" the Boy asked from behind me.
I turned around and shone the light where I heard the voice. The Boy was lying on his stomach, his face looking down at the ground. All I could see at the moment was the top of his head.
"Wha-what's going on?" I said, the light bouncing from my trembling hand.
"I can show you my face now," he said. He raised his head and….
The Boy didn't have a face.
He had the space for a face, but there were no features whatsoever—nothing but pale pink skin pulled tight across the front of his head. At that moment, the image of a wooden art figure came to me.
“What the ever-loving fuck?"
"Want to see something really scary?" the Boy said, his lack of a mouth not stopping him from speaking. He raised himself onto the tips of his fingers and toes and started skittering toward me, laughing as he did.
I clambered out of the crawlspace as fast as my battered body could carry me. I got out of the hole and onto my feet and let out an ear-splitting scream.
The Woman in the blue dress was standing next to the hole in the floor. Like the Boy, she didn't have a face either. But I could feel her eyes on me. Looking into my mind. Into my soul. She stepped toward me, and I bolted for the front door.
I whipped it open and was greeted by Tom standing there, blocking me. He grinned. "Leaving so soon?"
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, checking behind me to see if the Woman was still coming toward me. She was, and she was gaining quickly.
"Can we show our faces now?" he asked with a laugh.
I turned back to Tom and nearly had a heart attack. His face was gone. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. My legs were jelly, but I kept myself propped up. The human desire to survive can perform miracles.
Tom reached out and pointed at a spot on the far side of the living room wall. I turned and saw three skinned human faces hanging from old nails: a man, a woman, and a boy.
"You're turn to join us," Tom whispered. But the voice wasn't said out loud. It came from inside my own head. "We can always use another body around here."
My brain clicked into action and sent an all-points bulletin to my limbs. The message was simple and actionable – "Get the fuck going, you dope."
I felt my hand ball into a fist and spun. It landed where Tom's nose would've been. It should've knocked him back, causing him to stumble and giving me time to run. But that didn't happen. Instead, his face pulled apart, letting my fist slide right through. It closed on my arm, trapping me.
I yanked and yanked, but my arm would not dislodge from his face. I glanced back and saw the Woman nearly next to me. The Boy was climbing out of the hole, moving like a cockroach. I looked back at the wall and saw Tom's hanging face silently laughing.
Something about those silent laughs cut me to my core. They were laughing because Tom thought he had outsmarted me. He had beat me. That my face would soon be hanging on the wall next to theirs. I wasn't going to let that happen.
I saw a loose brick on the walkway, and a plan flashed in my mind. I yanked hard, sending Tom stuttering forward enough for me to wrap my finger around the brick. I brought it up and sent it towards his face. As expected, the face parted again, and the brick flew through easily.
But as soon as the face curtains pulled aside, I yanked my arm free. With my limb free, I took off in a mad sprint for my truck. I got inside and fumbled my keys as I tried to start the engine. Tom, the Woman, and the Boy stood together at the front door and watched as I got the van going and rocketed down the street.
I drove like a madman for ten minutes, trying to put as much space between me and the house as possible. I finally stopped at a gas station to collect my thoughts. I was jittery, and my mind was swimming, but I was also relieved. I had gotten out.
I collected myself and called Denise to tell her I couldn't finish the installation at 981 Maple Street. I was going to suggest we cancel the order and not send another installer there. That's when the conversation took a turn I wasn't expecting.
"Where have you been? You were supposed to be off an hour ago," Denise said when I called her.
"I was trying to finish the install at 981 Maple, the one you sent me to."
"I didn't send you anywhere," she said. "With how insane Rory is being about overtime hours, I'm trying to keep everyone below the threshold."
"What are you talking about? You called and asked me. You don't remember," I said, a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.
She gave me a nervous chuckle, "I swear I didn't. Are you feeling okay? You gotta come back. People are waiting for the van."
"I can prove it. I have a record of you calling me on my phone," I said. I opened my call log, and my jaw dropped. There was no call from Denise. She was telling me the truth. But if she didn't call me, who did?
"Rory wants to talk to you when you get in. I wouldn't mess around, he seems pissed" she said before hanging up.
I haven't moved since. I wanted to write this down because I felt like it needed to be recorded. Something supremely fucked up is happening at 981 Maple Street. It nearly got me. It still might. To think, on any other typical day, a surprise conversation with my boss would be the scariest thing that could happen to me. Funny how seeing a faceless ghoul can prioritize your problems. If you're hired to do work there, turn it down. Trust me, it's not worth it.
"Can we show our faces now?" they asked. "Fuck no," should be the only response.

