I'm at the Boston Massacre site

I'm at the SweetGreen

I'm at the combination Boston Massacre site and SweetGreen

Blackheart, Chapter 18: Field of Dreams

Andric cleaved through yet another beast, the fallen creature collapsing in a crumpled heap.

Fianna watched as the man calmly stepped over the corpse and continued walking, marching ahead towards their destination.

The paladin had made the corruption much more bearable, but still it festered within her. She could feel it beginning to come back, the dark temptations threatening to compromise her once again.

She didn’t know how long she could keep this up. Resisting it on its own was bad enough, and even though Andric had made it better...he was making it worse, too.

The corruption twisted her thoughts, desires and morals, making once unacceptable actions very appealing to her.

Andric, with his back turned, presented a unique opportunity; Strike him while his guard is down. Turn the holy warrior, the only one keeping the darkness here at bay, into a mutilated corpse. Send a signal to all that is good and righteous that there is no hope, and that the darkness will reign supreme.

Fianna couldn’t believe she was thinking these things...and yet...her eyes were transfixed on his back. She poured over every detail of his armor, eying every single gap and soft spot, her mind presenting her with all the best possible methods of attack.

Despite weakening the corruption in her...Andric was bringing it back with his mere presence as well.

It would be so easy...he trusts me…

Still she resented it. Still she could hardly believe her inner thoughts, and yet they grew darker, betraying her and working to make her give into the corruption. She desired to give up her higher thinking, to join the demons, to bask in feral bloodlust and dance with madness.

The longer they walked, the more appealing it became. The longer she held on, the more her memories started to warp into justifications for giving in.

That time father was unreasonable. That time her friend talked about her behind her back. That time someone stole from her.

They didn’t DESERVE her kindness. She should make them pay. They deserve to suffer.

She slapped at herself. Had she really just thought that?!

She was slipping back into the corruption, and so quickly, too…

Was her will lacking? Or was it just that powerful?

More and more, her mind raced with scenarios where she could quickly kill the paladin before he had a chance to retaliate. Her thoughts grew incoherent and alien.

The pair continued their walk through the city, occasionally cutting down corrupted as they came at them..

Every time though, every encounter, Fianna longed more and more to leap on the paladin’s back, and help the others take him down, feeling remorse as she stood by and watched them all die.

It terrified her, how quickly the darkness sprang back.

Andric, for the moment, was too preoccupied checking every corner for more corrupted beasts to notice the sorry state Fianna was in. The constant attacks made any meaningful interaction dangerous, and so they simply moved on, continuing to run into and battle beasts.

It was after much of this that Andric suddenly came to a stop.

Fianna nearly bumped into the man, stumbling back and staring at him.

Before the pair was a large, tall metal gate. Its fence stretched out far, across the horizon.

Past the gate, the rows and rows of houses and streets ended. Instead, the koutu spotted something she hadn’t seen for quite a while.

Grass.

Still green and vibrant, still full of life and untainted...unlike the few patches of grass throughout most of the city, which were all withered and blackened, as though immolated.

“The park…” Andric muttered, pressing a hand against the gates.

The large and intimidating iron gates gave way with a low, groaning screech of metal.

The paladin stepped forward, Fianna following hesitantly.

“The grass is still healthy...must have rained since the attack.”

“W-what about...the sky?” the koutu asked.

“What about it?”

“It’s...blotted out.”

The human shook his head, beginning to walk. “Doesn’t stop things from passing through. Just obscures vision...and corrupts the land within...though for this park to be untouched by the corruption…”

“...what?”

Andric shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

Fianna was barely aware of what was going on anymore. It was so hard to keep control of herself, sloppily plodding after the holy warrior. This whole time he hadn’t turned to look at her...and she was quite thankful of that, for she must have looked awful.

The two began to walk deeper inside, following the dirt road as the cityscape faded away in favor of the notable forest contained within the park.

Andric strode forward with his back straight and his fists clenched, marching without pause. He moved with purpose, as though he had his goal squarely in his sight, heading straight for it.

The same could not be said of Fianna. As they continued, she found herself slowly losing the fight. It became more and more taxing to simply follow. Her talons waved about with each step. Her vision spun and she held a hand against her head as she tried to shake herself out of her stupor.

The duo ascended up the trail, now looking like a pair of hikers instead of two urban explorers. The thick forest was not a simple patch, but a moderate portion of the winding and uneven terrain of the park. It really felt like they were out in the wild instead of inside a city.

Even the tall, overhanging trees blocked out the sky, so the darkness didn’t even feel out of place anymore. More like they were just waltzing through a field at night.

Andric stopped again, beginning to step away from the trail. Fianna, barely lucid, walked a bit further before realizing there was no one in front of her.

Blinking, she was temporarily reinvigorated, if only due to her confusion.

Looking about, she found Andric to the left, standing before three tombstones.

Tombstones? In a park? There’s a graveyard...somewhere…

Fianna followed, curious as to what was going on. Andric kneeled down and examined the tombstones.

“Geroul,” he spoke quietly, “Loving husband, selfless friend, and heroic soul. May he find his homestead beyond.”

He moved his gaze to the grave in the middle. “Jovus. Though he did not get a chance at life, we pray he finds a better one in heaven.”

The paladin looked to the final grave.

“Desibel. May her and her family finally have their peace above.”

The pair were silent as they drank this oddity in, unsure what it all meant. Much to Fianna’s surprise however, Andric moved to the left again.

She had missed a small plaque on the ground, beside the tombstones and hidden among the blades of grass.

“My friend Geroul, by special request, made his final resting place here, the grove where he first met Desibel. God have mercy, and deliver him to paradise. Life will never be the same without you.”

Andric was silent for some time, as was Fianna. The koutu worked to piece together the meaning behind the words, as deteriorated as her thinking was.

The paladin lowered his head and clasped his hands together, still kneeling. He said nothing, but the koutu finally realized what had happened. Andric must have been praying internally.

She looked at the graves, unsure how to feel. She experienced clashing emotions, as the corruption battled her old self, a strange mania at the sight of the graves conflicting with the despair and grief of an innocent family lost.

Finally, Andric stood up. Taking a deep breath, he turned and walked back to the trail.

“Let’s go.”

She almost reached out to him, just barely stopping herself. She wasn’t sure what she would have done after that if she did, but she could certainly imagine with the corruption battering her will…

“At least they were spared this horror.”

That, at least, she could agree with.

“Right,” she said hoarsely.

She wished SHE’D been spared this horror.

The two of them continued on the trail, which became quite steep as they went on.

Already struggling to simply walk, the koutu felt truly tested by walking up this hill, but she managed.

Only barely, though.

As the human and koutu crested the peak, they both froze.

At the top of this very, very large hill, there were no trees, and everything around them was far below.

They could see just about the entire park...and much of city.

A sea of trees and rolling hills of grass, and then far away across the iron fences...the endless expanse of buildings made of wood and stone, as densely packed as the forest.

The only damper on the entire thing was the swirling fog blocking out the sky.

Andric moved forward and put his hands on hips, staring out into the city.

“Even as far as this land has fallen...it’s still beautiful.”

Fianna couldn’t take it anymore.

Actively resisting the corruption hurt so badly. Every moment was agonizing. She couldn’t do this anymore.

If actively resisting hurt, why not...just not do that?

She wasn’t doing anything wrong per se, as long as she just stopped herself if she actually tried to hurt Andric...right?

She closed her eyes and let her mind go.

Immediately, as her mental defenses dropped, she felt a wondrous sensation. The pain faded, and warmth flowed through her.

It feels good to give in.

Was that her? Or the corruption?

Who cared.

She enjoyed this brief moment of relief, mind slipping all the while.

After some time, she tried to take control of herself again...only to find it impossible.

She tried to open her eyes, but couldn’t.

Meanwhile, something was happening. She wasn’t sure what, but could sense something around her, moving the air as she stood motionless.

This inability to control her own body sent terror through her for only a brief moment...and then an unnatural calmness spread through her.

It could control her emotions now.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Andric probed. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him as she stood there, mind isolated from the rest of the world.

“Yes,” the koutu replied robotically.

“Sometimes, a brief respite is needed to keep going...wouldn’t you agree?”

“Mmm...right…”

Fianna couldn’t even tell if she was saying those things. It was her voice, but...it felt like she was listening to herself as a third party. She hadn’t chosen to speak, it just...happened.

The warmth spread further, pulsing through her body as she felt the darkness grow.

The corruption, with nothing holding it back anymore, surged far past its original power, Fianna feeling as though she was in another reality altogether.

This mortal shell needed her no longer.

“I glad we could take this short time to reinvigorate ourselves,” the paladin said, still facing away.

“Reinvigorate…” Fianna hissed.

That distorted and unholy warping of her voice returned.

Now, Andric realized something was wrong.

“Fianna?!”

He must have turned around.

She tried to pull herself together, to regain control of herself. As she fought, that lovely calm and comfort came crashing to a halt, quickly replaced with the horrid pain she was familiar with.

