Hey! I hope you're having a good day! 🌈
I'm Simon, 41 yo, M from Italy, PhD student, nerd who loves tabletop games, videogames, joking, listening music (mainly rock and indie) and eating good food (pizza and sushi above all). I'm tall, large shoulders, curly brown hair and eyes, glasses, beard, piercings and a pair of tattoos.
On my profile there's the other part of my interests. I'm waiting for you in chat

Hello there beautiful people of Reddit! I have come with a specific type of romance that I’d love to roleplay: sapphic lesbian romance! I have three plots, which I will detail shortly, each with a different theme and taking part in different periods of time. However, before all that, a bit about me!
I’m a 21 year old British uni student who’s currently studying a material science degree. Additionally, I also work retail on the weekends (it sucks but it pays). I’m usually free at least once a day, and I can give at least one response a day, maybe more. I have been roleplaying for 5 years at this point, and consider myself a literate style writer. I’m able to break discords word limit on occasions, but it’s not needed for most scenes like dialogue or action. I’m a huge nerd (if you haven’t guessed already) and enjoy conversations about sci-fi, horror and fantasy. I roleplay exclusively on discord and Reddit.
Okay, onto the plots! In these roleplays, I’m looking for wholesome romance, drama, ups and downs, filled with plot lines and some side characters too! Now then, the plots!
Plot 1: Medusa finds herself the perfect partner by accident
Medusa, the horrible gorgon that could turn men to stone. At least, that’s what man said about her. They painted her as a monster, a cruel and inductive creature punished by the gods for her disrespect and disregard. However, in reality, Medusa wanted to be left alone. She was tricked by a god, unaware of what the building was. She’s hunted as a monster, forced to kill more and more. The statues of her victims littered the sprawling cave she had made her home. Although it was far from it. Medusa could hear the footsteps approaching, unusually soft and the sound of metal and shouting absent. “Stay away!” She would shout at the intruder, making herself look more aggressive. When she locked eyes with a human with white glazed eyes, her body refusing to turn to stone.
Plot 2: Mob boss has a soft spot for a struggling woman
Crime has existed for as long as humanity has, an ugly shade cast over what could’ve been a bright and prosperous world. Our story takes place in modern day Seattle, and starts with a Mob Boss being put on her ass. She hadn’t expected the attack, but a random group of thugs who didn’t really know who she was mugged and left her injured and bleeding. This woman expected to bleed out in this alley on the other side of town, but when a woman in the nearby apartment complex finds her… her life finally starts looking up. But how will they navigate their new and chaotic life? How will she keep her partner safe from her very dangerous work place?
Plot 3: An Android isn’t supposed to have feelings, right?
When androids were first made, the world was thrown into confusion and shock. Ethical debates were made, laws were passed, and the world changed. There is one rule in this futuristic society, and everyone knows it: falling in love with an Android is wrong. They are treated as below humans, seen as something not sentient enough nor with the emotional capacity to feel. Everyone knows this rule, and follows this rule. Except for one. When a human finds a dismantled and broken android in a local dump, she repairs and fixes her. She shocks her saviour by showing humanlike emotion, curiosity, and a mysterious past that this Android refuses to elaborate on. Will this human break the one rule, perform the one cardinal sin? And where did this advanced Android come from?
If you have any questions, just ask! If you plan on DMing me, please include some detail and effort that isn’t a “wanna rp” message. I hope you all have a good day! TTFN!

Hello there beautiful people of Reddit! I have come with a specific type of romance that I’d love to roleplay: sapphic lesbian romance! I have three plots, which I will detail shortly, each with a different theme and taking part in different periods of time. However, before all that, a bit about me!
I’m a 21 year old British uni student who’s currently studying a material science degree. Additionally, I also work retail on the weekends (it sucks but it pays). I’m usually free at least once a day, and I can give at least one response a day, maybe more. I have been roleplaying for 5 years at this point, and consider myself a literate style writer. I’m able to break discords word limit on occasions, but it’s not needed for most scenes like dialogue or action. I’m a huge nerd (if you haven’t guessed already) and enjoy conversations about sci-fi, horror and fantasy. I roleplay exclusively on discord and Reddit.
Okay, onto the plots! In these roleplays, I’m looking for wholesome romance, drama, ups and downs, filled with plot lines and some side characters too! Now then, the plots!
Plot 1: Medusa finds herself the perfect partner by accident
Medusa, the horrible gorgon that could turn men to stone. At least, that’s what man said about her. They painted her as a monster, a cruel and inductive creature punished by the gods for her disrespect and disregard. However, in reality, Medusa wanted to be left alone. She was tricked by a god, unaware of what the building was. She’s hunted as a monster, forced to kill more and more. The statues of her victims littered the sprawling cave she had made her home. Although it was far from it. Medusa could hear the footsteps approaching, unusually soft and the sound of metal and shouting absent. “Stay away!” She would shout at the intruder, making herself look more aggressive. When she locked eyes with a human with white glazed eyes, her body refusing to turn to stone.
Plot 2: Mob boss has a soft spot for a struggling woman
Crime has existed for as long as humanity has, an ugly shade cast over what could’ve been a bright and prosperous world. Our story takes place in modern day Seattle, and starts with a Mob Boss being put on her ass. She hadn’t expected the attack, but a random group of thugs who didn’t really know who she was mugged and left her injured and bleeding. This woman expected to bleed out in this alley on the other side of town, but when a woman in the nearby apartment complex finds her… her life finally starts looking up. But how will they navigate their new and chaotic life? How will she keep her partner safe from her very dangerous work place?
Plot 3: An Android isn’t supposed to have feelings, right?
When androids were first made, the world was thrown into confusion and shock. Ethical debates were made, laws were passed, and the world changed. There is one rule in this futuristic society, and everyone knows it: falling in love with an Android is wrong. They are treated as below humans, seen as something not sentient enough nor with the emotional capacity to feel. Everyone knows this rule, and follows this rule. Except for one. When a human finds a dismantled and broken android in a local dump, she repairs and fixes her. She shocks her saviour by showing humanlike emotion, curiosity, and a mysterious past that this Android refuses to elaborate on. Will this human break the one rule, perform the one cardinal sin? And where did this advanced Android come from?
If you have any questions, just ask! If you plan on DMing me, please include some detail and effort that isn’t a “wanna rp” message. I hope you all have a good day! TTFN!

Hi! I’m Tom. I’ve spent a lot of time on Reddit, both the regular and the fun side, and decided to get back on. Primarily I’m just here to have fun. Tell stories, read stories, chat, maybe show off. Who knows!
Me: 6’5” athletic/average build, light brown hair, blue green eyes, light beard, 7.5” long 6.25” around.
Kinks: size difference, public sex, dirty talk, rough sex, cum play, facials, titty fucking, group sex, CNC, the list goes on…
DM’s and chats are always open. I am a straight male but will talk to anyone. Feel free to message me.

Just finished reading Watchers of the Throne, currently reading Leviathan and it had me thinking. Allegedly, when you look into a navigators third eye you see the warp reflected in its true form. This outright kills most things including space marines. That said the Null Maidens in Watchers describe daemons as only their physical manifestations, often lean strong beasts or nurgle. Would a null maiden see the warp reflected or simply another mutants genetic curse? I would like to see a martial navigator house who go to battle, escorted by null maidens, warp eye free killing with a glance all who stand in their way.
As far as I understand it, the physic wave of the Tyranid swarm forces back the warp but doesn’t enforce a complete power outage or provide any bonus protection to the swarm. Which may mean a navigator could still gaze into the warp and have it reflected in their eye. The next problem is if it effects them at all, Tyranids are odd by every standard we have, not even to mention that even if it does work on Tyranids it will only work on bioforms that rely on eyes to see and only until the hive mind adapts and starts making them all blind. So most genestealers as well as most higher forms of pure strain, Norn Emissaries, Broodlords, Hive Tyrants, basically anything you could imagine a named character almost dying from. Because of the scale they operate at, majority of battles with Tyranids are either void wars with hundreds or thousands of ships or defensive sieges with everybody in one or a handful of locations. These sieges are usually an all or nothing battle so imagine a gun line at the top of a high wall, they stand, fire and cover all except on person who stands tall, spot lights, drawing eyes and killing entire square miles of bioforms before returning to cover. Maybe give them a personal shield though I don’t know how good those are against Tyranid munitions. Keep doing this up and down the walls moving every time with a standing order for all soldiers to look away when the lights come on.
I know it’s all silly but I have a free morning so here we are.

Im sorry for the long post. Dont read it by all means, its just me explaining to myself what happened and trying to figure out how to fix me. Its just easier for me to put things in text rather than verbally speak to my doctor.
Im a 39yr old male, turning 40 this October. In April of 2022 I started experiencing symptoms of Anxiety.
It started as daily vommitting every morning when I woke up. I just thought I had a stomach bug, but the vomitting was consistent everyday, every morning, and it would last at least 30-45mins of just dry heaving. It got to the point where I had to give myself extra time each morning before work, just for throwing up.
Then I started to notice I had these little twitches going on about me. Like, Being tickled or shocked, I started getting these body jolts like someone was hitting me with a cattle prod. I would shake uncontrollably for short periods of times. My body would want to curl up as my skeleton felt like it was trying to jump out of my skin. My hands would shake and then tightly grip up, my eyes twitch, and I would start stuttering like crazy. Something I've never done before. The body jolts are the absolute worse part of whats going on with me.
At first, the jolts and throwing up didnt bother me like it should have. I tried to just ignore everything and keep going to work. Until one day, I get in my car and I start shaking. Worse body jolts I've felt so far. But this time I feel this warm, unbearable pain in the pit of my stomach. I can only describe it as what I imagine being mortally wounded would feel like, as it felt like I was dying. My bones felt like someone was squeezing them, I was sweating uncontrollably, crying for an unknown reason, and began having the worse panic attack of my life. I couldnt go to work, something in my body was telling me I just couldnt go. This became a daily thing, pacing back and forth in front of the door of my home. Just staring at it but unable to open it. I became afraid of the outside world for unknown reasons.
At first I honestly thought I was having a series of minor heart attacks instead of anxiety symptoms. My chest would tighten up to the point it would hurt. And it was difficult to breathe at times, I would hyperventilate a lot until I almost pass out.
I went a year like this before I finally sought help. I never believed in mental illness like this before. Im not sure what caused mine or why Im experiencing this at this stage of my life. But its now to the point that I developed Agoraphobia and hardly leave my home now. I havnt worked since August 2022. I hastily avoid contact with family and friends as I feel ashamed of myself not working and being on meds.
Ive worked in the same field and trade for almost 20yrs now, and now Im terrified of my career. I tried making changes and tried out tons of short term jobs to see if I can get myself back into the workforce, but I've failed at every one of them. Il either just not go at all because I cant leave my house, or once Im there, all I can do is think of an excuse to run away.
I get extremely overwhelmed now when dealing with multiple choices or decisions. Frustrated if something distracts me for even just a moment. I find it hard to focus on just about anything I do and Ive lost interest in all my hobbies that I loved since childhood. Its even to the point where I cant even walk my dog without my wife escorting me, I just simply cant leave home alone. My brain wont allow me to...
At some point, my wife was finally able to convince me to seek help in 2023. I was being extremely stubborn and denied the fact something was wrong. I saw a psychiatrist and was placed on disability for all of 2023 while trying out meds.
Countless visits, therapy sessions, note taking. My psychiatrists keeps telling me Im an unusual case. I cant leave home for work, have extreme low self esteem atm, am extremely depressed, but have an insane sex drive. Like the pills were acting like viagra for me, I couldn't get enough.
Thats when he diagnosed me with General Anxiety Disorder and Bipolar 2. He said I have symptoms of severe manic depression, but Im only really depressed at the situation, not at life in general. Like Im not sad, I dont want to die, I dont do SH, I love my wife and children. I just cant for the life of me, leave my house and go to work.
Yes, I have had my fair share of trauma but I've always tried to wear my scars like badges of honor. Like a survivor and not a victim. But now, all I do is feel like a victim. I feel like Im a completely different person now.
Medications Ive tried so far are Rixulti, Latuda, ativan, xanax, seroquel, lexapro, wellbutrin, and a few more I cant think of. No combo has worked yet, for me. Infact, some like Wellbutrin just made me extremely aggressive and gave me a hyperactive sex drive. Not like physically agressive, but Wellbutrin would just always make me feel on edge. Irritated at the world and just wanting to be alone. I hated Wellbutrin.
Im just trying to get myself back. The person I was in 2020. He was confident, collected, kept his cool. That version of me always knew how to spot a problem and was quick to have a solution. He worked everyday to support his family and he didnt take shit from anyone. He was outgoing, spontaneous, always smiling...
I cant even look people in the eyes hardly, anymore. I cant even look myself in eyes. This is the hardest thing I've ever dealt with in my life. Like, imagine telling someone you want to work but just cant get yourself to go. Its embarassing as fuck and I hate myself every damn day for this. Does this ever end or will it get better? Its been 2 years now and now the depression is setting in. I wont give up but man, I feel like I want to sometimes. Im just ready to close this life chapter and begin the next one, cause this part of my story is dark af and I dont like it at all...
How do you people function at work while having anxiety disorder? Whats your secret middle ground? I just want to be able to go to work and be my oldself again.
Sorry for the rant if you made it this far.