Damage done is a concrete brick tied to your leg when you’re trying to keep afloat. Damage done is the blocks you use to build your mighty fortress around your pretty little head so they can’t see the real person hiding inside. Damage done is the confusion and shame you feel because you don’t have “normal” thoughts you have more bad days than good ones you’ve been taught for years that we don’t show those things to people, because people do not actually care, they will use your weaknesses for their own devices and the only one who can save you is some invisible monster in the sky. Damage done is refusing to bond with people on a real tangible level because you’ve been told all your life that how you behave, the way you think, the things you like to do, the clothes you like to wear, the things you do to your hair, is wrong is attention seeking is a pathetic attempt to gain acceptance. Every “friend” is an acquaintance, every “lover” is a temporary fling, every “husband” is a divorce on borrowed time, every “family member” is an enemy. Damage done is falling in love with every man who gives you attention, who gives you his dick, who tells you exactly what you need to hear because sex=love and loves=happiness and happiness=success so you let them, and you hate yourself more and more every damn time. Oh yes, damage done is the constant attention seeking, the approval you crave, the way you need them to fall at your feet to feel your worth but knowing you’d never be worth that following anyway. Damage done is questioning every choice you make, every thing you say, all the experiences that you can’t remember if they really happened at all,
Did he? Did I? Did she? Was it real or did I imagine it? Am I? Will they? Are we?
Damage done is requiring self reflection, release, healing, moving forward not looking back, forgiveness, acceptance and evolution. But damage done is knowing all of these things, having access to the answers and choosing to sit in the darkness anyway.
Because it is what you feel like you deserve.

I'm hoping that this sub can give me some much needed advice. My wife and I are in our 30s and live in a rowhouse in NE DC. One night, about a year and a half ago, we received a ring at our front door from a teenage girl. She said she lived nearby and that someone had told her that if she was ever in trouble, that the people at our address were safe and could be counted on. I suspect she either had the address wrong, or whoever that person was misspoke, but regardless, my wife and I were happy to help. She asked to borrow a phone so she could message her friend. No big deal. She hung out for a few minutes while she figured stuff out with her friend, then left.
We didn't think much of it, until a few months later when she came back. Same ask, similar outcome.
A few months after that, she comes back again, this time she has a small luggage bag with her. My wife is out of town, so it's just me this time. Same ask as before. This time it takes a little longer and I have a chance to chat with her and try to get an understanding of her situation. She lives not too far away with her aunt and her grandma. Her mom died when she was little, and it sounds like her dad, though still alive and living in the area, isn't interested in being meaningfully involved in her life. "At some point you realize that your dad doesn't want to be your dad" is how she phrased it. Most of her aunts and uncles from what I can tell are dead, in jail, or on the street. She said that she got into a disagreement with her grandma, who then hit her, so she left the house. We talk for a couple of hours until she gets in touch with her friend that she is going stay with. I give her a ride to meet him, and tell her that if she is ever in trouble, she should feel comfortable coming to our house.
Last night around 10:30pm (a few months after the last time I saw her) she rings our doorbell again. My wife is at a conference, so it's just me again, which is unfortunate because my wife is probably a lot better equipped to relate to a 16 year old girl than I am. She says she got into an argument with her aunt (the one she lives with) and her grandma threw her out of the house. Like before, she doesn't have a phone, so she asks if she can use mine. Of course - no problem. I told her that if she needed a place to stay, she was welcome to our guest room. Which she initially accepted, but then got in touch with her friend, and said she could stay at his family's house. After a little while, I gave her a ride to meet that friend, and gave her my and my wife's cell numbers to call if she needs help, and emphasized that our home is open to her.
This morning around 8am, she rings the doorbell. Her friend's family is going out of town, so she can't stay there again. She asked if she could use our bathroom to take a shower before school. Obviously yes. I show her the bathroom, set her up in our guest room with a towel, and make her breakfast. She heads to school around 9. She left her bags and clothes in our guest room, so I assume she's going to come back later or plan to stay here. She didn't explicitly ask, but I told her before that she was welcome to, so I assume she is taking me up on the offer.
She is a really nice girl. A little shy, but clearly smart and trying to navigate what looks like a really difficult situation from the outside. From my conversations with her, it sounds like her home environment is not super stable. She described her grandma as 'mean and strict'. To be honest I don't totally know how to interpret that, but I'm worried about any adult that would throw their child out of the house.
So I'm working from home today and there is a teenage girl's bags and clothes in my guest room, who may or may not be staying here. I want to help her, but have no idea what her options are, what we can do that would be actually helpful, or what resources are available. Any ideas or nudges in the right direction would be hugely welcome.