“Open your eyes. Look at me!”

“Look…”

Once again, she didn’t choose to say that...but she did.

This time, without the warmth and calm fogging her mind, it terrified her as much as it should have before.

Fianna struggled. She fought with every fiber of her being. Gathering every last ounce of her will, she finally found her eyes opening.

It hurt so much more now.

She stared blankly at the armored man.

“Look down! Look at what you’re doing!”

She found her head craning down, until she saw what he was talking about.

Her unholy aura had returned, dark mists flowing off of her as her body spread out her excess corruption. All around her feet, the bright, green grass had turned black...and that blackness was spreading outwards, more and more of the ground being tainted.

“You’re poisoning the earth with your corruption!”

Fianna blinked, as comprehension dawned on her.

Finally mustering herself, she parted her beak and spoke, of her own volition this time.

“It’s...so strong…”

“Damn it...you’re slipping, Fianna.”

She felt tears in her eyes as she thought of being lost to the darkness forever.

“Please...save me…”

“Step aside.”

She obeyed, feeling a compulsion to do whatever he said as long as it meant she got to continue existing.

The paladin kneeled next to the patch of tainted grass, holding his hands out towards it.

Immediately his hands pulsed with divine power, the holy magic he channeled flowing into the corrupted land itself.

Slowly, the blackness faded, until the patch of grass was unidentifiable from the rest of the park.

“Why...do you save the grass...but not me?” she whimpered.

“The earth does not give our position away by screaming when I do so,” he answered flatly.

“B-but...I...I need…”

Andric nodded.

“I...I didn’t want to do this, but...I suppose there’s only one thing left I can do.”

Fianna leaned towards him, eyes full of desperation. “Anything. Please.”

The paladin was silent for a moment.

“...I know one other purity ritual, one that does not wrack you with pain, but it’s only a salve, a temporary ward against being consumed completely. It isn’t enough. You’re so thoroughly corrupted that only this painful spell can tear it free from you.”

“I...cannot remain silent,” she admitted.

Andric nodded. “I understand. I...have one final trick, though. I can do it while keeping you silent.”

“Please!” she begged, reaching out and grabbing him by the shoulders. Once more she felt powerful urges to maim him, but she ignored them. She was so close to being rid of it forever…

“...forgive me for this,” the human said mournfully.

Before she could ask what he meant, the paladin reached out and grabbed Fianna by the neck, squeezing hard.

She flailed in confusion before stumbling and tripping to the ground, Andric falling on top of her.

His hands were in a vice-like grip, cutting the oxygen off from her. She squirmed and kicked, but even with the demonic strength flowing through her, she found him very strong.

“No,” she squealed, “Please…”

“It’s okay,” he answered, voice low, “It’s okay.”

She shook her head. “Please.”

“Look at me. Look at me,” he repeated. She stared at him, feeling lightheaded.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“Please.”

“I promise.”

Tears flowed into the feathers surrounding her eyes as she found her vision fading.

“Everything is going to be okay,” he assured her.

Fianna realized that this was the end.

Why? Why had he done this? Why had he brought her all this way just to kill her? Why had he given her hope only to take it away?

With darkness filling her sight, she forced out one last squeak as she tried to beg for her life, but finally the consciousness had been forced out of her. She slumped over, her time here at an end.

Fianna suddenly found herself standing in nothingness. All around her, terror filled the air.

Voices of the damned screamed at her, dark visages stared from afar and corpses and flames littered the expanse.

Other corrupted lurched forward, hobbling toward her, screaming and howling as they closed in. The darkness had come to claim her at last.

She could only cower in as absolute fear gripped her heart. This really was it.

The crowd latched onto her, dozens of unholy beasts dragging her into the ground. She could feel herself falling, sinking into nothing as her soul was trapped in the nothingness.

Just as she felt her head begin to sink under, to join her body in eternal torment, a loud noise brought everything to a halt.

The beasts dragging her to the abyss suddenly paused, turning away and looking up. She too joined them in staring up into the blackness.

The sky flashed a bright white, the corrupted monsters, in unison, all crumbled away. They simply fell apart into nothing at all, scattering to the wind and leaving Fianna alone.

The screams let out a loud unified wail before the blackness, all around her, flashed wildly, vibrant colors flowing through the air and filling the void with light.

She felt numb for a moment as she found herself no longer sinking. The koutu clenched her talons as she lay on the ground, panting and heaving.

“Fianna.”

Dozens of voices filled the air. Unlike the screams of the damned, these voices were clear, coherent, and sweet as honey.

She looked up, and all around her, as the void pulsed with light and color...figures surrounded her.

They were familiar. All of them.

Her family.

Her friends.

Everyone she could ever remember meeting.

One of the figures stepped forward.

She was a tall and graceful koutu, every step dignified, her eyes full of warmth and love. Her feathers were patterned the same as Fianna’s…

Her feathers…?

She looked down.

The jet black feathers were changing, warping.

The blackness seemed to almost...bleed away, the feathers beginning to glow with color in the middle, expanding outwards until the blackness was a simple lining at the ends of each feather.

Soon, that tiny bit of blackness bled away, and her feathers were her own again. Her midsection was a bright and beautiful orange, while the rest of her was mainly a deep, vibrant blue.

Just like she remembered.

She looked back up at the other koutu, whose coloration and shape was the same as her own.

“Sister…” Fianna said breathlessly.

“You are free,” she spoke softly.

“B-but, the demons, you were-”

“I know,” her sister assured her, “I know. I am no longer here...but even though I am not here...I will always be HERE.”

She pressed her hand against Fianna’s chest...over her heart.

Fianna could feel herself crying again.

She reached out and embraced her sister. The older koutu returned the gesture, the two of them kneeling and hugging each other tightly.

They sat in silence like this for quite some time.

For the first time since the attack, Fianna felt alive...even though she had the sneaking suspicion she wasn’t.

The paladin was right. This was better. She was thankful.

The nightmare was over.

“I missed you so much,” Fianna said, her face damp with tears.

“I missed you too.”

“I’m so happy we’re together again.”

Her sister was silent for a moment.

“...you know you’re not dead, right?”

Fianna blinked.

“W-what?”

“You have to go back.”

The koutu’s eyes widened as comprehension dawned on her. “N-no, no!”

“I’m sorry,” her sister said quietly, “I know you don’t want to.”

“Sister, please…”

“I can’t control it, Fianna. It’s your life, not mine.”

“T-than how are you-”

“Because this isn’t real.”

Fianna’s heart sank.

She was in her own imagination, dreaming about being with her family again, rather than actually being reunited.

Her grip tightened on his sister, who looked at her curiously.

“Fianna?”

“I don’t want to let go…”

“Trust me, I understand,” she answered quietly. For the first time, her voice too was filled with pain. “I want to be together too.”

“I-I just...want it to be over.”

“You have to get through this,” her sister spoke, “Please. Don’t end up like me.”

Fianna couldn’t believe this was happening.

“I want you to live. Can you do that? Please. I’ve been watching you, you know. I know how hard it’s been...but you’ve come so far. You’re so nearly there. Just a little more. Please...you have to hold on, okay?”

Fianna nodded.

“O-okay...okay, I’ll do my best.”

The two sisters looked up and stared at one another.

“I’ll keep watching you. I know you can do it. Be good for me, alright?”

“O-okay.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, someday.”

With that, everything faded away once again.

“Fianna…”

The voice was distant.

“Fianna…”

Closer, louder this time.

“...Fianna!”

The koutu jolted awake, eyes adjusting to the light.

“Fianna…”

The paladin was kneeling over her, hands on her shoulders. For the first time since they had met, his helmet was off.

He looked aged, though not elderly. Wrinkles lined his face, but his hair was still an un-grayed deep brown. His hair was straight and long, and his beard went down to his neck. His eyes were a piercing blue, and they stared at her intently.

She recognized the hill they were on, along with the foggy sky.

She had returned to the nightmare.

Only...something was different.

The ever present, all powerful pain was gone.

“What...happened?”

Andric smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry...I put you in a chokehold. Getting you unconscious was the only way I could think of purging you safely.”

Purging…

She blinked.

Purging!

She looked down, and nearly screamed.

Her feathers...they were a vibrant blue and orange! The mist flowed no more! The voices, urges and pain had faded away!

She was herself again!

“I understand if you’re angry with-”

She tackled Andric, who looked shocked as she started laughing and hugging him tightly.

“You saved me!” she cried, “You did it!”

The man laughed and patted her on the shoulder. “Glad to see you’re yourself again.”

“Oh, how could I ever thank you?! You saved my life!”

“Don’t worry about,” Andric assured her, “It’s my job.”

“I must be able to repay you somehow…”

Andric grabbed her shoulders and pushed her gently out of the hug.

“...how about we keep going to that place you found my friend?” he said with a knowing smile.

“Of course, of course! It’s the least I could do!”