Hey fam,
Let's talk Intel (NASDAQ: INTC) and how it stands in the face of the escalating geopolitical drama around Taiwan. TSMC, the heart of global chipmaking, is smack in the middle of this tension. If things go south, what’s the play with Intel?
Why Taiwan Matters: Taiwan is HUGE in the semiconductor game because of TSMC. It’s the backbone of the supply chain that feeds giants like Apple and Nvidia. But with China’s eyes firmly set on Taiwan, there’s a real risk to stability here.
TSMC’s Tight Spot: Long story short – TSMC is in a geopolitical hotspot. Any military or political upheaval could lead to serious disruptions. We’re talking damaged facilities, production halts, and potentially losing market share if clients start looking for stability elsewhere. It’s impossible to overstate how much would be lost if a hot conflict erupts. I would expect TSMC, & to go to ZERO - 5 minuites after a shooting starts. TSMC has built in failsafes to destroy some aspects of their fab if China tried to take them by force.
Intel’s Edge: Here’s where Intel could swoop in. Unlike TSMC, Intel’s got a hefty chunk of its manufacturing stateside and in the EU. They’ve been pouring cash into expanding their U.S. fabs, which could be a massive advantage if TSMC gets hit.
Bottom Line: Betting on Intel could be a smart move. They’re set up to handle the fallout if Taiwan's situation goes sideways, likely going back to 90’s level market share and emerging even stronger with contracts from what’s left of NVIDIA.
What’s your take? Bullish on Intel given these factors, or is there too much uncertainty in the chip sector right now?
Would love to hear your strategies and thoughts on this!
TLDR - I’m not an optimist. In the longterm, I think that war or political conflict over Taiwan is inevitable. That being the case, if Taiwan goes down, TSMC goes down. If TSMC goes down, NVIDIA go down too. Who’s left in this scenario? Intel. That’s the only real game in town after this shit.

Chapter One
Title unsure
Sam pulled his phone out of his pocket and hurriedly went to check his email inbox.
“Come one, come on.”
He thought as he waited for it to load.
“Yes! There it is!” He murmured to himself.
He quickly opened what he had been waiting for. It was a job interview for a forklift operator. Sure, the wage was low but Sam whether he realized it or not really needed this. He’d just gotten out of rehab and the halfway house he was staying in required that he have some form of legal employment. Sam knew that if he could just get an interview, he could get the job and be back on his way to proving to everyone that he was finally a changed man.
He put his phone back into his pocket, grabbed his keys and left his room. The halfway house was an old brownstone in downtown Portland. Sam had been told that he had found a “good one” though the state of the home made him never want to find out what a “bad one” looked like. The old worn floorboards creaked with every step. As he made his way down the narrow and steep steps he was hit with the damp rotting smell of the street coming through the now open front door.
It was Mr. Hawthorne the home caretaker. He had just come in with a handful of mail. Mr. Hawthorne was a kindly old man of about 70. He had thick grey hair that he always kept trimmed neatly. He was a person that you couldn’t imagine being younger as if he had somehow always looked this way. Stuck in his old age, as if he were meant to be there.
“Nothing for you today Samuel.” He said plainly. “Where are ya off to?” He asked.
“A job interview!” Sam said excitedly and with an air of pride.
“Excellent, excellent Samuel.” Said Mr. Hawthorne pleasantly. “Let me know how it goes! And best of luck!”
Sam padded Mr. Hawthorne in his shoulder as he passed him in the entryway “Thanks, Mr. Hawthorne and I will!” He said happily.
Sam stepped out into the street. It had just finished raining and the damp smell of a decaying city filled his lungs. This reminded Sam of where he was from. Not because of the smell of the city but because every time he stepped outside he was reminded that he didn’t belong there. Sam was raised on a small farm in Montana. How he ended up here brought him great shame. But, he was heading to a place to hopefully help him right all of his wrongs.
He walked down the block and turned the corner. There sat his 1999 Honda Civic. For starters no one had smashed the window so he was already in the positive. He unlocked the door and hopped inside.
“Alright you old son of a bitch, come on now.” He thought as he pushed in the clutch and turned the ignition. The cars engine sputtered, spat and rolled its way to life.
Sam smiled a sense that this was all going o work out suddenly washed over him. The old Honda rarely started on the first try! He put it into gear and started down the road. A road he hoped would lead him out of this city and perhaps back home.
CHAPTER TWO
Arrival
Sam was relieved that the warehouse was far from the city proper and out in the suburbs of Portland. Anytime he was able to escape the city he felt a weight lifted off of his shoulders. He pulled into the massive parking lot of the warehouse and headed for the door on its southern corner where the e-mail had told him his interview would be at. The parking lot seemed eerily empty but it was a Sunday. The woman who wrote the email explained to him that she was only able to schedule his interview for that time because of some logistical issues.
He found a spot near the doorway that read “new hires” above it. Sam grabbed his phone and wallet and headed inside. As he entered the lobby he saw rows of empty chairs and a front desk that was currently empty. Sam walked up to the desk tentatively. The lobby looked like any large doctors office waiting room. The harsh artificial lights, the smell of cheap carpet slightly put him on edge. He stood at the desk for a moment before he finally uttered a tentative “Hello?” His voice seemed to echo around the great space and down the long hallway behind the desk.
Just before he was about to toss out another meek “hello?” A kindly woman appeared through a cracked door behind the reception area.
“Coming!” She said anxiously!
“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t supposed to be here this morning! My name is Christine! I had to cover for a colleague who called in sick! I’m a bit behind! You must be Samuel! You’re the only one scheduled for an interview today! Here, take this packet and fill it out. When you’re finished bring it back up and I’ll let Mr. McMaster know you’re here!” She said with much haste.
She handed Sam the packet on a clip board with a pen and directed him to take a seat at any of the empty chairs behind him. Sam sat down and started filling the packet out. It was all normal job interview stuff. But this presented a problem for Sam as he had just left rehab. Sam didn’t have any references aside from Mr. Hawthorn. Sure, he could put down some old friends from the service but he didn’t know their numbers anymore. So, he just put down Mr. Hawthorne for now. If they had any questions about it he figured he could answer them during the actual interview. Sam figured that the less they knew about him the better his chances would be of getting the job. After all this wasn’t NASA they just wanted someone to drive a forklift around a warehouse.
He handed the packet back to Christine who was ostensibly busy answering emails on her computer. She smiled and said “let me get this to the supervisor! He’ll have you back in just a moment!”
“Thank you!” Sam said and he went back and sat down waiting anxiously. “What if they ask about my past? They surely will.” He thought. “What should I tell them? The truth? No, that’s not gonna work. Maybe a half truth.” Before he could finish his thought Christine stood up and said “Sam! He’ll see you now!”
Chapter Three
Rabbit hole
Sam was led into a back room in the middle of a hallway that had to of been 100 yards long. Christine opened the door to a small bland grey office that Mr. McMasters was sitting in. He appeared to be fast at work typing. Sam took in the room. Small, grey, bland and very cookie cutter. Not a distinguishing feature in it. No personal pictures, nothing. Very utilitarian. Very impersonal. The only thing that caught Sam’s eye was a fancy machine in the corner that appeared to be some type of water dispenser. Complete with glass cups and napkins on a table near it.
“Please please Sit.” Said Mr. McMaster his voice booming and commanding. As he stood he stretched his hand out toward Sam. Mr. McMaster was a commandingly large man. At least six foot four and 250 pounds. Despite his size and deep voice he appeared very friendly and almost child-like.
Sam shook his hand and was immediately intimidated by Mr. McMasters massive hands and grip strength. Sam squeezed his hand firmly but could tell that McMaster was holding back considerably. They both sat.
“Samuel, nice to meet you! I’m Gregory McMaster, please just call me Greg. I’m so glad you could make it in today. We really need someone in that spot and I think you’re gonna work out.”
Sam was already feeling relieved. Oddly before he could get a word out Greg said “hey, saw ya looking at the water machine we have there in the corner. Pretty cool looking right?” He said with a smile on his face.
“This is one of our CEO’s inventions believe it or not. See, this thing makes its own ‘spring water’ fresh as the Rockies man! You won’t believe it! Here let me grab you a glass!”
“I’m alright” Sam said calmly
“No, no I insist I have my manager hell to get me one of these in my office!”
“Okay, sure sure” said Sam with his hand outreached taking the now full glass from Greg’s massive hand.
Sam took a tentative sip. He was almost taken back, it really did taste like spring water! “Hey! You weren’t kidding!” He said surprisingly!
“I love this thing man” Greg said as he leaned against the machine analyzing it. “She’s something else huh?”
“Sure is..” Said Sam but the words coming out of his mouth felt funny. Must be his nerves he thought. Sam looked up quickly trying to calm himself down but the room seemed to roll and shift. “Hey, uhh what did you’d say was in this?” He murmured to the spinning room. Then, total blackness.
Chapter Four
Waking up at the bottom.
The first thing Sam realized as he floated back into consciousness was the acute feeling of his head throbbing. Then, as his sense slowly began to warm up from there cold slumber he realized he was laying down and that he was comfortable. For a moment he just laid there before a sudden and quick blast of consciousness asked him “hey, where are we?” His eyes shot open only to be closed reflexively by a blinding light above his head. He raised his hands to cover his eyes and slowly sat up. As his vision adjusted to the brightness of the room he looked around. He was laying on a hospital bed. The room appeared to be solid concrete with a sloping drain in the middle. One large door was directly in the center of the far wall. It was heavy and metallic with a small slit at the top. Sam’s confusion began to give way to abject panic as he peered around the room.
He jumped out of the bed, and ran over to the large door. He banged loudly and yelled “Hey! Hello!” Suddenly the room light switched from a harsh white to a dark and powerful red. A voice echoed around the concrete walls.
“Please step away from the door.” It said robotically. “Assistance is on the way.”