I love the creative ability. I love that where I may feel more comfortable grabbing a laptop and writing either my own characters, or characters that exists, and someone else could pick up a pen and draw instead. My wife is an artist, and she’s excellent at it, has been for years. I’ve only REALLY been into writing recently, despite loving it during my High School age. My wife and this series inspired me to do so, to do my very first Fan-Fiction, (and although I am still pretty insecure about it, and I’m not done with it, I’m still proud). I think it’s props to the writing of these books, and most certainly ToG and CC as well. That is the creativity ability of SJM.
I absolutely love and respect opinions/takes, I just have a competitive thing going on in my head. A part of me just likes arguing, but unless there’s anyone harmed/offended/or any combination of those, I will be absolutely fine. That doesn’t apply to A.I.
I’m not the most knowledgeable of A.I., I’ve used it way back with Filters and shit, while I don’t do that now, I still am not very aware of the ins-and-outs. I am aware of the immediate dismissal and disrespect it causes artists, and on a larger perspective, all creativity. Whenever someone uses it, it’s such a damn ick, and I always try to think how I “understand the thought” because I don’t have artistic ability. I do writing, and I don’t use AI there, I do understand the temptation to use it but it’s not even trying. You could always take the time and learn to draw, watch tutorials or take a class. There’s always something you could do that isn’t detrimental towards the creative community. I’ve seen gorgeous works of proper art, and where someone looks at that one AI “Rhysand” and sees it as their Rhysand, there’s been so many other works of art that have done that very same build and look for Rhys, only it’s not ugly. (Forever love calling AI ugly and you should too! Very enlightening). SJM is a creator, along with all those Artists and Writers, and I can’t stand the idea of AI grabbing and twisting whatever is posted into ugly amalgamations of what supposed to be these characters. There is no credit given to the actual creators they took from, just the corporation that stole it and tossed it into the garbage that is AI. Again, I am not aware of much AI is and does, but its existence simply harming artists and other creators is enough for me.
Thank you for not promoting it, that’s immediately what drew me here was the rule of no AI. Anyone who is too scared to pick up a pencil and draw, I feel you, I suck at it. And if you’re a writer and dialogue just isn’t it, I feel you.