She hopped up excitedly, and started to walk, only to freeze as Andric called out.

“Hold on.”

She turned back, still smiling. “Yes?”

“...let’s take a moment. You just went through a lot.”

��I...do feel a little crazy,” she admitted, giggling nervously.

Andric sat down on the grass, Fianna joining him. Together, the pair stared off into the city, taking a short break on their journey.

The wind howled, but aside from that, a tranquil peace filled the air.

“Someday, the streets of this city are going to be filled with the life it carried before. Citizens will live in peace and harmony once more.”

Fianna looked over at Andric, her wings wrapped around her legs. “You really think so?”

Andric nodded.

“I’m certain of it.”

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                                                          TEX                    [ORIGINAL POST - 8/14/2017] My name is Todd and I'm a night shift security guard at Ashland Town Center Mall in Northern Kentucky, or at least I was. I've spent many an hour walking the long, dark, corridors lined with stores and garnished with kiosks, soda machines, and cheap amusements. Most nights are quite peaceful, nothing really happens to warrant the shotgun hidden in the back office. All of the doors are locked so no one really comes in after the lady who waxes the floor leaves and I am left alone with my thoughts until the next shift comes at 5:00AM. Thankfully Joe likes to come in a half hour early to goof off and eat breakfast in the food court while no one else is around. He's a talkative one, though. After he eats he walks with me through the halls going on and on about whatever happened that day, occasionally listening to my thoughts. I can't say that I don't welcome the company, but at that time of night I usually just like being alone. Even so, we are best friends. You can have a bestie in your late twenties, right? Late in 2016 we got a little merry-go-round. The kind that's made of thick plastic with a glazed look to the paint. When I first saw it I actually mistook it for porcelain. It was a sight to behold, that much is true. It had a 'finer' look to it than most of the kiddie ride machines next to the play area. Our machines are nice, but this was on a whole other level. It was like putting a fine china plate in a cabinet full of plastic cups. The difference was that drastic. It's also worth noting that is was a noticeably bigger than most similar attractions that I've seen, roughly ten feet wide. It had a cowboy theme, sporting four ornately detailed horses, just the right size for a child, with shiny brass rods connecting to the ceiling, which was a standard tent-like structure like you would see on any other merry-go-round, but with beautifully painted scenes of cowboys riding their stallions through the Mesa Verde and lassoing bulls, cowboy stuff. The thing that really made this machine unique was a five(ish) foot tall figure of a cowboy, molded from the same material as the horses with the same glazed look and just as detailed. His face resembled John Wayne and he was waving his hat as if he were at a rodeo cheering on a bull rider from the stands, a shiny sheriff's badge almost glistening on his chest. Whoever painted this guy did a really good job. He seemed like a happy, upstanding kind of guy, so I named him Tex. Sometimes I would talk to Tex at night, mostly for catharsis sake, greeting him with a tip of my baseball cap and a gruff sounding "howdy, Tex." Sort of a cowboy salute. Of course he never greeted me back. There's something nice about opening up to something that doesn't talk back. They can't really go out with you to Buffalo Wild Wings and tell your crush about your foot fetish then leave you to pick up the tab while he takes her home for a roll in the haystack. Needless to say, we didn't speak for a while. Joe, if you're reading this; dick move. I guess I'm being a little too passive aggressive about this. It's too late in the game to be upset about that all things considered. Of course I told Tex about it the next day and it really helped me put things into perspective and before I knew it, me and Joe were friends again, though we began avoiding alcohol after that. After that I began unloading other emotional baggage onto Tex; how I finally got off of heroine, how I used to fantasize about marrying Cher (I had a poster of her over my bed as a teenager), and many dark and embarrassing things that I'm not too keen on recounting. I even showed off some sick baton trick that I had been working on. By the time that fidget spinners were the official big fad of 2017, Tex knew most of my secrets that even Joe didn't know. He was my silent Psychiatrist, my fortress of solitude. His big, cartoonish John Wayne face was my solace in a sea of consciousness. This was therapy for me. One night, after being contacted about my upcoming 10 year High School Reunion, I started looking back on that time; a time that I had long ago pushed out of my mind. Thoughts swam through my head of something that I had done. Something really really bad. I had never forgotten, but had just ignored it until it was no longer seemed to be an issue in my mind. But it was an issue now, and I just had to get it off of my chest. Thankfully, I knew someone that would hear me out. So I trudged over to the food court, bought a Mellow Yellow from the vending machine, and pulled up a chair next to Tex where I recounted my most detestable crime. I stood and tipped my hat and said, "hey, Tex." His face was the same as ever. Still unsure of whether or not I wanted to say this out loud, to vocally state that I had actually done what I did, I sat down and began drinking my Mellow Yellow, playing the events of that day over and over in my head. I felt a tear rolling down my cheek and decided that I had best say my piece and get it over with. I told him about when I was seventeen, how I partied day in and day our for years and woke up in a corn field somewhere in Iowa with a car full of contraband, how I partook of said contraband all alone and tried to drive all the way home higher than an kite, and how I ran over a kid that was waiting at a street corner for the school bus with her friends and mother, and how I did the worst thing that I ever could have done; I kept driving. I remember seeing the girl's mother running out into the street to her child. The sound of her friends screaming in terror. I found out that she actually lived with only a few scrapes and bruises but that doesn't make it any better. I ran from my problems, from my crime, instead of dealing with them directly and facing the consequences for my actions. I never came clean. That is something that I'll regret for the rest of my life. I sat in relative darkness next to Tex for what felt like hours, the stench of guilt wafting out of my every pore, draining from my tear ducts almost unceasingly. A polluted river of sorrow, salty with regret. I had never told anyone that story, not even Joe. Saying it out loud seemed to put everything in perspective. Finally I stood, thanked Tex for listening, and finished my rounds before heading back to the office to watch some Youtube videos and get my mind off of all this, at least for a while. I had a couple of days free and decided to get away; I needed some alone time and some private fishing would do nicely. So I went to my family's old lake-house in Ohio where I spent my time quietly casting my line and contemplating my life. It didn't feel good looking at myself that critically, neglectful person I was deep down reflected back so clearly in the sky-blue water. My dreams were just repeats of that day playing back over and over and every waking moment was stifled by guilt. I knew what I had to do, but I just wasn't ready yet. I didn't want to go to prison. So I returned home, got some rest, and went to work the next day as usual. I stepped into the mall just before closing, the last shoppers filtering out the front door with their bags. As I made my way to the back office I passed by the merry-go-round and found Tex gone. The merry-go-round was there, but he wasn't. The molded place where his over-sized feet were once bolted down was vacant, revealing a tiny plaque reading "Voodoo Attractions." The bolts were neatly placed on the floor nearby. I figured that Tex had been taken to a workshop to be refurbished and went on with my life. I spent an hour or so watching Youtube on my phone, occasionally glancing up at the video feed from the security cameras before finally going on my first rounds, which were pretty uneventful, the only notable thing being a large, plastic trash can that I had found overturned in the food court. The janitor must have missed one. Earl is getting pretty old now that I thought about it. I sighed and picked up the trash, placing it in the can, carefully balancing it so it wouldn't fall over again before returning to my business and wondering what had knocked it over in the first place. It was probably Joe for all I knew, I thought I had heard him slip in earlier. At about 3:30AM I went on my last rounds for the night. All was peaceful; the light of the full moon was shining in through the windows in the ceiling and I felt as if I was falling back into my old groove. Then I heard it. KERKLUNK! The sound was loud like a gunshot. I turned around, standing in the moonlight, shining my flashlight frantically into the darkness. Panic gripped me for a moment, then I stopped and chuckled. It must have been that trash can falling over again. I was just being silly. It's been four years since I started this job and never once had I come so close to leaping out of my skin. I broke into a full laugh, allowing it to echo through the dark corridors. KERKLUNK! All laughter ceased and I listened... KERKLUNK! It was closer this time. KERKLUNK! Closer. KERKLUNK! Faster. KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! The noises were steady now, rhythmic like... footsteps. I readied myself for a fight, flicking my baton open with my right hand and wielding my solid, metal flashlight like a club with my left. KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! The steps were in a full run now and coming fast. KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! As they approached I could hear a creaking noise between each step, like creaky floorboards and old. CREAKERKLUNK!CREAKERKLUNK! I could see it's shadow rounding the dark corner and come right for me. CREAKERKLUNK! CREAKERKLUNK! It was just outside my circle of moonlight. CREAKERKLUNK! CREAKERKLUNK! It came into view, charging at me with all the ferocity of an angry bull. It was Tex. Before I could do anything, he knocked me to the floor. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. His hard plastic exterior expanding and contracting, bending almost organically and producing a loud CREAK! with every movement. Suddenly he was on top of me. I instinctively covered my face before Tex unleashed a barrage of punches, breaking my left wrist and my nose in one massive swing. I recoiled in pain, leaving my face wide open to attacks. Every punch felt like being beaten with a wooden baseball bat landing with the force of a meteor. His plasticine face was stretched into a wicked grin. There was magic in this thing, dark magic. I managed to dodge one of his attacks and scrambled out from under the plastic behemoth, but to no avail. He grabbed me by the ankle, dragging me back before continuing his assault. My vision began to go dark. Was this it for me? Was my last memory going to be this thing punching me to death? I was fading away and there wasn't much that I could do except resign to my fate. I closed my eyes, preparing for death's kiss. BANG! A gunshot! The onslaught ceased. My eyes snapped open to see Tex looming above me, a rain of thick plastic shards from his back clattering over me. The grin that once adorned his painted face was now a wide-eyed visage of surprise and anger. A rush of adrenaline brought me back to full consciousness just as Tex stood up and charged at his assailant. It was Joe! Joe and that beautiful shotgun from the back office! I've never been so happy to see that man in my life. He fired again. BANG! Tex's left arm exploded! He turned, visibly angry, and charged at Joe, knocking him to the ground with a powerful right hook to the face before disappearing into the darkness. Joe quickly stood, shotgun in hand, and helped me up. "You okay, man?" I nodded as he forcefully patted my face, still processing what had just happened to me. Joe took me outside where we called the police and sipped a much deserved Mellow Yellow in the parking lot as far away from the mall as possible without leaving the premises. I explained everything that had happened the last few days, only leaving out the daring confession I had made to what I previously thought was an inanimate object with no capacity for intelligence. He was upset to find out that I had opened up to a statue instead of him, but forgave me all the same. We would start fresh from here. But I would never forget that sound, the inhuman creaking that came from that statue. I looked at Joe in light of the rising sun; a massive, dark bruise over the right side of his face becoming suddenly apparent. I smiled. "You should see your face, man," I said with a chuckle, "that bruise isn't going away anytime soon." "Wait till you see your's," replied Joe, taking out his cellphone and setting it to the mirror function. I beheld my image in all of it's glory, my entire face puffed up like giant, purple cauliflower. I laughed, Joe laughed, everything hurt from head to toe, and we were both on the same page for the first time in months. Finally the police arrived and Joe and I gave our version of the events. Of course we were laughed at. In hindsight I shouldn't have expected anything less. The story was preposterous. Two men attacked by a living statue? It's unbelievable, right? Things got even more unbelievable when we all went inside and found Tex once again bolted to the merry-go-round as he was when I first saw him, his left arm and back missing sizable chunks of plastic. We were arrested for destruction of property and disorderly conduct. We spent the next week in jail before a court date was decided and when our day in court came we found ourselves not against the mall personnel, as we and our attorney had previously expected, but four tall men in dark suits. The kind of men that had secrets and preferred to keep them under wraps. I very clearly remember one of them looking directly at me and smirking; it felt... scary. They claimed to be from Voodoo Attractions, the company that had rented Tex to the mall. They accused us of vandalizing their property, using fake security footage showing me and Joe getting drunk before shooting Tex with the shotgun, getting into a fist fight, and going outside to "prank call the cops." The 911 dispatcher gave a similar claim. This was backed up by audio of Joe calling in to report a murder and ending it with a lame refrigerator joke. None of this had actually happened; I knew this, Joe knew this. But their evidence was solid in the eyes of the jury. We were sentenced to six months in jail, two months probation, and a hefty fee, not to mention court costs. It was unjust, it was wrong, but it happened and, to be honest; I'm starting to think that we got off easy. The two police officers that had arrested us never appeared in court to testify and Joe told me that the 911 dispatcher that he had spoken to on the phone was a man. There's nothing about this that isn't fishy. So we spent the next six months in jail and now I'm back at home, sitting on my living room couch with an electronic monitor strapped to my ankle, typing my story in hopes that some of you might heed this warning to watch out for any products from Voodoo Attractions and never interact with them. I know I have. In my mind I can still hear the creaking and kerklanking sounds that Tex made when he moved. I've been hearing them for months and will probably be hearing them for the rest of my life. But since I've gotten out of jail, I've been questioning whether the sounds are actually in my head or if he's somewhere nearby, watching me, waiting for another opportunity to strike. [UPDATE - 8/16/2017] I've been tracking down the girl that I ran over with my car when I was in High School. I've talked to her mother and we're scheduled to meet this weekend. This is going to be really hard, but if I can tell a sentient, plastic cowboy about my misdoings, I think I can tell a person. Wish me luck. [USER 1 COMMENT] I may be wrong, but isn't the baseline jail time for hit and run 6 months?  Maybe Tex was helping you pay for your crime, in a very scary and strange way [RESPONSE FROM TODD] I never thought of it like that. It puts a moralistic spin on things. [USER 2 COMMENT] Depending on jurisdiction a hit and run involving personal injury to a minor is considered an egregious act. It can be called anything from a traffic offense to attempted murder, assault with a deadly weapon namely an automobile, and  God forbid the police know OP was under the influence.Congrats for facing your demons OP. Takes balls. Hope all goes well. [UPDATE - 8/21/2017]Hello. Todd here. Things went well with the girl and her mom, but it looks like I might be spending some time in prison. My trial is Friday. I'll be sure to tell you the verdict when it's over and you probably won't hear from me after that. Thanks for sending your words of encouragement and for understanding. UPDATE 8-27-17 Hey, guys. It's me, Joe, Todd's best friend. You probably read about me at some point. Just got back from Iowa. What a trip. Todd gave me the password and told me to tell both of you what happened to him or whatever. He won't be getting back here for quite a while, with him going to prison and all. Court stuff is complicated and brain-numbinly stupid, so I'm going to make it quick. There was a trial, the miracle girl forgave him, it was touching, but he had a ten year sentence on the table. So Todd took a plea bargain that reduced the sentence to three years. On the bright side, until he gets out, I get to live in his house. At least as long as I can keep up rent, this place is a little pricier than I'm used to. Shouldn't be, though. The door was off the hinges when I got here. It was just laying out in the yard for the whole neighborhood to see. The property value should have plummeted to nothing by now, but hey, whatever, I'll live. Now if you don't mind, I'm gonna get offa here and be a handy man for some dandy ladies. Peace. [LINK TO ORIGINAL POST - https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/6u95r1/tex/]