In the fast-paced venue management industry, the right marketing message can be a game-changer for pulling in and keeping clients. AI, or Artificial Intelligence, is shaking up the way we craft these messages, offering smart tools that help venues connect with their audience better and faster. Here's a look at how AI is making a big impact on marketing for venue management and how VenueBoost can make this tech work wonders for you.
Marketing Made Personal
Learning From Data: AI is like a super-smart detective that can sift through huge piles of data and spot patterns that we'd never see. It gets to know what customers like and how they interact, so you can send marketing messages that talk right to them. VenueBoost's AI tools take data from all over and turn it into helpful hints to make your marketing more personal and powerful.
Tailor-Made Messages: Making things feel personal is the secret to grabbing someone's attention. AI can create messages that fit different groups of your audience, using what it knows about their likes, past choices, and who they are. Everyone gets a message that feels made just for them, which means they're more likely to pay attention and act. VenueBoost ensures your content is always spot-on for your audience's needs.
Boosting Customer Interactions
What Comes Next: AI is a bit like a fortune teller – it can guess how customers will act in the future by looking at what they did before. Venue managers can use this to come up with messages that hit the mark, arriving at just the right moment with just the right offer. VenueBoost uses this trick to help you create messages that pull customers in at the perfect time.
Always-Fresh Content: AI tools can whip up content that changes depending on what's happening at that moment and how users act. Your marketing messages can grow and adjust as each customer goes on their journey with you, always serving up the freshest info. VenueBoost's AI helps you keep your content lively and on-point.
Saving Time and Money
Running Campaigns on Autopilot: AI can take over the whole process of making, testing, and tweaking marketing campaigns. This cuts down on the grind so your team can spend time on the big ideas. With campaigns that are always getting better by themselves, your messages hit harder. VenueBoost's AI makes running campaigns smoother, so you can do more with less.
Fast-Track Content Making: AI is a content-creating whiz, banging out everything from promo emails to social media posts super-fast. It handles the boring stuff so your marketing minds can dream up cooler things. VenueBoost taps into AI to make sure you have a constant stream of catchy, spot-on content.
Getting More Bang for Your Buck
Ads That Hit the Mark: AI sharpens up your ads by figuring out who's most likely to bite and crafting messages for them. This smart aiming means your ad dollars work harder, giving you a better return on investment. VenueBoost's on-point targeting means your ads find the right eyes every time.
Watching Performance Closely: AI gives you the lowdown on how well your marketing is doing, so you can see what's a hit and what's a miss. It's always watching and learning, helping you shape up your tactics and get better results as you go. VenueBoost's watching tools give you a full view of what's working and help you choose your next moves wisely.
A Better Experience for Customers
A Personal Touch: AI knows how to make every chat, email, post, and ad feel personal. That extra touch makes customers happy, showing them you really get them. Every time they talk to you, VenueBoost makes sure it's just their style, for a more fun and friendly experience.
Smart Chatbots and Helpers: AI's smart bots and helpers are ready to answer questions and fix problems in a flash. This keeps customers smiling and gives your team more time to tackle the tricky stuff. VenueBoost includes these AI assistants to make sure customers get help fast and right.
Conclusion
AI is changing the name of the game for venue managers who want to send out marketing that really sings. With AI, you can create messages that hit home, on time, and leave a mark, all leading to great results.
VenueBoost's got all the AI goods to fuel your marketing moves. From insights mined from data to campaigns that handle themselves, fresh content, and in-depth analytics, VenueBoost keeps you one step ahead in the venue hustle.
Jump on board with VenueBoost and take your marketing into tomorrow. Attract, keep, and thrill more customers with AI-driven marketing today.
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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.

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.

Hi y'all,
so I've been depressed and lonely recently and I'd like to form a connection with someone. I'm down for FWB if the other person is comfortable too ofc , if not it's fine. I might even want a situationship or a relationship but we'll see. I'm just deprived of attention and affection and clingy and want someone to send voice messages too and good morning and good night texts , and I expect that to be reciprocated , I like consistency , inconsistency makes me overthink. I think I have anxious attachment style so if you decide to leave please give me clarity so I don't overthink. I get attached fast and easily.
About me:I'm a 25 M from Croatia and my interests include reading books , travelling , learning languages , watching movies and series and gaming. If you play overwatch we can play it together , or apex legends.
Appereance wise:6ft1 with blue eyes and brown hair. Willing to exchange selfies.
I have depression , anxiety and OCD. This is something I am trying to work on but it won't just go away , so please be understanding.
Prefferably be in the GMT+1 time zone , if you are not tho it's fine , we'll make it work.
I'm an INFP-T if that means anything.
Let's connect <3.

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Moments later, a voice crackled over the train's intercom, announcing, "Arriving at year 1604 Tokyo."
As the train announcement echoed through the car, Sparks’ optical sensors shifted into advanced detection mode. A thin, translucent visor slid over his eyes, emitting a faint hum as it activated the holographic spectrum analyzer. The air around them seemed to shimmer and warp, and a ghostly grid overlay appeared in Jack’s vision, scanning the surroundings with an eerie, futuristic precision.
Sparks detected a group of five figures moving stealthily through the train. Their forms were shrouded in a cloak of darkness, their outlines barely visible through the shifting shadows that enveloped them. Each figure wore a sleek, black jacket, the word “Corp” emblazoned in a ghostly glow on their backs. Their presence radiated an air of malevolence, and the very atmosphere seemed to grow colder as they approached.
The shadowy figures were an unsettling mix of mystery and menace. One figure flickered in and out of visibility, its form seemingly tethered to another plane of existence. Another emitted a low, continuous hum, the air around it is crackling with electrical energy. A third figure was cloaked in a dense, dark mist that seemed to swallow any light that touched it, rendering it a walking void. The fourth figure had an unsettling stillness, its form outlined in shadow but devoid of any discernible features. The fifth figure moved with a mechanical precision, its every step a calculated, almost robotic motion.
Jack felt a chill run down his spine, a knot of fear tightening in his stomach as he watched the ominous figures move with purpose towards their car. Their silent, coordinated approach was as unnerving as it was menacing, and Jack’s mind raced with questions and dread.
“Sparks, who are those guys?” Jack whispered, his voice barely audible over the cacophony of the train and the murmurs of its eclectic passengers.
Sparks’ visor retracted with a soft click, and he beeped urgently, his voice tinged with urgency and concern. “Looks like we’re in for an unplanned detour, Jack! Time to make like a leaf and get out of here!”
Jack frowned, his brows knitting together in confusion. “Detour? But we’re on a time-traveling train, Sparks. How can there be detours?”
Sparks’ circuits buzzed with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Trust me, Jack, this is no ordinary detour. Those guys are trouble, and we don’t want to stick around to find out what they’re planning. I’ve got a craving for some Keicho Koban gold coins, and they’re like candy for me!”
“My circuits are practically tingling with anticipation,” Sparks added, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “I can practically taste that sweet, sweet gold!”
Jack chuckled despite the tension, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “But you’re a robot, Sparks. Shouldn’t you be watching your curves?”
Sparks replied with mock indignation, his Holographic eyes flashing playfully. “Hey now, just because I’m wired for data doesn’t mean I can’t drool over shiny treasures! Besides, who needs curves when you’ve got gold coins? It’s all about that clinking and jingling, baby!”
Jack rolled his eyes, unable to stifle a grin. “Alright, Sparks, you win. Let’s go satisfy that craving of yours before you short-circuit from all the excitement!”
With a shared laugh, Jack and Sparks made their way towards the back of the train car, their movements a hurried blend of urgency and adventure. As they moved, the shadowy figures continued their silent, ominous approach, their presence casting a long, dark shadow over the train car.
They fumbled with the latch on the back of the train car, their fingers trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. Just as they managed to pry it open, a sudden jolt sent them tumbling out into the open air. Gravity grabbed hold of them, pulling them down faster than they could process.
As they plummeted through the sky, Sparks let out a mechanical chirp, “Well, Jack, looks like we’re taking the express route to ground level! Hold on tight and try not to scream like a teapot!”
Jack clung to Sparks tightly, his heart pounding in his chest as they navigated the treacherous descent. They narrowly avoided crashing into a medieval knight on horseback and dodged a futuristic hovercraft whizzing by, the chaotic scene adding to the adrenaline-fueled madness of their fall.
Jack’s eyes widened in alarm as he spotted a swarm of small AI bots in pursuit, their metallic wings buzzing furiously. Each bot had a unique design, resembling miniature dragons with glowing eyes and iridescent wings that shimmered in the sunlight. Their mechanical screeches pierced through the air as they closed in on Jack and Sparks, their intent clear and menacing.
With the AI bots hot on their heels, Jack and Sparks darted between skyscrapers and weaved through narrow alleyways, narrowly avoiding obstacles as they hurtled towards the ground. The wind whipped past them, a deafening roar that drowned out all other sounds.
Sparks beeped confidently, his circuits buzzing with excitement. “Just leave it to me, Jack! I’ve got a few tricks up my circuits...”