TLDR: I have been working at agencies that use wordpress for 2.5 years and want to transition to full-stack development.
Background on me: 23M dropped out of college and took a coding boot camp at 19. Before dropping out I was majoring in CS and took around 30 credits of the early CS classes, I also took the boot camp very seriously and learned alot. (still a bootcamp tho, yikes)
Found a job at a local marketing agency as a "web developer", I was basically a glorified designer using WordPress themes like Divi and Bricks. I worked there 2 years and really worked hard to expand my role. I took over the web hosting department and handled the upkeep of 400ish wordpress sites. Built an internal full-stack application to help me manage the hosted sites, and pushed our company to offer Headless WP sites using Next.js as the front-end, I've built a few of these for clients. I had time at this role so I was upskilling constantly and taught my self headless WP, Django, Next.js, and lots of other skills. I worked with another guy (also junior but very smart guy) who was also pationate to learn so we really dove head first in to alot of projects and learned alot.
That being said I've never worked under a Senior developer and I'm sure alot of our code is poorly written, but everything works well and we did our best to do PR's and check eachothers code. We both studied best practices and tried to apply them as much as possible.
I actually coded for maybe 5% of this role. It was mostly maintaining and building pre-themed WordPress sites.
Got a new job at another bigger agency as their "web developer & hosting technician". 90% of my role is maintaining existing custom themed wordpress sites. However maintaining wordpress sites is mostly checking plugin conflicts, and other wordpress specific shenanigans. There's talk of me building my own custom themed sites soon, but im only maintaining sites right now. I like that the sites are now custom themed, it's more programming and I enjoy it more, but it's still not the full-stack development I actually want to do. It's a WFH role and I have lots of downtime, and I plan on being here another year. (decent pay, low responsibility, wfh, all big factors for this decision. Even though it's a boring job)
I'm pretty knowledgeable in wordpress and am good at my job, I've gotten consistent praise and promotion at both jobs.
How can I use my past experience (2.5 yeo at wordpress agencies) and this new "free time" to break out of wordpress and find a front-end/full-stack role? I am worried without a CS degree, I have pigeon holed myself into wordpress, and other software roles won't take me seriously.
Should I be looking for Junior or Mid level roles?
Should I accept I found my niche and continue with wordpress?

Timestamp: https://imgur.com/a/bwESgaP
Hey yall, looking to off load and clear some inventory! Feel free to discord message me (Jepsei#9791) for more pictures or just an easier time communicating. Please COMMENT "pm" before messaging me!
KEYBOARDS:
Mode Enovy - $210

• Mirage Color, gold bottom weight, silver mirror accent, alu plate, HS PCB, Mode stabs (tuned/lubed), all OG accessories
• Built once for stream (on youtube at Jepsei)

QK100 - $285

• Cream top and bottom, cat led screen, gold pvd mirror bottom weight, 3 plates (pom, alu, pc), owlab stabs (lubed), foam kit, built with agarwood (lubed) switches, DCX latte and paired with the DROP x Noctua coiled cable
• CAN SEPARATE ITEMS, prefer bundle, but i'm open :)
• Only used for sound test

ARTISANS:
Keyzen Ari "Essence" - $40
SpookyCaps Mouth Breather - $65
SpookyCaps Frankenbone - $65
CoconutCaps Melvi Bundle (Bloody + Smokey Quartz) - $75
Bailong "Pink Bear" SMBG - $70
Bailong "OG" Hamster (1/1) - $70
Melonkeys "Vegeta" DM - $110
Jelly Key CatKnight - $100
Toycaps Toby's - $65 ea.
MUBAI "OG" Vesalius - $110
MUBAI "Energy" Vesalius - $80
MUBAI "Bye-Bye" Vesalius - $80
Nuxros Sebas - $70 ea.
T-Lab Trixie "Sweet Dreams 1" - $90
T-Lab Trixie "Sweet Dreams 3" - $90
T-Lab Trixie "Picsearean" - $95
T-Lab Trixie "Aries" OG - $95
T-Lab Trixie "Aries" 3 - $95
MISC:
GMMK Pro Plates (Brass, Alu, PC) - $15 ea. (don't know if it's v1,v2 or w/e - just message me)
Glorious Lube Station - $15
GRIP magnetic screw tray - free w/ any purchase
Bundles welcome, reasonable offers welcome :)

I'm wanting to upgrade the laser head to a 20w output. Currently it's 5W output. It's listed as 12V. is it possible to use a 24V laser head? I feel dumb for even asking