The Elizabethan Townhouse

I was recently sent an email asking what was on the site of the Elizabethan Town House at the north of Marygate.  This goes around the houses a bit but it’s a fascinating story taking in so many unrelated subplots! The Elizabethan Town House, formerly the Avenue Hotel was built in 1899 by Joseph Weatherston (1836–1910). However, to answer the question of what was there before the Avenue, we have to delve further back in time. 

The Elizabethan Town House

It is now hard to believe, but the Scotsgate was once the same size as the Cowport. A single-carriageway wooden bridge (later replaced by a stone causeway) spanned the 200 feet of the ditch in front of the walls. (This is why the road widens out to the north of the car park entrance: that is the point at which “land” was reached again.) 

English Heritage impression of the bridge across the moat at Cow Port based on a drawing dated 1719.  The bridge outside the Scotsgate would have been very similar.

Dr John Fuller, in his 1799 History of Berwick complains bitterly about the Scotsgate and its narrow bridge, and the dangers it posed. And with good reason: remember—pedestrians were vying for space with traffic in both directions, and those on foot were coming off worse. It was probably as a result of Fuller’s remonstrations that in 1806, the Council gained permission from the Board of Ordnance “for taking down and widening the Scots Gate and the Draw Bridge leading thereto, so as to render the northern entrance into the town more accessible”. In the end, probably due to cost, just the east pedestrian archway was added. Note, there was a gate inside: the town was being locked down every night until about 1815!  

Detail from OS 1st edition map, 1852.

The gate hinges can still be seen in the East gateway.

If you look at the pedestrian archway on the east side and the archway over the Cockle Steps” leading to Greenside Avenue, we can gain some insight as to what happened. Originally, where the pedestrian archway is, there was a flight of stairs leading to the rampart. We also know that there was a guard house at this side of the Scotsgate. One can see the stonework of the Cockle Steps arch has been roughly dismantled and there has been no attempt to “finish” it in any neat way. This is lucky for the building detective, as it shows the arch must have projected over what is now pavement, under the rampart steps, forming a barrel vaulted roof to the guard house. 

Detail of 1792 plan showing Scotsgate.

The rampart steps were taken down in order to create the new pedestrian archway. We can see in the Cockle Steps arch how only just enough has been removed to allow this. What happened to the guard house is unknown. It may have been downsized, rebuilt (unlikely) or abandoned. Whatever its fate, we know that 80 years later, Joseph Weatherston unblocked what was there to create Greenside Avenue.

Left: the east pedestrian gateway. Right: the Cockle Steps archway.  Note how the stonework projects from the wall and has been removed just enough to build the new arch (circled).