Suddenly, Jack’s eyes widened as Sparks’ chest opened, revealing a sophisticated array of futuristic gadgets. With a flick of his wrist, Sparks deployed a holographic decoy, a shimmering duplicate of themselves that veered off in another direction, drawing the attention of the pursuing AI bots.
Jack’s heart raced as he watched the decoy in action, the hologram flickering and shifting with an almost lifelike fluidity. The AI bots, momentarily fooled by the ruse, followed the decoy, their metallic wings buzzing with furious intensity.
Sparks turned to Jack with a triumphant grin. “That should keep them busy for a while! Now, let’s get out of here before they catch on.”
Jack nodded, his breath coming in short, adrenaline-fueled bursts. They continued their descent, the ground rushing up to meet them with terrifying speed. Just as it seemed they were about to crash, Sparks activated a gravity dampener, slowing their fall to a gentle glide.
As they touched down, Jack’s legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the ground, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. Sparks hovered beside him, his Holographic eyes twinkling with amusement and pride.
“You know, Jack, it’s a good thing I don’t have to worry about losing consciousness. Infinite power cells, remember? I’d never hear the end of it from my fellow robots if I fainted like a human.”
Jack mustered a weak smile, trying to shake off the dizziness. “Lucky you, Sparks. Always one step ahead, huh?”
As Jack’s consciousness gradually returned, he found himself nestled within the confines of a traditional Japanese Machiya, characteristic of the bustling streets of old Edo. The room was illuminated by the soft glow of paper lanterns, casting gentle shadows on the tatami mat flooring below.
The interior of the Machiya exuded an aura of serene simplicity, with sliding shoji screens allowing shafts of sunlight to filter through, painting delicate patterns on the wooden floor. In the corner, a tokonoma adorned with seasonal flowers and a delicate scroll painting provided a touch of artistic elegance.
Through the open shoji screens, Jack caught glimpses of the lively neighborhood outside—the narrow alleys lined with Machiya, each bearing its own unique character. Vendors called out their wares, the aroma of freshly cooked street food drifting through the air and mingling with the sweet scent of cherry blossoms.
Despite the unfamiliar surroundings, there was a sense of tranquility within the Machiya, a feeling of being transported to a bygone era steeped in tradition and history. As Jack took in his surroundings, he marveled at the beauty and simplicity of life in this vibrant corner of old Edo, eager to uncover the secrets that lay beyond its paper walls.
Amidst the tranquil atmosphere, Jack noticed the presence of Tenshi, the family's majestic Black Kite, perched on a wooden stand in one corner. It was Tenshi who had alerted the family to Jack and Sparks' presence atop the cherry tree, which led to their rescue. Tenshi's sharp eyes fixated on Jack and Sparks, assessing their presence with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, reminiscent of the moment they were discovered by the bird perched atop the cherry tree.
Jack’s eyes widened with wonder as he looked at Tenshi. “Hey, Sparks, do you think he’s gonna tell on us?”
Sparks emitted a series of mechanical chirps, his Holographic eyes twinkling mischievously. “Well, Jack, he might be thinking we’re aliens from outer space trying to invade his kingdom!”
Jack giggled at the idea, his imagination running wild. “Maybe he’s the guardian of the treasure we’re looking for!”
Sparks let out a burst of mechanical laughter, his metallic voice filled with amusement. “Well, in that case, we better make friends with him quick! Who knows, maybe he’ll show us where the gold coins are hidden!”
Tenshi let out a low caw, as if in agreement, before spreading his wings and soaring gracefully across the room, adding a touch of majestic elegance to the scene. Jack watched in awe, his excitement bubbling over as he realized that their adventure in old Edo was only just beginning.
Jack turned to Sparks with a grin. “Well, Sparks, it looks like we’ve got ourselves a feathered sidekick!”
Sparks nodded enthusiastically. “Indeed, Jack! With Tenshi by our side, we’ll be unstoppable! Who knows, maybe he’ll even teach us a trick or two about flying!”
Jack’s eyes lit up with excitement. “Yeah!
And maybe we can teach him some robot dance moves!”
Sparks emitted a series of beeps, his Holographic eyes flashing with amusement. “Now that’s something I’d love to see! But for now, let’s focus on finding those gold coins! My circuits are practically drooling with excitement! Oooo yummy, yummy candy, here we come!”
Jack noticed some tea, a bowl of cherries, and a set of traditional Japanese clothing beside him. He shot a glance at Sparks, who was busy engaging with the Japanese family in their native tongue. Jack’s eyes widened in amusement as Sparks delivered a witty quip, “Sorry, Jack, but I’ll have to pass on the cherries. Fruit ninja-ing isn’t exactly in my repertoire. Can’t risk getting cherry juice on these sleek robot circuits, you know? I’ll stick to my usual data packets and quantum mechanics, thank you very much!”
Jack and Sparks exchanged a grin as they made friends with Tenshi, the Black Kite. The moment was brief and filled with a fleeting sense of calm before the storm that was about to break.
Suddenly, the tranquility shattered as the rhythmic thudding of approaching footsteps echoed through the Machiya. The wooden floor trembled under the force, the sound growing louder and more ominous with each passing second.
Jack's heart raced, and he looked to Sparks with a mixture of fear and determination. Sparks' advanced sensors flickered to life, projecting a holographic map of their surroundings. The red blips of hostile figures were moving steadily towards them, their intent unmistakable.
"We've got company, Jack. And they're not here for tea and cherry blossoms," Sparks said, his tone deadly serious.
The mother and child exchanged terrified glances, their eyes wide with fear. Sparks quickly switched to fluent Japanese, his voice urgent. "Hayaku, kakurete! Bushi ga chikazuiteimasu! (Quickly, hide! Samurai are approaching!)"
The mother nodded frantically and led them to a hidden latch beneath the tatami mat. The latch creaked open, revealing a dark, cramped space just big enough for them to squeeze into.
"Get in, Jack! And don’t make a sound!" Sparks urged, his holographic sensors scanning the area above for any sign of the approaching danger.
As they slipped into the narrow crawlspace, the heavy footsteps of the samurai grew louder, echoing like the march of death above them. Jack pressed himself against the cold ground, the scent of damp earth filling his nostrils as he tried to steady his breathing.
Above, the floorboards creaked and groaned under the weight of the intruders. Sparks dimmed his holographic display, casting faint, ghostly glows in the darkness. The sound of unsheathing swords sliced through the air, the metallic hiss sending chills down Jack's spine.
"Shush, Jack. Don’t say a word," Sparks whispered, his voice a low, almost inaudible hum.
The air was thick with tension, every creak of the floorboards making Jack's heart skip a beat. He could hear the rustle of the samurai’s clothing, the clinking of their armor as they moved methodically through the house, searching for any sign of life.
Suddenly, a loud crash reverberated from outside, followed by frantic shouts and the clash of metal on metal. The samurai hesitated, their attention diverted by the chaos erupting outside. The sound of swords clashing and desperate cries filled the air, creating a symphony of conflict that sent shivers down Jack’s spine.
Above them, the samurai exchanged hurried whispers, their voices tense and filled with urgency. The shadows shifted, and Jack could see the faint outline of a samurai’s hand reaching towards the latch. His breath caught in his throat as the latch began to creak open, the dim light casting eerie shadows on the ground below.
Just as the latch was about to lift, a blinding flash of light and a deafening explosion shook the ground. The house trembled, dust and debris falling from above as the world seemed to collapse around them. The noise was overwhelming, a cacophony of destruction that drowned out everything else.
Jack felt Sparks' hand grab his, pulling him through the narrow passage. They stumbled through the darkness, the ground shaking beneath their feet as the sound of the samurai’s footsteps grew fainter behind them. The air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of smoke, the world above them collapsing into chaos.
As they burst out of the tunnel into the open air, the cold night wind hit them like a shock, the taste of freedom mingling with the fear of the unknown. They had escaped, but the sense of danger loomed heavily over them, the thrill of their narrow escape still pounding in their ears.
Sparks' sensors scanned the surrounding forest, his voice tense. "We’re not safe yet, Jack. We need to keep moving."
Jack’s breath came in short, panicked bursts as he looked back towards the collapsed Machiya. The moonlight cast eerie shadows on the twisted remains of the house, the silhouette of the samurai still visible against the darkened sky. Their swords glinted ominously, a silent promise of the danger that still lay ahead.
Jack’s breath came in short, panicked bursts as he looked back towards the collapsed Machiya. The moonlight cast eerie shadows on the twisted remains of the house, the silhouette of the samurai still visible against the darkened sky. Their swords glinted ominously, a silent promise of the danger that still lay ahead.
The night was still and silent, the only sound the faint rustling of leaves in the wind. Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he and Sparks moved deeper into the shadows, the sense of danger growing with each step.
And then, just as they reached the edge of the forest, a new sound pierced the night air—a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down Jack's spine. He turned to Sparks, his eyes wide with fear.
"Sparks, what was that?" Jack whispered, his voice trembling.
Sparks' sensors beeped urgently as he scanned the darkness. "I'm not sure, Jack. But whatever it is, it's getting closer."
The growl grew louder, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing through the trees. Jack's heart raced as he and Sparks slipped deeper into the shadows, their breath coming in short, panicked bursts.
As the growl reached a fever pitch, the air around them shimmered, and the ground beneath their feet began to tremble. Jack's eyes widened in fear as a pair of glowing red eyes appeared in the darkness, followed by the outline of a massive, menacing figure.
And then, just as the figure stepped into the light, the world exploded in a blinding flash of light, and everything went dark.