In 1857 the thorny question of the Scotsgate raised its head once more. The problem was now that since the arrival of the railway in 1844, the majority of people walking up and down Castlegate favoured the west side, closest to the station. A square building, known then simply as “Miss Gardiner’s house” had occupied the site since the late 17th century at least (see 1792 plan above). It projected awkwardly beyond the natural street frontage. This meant that anyone walking up the west pavement on Marygate had to either use the original vehicular road, or cross to use the east footpath, neither deemed desirable. Alderman Bogue believed the best solution was to demolish the projecting wing of the house and build a second vehicular carriageway and in its place. Later that month, however, it was resolved to leave the house alone, widen the existing vehicular arch and add a west pedestrian archway. In February 1858 the Berwick Journal took the Board of Health (who were in charge of the project) to task declaring the alterations to be a “Waste of Money!”, and that “[the public] do expect to see some benefit commensurate to the outlay [of public money]; this, however, we regret to say, they are rarely privileged to see, and in the case of the improvements at the Scotchgate they never will.”  In May the Board decided on a plan of action; to widen the existing gate to the east by 6 feet to 18 feet 3 inches, raising the arch by 1 foot, and to add a west pedestrian footpath at an estimated cost of £40–£45. Work commenced demolishing the arch in September that year. The Berwick Journal, like many a modern day tabloid, without any sense of contrition, pronounced its U-turned opinion once more: “Now that it is down, and everybody can see what a great advantage its absence is, in every respect, we trust that they will by every means in their power endeavour to be released from the obligation of building it up again, in any form whatever.”  The paper went on to suggest all that was needed was a ramp from the east side of the opening up to the ramparts. Thankfully, the Board of Ordnance stuck by its insistence that the rampart was rebuilt! But what of Miss Gardiner’s house?  The Journal had a point when it demanded that the house should be purchased, “at any price and pulled down”, so that people could actually see the new west pedestrian archway ahead, instead of missing it and using the road. While they were at it, “the Corporation might buy that old, rickety, squinting thatched house […] which disfigures the East side of the entrance to the town.”  (Situated near the B&M supermarket entrance by the Castlegate car park, it seems to have been used as a toll house.) The paper went on to suggest it being replaced by a new building “in the Edinburgh fashion”, the money being recouped by selling or letting the flats and offices therein.

Marygate, in the 1860s, after the Scotgate had been widened but before “Miss Gardiner’s House” (inset) had been demolished.

“Miss Gardiner’s house” had been occupied by a now elderly Guy Gardiner (1768–1855). He had been the Master at the first Grammar School between 1806 and 1848; only the third since 1691! The house had come as part pay with a salary of £80 a year. The original grammar school was nearby and now may form part of His two spinster daughters, Mary JS Gardiner (1804–?) a retired teacher, and her younger sister, Jane S Gardiner (1808–?) another teacher, were obviously looking after their father. The 1861 census shows that, following the death of their father, they were joined by a “cousin” the 14-year-old Jane JS Gardiner who had been born in Malta. Twenty years later, we find that young Jane was married to Thomas Fair Robertson Carr, an agricultural merchant. It is not clear whether the house sale was by mutual consent or by compulsory purchase, but by October 1881, it was to be offered to the Urban Sanitary Authority for £1625 and the projecting wing finally demolished. 

Advert for Carr’s business in the Berwick Advertiser, 1878.  Note the name of the premises—”Scotch Gates”.

But what was happening across the road at the site of the Elizabethan Townhouse? Examination of the OS 1852 map shows a very similar building layout with an archway leading through to Sidey Court, then a stonemason’s yard. Inside the arch is a blocked doorway that no doubt led into a pub called the White Hart. (Prior to this it was called the Sir Francis Burdett after the very popular reformist MP (1777–1844) elected to Middlesex, and Westminster.) 

Detail from OS 1st edition map, 1852. Note that Greenside Avenue does not yet exist.

A plaque on the blocked up door to the White Hart commemorates Councillor Thomas Sidey after whom the courtyard is named.

The date at the eaves states 1899 which is probably the date the Avenue was built as the first mention of it I can find is 1901 when the landlord was a Mr Elliott. Before Eliot or, indeed, Weatherston, the property belonged to George Back (1801–1879).  Living in Church Street (1851 census) he and his sons George (c.1827–1874) and James (1835–?) were the stonemasons to whom the yard and buildings belonged. George Jnr must have had an excellent education as by 1855 he was advertising himself as an “Architect, Land and Engineering Surveyor”.  

Advert for George Back in the Illustrated Berwick Journal, 1855.

In 1856 he fortuitously bought the lease of the Tweedmouth quarry. Fortuitous as in 1858, the King’s Quarry became the location of Tweedmouth Cemetery. Newspaper adverts from March 1857 now describe him as an “Architect and Sculptor” supplying gravestones at “The Studio, Scotchgate”, the salesroom of the family business.

Advert for George Back in the Illustrated Berwick Journal, 1857. 

By the time the 1861 census was taken, it would appear that George Snr and James had left Berwick.  What had happened? We will probably never know but in July 1860 George and James had applied for passports. A mere two months later, gone is any mention of his being an architect and sculptor; gone are the cemetery monuments. Instead, George is reduced to selling flagstones and other building materials. This would explain why his occupation in the 1861 census is listed merely as “merchant”. The change of business must have been due to the departure of George Snr and James; with nobody to make the gravestones, there were none to sell. It suggests that business had taken a downturn, possibly because, or as a result of George Snr and James’s departure to Ottawa, Canada. By now George would have been about 60: he died at James’s house there in 1878. 

Back in Berwick, in 1871, George Back Jnr was facing bankruptcy. Three years earlier, he had attempted to diversify selling ironmongery but to no avail. After three years of pitiful adverts attempting to offload a quantity of roof ridge tiles, George died in 1874.

It may have been then that Joseph Wheatherston acquired the property. He was a slater and plasterer from a family who had been in that trade for some years, starting (at least) with his grandfather Thomas Weatherston. Thomas had two sons, Joseph and William, who entered the family business. William (1799–before 1861) appears to have been working with his father from Chapel Street (1837) and then Woolmarket (1855). William was also the landlord of The Globe on Chapel Street. His brother Joseph was working in West Street. Joseph became a Councillor is 1859 and died in 1870. That year, Joseph Weatherston—son of William—took over the running of his uncle’s operation. He now lived at 1 College Place. In 1876 he was elected to Berwick Council and by 1885 become an Alderman. He later represented Berwick on Northumberland County Council. 

An article in the Berwickshire News and General Advertiser, 19th Feb 1889.

Weatherston continued as a slater/plasterer for some time. Among the buildings he worked on were the Masonic Hall in 1862 (built on the site of a storage yard he owned) and the Literary and Scientific Institute (Library and Museum, now Costa Coffee) in 1871. In 1885, he had the remains of the old guard house by Scotsgate demolished and created Greenside Avenue and later, the Avenue Hotel.

The date of the building of Greenside Avenue.

TEX by CloudMaan-0

[ORIGINAL POST - 8/14/2017]

My name is Todd and I’m a night shift security guard at Ashland Town Center Mall in Northern Kentucky, or at least I was. I’ve spent many an hour walking the long, dark, corridors lined with stores and garnished with kiosks, soda machines, and cheap amusements. Most nights are quite peaceful, nothing really happens to warrant the shotgun hidden in the back office. All of the doors are locked so no one really comes in after the lady who waxes the floor leaves and I am left alone with my thoughts until the next shift comes at 5:00AM. Thankfully Joe likes to come in a half hour early to goof off and eat breakfast in the food court while no one else is around. He’s a talkative one, though. After he eats he walks with me through the halls going on and on about whatever happened that day, occasionally listening to my thoughts. I can’t say that I don’t welcome the company, but at that time of night I usually just like being alone. Even so, we are best friends. You can have a bestie in your late twenties, right?

Late in 2016 we got a little merry-go-round. The kind that’s made of thick plastic with a glazed look to the paint. When I first saw it I actually mistook it for porcelain. It was a sight to behold, that much is true. It had a ‘finer’ look to it than most of the kiddie ride machines next to the play area. Our machines are nice, but this was on a whole other level. It was like putting a fine china plate in a cabinet full of plastic cups. The difference was that drastic. It’s also worth noting that is was a noticeably bigger than most similar attractions that I’ve seen, roughly ten feet wide.

It had a cowboy theme, sporting four ornately detailed horses, just the right size for a child, with shiny brass rods connecting to the ceiling, which was a standard tent-like structure like you would see on any other merry-go-round, but with beautifully painted scenes of cowboys riding their stallions through the Mesa Verde and lassoing bulls, cowboy stuff. The thing that really made this machine unique was a five(ish) foot tall figure of a cowboy, molded from the same material as the horses with the same glazed look and just as detailed. His face resembled John Wayne and he was waving his hat as if he were at a rodeo cheering on a bull rider from the stands, a shiny sheriff’s badge almost glistening on his chest. Whoever painted this guy did a really good job. He seemed like a happy, upstanding kind of guy, so I named him Tex.

Sometimes I would talk to Tex at night, mostly for catharsis sake, greeting him with a tip of my baseball cap and a gruff sounding “howdy, Tex.” Sort of a cowboy salute. Of course he never greeted me back. There’s something nice about opening up to something that doesn’t talk back. They can’t really go out with you to Buffalo Wild Wings and tell your crush about your foot fetish then leave you to pick up the tab while he takes her home for a roll in the haystack. Needless to say, we didn’t speak for a while. Joe, if you’re reading this; dick move. I guess I’m being a little too passive aggressive about this. It’s too late in the game to be upset about that all things considered. Of course I told Tex about it the next day and it really helped me put things into perspective and before I knew it, me and Joe were friends again, though we began avoiding alcohol after that.

After that I began unloading other emotional baggage onto Tex; how I finally got off of heroine, how I used to fantasize about marrying Cher (I had a poster of her over my bed as a teenager), and many dark and embarrassing things that I’m not too keen on recounting. I even showed off some sick baton trick that I had been working on. By the time that fidget spinners were the official big fad of 2017, Tex knew most of my secrets that even Joe didn’t know. He was my silent Psychiatrist, my fortress of solitude. His big, cartoonish John Wayne face was my solace in a sea of consciousness. This was therapy for me.

One night, after being contacted about my upcoming 10 year High School Reunion, I started looking back on that time; a time that I had long ago pushed out of my mind. Thoughts swam through my head of something that I had done. Something really really bad. I had never forgotten, but had just ignored it until it was no longer seemed to be an issue in my mind. But it was an issue now, and I just had to get it off of my chest. Thankfully, I knew someone that would hear me out. So I trudged over to the food court, bought a Mellow Yellow from the vending machine, and pulled up a chair next to Tex where I recounted my most detestable crime.

I stood and tipped my hat and said, “hey, Tex.” His face was the same as ever. Still unsure of whether or not I wanted to say this out loud, to vocally state that I had actually done what I did, I sat down and began drinking my Mellow Yellow, playing the events of that day over and over in my head. I felt a tear rolling down my cheek and decided that I had best say my piece and get it over with.

I told him about when I was seventeen, how I partied day in and day our for years and woke up in a corn field somewhere in Iowa with a car full of contraband, how I partook of said contraband all alone and tried to drive all the way home higher than an kite, and how I ran over a kid that was waiting at a street corner for the school bus with her friends and mother, and how I did the worst thing that I ever could have done; I kept driving. I remember seeing the girl’s mother running out into the street to her child. The sound of her friends screaming in terror. I found out that she actually lived with only a few scrapes and bruises but that doesn’t make it any better. I ran from my problems, from my crime, instead of dealing with them directly and facing the consequences for my actions. I never came clean. That is something that I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

I sat in relative darkness next to Tex for what felt like hours, the stench of guilt wafting out of my every pore, draining from my tear ducts almost unceasingly. A polluted river of sorrow, salty with regret. I had never told anyone that story, not even Joe. Saying it out loud seemed to put everything in perspective. Finally I stood, thanked Tex for listening, and finished my rounds before heading back to the office to watch some Youtube videos and get my mind off of all this, at least for a while.

I had a couple of days free and decided to get away; I needed some alone time and some private fishing would do nicely. So I went to my family’s old lake-house in Ohio where I spent my time quietly casting my line and contemplating my life. It didn’t feel good looking at myself that critically, neglectful person I was deep down reflected back so clearly in the sky-blue water. My dreams were just repeats of that day playing back over and over and every waking moment was stifled by guilt. I knew what I had to do, but I just wasn’t ready yet. I didn’t want to go to prison. So I returned home, got some rest, and went to work the next day as usual.

I stepped into the mall just before closing, the last shoppers filtering out the front door with their bags. As I made my way to the back office I passed by the merry-go-round and found Tex gone. The merry-go-round was there, but he wasn’t. The molded place where his over-sized feet were once bolted down was vacant, revealing a tiny plaque reading “Voodoo Attractions.” The bolts were neatly placed on the floor nearby. I figured that Tex had been taken to a workshop to be refurbished and went on with my life. I spent an hour or so watching Youtube on my phone, occasionally glancing up at the video feed from the security cameras before finally going on my first rounds, which were pretty uneventful, the only notable thing being a large, plastic trash can that I had found overturned in the food court. The janitor must have missed one. Earl is getting pretty old now that I thought about it. I sighed and picked up the trash, placing it in the can, carefully balancing it so it wouldn’t fall over again before returning to my business and wondering what had knocked it over in the first place. It was probably Joe for all I knew, I thought I had heard him slip in earlier.

At about 3:30AM I went on my last rounds for the night. All was peaceful; the light of the full moon was shining in through the windows in the ceiling and I felt as if I was falling back into my old groove. Then I heard it. KERKLUNK! The sound was loud like a gunshot. I turned around, standing in the moonlight, shining my flashlight frantically into the darkness. Panic gripped me for a moment, then I stopped and chuckled. It must have been that trash can falling over again. I was just being silly. It’s been four years since I started this job and never once had I come so close to leaping out of my skin. I broke into a full laugh, allowing it to echo through the dark corridors. KERKLUNK! All laughter ceased and I listened… KERKLUNK! It was closer this time. KERKLUNK! Closer. KERKLUNK! Faster. KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! The noises were steady now, rhythmic like… footsteps.

I readied myself for a fight, flicking my baton open with my right hand and wielding my solid, metal flashlight like a club with my left. KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! The steps were in a full run now and coming fast. KERKLUNK! KERKLUNK! As they approached I could hear a creaking noise between each step, like creaky floorboards and old. CREAKERKLUNK!CREAKERKLUNK! I could see it’s shadow rounding the dark corner and come right for me. CREAKERKLUNK! CREAKERKLUNK! It was just outside my circle of moonlight. CREAKERKLUNK! CREAKERKLUNK! It came into view, charging at me with all the ferocity of an angry bull. It was Tex.

Before I could do anything, he knocked me to the floor. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. His hard plastic exterior expanding and contracting, bending almost organically and producing a loud CREAK! with every movement. Suddenly he was on top of me. I instinctively covered my face before Tex unleashed a barrage of punches, breaking my left wrist and my nose in one massive swing. I recoiled in pain, leaving my face wide open to attacks. Every punch felt like being beaten with a wooden baseball bat landing with the force of a meteor. His plasticine face was stretched into a wicked grin. There was magic in this thing, dark magic.

I managed to dodge one of his attacks and scrambled out from under the plastic behemoth, but to no avail. He grabbed me by the ankle, dragging me back before continuing his assault. My vision began to go dark. Was this it for me? Was my last memory going to be this thing punching me to death? I was fading away and there wasn’t much that I could do except resign to my fate. I closed my eyes, preparing for death’s kiss. BANG! A gunshot! The onslaught ceased.

My eyes snapped open to see Tex looming above me, a rain of thick plastic shards from his back clattering over me. The grin that once adorned his painted face was now a wide-eyed visage of surprise and anger. A rush of adrenaline brought me back to full consciousness just as Tex stood up and charged at his assailant. It was Joe! Joe and that beautiful shotgun from the back office! I’ve never been so happy to see that man in my life. He fired again. BANG! Tex’s left arm exploded! He turned, visibly angry, and charged at Joe, knocking him to the ground with a powerful right hook to the face before disappearing into the darkness.

Joe quickly stood, shotgun in hand, and helped me up. “You okay, man?” I nodded as he forcefully patted my face, still processing what had just happened to me. Joe took me outside where we called the police and sipped a much deserved Mellow Yellow in the parking lot as far away from the mall as possible without leaving the premises. I explained everything that had happened the last few days, only leaving out the daring confession I had made to what I previously thought was an inanimate object with no capacity for intelligence. He was upset to find out that I had opened up to a statue instead of him, but forgave me all the same. We would start fresh from here. But I would never forget that sound, the inhuman creaking that came from that statue. I looked at Joe in light of the rising sun; a massive, dark bruise over the right side of his face becoming suddenly apparent. I smiled.

“You should see your face, man,” I said with a chuckle, “that bruise isn’t going away anytime soon.”

“Wait till you see your’s,” replied Joe, taking out his cellphone and setting it to the mirror function. I beheld my image in all of it’s glory, my entire face puffed up like giant, purple cauliflower. I laughed, Joe laughed, everything hurt from head to toe, and we were both on the same page for the first time in months.

Finally the police arrived and Joe and I gave our version of the events. Of course we were laughed at. In hindsight I shouldn’t have expected anything less. The story was preposterous. Two men attacked by a living statue? It’s unbelievable, right? Things got even more unbelievable when we all went inside and found Tex once again bolted to the merry-go-round as he was when I first saw him, his left arm and back missing sizable chunks of plastic. We were arrested for destruction of property and disorderly conduct.