Chapter 1: The Unfolding of Lost Whispers

In the vast, unfathomable expanse of the universe, where galaxies swirl in a delicate cosmic dance and stars glimmer like tiny beacons in the dark, the infinite complexities of the cosmos stretch beyond comprehension. Amid these wonders, on a small, blue planet orbiting a modest star, unfolds a story both small and significant. A tale of a young boy named Jack, whose world, though minute in the grand scheme of things, carries the weight of the universe in his tender heart.
As the focus narrows from the cosmos, past the swirling arms of the Milky Way, and through the atmospheric layers of Earth, it zooms in on a bustling city on the North American continent, a city of great winds and even greater ambitions. The streets hum with the upbeat rhythms of soul music, and advertisements for new episodes of “Happy Days” and “The Six Million Dollar Man” flicker from television screens in shop windows. The scent of hot dogs and fresh popcorn wafts from vendors stationed along the sidewalks, mixing with the brisk, cold air. Overhead, the roar of an elevated train briefly disrupts the calm, a reminder of the intricate network of steel that defines the city's skyline.
Snow blankets the ground, a pristine layer that muffles the usual city sounds and reflects the twinkling lights strung across the streets and buildings. The sidewalks are bustling with people bundled up in thick coats and scarves, their breath visible in the frosty air. A towering figure of a beloved fictional character, the "Man with a Yellow Hat," adorns the window of a famous department store on State Street, while the majestic lions in front of the Art Institute wear festive wreaths around their necks.
Zooming in further, the focus shifts to a neighborhood of classic brick houses and narrow alleyways, where homes stand adorned with glowing Christmas decorations. Each house boasts its own unique charm, with wreaths on doors and flickering lights outlining rooftops, casting a warm, inviting glow into the frigid night.
One house, in particular, stands out, its red-brick facade adorned with a simple string of colored lights that flicker cheerfully in the cold. The house exudes warmth, a sense of comfort amidst the snow-covered streets. The scene moves closer, peering through the frosted window of a small room where a young boy’s life unfolds.
Jack’s room is a vivid sanctuary, painted in shades of deep blue and adorned with stars and planets that glow softly in the dark. Model airplanes hang from the ceiling, suspended in mid-flight among a fleet of handmade paper rockets. His shelves are a testament to his love of science fiction, crammed with books like "The Adventures of Tintin" and "A Wrinkle in Time," alongside colorful action figures of astronauts and aliens.
Jack’s bed, a twin with a wooden frame, is covered with a blanket featuring a rocket ship blasting off into the cosmos, stars trailing behind it. At the foot of the bed sits his favorite plush toy, a well-worn astronaut bear, its once-bright suit now faded from countless adventures. The nightstand beside his bed holds a lava lamp that casts an eerie, mesmerizing glow across the room, next to a stack of comics and a small flashlight for late-night reading.
The floor is scattered with the remnants of recent play—an open box of Lincoln Logs, a sprawling collection of Hot Wheels cars, and a nearly completed jigsaw puzzle of the solar system. A colorful mobile of the planets hangs above his head, swaying gently, and his walls are adorned with posters of spaceships and far-off galaxies.
Despite the warmth and security of his room, Jack feels a weight in his chest as he is called to join the family at the dinner table. The dining room is a cozy haven, bathed in the warm glow of a chandelier. The table is adorned with a red and gold cloth, glistening under the light. A Christmas tree stands proudly in the corner, its branches heavy with ornaments and lights that cast a festive glow across the room.
Grandma, her hair neatly curled and wearing a stylish plaid dress, sits at the head of the table, her eyes sparkling behind her cat-eye glasses. Grandpa, sporting a red sweater and a neatly combed mustache, carves the turkey with practiced ease, his face a picture of contentment. Both retired scientists, they bring a wealth of knowledge and curiosity into the home. Grandma, a former theoretical physicist specializing in string theory, and Grandpa, an astrophysicist, now use their pensions to support Jack and his mom.
Jack’s mom, in a floral dress that flares at the knees, passes around the mashed potatoes and green beans, her laughter bright and infectious. The conversation flows easily, a mixture of laughter and stories, seasoned with the distinctive Chicago accent that gives their words a familiar warmth.
Despite the house’s modest size, the family makes the most of their space. The table is snugly surrounded by chairs, each one occupied by a loved one, making the room feel full and alive. The smallness of the house only enhances the sense of togetherness, each person contributing to the warm, festive atmosphere.
Before dinner, they all bow their heads in prayer, a moment of quiet reflection and gratitude amidst the bustling celebration. The silence is broken only by the gentle flicker of candlelight and the soft hum of the old radio in the corner, playing a news bulletin about the latest political events—a hostage crisis, debates over energy policy, and the ongoing discussions about a potential peace treaty.
“Can we turn that off?” Grandpa asks, his voice cutting through the room. “I’ve heard enough about politics for one day.”
Mom reaches over and flicks the switch, silencing the news and returning the room to its warm, festive atmosphere.
Jack sits at the table, feeling small and out of place. He fidgets with his napkin, his mind wandering to far-off worlds and epic adventures. He thinks of Tintin, the brave boy reporter, and how he would face this dinner table with courage, even if he felt as nervous as Jack does now. His thoughts drift to the latest Tintin book he read, imagining himself alongside Tintin and his faithful dog, Snowy, exploring ancient ruins and uncovering hidden treasures. In his mind’s eye, the room fades away, replaced by the vast, alien landscapes of “A Wrinkle in Time,” where Jack, Tintin, and his imaginary astronaut sidekick, Astro, race through time and space, battling dark forces and saving the universe from impending doom.
“Jack, how did you like the play at the community center?” Grandma’s voice cuts through his daydreams.
He hesitates, thinking of what Tintin might say in a moment of uncertainty. “It was… an adventure, just like in my books,” he says, his voice a bit shaky but full of a quiet resolve. In his mind, he imagines Tintin nodding approvingly, while Astro gives him a thumbs-up from the cockpit of their spaceship.
“Good to hear,” Grandpa says with a smile. “You know, your mom and I used to watch plays there too, back when we were younger. But that was a long time ago.”
Jack forces a smile, his eyes drifting to the family photos that adorn the walls. One photo, in particular, captures his attention—a picture of his dad, Dan, holding him as a baby, their smiles frozen in time. The mention of his dad, however, seems to hang in the air, unacknowledged by everyone but him. It’s as if a shadow passes over the room, a ghost of a memory that everyone but Jack seems to have forgotten.
“How’s school, Jack?” Mom asks, her voice bright and cheerful. “Are you still working on that science project about the planets?”
Jack nods, a lump forming in his throat. “Yes, Mom. I finished it yesterday. I think Dad would have liked it.” He thinks of Astro, his ever-loyal sidekick, who would understand the importance of such a project, their spaceship hurtling through the vast unknown, mapping distant stars and planets.
Mom’s smile falters for a moment, a flicker of discomfort crossing her face. “That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” she says, quickly moving the conversation forward. “Grandma made your favorite dessert tonight, apple pie. You’ll love it!”
Jack looks down at his plate, his small hands trembling slightly. It feels as if the memory of his dad has been wiped from everyone’s minds, leaving Jack to bear the weight of it alone. He thinks of Tintin again, how he would bravely face even the most difficult challenges. “Dad always liked apple pie,” Jack says quietly, hoping to keep his father’s memory alive, even in this small way. A deep ache settles in his chest, a hollow feeling that no amount of food or laughter seems able to fill.
“Do you remember when Dan used to carve the turkey?” Grandma says suddenly, her eyes lighting up. “He had such a steady hand.”
Grandpa nods, though there’s a distant look in his eyes. “You know, it’s strange,” he says slowly, as if searching his memory. “Sometimes, I can’t quite recall what he was like. It’s almost like those memories are slipping away.”
Mom shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I know what you mean. It’s so odd, isn’t it? I barely remember his laugh, or the way he used to smile. It’s like the memories of him are fading, almost as if they’re being erased.”
Jack feels a surge of frustration and sadness. How could they forget? How could they talk about his dad as if he were a shadow, a fleeting whisper in their minds? “But Dad loved Christmas,” Jack says, his voice trembling
“He always made it so special.” A tear slips down his cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, hoping no one notices.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” Mom says softly. “It’s not that we want to forget. It’s just… it’s been so hard, and sometimes it feels like the memories are slipping away.”
Jack looks around the table, frustrated and sad that they all seem to want to forget, to move on without acknowledging the loss that still haunts him. It’s as if he’s the only one holding onto the precious fragments of his dad, the only one who remembers the way he used to carve the turkey, the way he would laugh and make everyone feel warm and loved. His heart feels heavy, weighed down by the loneliness of remembering when no one else seems to.
Sensing Jack's distress, Grandpa tries to change the topic, leaning in with a familiar, enthusiastic glint in his eye. “Jack, you remember our last talk about black holes? Did you know that they can warp time itself? Imagine traveling through one and ending up in a different part of the universe!”
Jack’s eyes light up slightly at this, his mind instantly transported to the fantastical worlds of his books. “Really, Grandpa? Just like in ‘A Wrinkle in Time’?” he asks, his voice filled with awe.
“Yes, indeed,” Grandpa replies, his tone rich with the joy of sharing knowledge. “Just like in your book. The real universe is full of such mysteries.”
“And Grandma,” Jack turns to her, a spark of curiosity reignited, “tell me more about those… what did you call them… strings?”
“String theory,” Grandma smiles, glad to see Jack’s interest. “Imagine everything in the universe, from the tiniest particle to the largest galaxy, is made up of tiny, vibrating strings. It’s like a cosmic symphony, each string playing its own note.”
Jack nods, fascinated. For a moment, the room seems brighter, the weight of his grief lifting slightly as he immerses himself in the wonders of the universe. “I want to be an astronaut one day,” he says quietly, his gaze distant as if looking at stars only he can see. “Just like Astro.”
“I’m sure you will, Jack,” Grandma says, her voice gentle. “You’ve got the curiosity and the spirit for it.”
But as the conversation turns back to more mundane matters, the reality of his father’s absence presses down on him again, and he feels the tears welling up, hot and insistent. “I’m sorry,” Jack whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. He pushes his chair back and stands, his legs unsteady.
Mom looks up, her eyes filled with concern. “Jack, are you okay?”
Jack shakes his head, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice breaking. He turns and runs from the room, his footsteps echoing through the house, the weight of his sorrow too much to bear. In his mind, he’s running through a portal into another dimension, where Tintin and Astro are waiting to embark on another great adventure, away from the pain and confusion of the present.
“Jack!” Mom calls after him, but he’s already gone, disappearing up the stairs to his room, leaving the warmth and light of the dinner behind.
The room falls silent, the joyful atmosphere shattered. Grandma and Grandpa exchange worried glances, and Mom sighs, her heart aching for her little boy. She rises and follows Jack, leaving the festive scene behind, the weight of his sadness casting a long shadow over the night.
In the quiet dining room, the clinking of silverware is the only sound as the family continues their meal, their hearts heavy with the burden of loss and the hope of healing. The story of Jack, though small in the grand scheme of the universe, is one of love, loss, and the enduring strength of family.
The next morning, a brilliant winter sun shone through Jack’s bedroom window, casting a golden glow across the room and highlighting the remnants of yesterday’s snowfall. The rays bounced off the shimmering strands of tinsel draped over the Christmas tree and reflected in the polished surface of his mother’s pearl necklace, each bead gleaming like a drop of dew caught in the first light of dawn. The air was filled with the mingling scents of pine and cinnamon, a fragrant symphony that spoke of warmth and family.
Jack’s mother, Shelly, stood beside the tree, her figure framed by the light streaming through the window. She wore a cozy, cream-colored sweater adorned with delicate snowflake patterns, her soft blue jeans hugging her figure in a comfortable embrace. Around her neck hung the pearl necklace, a gift from years gone by, each bead a memory strung together in an unbroken line.
Jack's eyes wandered to the necklace, and he was momentarily lost in a memory. It was summer in Chicago, and the world was alive with color and warmth. They were in the backyard, celebrating his mother's 36th birthday. The air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass, a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the old oak tree that stood sentinel at the edge of the yard.
His father, Dan, had looked so proud that day. He stood under the canopy, a wide grin on his face as he handed Shelly a small, velvet box. His eyes sparkled with mischief and love. "Happy Birthday, my love," he had said, his voice carrying the weight of a thousand promises. Shelly had opened the box to find the pearl necklace, its lustrous orbs glowing in the sunlight. She had gasped in delight, tears springing to her eyes as she threw her arms around Dan’s neck, their laughter mingling with the cheerful chatter of Grandma and Grandpa who watched with smiles of approval.
The memory faded, and Jack was jolted back to the present by the sound of his mother’s voice. "Jack, are you okay?" she asked, her tone gentle yet tinged with concern. Her hand rested on his shoulder, a soft weight that grounded him in the moment. "It's time you have this. It was from your dad. I don’t remember the details, but I think you should have it."
She handed him a box, its shiny red paper reflecting the light in a kaleidoscope of colors. Jack’s fingers trembled as he accepted the gift, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He tore away the wrapping, each rip of the paper revealing glimpses of the treasure within. Inside, lying in perfect repose, was a sleek robot. Its surface gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, and its design was a labyrinth of intricate details that spoke of far-off lands and ancient wisdom. This was Sparks.
Sparks was a marvel of robotics, a fusion of sleek modernity and charming retro aesthetics. His body was predominantly white, adorned with accents of vibrant blues and yellows. His exterior was polished to a gleaming finish, reflecting light in a way that made him look almost ethereal, as if he had stepped straight out of a sci-fi dream.
Sparks stood about two feet tall, his frame compact yet robust. His head was large compared to his body, featuring a smooth, domed surface with rounded edges that gave him a friendly and approachable demeanor. His eyes were large, glowing orbs of blue that emitted a soft, inviting light. They were set within a black visor-like faceplate, giving him an expression that could shift from curious to serious with a simple change in illumination.
His torso was a blend of sleek armor plating and intricate circuitry, with small compartments and panels that hinted at the advanced technology contained within. He had a chest plate with a glowing emblem that pulsed with a rhythmic light, possibly indicating his energy levels or some other mysterious function.
Sparks' arms were articulated with multiple joints, allowing for a wide range of movement. They ended in hands that could grasp, manipulate, and interact with the environment in a surprisingly delicate manner. Each hand had a set of fingers that were both functional and expressive, capable of performing intricate tasks or conveying emotions through subtle gestures.
His legs were sturdy yet agile, designed for both stability and speed. They were segmented with flexible joints that allowed him to move with a surprising grace, whether he was navigating through a busy marketplace or sprinting across open terrain. His feet were broad and equipped with a set of small, glowing pads that provided traction and stability, lighting up with each step he took.
On his back, Sparks had a small compartment where he could store essential tools and gadgets. It was a testament to his role as both a helper and an adventurer, always prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead. His overall appearance was an endearing blend of the futuristic and the familiar, evoking a sense of nostalgia while also hinting at the incredible capabilities that lay beneath his shiny exterior.
"Wow, Mom! This is amazing!" Jack's voice echoed with awe, his eyes wide and sparkling with the pure wonder of discovery.
His mother knelt beside him, her presence a comforting cocoon of warmth and familiarity in the midst of the unknown. "There are some instructions here," she said, her fingers brushing lightly over a small booklet nestled in the box. "Let's see how this little guy works."