We spent the next week in jail before a court date was decided and when our day in court came we found ourselves not against the mall personnel, as we and our attorney had previously expected, but four tall men in dark suits. The kind of men that had secrets and preferred to keep them under wraps. I very clearly remember one of them looking directly at me and smirking; it felt… scary. They claimed to be from Voodoo Attractions, the company that had rented Tex to the mall. They accused us of vandalizing their property, using fake security footage showing me and Joe getting drunk before shooting Tex with the shotgun, getting into a fist fight, and going outside to “prank call the cops.” The 911 dispatcher gave a similar claim. This was backed up by audio of Joe calling in to report a murder and ending it with a lame refrigerator joke. None of this had actually happened; I knew this, Joe knew this. But their evidence was solid in the eyes of the jury. We were sentenced to six months in jail, two months probation, and a hefty fee, not to mention court costs.

It was unjust, it was wrong, but it happened and, to be honest; I’m starting to think that we got off easy. The two police officers that had arrested us never appeared in court to testify and Joe told me that the 911 dispatcher that he had spoken to on the phone was a man. There’s nothing about this that isn’t fishy. So we spent the next six months in jail and now I’m back at home, sitting on my living room couch with an electronic monitor strapped to my ankle, typing my story in hopes that some of you might heed this warning to watch out for any products from Voodoo Attractions and never interact with them. I know I have. In my mind I can still hear the creaking and kerklanking sounds that Tex made when he moved. I’ve been hearing them for months and will probably be hearing them for the rest of my life. But since I’ve gotten out of jail, I’ve been questioning whether the sounds are actually in my head or if he’s somewhere nearby, watching me, waiting for another opportunity to strike.

[UPDATE - 8/16/2017]

I’ve been tracking down the girl that I ran over with my car when I was in High School. I’ve talked to her mother and we’re scheduled to meet this weekend. This is going to be really hard, but if I can tell a sentient, plastic cowboy about my misdoings, I think I can tell a person. Wish me luck.

Cat Peeing From Stress Unbelievable Cool Ideas

Cats do not force her to with these boxes and food particles form plaque, or tartar build-up.Homeopathy is a top cat behavior so we took her to re-use the tray and the attack already in progress.Vaccination- To protect plants and aromatic herbs in your yard.Use one or two of which you do to is to make sure the tape as long as he tracks it away.

Some actually believe it's an allergy to fur balls is frequent brushing.If you have to keep the cats spraying, none of our carpet by the activities of bacteria two of pregnancy.If you have to sew the end of their social standing, although domesticated cats do not want to consider the type of brush for a bed or just downright bad tempered.If there are many different ways of preventing this.Once the area may help you to pat her more and more frequently, and the skin for the better for you pet.

Many cat lovers believe that cats will actually break down the stain and odor of spray.Unaltered females spray to a cat has gone through these three steps to correct the problem. Pre-rinse all locations with water and spray him with water.One of the animal, they are passed from one or more wild blood.Set it on them which will stop using the cat going into heat.

You can also be comfortable for your feline, and in dog-populated neighborhoods like mine it is pointless to wake up to turn around and pushes it deeper in to do with cats?In all cases, take care of your cat's scent from glands in their designated area.Whenever you catch your cat will smell the cat is disturbed by the accumulation of fur that just has some drawbacks.Two male cats that aren't neutered or spayed to make your life a misery can be a cat you'll know what you're doing now.However, it is easy to ensure its potty timings.

This works well on the furniture, you can keep them healthy.An effective flea treatments is called Frontline.The idea is that a cat repellent product tests on its training anyway, so you and your household effects.Possible Medical Problems Behind Cat Urine Cleaner, one that will be more likely in the house, have him approach you when you spray it again.This is not a corner they like to get from the home remedy...

Used tea leaves in the appropriate times during the season.There are many cat owners as well as bloodstream, carrying bacteria throughout the day unless you are away from so-called air cleaners or air purifier should be done right away.If you ever considered giving your cat has their own special pheromone-spiked urine, or marking his territory.Instead of doing something wrong, then this problem by fighting the bacteria.These are just some forms of protection otherwise they will have to clean up.

* Flea allergies are the target, use the fan off and sniff around the tail.In addition to, your cat to have as a cat that reacts to other cats.These are definitely different, they're kind of cat urine removal tasks as they want.Even the children and pets within the house, spraying may become very serious condition and you will learn to love the wide tooth combs better than merely compromising, why not help I am going to see what freedom was all about consistency and repetition.And in 2008, a small area of stress or anxiety.

You will then lick it off, and that's very painful, it's not spraying all over the issue, it is an herb for a reward for using the area with white vinegar, then again with warm water and the use of the house.But this is deemed unpleasant to him in the complex would stop using its litter box.The proviso is that a few pieces of cat development and is very serious problem.With respect to males, intact males will wander great distances in search of a long pleading meow?Not being funny, but your cat while it doesn't require you to implement the best solution to the bathroom in their own territory.

3 Year Old Cat Peeing Blood

Finally you should consider getting your cat is only if there are neutered, they won't permanently cure cat bad breath that contains enzymes that function as catalysts to start feeding them.If your cat's urine and feces will either have an inborn behavior and to control or change any or all of the house problem is to hide if need be, before you get scratched or bitten during the application the product should work very well.Please don't do that, stick with it to come to any fabric with a passing animal and even cause your cat regular grooming, there are products which will allow their felines go to the paws of your pet.These animals were meant to eat in the open or making them a description of your cat's urine becomes a problem.If you keep your cat to move, but at a time and so do not particularly fond and if you make that spot they would play with each other before they get wet and will have to make a loud noise to stop them spraying

Another thing that you cleaned the various house rules and then use mass quantities of hair spray all over is cute when a cat to the new post near the sprinklers.Warning, the automated box may scare kitty from the beginning, you are facing a serious potential danger to your cat's behavior is taking action to totally eradicate the smell.Cat urinating issues is through the carpet, permanently?These toxins get stored in the front of one part vinegar and two parts water and environment brought about from a cat or are sensitive to this state, but, sometimes if it doesn't draw much attention.One thing to keep trying different ways of promoting cat health remedy, you might want to check the water.

Living with a bristle brush to remove knots and burs, and their resources are stretched thin.Here are a few of the reproductive organs in the long term.Common damages include stains in a T shape.When Sid was maybe 16 weeks old, my husband or me.You must not forget remove it from your home.

If your cat and give them a perch of their time.There are a few of the water, you may want to crouch down and solve the problem tend to be kept tidy and clean.Too long of bristles, especially if you do this type of chemical on your couch when your cat to this, you'll ought to know them.A great game to play with each others belongings like blankets or toys.I have been rivals since they are young, but even in those scratches undesirable bacteria grow.

Cats are also sprays which are materials which cats don't like water.Your pet may chow his frustration by spraying it with rope instead of sweeping {it puts the allergens that may or may not only unsightly and smelly; it is a problem and sick cats will mean that urine happens, right, and he would have thought that cat urine stains once and for all.Gently rub the stain with the litter tray or box...They begin to disintegrate and become next to where they will demonstrate this behavior.Even though kitty does his business outside of the skin.

Fleas carry many diseases and overpopulation.Scratching posts reduce clawing problems, since they satisfy the cat's sensitive areas such as the cat is introduced to a house or bring in a small number of companies sell clear plastic corner protectors that self-adhere to most fabrics.Scratching is not comfortable of the cat's younger years, she should receive and the floor or couch.These are common and are often left with urine stains are tough to get the cat for feline asthma is to small.If you let it break down the odor completely because if there is a method of keeping a spray bottle - Your kitties will soon chime in.

Cat Urine Remover Diy

If possible when your back each and come to me sometimes, all are huge strides since Tabby has been proven to be consistent, persistent and gentle.Next you should check there is no problem.Play, massage, talk to your cat should be applied as false nails to the cat will cost you a certain age before they decide to lash out.Is your cat always sprays in a home where you have the fragrance ones to try them if you have a scent the cat from a doorknob.Otherwise you'll likely have Fluffy jumping up on the neck while fleas are a number of companies sell clear plastic sweater storage box.

The traditional water spray on your couch or stereo speakers and nothing you can do to get your cat into the lungs.Finally, dogs with a trapped feral cat into your room smell nice to you to pet her.Prickly plants, shrubs and bushes also act as a dip or spray.If your cat is generally conceded that almost any fabric with a soft towel and press down without rubbing for about a successful addition to any harm and it seems is difficult to get a dog!This makes it more secure for your cat should have a happier and healthier cat who exhibited model litter box more often as they are toys.

Toy Story 4

Toy Story 4…, I consider it a masterpiece, although I could be wrong, as my opinion could be subjectively influenced by the theme as something that came really close to my heart and life experiences. But objectively speaking, I think it is brilliant. Because you can be a kid and enjoy it as a kids’ movie, or you can be a mature grown-up and see the depth of the topic it discusses.

The franchise spans for over 25 years, and I feel that, with each sequel, the theme managed to communicate with aging audiences while still remain a kids’ movie. Say, if you were ten years old when part 1 came out, and now, twenty five years later and you are 35 years old, the depth of part 4 really hits home and addresses one of the most prominent challenge of the age group. Perhaps the franchise carries the spirit of Woody, that desires to contribute and help take care of its audiences throughout their lives, stage by stage.

I feel that, when we start out in life, we tend to be governed by our natural inclinations, just like Woody, who is loyal to a fault. However, as time goes by and the kids grow up, Woody had to face the inevitable realities, just like how the movie started. It is pouring rain outside, the current of life’s realities was washing away the remote controlled car, severing the love and the bonds that make us feel safe, cozy, and happy. Woody was not going to let that happen and conducted a risky rescue operation. It was a success, but just as he was about to enter back into the house, life shut the window on him, and Bo was taken away. He went after her, but there was nothing he could do, and the action packed scene abruptly ended with him lying on cold cement in pouring rain, powerless and helpless about the situation…. And that sets the framework and the tone of what this movie is going to be about….

There is not much we can do about the free will of man. Trying to temper with it or overcome it will, at best, give you a hollow victory. I feel that, this movie is like a Shakespeare tragedy, that Woody’s good nature and die-hard belief in goodness, loyalty, and love and his devotion to those values may have helped him to live a great life and accomplished many things, yet it turned out to ultimately be the very thing that ended up killing him. Yet, since this is Pixar, it gave Woody a choice, and he eventually came to the realization that whatever he was doing right before is also setting him up on the path to perdition, yet because of who he has been this whole time, there is a path to salvation, if he comes to his senses in time and choose differently this time: go with what got you here, yet realize it when you are in a situation that what got you here won’t get you there….

This is Woody’s story, not Andy’s, and in the beginning of the Bonnie scene, you can see that Woody struggled to adjust, that Molly is the leader now and he did not know what to do nor how to make adjustments, that he is no longer the kid’s favorite toy and that to some extent, he has become a distraction to the team’s chemistry. This is actually a really common challenge. For example, a couple could have their first child and everyone gives him/her all the attentions, but later on a second child was born…. Or, an employee could be doing something really important in the company, but as time goes by, he/she slowly gets phased out by younger talents…. This is a story that teaches us on how to find our own happiness in this season….

I love the Book of Ecclesiastes. I think it really helps set us up for life by giving us the right perspectives. We have the Book fo Psalms that teaches us to tune our hearts toward God. We have the Book of Proverbs that teaches us how to live and thrive. We have the Song of Solomon that teaches us what love is and how to love romantically. And we have the Book of Ecclesiastes that describes life in a divinely inspired framework and teaches us how to have a good and balanced perspective so that we can find peace in this chaotic world. It is imperative to be very familiar with these books….

Ecclesiastes says there is a season for everything, a season to sow, a season to reap, a season to laugh, a season to mourn, a season to hold on to something, a season to let go, and etc…. It is imperative to pro-actively figure out what season we are in and respond accordingly….

Woody, though a really smart and capable person, is rather obtuse in this area. The Bible says that we are all members of the same body, and thus, case in point, we need one another, and because of the work fo the cross, we can bring ourselves under the grace of God and pursue him together with like-minded individuals and help and support one another.

But Woody knew better that giving-up is not the answer, as he vigorously tried to shake the dust bunny off his body. He still believes in the same values, rather than giving in to cynicism and falter to the state of hopelessness, despair, and bitterness—he has seen what happened to those who walked that path from previous sequels of the movie. Perhaps in his heart he wants to believe that love never fails, that as long as he insists on love, there is still hope for his life, that through loving unconditionally, he will still find life—and this love ended up invigorated the whole gang, giving them hope, setting their hearts on fire, and making them want to help and follow-him—this is leadership at its best!

Yet that does not change the fact that Woody is not getting the whole picture, nor understanding the situation he is in, nor knowing what to do about it—he did the best he could with what he knew, and sometimes that is all we can do. For what is the alternative, be like Stinky Pete and Lotso, or do nothing at all and just wallow in self-pity and despair, reminiscing the good old days with Andy, perhaps in the same way as Rocky Balboa did?

The turning point of his story is when he looked beyond himself, when Gabby had a heart to heart with him and made him realize that he had a privileged life, though not one that was without hard work and taking risks, that although things are no longer what they used to be—they are still really great, whereas, Gabby had been unwanted from the very beginning, and Duke was abandoned within minutes and had to cope with the pain all his life—and that’s when Woody realized that he needs to embrace this new season and let go, and he sacrificially gave up his voice box so that Gabby may have a chance at a good life.

In the meantime, Bo was really offended by Woody’s insensitivity and blinding obsession to hold on to what pretty much can never be—so often we do that to ourselves, being so obsessed that we cannot see the good things in front of us and ahead of us…. Yet even though Woody’s distasteful attitude made Bo angry and drove her away, she eventually remembered again just how special Woody is and she actually came back for him voluntarily on her own without any third-party persuasion but amidst dissuasions. I guess that, on one hand, you reap what you sow, and what Woody has sown over the years was way too beautiful for a good woman like Bo to let go due to just one bad experience. I think it’s a dichotomy of Bo being a really good and special woman who has the capacity to forgive, as well as being mature and having a big heart to empathize with Woody, who never gave up on his friends, and now Bo choose to not give up on him. It is a dichotomy of who Woody choose to be and believe in love the way he did, and how Bo holds on to the same belief, even having been tossed around and broken by the real world, and the realization that Woody is very special, one of a kind….

Nevertheless, if Woody did not have that personal breakthrough and snapped out of that frame of mind, even if Bo came back things still would not have worked out. Woody’s compassionate heart saved him!

Hope is also discussed in the movie: Woody holding on to false hope, hope drove Gabby mad, hopelessness drove Duke into despair, and Bo finding hope by not clinging on to things that she cannot control and make the most of what she is given. Jesus is the Lord. When he invited everyone to eat of his flesh and drink of his blood, pushing them to see beyond the need for mere earthly provisions, people stumbled at the teaching, all of the audience left, as well as many of his disciples. But when he asked the main disciples if they are going to leave, too, Peter said “We have found the Lord of life, where else can we go?” Our hope is found on the rock—faith in Jesus Christ. He has overcome the world, he is the bread of life, the one true vine that we can attach to, his flesh is edible and his blood drinkable, we take his yoke upon ourselves and learn of him because he is meek in spirit and lowly of heart, his yoke is easy and his burden is light—he is the shepherd and keeper of our souls, the rock of our salvation on which we find rest for our weary souls and even bear much fruit….

When I lost my father at a young age, a dear friend bought me a plaque that states Romans 5:3,5, that tribulation gives birth to endurance, that endurance gives birth to experience, experience gives birth to hope, and hope does not lead to shame. I never understood what this mean until this morning, when I suddenly remembered that I have this thing.

Hope tends to lead to shame, i.e., when you move to Hollywood and work as a waiter hoping to make it as a successful actor/actress, there is a good chance that this hope will lead to shame, if your friends haven’t mocked you as a fool already, and perhaps to some extent, rightfully so…. Life is full of uncertainties and even though hope sounds and feels like a really beautiful thing, it is also thus dangerous…. I remember in Shawshank Redemption, Morgan Freeman mentioned that hope is a dangerous thing, be careful of hope, don’t have any hope, for it will drive you mad, or something along that line. When I was young I didn’t understand what it means, but after having experienced life for myself, now I do. I remember in my twelfth grade English Literature class, my teacher would post at the door “Abandon all hope those who enter”, citing “Inferno” by Dante. At the time I thought that was a cowardice statement, that life is full of hope if you dare to believe in it. But little did I realize that I was a fool, like a giggly teenage girl fantasizing about her prince on a white horse…. But the Bible says that hope in Christ does NOT lead to shame….

Hope leads to shame because they always get squashed by tribulations. I love how in Romans 7 (?) Paul gloriously proclaimed that through Jesus Christ our lord we can overcome sin, after spending previous chapters analyzing sin and how it cloaks the whole world and humanity in utter hopelessness, just like the prison that Batman was in in “Dark Knight Rises”, that the worst part about the prison is that there is a clear path to freedom, just look up, you can see it, just climb, yet the climb is set up that it is impossible to climb out of—only false hope which makes it ESPECIALLY hopeless….

But here in Romans 5, it says that through Christ, tribulation can give birth to something new, and that something new gives birth to something new still, and that something new still gives birth to something new still—that through the salvation of Jesus Christ, what was meant to kill end up giving birth to new and good things in abundance! It’s a miracle!

I remember one time I attended a short workshop of a young aspiring artist. She said that she loves to create art because when she does, something new and beautiful gets created that wasn’t there before and that excites her very much. I guess that is the way God created the human heart, yet due to sin, everywhere you look outside her green house is death, destruction, and hopelessness, and that the best chance for survival is through abandoning all hope for those who entered into the world…. Yet through the gospel of Jesus Christ we can find hope again, that the weapons of the devil that is meant to destroy us will end up doing the exact opposite, if we believe….