But as they began to decipher the cryptic symbols and arcane phrases, the phone rang, shattering the moment with its insistent clamour. Jack’s mom sighed, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of worlds. She rose reluctantly, her hand lingering on Jack’s shoulder. "Hold on, Jack. I'll be right back. Keep looking at those instructions, okay?"
As her footsteps faded into the distance, Jack's gaze fell upon the booklet. The margins were filled with strange markings, symbols that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. They were familiar, whispers from the past, from the secret games and hidden worlds he had once shared with his father. Little keys, phrases, and symbols that only he would understand.
"Yeah, this is Shelly speaking" his mom’s voice drifted back to him, carrying the cadence of a bygone era, a hint of Windy City charm that was as comforting as it was enigmatic.
Jack's heart raced as he pieced together the clues. Memories of adventures with his dad surged forward, a mosaic of secret messages and hidden quests. With a mix of excitement and trepidation, he followed the trail of hints, pressing buttons and speaking phrases that held the magic of their shared past.
Suddenly, Sparks sprang to life, his eyes blazing with a luminous glow. Jack's breath hitched, a shiver of anticipation and wonder running down his spine. The robot projected a hologram into the air, and there, bathed in an ethereal light, was his dad. His expression was urgent, his message cloaked in the mystery of a thousand secrets, played backwards to heighten the enigma.
"Come find me, Jack," the hologram intoned, the words echoing in the silence, wrapping around Jack like a spectral embrace.
Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, a wild symphony of fear and excitement. His dad was out there, somewhere, and now he had Sparks, his guide and companion on a journey that promised to be as perilous as it was extraordinary.
"We have 30 minutes! I hope you can run!" Sparks chirped, his voice crackling with urgency.
Jack's eyes widened in confusion. "What? Why?"
"We've got to catch a train, or else we’ll have to wait 10 human years to catch the next one!" Sparks' tone was serious, but a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes.
Sparks' Holographic eyes twinkled mischievously as he added, "You want to find your dad, right? Well, strap on your superhero cape and get ready to explore, my trusty sidekick! We're about to dive into an adventure so epic, even the masked vigilantes would be impressed!"
With a resolute nod, Jack sprang into action, his mind racing with the urgency of the task ahead. He packed his backpack with essentials, each item a link to his life and the journey that lay before him. Scribbling a hasty note to his mom, he slid it under her bedroom door, the words a promise and a farewell: "Be right back, Mom! Going to find Dad! Love, Jack."
Without a backward glance, Jack climbed out of the window, Sparks at his side, the cool night air rushing past them as they raced into the unknown. The town, aglow with festive lights and the scent of pine and cinnamon, seemed to watch them with silent approval. In the distance, his mom's voice called out, a worried echo that faded into the night: "Jack! Where did you go?!"
But Jack didn't stop. His path was clear, his resolve unshakable. With Sparks guiding him, he plunged into the heart of the mystery, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The town square was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds, a carnival of holiday cheer. Market stalls overflowed with trinkets and treats, their bright colors a stark contrast to the white of the snow. Street performers spun and twirled, their laughter mingling with the strains of music that filled the air. Jack's heart beat a wild rhythm as he and Sparks weaved through the crowd, their destination a beacon on the horizon.
They arrived at the train station just as the locomotive began to pull away, its wheels churning through the snow, smoke billowing from its chimney like a dragon’s breath. With a burst of desperate energy, they leaped onto the train, their fingers grasping the cold metal of the railing as they hoisted themselves aboard.
Panting and exhilarated, Jack collapsed onto the floor of the train car, his cheeks flushed from the cold and the thrill of the chase. Sparks whirred beside him, his eyes reflecting the excitement and the promise of adventure that lay ahead.
But their triumph was short-lived. The train hurtled through the night, its path veering towards a cliff's edge buried beneath the snow. Jack and Sparks screamed, their voices lost in the wind, convinced they were speeding towards their doom.
Sparks, ever the optimist, quipped, "Well, that was quite the downhill ride, Jack! Remind me to avoid ski trips with you in the future."
Jack, despite the terror of the moment, managed a laugh. "You mean 'Ahhhhhhhhh,' that screaming? You mean it's not scary to you?"
Sparks responded with a mechanical laugh. "Oh, Jack, you know me. I'm as cool as a cucumber, even when we're hurtling towards a snowy abyss. But hey, I figured I'd join in on the fun, keep the vibe light!"
Jack grinned, grateful for Sparks' humor in the face of danger.
Then, just as they braced for impact, the world shimmered and faded, the train dissolving into a spray of sparkling particles. They were enveloped in a vortex of light and sound, a tunnel through time and space that carried them towards the unknown. As they clung to each other, Jack and Sparks exchanged a bewildered glance, their hearts pounding with the thrill and fear of the journey. They had no idea what awaited them, but they knew it would be an adventure unlike any they had ever known.
The train car they found themselves in was a bustling, fantastical wonderland, packed to the brim with passengers of every imaginable kind. Humanoid androids with bodies of polished chrome sat beside towering aliens with scales that shimmered like the night sky. Mysterious witches in flowing robes murmured incantations, their eyes flickering with hidden fires. Men in black suits, their faces obscured by shadows and wide-brimmed hats, exchanged glances and adjusted devices that blinked with foreboding red lights. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and the hum of a hundred foreign tongues, each whispering a story of its own.
As Jack looked around, he noticed floppy disk flies buzzing around the train's cabinets, their wings whirring with a mechanical hum. He leaned over to Sparks and whispered, "Hey, do you see those floppy disk flies? What are they doing here?"
Sparks, with a hint of amusement, responded, "Ah, those ancient relics. They must have hitched a ride from a bygone era. Maybe they're here to remind us of the good old days when saving data meant something more tangible than cloud storage!"
The train conductor, a blob-like alien wearing an AI helmet and a uniform that sparkled with intricate designs, loomed over them. "Where is your pass?" it asked, its voice a bubbling gurgle that sent shivers down Jack's spine.
Jack stammered, "I… I don’t have one."
A tiny hovering bot emerged from the conductor's body, emitting a red beam that scanned them both before declaring, "Clear."
Looking around for a place to sit, Jack saw that the train was far from ordinary. It was a vast, cavernous space, far larger than it appeared from the outside. Though the train’s exterior was a sleek, steam-punk marvel of brass and rivets, the interior seemed to defy the laws of physics, expanding into a seemingly infinite space to accommodate its extraordinary occupants.
The environment inside was a chaotic symphony of sights and sounds. Enormous trees grew straight out of the floor, their branches stretching high above into a canopy that rustled with the movement of fantastical creatures. Small, winged beings darted among the leaves, their tiny, luminescent bodies flickering like fireflies. Down below, creatures resembling miniature dragons scampered around the tree trunks, nibbling at the bark and chirping excitedly. In one corner, waterfalls cascaded into lakes teeming with fantastical creatures like hydras and leviathans, their scales glistening under the shimmering lights. The sound of rushing water mixed with the soft rustle of leaves and the distant roar of a hydra, creating a mesmerizing soundscape.
Jack marveled at the sprawling environments within the train. There were sections with lush, sprawling forests where magical creatures roamed freely among the trees, their soft footfalls and the chirping of unseen birds creating a serene, natural ambiance. Next to that, vast deserts stretched out, their golden sands shimmering under an artificial sun, the air heavy with the scent of warm earth and dry winds whispering through the dunes. Beyond that, snow-capped mountains rose majestically, their peaks disappearing into the clouds, the crisp, cold air tinged with the sharp scent of pine and the distant calls of snow griffins echoing through the valleys. There were even dark caves, their interiors glowing with the light of bioluminescent fungi, the air cool and damp, and the sound of dripping water mixing with the eerie whispers of cave-dwelling creatures.
In another corner, a colony of giant spiders had spun intricate webs among the trees, their small, red eyes glinting ominously as they scuttled about. The largest spider, its body the size of a small car, had a single, enormous red eye that seemed to follow Jack as he moved. He shuddered at the sight but couldn't help but be fascinated by the eerie beauty of their silken webs glistening like diamonds in the dim light.
In the center of the car, a towering tree grew, its trunk massive and gnarled with age. From its branches hung delicate lanterns that glowed with a soft, warm light, illuminating the faces of the creatures gathered below. Jack noticed a group of elfin children playing a game near the base of the tree, their laughter ringing like silver bells in the air.
To the left, a bustling marketplace had been set up, with vendors selling everything from magical trinkets to interstellar snacks. The air was filled with the rich aromas of exotic spices and freshly cooked delicacies. Jack could hear the cheerful chatter of traders haggling over prices and the clinking of gold coins as customers made their purchases.
Overhead, the ceiling arched high into a dome, shimmering with a kaleidoscope of colors that danced and changed with the shifting light. Platforms suspended in mid-air held small gardens, each one a miniature ecosystem teeming with life. Plants of every conceivable shape and color twisted and spiraled, their tendrils reaching out to the passengers who passed by.
Further down, there were lakes where fantastical creatures like hydras and leviathans swam, their scales reflecting the shimmering light. The lakes were surrounded by lush vegetation, and the air was filled with the sound of rushing water and the soft rustling of leaves. In the center of the lake, a group of merfolk played instruments, their haunting melodies adding a mystical ambiance to the surroundings.
Jack's eyes widened in alarm as he saw a cluster of giant fire-breathing dragons resting by a pool of molten lava, their scales shimmering like hot embers. Nearby, a group of electric dragons basked under a storm cloud that rumbled with flashes of lightning, their bodies crackling with energy. And in a shadowy corner, a pair of acid dragons slumbered in a pit of bubbling green ooze, their scales dripping with a corrosive substance that hissed as it touched the ground.
Suddenly, Jack's attention was drawn to a flock of hideous, scary-looking flying creatures that seemed to combine the worst features of bats and reptiles. Their leathery wings beat the air with an eerie rustle, and their eyes glowed a malevolent red as they circled overhead. Jack’s heart pounded in his chest, a surge of fear gripping him. "Sparks, what are those?" he asked, his voice trembling.
Sparks, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, replied, "Those, my dear Jack, are tooth fairies."
Jack's eyes widened in disbelief. "Tooth fairies? But they look so hideous and scary!"
Sparks chuckled. "Yes, well, that's because human teeth are a crucial part of their diet. They've developed quite a taste for them over the centuries. Don’t worry, though. They’re just here for the scenery."
Jack noticed the tooth fairies eyeing him hungrily, their sharp teeth glinting ominously. They began to circle closer, their eyes locked onto Jack as if he were a delicious meal. Just as they started to make a move towards him, the train's intercom crackled to life. "Attention, passengers: Please remember that any form of attack or hostility towards fellow passengers will result in immediate disintegration. Thank you for your cooperation."
The tooth fairies hesitated, their eyes darting nervously. Jack watched in horror as they decided to test the rule, lunging towards him with a predatory gleam in their eyes. But before they could get close, a bright light enveloped them, and they disintegrated into a shower of sparkling dust.
Sparks grinned. "Well, looks like they bit off more than they could chew! Who knew being a tooth fairy could be so… disintegrating?"
Jack couldn't help but laugh at Sparks' joke, the tension easing as he realized they were safe.
As the train sped through a section that appeared to have no ceiling, Jack looked up and saw a breathtaking sight. The sky above was a vibrant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds. Flying overhead were magnificent phoenixes with fiery wings, their radiant plumes casting a warm glow. A few dragons soared among them, their scales glinting in the sunlight. Jack could see witches riding on broomsticks, cackling with glee as they zoomed through the air.
The train itself seemed to stretch infinitely into the distance, its vast interior filled with creatures of every imaginable kind. Towering kaiju-like beings stood next to mobile suit robots that gleamed with polished metal, their movements surprisingly graceful for their immense size. Despite their differences, all the passengers coexisted harmoniously, each waiting patiently for their stop.
In one corner, Jack spotted a group of talking unicorns with shimmering coats, their horns spiraled with an otherworldly light. They chatted animatedly with a pair of centaurs, their voices a melodic harmony that added to the surreal atmosphere. Nearby, futuristic vehicles like flying cars and hovercrafts were parked in designated areas, their sleek designs a stark contrast to the more traditional creatures around them.
Jack's eyes widened in awe as he spotted a goat king, adorned with a golden crown, sitting majestically on a throne carried by a troop of goat soldiers. The goat king's regal demeanor was matched by the imposing presence of his soldiers, each one equipped with a gleaming spear and clad in ornate armor. They stood proudly beside him, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a watchful gaze.
All around, the air was filled with the mingling scents of exotic flowers, freshly baked pastries, and the faint, tangy aroma of ozone from the electric dragons. The sounds of laughter, chatter, and the occasional roar of a dragon or the hum of a futuristic vehicle created a symphony of life that filled the train with a sense of wonder and excitement.
Jack exchanged a puzzled look with Sparks, his mind racing with questions as the train sped through the vortex of time.
Sparks, sensing Jack's anxiety, began to sing, "You and I must make a pact. We must bring salvation back. Where there is love, I'll be there." Jack joined in, their voices a harmonious echo that seemed to soothe the tension in the air.
A moment later, a creature that seemed a blend of wolf and elephant, clad in a uniform as elaborate as the conductor's, approached them. "Do you want any refreshments? I am running a sale here, kid."
Jack declined, and Sparks added with a cheeky grin, "Yeah, we're watching our calorie intake. Got to maintain these sleek robot curves!"
As Jack stared out the window, watching the swirling vortex, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of nostalgia for the life he was leaving behind. Memories of winters past filled his mind: the crisp air, the laughter of friends, the twinkling lights that adorned his home. He whispered softly, "Goodbye, home."
Just then, he noticed a figure in a black hat watching them from a few seats away. Jack's curiosity piqued, he leaned over to Sparks and whispered, "Hey, do you see that furry guy with the black hat staring at us?"
Sparks, with mock seriousness, replied, "Hmm, that's strange. I'm not in the market for romantic partners at the moment. Maybe I should let him know gently before he starts knitting us matching sweaters!" Jack burst out laughing, the tension easing as they journeyed deeper into the unknown.
Jack's curiosity piqued, and he looked at Sparks, wondering about the train's destination. Sparks, sensing Jack's question, smiled and said, "Want to know where we're headed?"
Jack nodded eagerly. Sparks' chest plate began to shift and morph, the smooth metal rippling like water. It transformed into a futuristic display, the intricate circuitry and panels aligning to form a high-resolution screen. The display lit up with a detailed map, showcasing their current location in a swirling vortex of time and space. Pulsing lines and blinking icons showed the train's path, destination, and estimated arrival time.
Jack watched in awe as the map zoomed in, revealing their destination: Tokyo, year 1604. The screen showed the cityscape of ancient Tokyo, with winding streets, traditional wooden houses, and towering temples. The arrival time flickered on the screen, counting down the minutes and seconds until they reached their destination.
Sparks' voice, calm and reassuring, broke the silence. "Next stop: Year 1604, Tokyo. Arrival in approximately 10 minutes. Prepare for an extraordinary journey through time and history."
Jack's excitement surged as he stared at the display, his mind racing with thoughts of the adventures that awaited them. Sparks' chest continued to display the map, the detailed graphics and vibrant colors illuminating the path ahead, guiding them through the mysteries of time and space.

Hi everyone!
My name is Nicholas, I'm 25, and I live in Italy. I'm a master's student in Management in Milan. Although I've finished all my exams, I'm back in my hometown in southern Italy, waiting to start an internship (if a company accepts me, hopefully...). So, I have a lot of free time lately, and I'd like to make new friends!
I have a messed up sleep schedule, so don't worry if you're not in my timezone. I studied English, Spanish, and French in high school, so I can speak those languages too if you prefer!
I'm 178 cm (or 5'10") with blue eyes and brown hair. Now, let's talk more specifically about me and my passions:

• I like to make jokes and share memes. For reference, all my friends say I'm funny haha.
  
• I'm a fan of Italian and Russian literature. My favorite authors are Moravia and Dostoevsky. I'd like to read something by Sartre in the future.
  
• Teen dramas are my guilty pleasure, probably a reminiscence of my past as a boy of a famous social in 2014 lol. My favorites are probably Call Me by Your Name and Gilmore Girls. And as a user of that social I believe in Lorde supremacy haha
  
• Since 2-3 years ago, I've entered the anime world, after watching Your Name for the first time. I cried a lot! My favorite anime are Attack on Titan, Nana, Horimiya, and Haikyu!!. I'm a sucker for rom-com and slice-of-life genres!
  
• I watch a lot of sports, really a lot! As a good Italian, I'm an AC Milan fan and a Ferrari fan, but I also watch MotoGP and volleyball. If I had watched Haikyu!! as a kid, I would have definitely practiced volleyball, but instead, I just played it casually in high school and sometimes with my friends. Nowadays, i like running and going to the gym.
  

-I play videogames too! I have a PS4 where I usually play Fortnite or FIFA with my friends.
I hope I've caught your interest, so I'm looking forward to hearing from you!

As you can tell from the title I’m currently - and will most likely be for the rest of my sorry life - in prison for a crime I did NOT commit. I won’t go too much into the details, but basically there was a murder and it got pinned on me. Wrong place, wrong time. Now I’m here, stuck in purgatory, at least that’s what it feels like. Been here for a couple months now and I finally managed to get hold of a phone from one of the guys in here (you can get pretty much anything you want in here, for a price of course). Seems as I was a redditor before being dumped in here I thought I’d start a digital prison diary or some such thing. I thought it would hopefully keep me sane and some people might wanna read it, just like you are now. People love hearing about prison and I’m rotting away in here so I may as well tell you all about the prison life.
Well, that was my intention, up until my new cellmate arrived, now everything’s changed. He’s a strange guy, not met anyone else in here like him. He’s quiet most of the time, kinda disheveled, long greasy hair, scratchy beard and thin as a twig. Strangely he also has a vague similarity to myself, like if I had been left out in the woods for a couple years or something. Anyway, he came in on his first day and didn’t say a word. Just sat on his bunk starin into the ceiling and would wander around aimlessly whenever we were let out. He was like this for a few weeks, I didn’t even know his name or what he came in for and I just left him alone, he coulda been crazy for all I know. There’s a lotta crazy folk in here, I’ve seen multiple people get their heads caved in for no reason and I don’t want nothing like that happening to me so I just mind my way. He didn’t give off that sorta vibe though. He was creepy for sure and if you were in a certain radius of him you’d start to feel cold and unsettled, as if some kind of dark aura was surrounding him and was now seeping it’s way into you. I got used to that after a few days. I guess I had to. Everyone left him alone too for that reason, even the crazies and prison gangs didn’t wanna go near him, even they sensed a darkness to him.
After a while I started to notice that sometimes he’d stare at a particular cell on the floor above. It was empty and had been since I arrived. No idea why, maybe something bad happened in there, I’m not sure, no one seems to know and the guards don’t say shit about it either. But he’d just stare at it like it meant something. I’d look at it too but there was nothing there. Then, just the other day he finally spoke to me. It was late, everyone was practically asleep already and I was drifting in and out of sleep when he suddenly said “have you ever noticed that guy in cell 12? Why does he never come out?”. I didn’t register what he’d said at first, I couldn’t really remember the cell numbers. “What cell is that?” I asked. “The one in the far corner, the only one that never opens”. I realised what he was talking about now, he was talking about that damn cell he was always staring at. That must be why he keeps looking at it, he thinks someone’s in there. This guy was more disturbed than I first thought. I stayed quiet, thinking of something to say to him. “I don’t think there is anyone in that cell. Been empty since I came in and everyone knows about it. Ain’t a soul there” He took a while to reply. “There is. I’ll show you”. I laughed and eventually went to sleep.
The next day I sat down at my usual spot for lunch, not remembering the strange conversation I’d had the night before, when he came over to me. He leaned over me, his hair tickling the back of my neck. Then he spoke. “Let me show you. He’s there now”. The memory of our conversation faded back into my mind again, it felt like a half-forgotten dream. “Oh yeah you told me about him last night. I can’t see anyone from here” I had looked over at the cell and couldn’t see anyone. “You can’t see him from here. Come with me” He turned and walked towards his usual spot. I sat in place watching him, unsure whether I should go over to him or not. I didn’t want to indulge in his delusions, but there’s not much else to do around here so I thought it would be a brief moment of entertainment. I walked over to him, no one else was around him as always. He stood up right as i reached him and said “here, sit down” He wanted me to sit specifically in his seat, so I did. “Look, there he is.” I followed his gaze and then his hand as he pointed up to the cell. My focus switched from his pointed finger to the cell and I couldn’t quite believe what I saw. It was a man, his face pressed up against the bars, looking straight at me with eyes stretched as wide as they could go. No light came from the cell and none of the lights outside penetrated it enough for you to see anything within it so his face looked like it was attached to nothing, like a floating head. An intense sense of dread washed over me, like a rogue wave, it completely knocked me out. Literally.
I remember nothing after that and awoke in a prison hospital bed with an unbearable headache. The nurse said I passed out and then hit my head on the floor. A nasty concussion, but nothing more. I’d never passed out before and I had no reason to either. Maybe he did something to me. My thoughts were confused and the headache was overwhelming me so I tried to stop thinking and just rest. I went back to my cell after another night in the hospital only to find that my cellmate was gone. His bed was pristine and the smell that lingered in every room he entered was gone. I asked the guard what happened to him and he looked at me with a confused and slightly annoyed look on his face. He didn’t know who I was talking about and said I’d never had a cellmate. I thought he was joking but he didnt laugh with me when I began to chuckle. I started to ask around and no one knew who I was talking about. I felt like I was going insane. Has the entire prison decided to join in on a practical joke against me? Did I dream the entire thing? I have so many thoughts going on inside my head right now and typing this out is certainly helping. He was definitely real, I know he was. I have to go back to that cell or sit in his seat tomorrow so I can see that man again. Something strange is going on here and I need to find out what it is.

So, in recent years, AI-generated content has gone from a novelty to a crucial tool in the world of SEO and content marketing. You've probably come across articles or blogs that were partially or entirely written by AI, even if you didn't realize it. This shift has revolutionized how content is produced, offering unprecedented efficiency and scalability.
But, here's the ever important question for us marketers and SEOs: can AI-generated content really rank well on search engines without needing the critical eye of a human editor?
As an AI enthusiast, I’ve spent countless hours exploring the capabilities of various AI tools.
From generating engaging blog posts to experimenting with different PROMPTS on ChatGPT to crafting detailed reports, there is tremendous potential.
However, the burning question remains—can we really rely on AI to produce a 1-Click "Straight Out of AI" high-quality, SEO-friendly content that doesn't require any manual tweaks?
In my opinion, we aren't there yet, but some tools might be closer to that point than others.

Key takeaways: Where AI writers are coming short for SEO?

In my opinion as an experienced SEO specialist, and content marketer, I believe AI writers face following challenges. While, I’ve been observing lots of AI tools quite regularly, currently “Content at Scale” and Cuppa seem to be effectively challenging these challenges.
Of all these challenges, integrating NLP (Natural language processing) and DATA from already top-ranking websites on Google’s first page is the biggest challenge. That requires comprehensive database building around each targeted keyword, increasing the cost of content generation.
Currently, “Content at Scale” and Cuppa seem to best at handling this challenge!

Challenges and Concerns

• 1. Quality and Relevance:
  • AI-generated content often struggles to maintain high quality and relevance due to a lack of deep contextual understanding and the ability to recognize nuances.
  • AI content might miss the subtle aspects of a topic, resulting in material that feels flat or out of touch with current trends.
  • Without human intuition, AI may choose poor examples or analogies, making the content feel generic or detached from the reader’s reality.
  • Bias or outdated training data can lead to content that is irrelevant or skewed.
  • Human editors are essential for injecting emotional depth and ensuring the content is both accurate and engaging.
• 2.SEO, NLP, and Google's Page One Data:
  • Achieving a first-page ranking on Google is challenging, especially for AI tools that lack effective integration of Natural Language Processing (NLP) and real-time data from already top-ranking websites on Google’s first page. That requires comprehensive database building around each targeted keyword!
  • Creating an AI database that covers all related keywords and nuances for a keyword is expensive and technically complex.
  • Only a few advanced AI tools can build and maintain such a comprehensive system, making them rare and costly.
  • Most AI-generated content ends up being generic, lacking the fine-tuned SEO optimization necessary for high rankings.
  • Human SEO specialists are often needed to achieve competitive ranking by refining AI-generated content.
• 3.Potential for Errors and Misinformation:
  • AI content is prone to errors and misinformation because it relies heavily on the quality of its training data.
  • AI might propagate outdated or incorrect information, especially if it lacks access to the most current sources.
  • Without the ability to critically evaluate data, AI can produce authoritative-sounding content based on flawed premises, which is risky in critical fields like health or finance.
  • The lack of contextual understanding means AI might fail to verify facts or provide balanced information, emphasizing the need for human oversight to ensure accuracy.
• 4.SEO and Algorithm Updates:
  • Search algorithms, like Google's, frequently update, which can significantly impact the effectiveness of AI-generated content.
  • AI tools might not adapt quickly to changes in ranking factors, potentially leading to a loss of content relevance and ranking.
  • AI might struggle to interpret the nuances of new ranking signals or factors, making previously optimized content less effective.
  • Continuous monitoring and updating of AI-generated content are necessary to keep up with the latest SEO best practices and algorithm updates.
  • Human SEO experts can more quickly and effectively adapt content strategies to align with the latest trends and algorithm changes, ensuring content remains competitive and relevant.

Understanding the AI Content Landscape

History and Evolution of AI Content Creation
To appreciate where we are today, it's important to understand the journey. AI content generation began with rudimentary text spinners that could rearrange words to create unique content.
These early tools were often clunky and produced content that was, to be blunt, barely readable. If you’ve ever tried one, you know what I’m talking about—sentences that made no sense and content that was more confusing than informative.
Fast forward to today, and we’re looking at advanced language models like OpenAI's GPT series. These models can understand context, generate coherent sentences, and even mimic different writing styles.
The leap from simple text manipulation to sophisticated natural language processing has been nothing short of phenomenal.
Current Capabilities of AI in Content Generation
Modern AI systems can now do much more than just string together words. They can perform in-depth research, identify reliable sources, and produce SEO-optimized content that can rival human writers. Tools like Content at Scale are pushing the boundaries by automating nearly every aspect of content creation. These systems can generate original articles, complete with keyword optimization and metadata, all in a fraction of the time it would take a human.
But here’s the catch: while AI can create factually accurate and well-structured content, it often lacks the nuanced understanding and critical thinking that a human editor brings to the table. AI-generated content can sometimes miss the mark on tone or depth, which is why human oversight is still crucial.
Examples of AI Content Tools
If you're curious about what tools are leading the charge in AI content creation, there are several notable ones to explore. Content at Scale, for instance, automates the entire content creation process, including keyword research and SEO optimization. OpenAI’s GPT-4 is another powerhouse, capable of generating text that is not only coherent but also contextually relevant.
Other tools like Jarvis and Copy.ai offer user-friendly interfaces for generating high-quality content quickly. These platforms provide a glimpse into the future of content creation, where AI and human creativity can work hand-in-hand to produce compelling, engaging, and SEO-friendly articles.

The Concept of StraightOuttaAI

There is a buzz term invented by people at "Content at Scale" - StraightOuttaAI? In the simplest terms, it refers to content that is entirely generated by AI and ready for publication without any need for human editing.

Implies typing in a topic and keywords, hitting a button, and out pops a fully-formed article with SEO that’s good to go live and rank on Google!
Sounds like a dream, for most SEOs and niche website publishers. That’s the essence of StraightOuttaAI—a seamless, automated process that churns out high-quality, SEO-optimized content ready for the digital stage.
They show some cases studies where this leveraging the latest in AI technology to produce content that can compete with, and sometimes even outperform, human writers in terms of search engine rankings. The goal is to achieve this with minimal to no manual edits, making the content creation process faster and more efficient.

CRAFT to TAP Transition

If you’ve been following the developments in AI content creation, you might have heard about the CRAFT framework. This framework was designed to guide human writers in optimizing AI-generated content.
It stood for Content Research, Analysis, Formatting, and Text optimization. The idea was to use AI to generate the bulk of the content, then apply these principles to polish and refine it.
However, as AI technology advanced, the need for such extensive human intervention diminished. Enter the TAP framework—a more streamlined and automated approach. TAP stands for Topic, Audience, and Purpose. The concept here is that by defining these elements clearly, AI can handle the rest. Essentially, it shifts the focus from manual editing to setting up the right parameters and letting the AI do the heavy lifting.
The transition from CRAFT to TAP marks a significant evolution in AI content generation. It reflects a growing confidence in the ability of AI to not only generate coherent and relevant content but also to optimize it for specific audiences and purposes without human intervention.
This shift is a testament to how far AI has come in understanding and executing complex content creation tasks.

Success Stories

Let’s talk about some real-world examples where AI-generated content has hit the mark straight out of the gate.
One notable case is a blog post generated by the RankWell tool by Content at Scale.

• It tackled a health topic and ended up ranking for over 1,500 keywords, driving a significant amount of organic traffic—all without any human editing.
  
• Another success story involves a post about fractional CMO certification. Using StraightOuttaAI, this content piece ranked in the top three positions for multiple related keywords, attracting thousands of organic visitors. The post was generated, optimized, and published entirely by AI, showcasing its ability to handle niche topics effectively.
  

In business and finance, an article about "making money from a book" also illustrates the power of StraightOuttaAI. It captured over 100,000 impressions per month and ranked for more than 1,000 keywords, proving that AI-generated content can resonate with readers and perform well in competitive search spaces.
Other notable, successful examples are :-
StraightOuttaAI: RankWell post on health insurance ranking for 841 keywords and driving 1,667 organics/month.
StraightOuttaAI: RankWell post on “what is a blog introduction?” ranking for 440 keywords with 12k impressions/month.

Those guys at Content at Scale are really using the Google’s first page DATA, already there, and use it to maximum potential in an AI content generation mechanism!

Challenges and Concerns

Quality and Relevance

When it comes to AI-generated content, one of the most pressing challenges is maintaining quality and relevance. While AI can churn out impressive amounts of text quickly, ensuring that this content meets high standards can be a bit tricky.
AI content still lacks the human touch, the soul—the ability to understand context deeply, recognize nuances, and adapt content to specific audience needs. This often leads to content that, while technically correct, might not resonate well with readers.
For instance, AI might generate a blog post on a trending topic, but if the nuances and subtleties of the subject are not captured, the content may fall flat.
Relevance is another biggie. AI systems often rely on training data that might not always be up-to-date or entirely accurate, leading to content that’s out of sync with current trends or audience interests.
One major issue is that AI might not always pick the best examples or analogies that a human writer would intuitively use to illustrate a point. This can make AI-generated content seem generic or detached from the reader's reality. Plus, if the AI's training data is biased or incomplete, it might produce content that’s either irrelevant or skewed in some way.
While AI can mimic human writing styles to an extent, the depth of insight and the connection that human writers can establish with their audience often remain unmatched. This is why human editors are still crucial—they can infuse the content with the necessary emotional depth and relevance that AI-generated text often lacks.

SEO, NLP, and Google's Page One Data

If you’re into SEO, you know that getting your content to rank on the first page of Google is like hitting the jackpot. However, not all AI tools are created equal when it comes to integrating Natural Language Processing (NLP) and leveraging Google's page one data.
NLP is critical for understanding the context, sentiment, and intent behind keywords, but not many AI tools effectively integrate this technology with real-time data from top-ranking websites.
Why? Because it’s expensive and technically challenging to build an entire database around a single keyword. This database would need to encompass all related keywords, context, and the nuances required to create content that can compete with what's already on the first page.

To truly match or surpass the content that ranks on Google’s first page, a 1-click AI tool to generate "Straight Out of AI" content needs to analyze a vast amount of data. It must understand the search intent behind keywords, identify the related keywords, and then generate content that is optimized for these factors. This process involves complex data aggregation and NLP analysis, which can be costly and resource-intensive.

Developing such a comprehensive system requires significant investment in technology and data infrastructure. Only a few advanced AI tools have the capability to build and maintain such a database, making them rare in the marketplace.
The majority of AI tools simply don’t have the resources to gather and process the volume of data required to create truly competitive SEO content.
The result is that most AI-generated content ends up being generic and lacks the fine-tuned optimization needed to rank on the first page. Therefore, while AI can help in generating content quickly, getting it to rank well still often requires the expertise and intervention of a human SEO specialist.

Potential for Errors and Misinformation

Another major concern with AI-generated content is the potential for errors and misinformation. AI systems are only as good as the data they are trained on, and if that data contains inaccuracies, those errors can easily be propagated in the content they produce.
For example, AI might generate content that includes outdated statistics, incorrect facts, or even misleading information. Since AI lacks the ability to critically evaluate or fact-check the information it processes, there’s a risk of spreading falsehoods, especially if the AI doesn’t have access to the most current or credible sources.
Moreover, AI can sometimes create content that sounds authoritative but is actually based on flawed logic or incorrect premises. This can be particularly problematic in fields like health, finance, or law, where misinformation can have serious consequences. The lack of contextual understanding means that AI might not recognize the importance of verifying facts or presenting information in a balanced manner.
The danger here is that users might take AI-generated content at face value, assuming it’s accurate simply because it’s well-written or appears on a reputable site. This highlights the need for human oversight to verify and correct any inaccuracies before the content is published.

SEO and Algorithm Updates

SEO is a constantly moving target, primarily because search algorithms are always evolving. Google, for instance, frequently updates its algorithms to improve the relevance and quality of the search results it delivers. These changes can have significant implications for AI-generated content.
AI tools are typically trained on existing data, and if an algorithm update changes the factors that determine ranking, the AI might not adapt quickly enough to these changes.
For example, if Google decides to prioritize content with higher engagement metrics or more in-depth analysis, AI-generated content that doesn’t meet these new criteria could quickly lose its ranking.

Google is also pretty good at detecting AI content, so although AI content doesn't go against their policies, they might be proactively demoting such content in their search results.

Furthermore, AI tools might not always be able to interpret the nuances of algorithm changes that involve new signals or ranking factors. As a result, content that was optimized based on previous criteria might suddenly become less effective.
This means that AI-generated content must be continuously monitored and updated to align with the latest SEO best practices and algorithm updates.
In addition, human SEOs often have a better understanding of the subtleties and implications of these algorithm changes, allowing them to make more informed decisions about how to adapt content strategies. They can quickly respond to changes by adjusting keyword strategies, enhancing content quality, and incorporating new trends that AI might not immediately recognize.
Human intervention is essential for fact-checking. AI can pull information from various sources, but it doesn’t always have the ability to verify the credibility of these sources.
This can lead to the inclusion of outdated or incorrect information. Imagine reading an article on health that suggests outdated treatments simply because the AI didn’t cross-check the latest medical guidelines. That’s a serious concern, right?
Moreover, human editors are vital for refining content. AI might produce text that’s technically accurate but lacks the depth, nuance, or engagement that a human writer can bring. Human editors can adjust the tone, clarify complex points, and ensure that the content is tailored to the specific audience’s needs. They can spot inconsistencies and gaps in logic that AI might overlook, making the final product more coherent and compelling.

Complementary Roles

The future of content creation is not about choosing between humans and AI, but about leveraging the strengths of both. AI excels at generating content quickly and handling repetitive tasks like data aggregation and basic formatting. It’s great for creating a first draft or handling large volumes of text that would be time-consuming for a human to produce.
However, humans bring creativity and critical thinking to the table. They can add unique insights, emotional depth, and a personal touch that AI simply can’t replicate. This complementary relationship allows humans and AI to produce content that is both efficient and high-quality.
AI might generate an article draft, and a human editor can then refine it to ensure it’s engaging, accurate, and aligned with the brand’s voice.
By working together, humans and AI can create content that is factually accurate, contextually relevant, and emotionally resonant. This collaboration not only enhances the quality of the content but also allows for a more efficient workflow, freeing up human writers to focus on more strategic and creative tasks.

Examples of AI Content Needing Human Edits

A few potential scenarios where human edits can significantly improve AI-generated content:

1. Technical Articles: AI might generate a solid technical article on a new software update, but a human editor might notice that the explanation of certain features is too technical or jargony for the intended audience. The editor can simplify the language and add contextual examples to make the content more accessible.
2. Creative Writing: An AI could draft a creative piece for a storytelling blog, but the content might lack the emotional depth and narrative flow that engages readers. A human editor can enhance the storytelling by adding descriptive language, adjusting the pacing, and ensuring the narrative is compelling.
3. Marketing Content: AI might create a product description that’s factual but bland. A human editor can infuse it with brand voice, highlight unique selling points, and include a call-to-action that resonates with potential customers.
4. Health and Wellness: AI might produce a health article with accurate but surface-level information. A human editor can dive deeper, add relevant case studies, and ensure that the advice given is not only accurate but also empathetic and reader-focused.

While AI can handle a lot of the heavy lifting, it’s the human touch that ensures the final product is accurate, engaging, and fit for purpose.

Practical Limitations

When it comes to the practical challenges of AI-generated content, one of the most significant issues is plagiarism detection. AI can inadvertently produce content that closely resembles existing works, leading to plagiarism concerns. This is problematic not only from a legal standpoint but also in maintaining content uniqueness and credibility.
Another practical limitation is ensuring content uniqueness. AI tools often pull from the same set of data, leading to content that can be overly generic or similar to what’s already out there. This lack of uniqueness can diminish the content's value and make it harder to stand out in a crowded digital landscape.

User Experience

From the end-user perspective, the experience of reading AI-generated content can be a mixed bag. On one hand, AI can produce content that is highly informative and well-structured. On the other hand, it can sometimes lack the personal touch and emotional resonance that human-written content provides. Users might find AI-generated content to be impersonal or bland, which can negatively impact their engagement and trust in the content. It’s crucial to strike a balance where AI can enhance the content experience without alienating the reader.

Future Outlook

Advancements in AI Content Generation

Looking ahead, we can expect significant advancements in AI content generation technology. AI systems will become more adept at understanding and mimicking human-like writing styles, allowing for more nuanced and contextually appropriate content. We might also see AI tools that can better integrate real-time data and insights, making content not only timely but also highly relevant.
Another exciting development is the potential for AI to handle more complex content creation tasks, such as interactive storytelling or generating multimedia content. This will open up new possibilities for content creators and marketers, providing more tools to engage audiences in innovative ways.

Potential Impact on Content Marketing

These advancements are poised to have a profound impact on content marketing and SEO. AI will make it easier to produce large volumes of high-quality, SEO-optimized content, helping brands to maintain a steady stream of engaging content that can rank well on search engines. This could level the playing field, allowing smaller businesses to compete more effectively with larger companies by leveraging AI to amplify their content strategies.
However, this also means that the content landscape will become even more competitive. Brands will need to find ways to differentiate their content, not just by volume but by quality and uniqueness, ensuring that they stand out in an increasingly crowded market.

Balance Between AI and Human Creativity

The future of content creation will likely see a harmonious balance between AI and human creativity. AI will handle the heavy lifting of data analysis and content generation, freeing up human writers to focus on more creative and strategic tasks. This partnership can lead to more innovative and effective content that combines the best of both worlds: the efficiency of AI and the creativity of humans.
By using AI to augment rather than replace human creativity, we can push the boundaries of what’s possible in content creation. This approach will enable us to create content that is not only informative and optimized but also engaging, unique, and reflective of the human experience.

Conclusion

As an AI enthusiast and content marketer, I’ve always embraced the notion that AI operates on the fundamental principle of “Garbage in, Garbage out; Gold in, Gold out!”
This means that the quality of AI-generated content is directly influenced by the quality of the data it’s trained on. If you feed the AI subpar data, you’ll get subpar results. Conversely, high-quality, well-curated data can lead to exceptional content that meets or even exceeds human standards.
However, despite the inherent logic of this principle, there is a relentless push by many companies to minimize human intervention in the content generation process. Maybe they’ll achieve it or already well on their way to achieve it with zero manual input, or minimizing the “PROMPT” work!

Both my parents have green eyes and i have brown eyes witch makes no sense because green eye parents cant make a brown eye kid. But my dad allways told me that during his chemotherapy his eyes changed to green and they were brown before. But i was born after he went threw chemotherapy so question is would i take after his eyes before chemotherapy or new eye color.? On top of that its rare but still can happen for your eyes to change during chemotherapy. But still confused if his original eyes still have a effect on my eyes or his new eye color.?