2021.09.26 06:07 Gomsoup How to rotate artillery turret
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2021.09.26 06:07 brownu95 Is taking Imodium bad?
So I was just wondering is taking Imodium during an diayattack a bad thing? Isn’t it better just to shit out so you can get rid of the infection? Does taking Imodium prolong symptoms of diarrhea?
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2021.09.26 06:07 Cranberry_Glade Came home and just wanted to cry...
I think the stress completely got to me, though maybe I overreacted.
Doing deliveries at night is scary, and I don't intend to do any later than 8pm, if my husband can't go with me. I know it's probably the best time to make money, but yeah no. But tonight he was able to go with me (last night too), so we did from 8-10 (plus I did an earlier dash without him). He did the driving and I did the deliveries. I felt better having him along, but couple of times, we missed a turn (looked at the map wrong), so it put us behind a little bit (not too much though).
The most frustrating thing though was getting to houses and not being able to tell what the house numbers were. I had to message/call a couple of people because we couldn't see a number anywhere.
Oh! And had a guy that ordered pizza from Little Caesar's, he chose Contactless Delivery, but also he wanted to receive a call once I got there, and in the notes, he put that he wanted to arrange a safe pick up area so I could hand it directly to him. It was right at his house. My husband and I were thinking he was going to be in a park somewhere or something. So what's the point of checking contactless and then saying you want it handed to you?
My ratings showed up too, not doing so great, but I think it was because I messed up on my first day and was confused about how to use the app and I didn't see the delivery steps thing and was trying to figure out where I was supposed to leave the food. I've learned a lot since then and I hope I'm not that terrible. It sucks to see that. Am I supposed to initiate contact with every person I do a delivery for? I just want to get the food and deliver it. If it's a hand-off, of course I'm always very friendly and polite, and I tell them have a good day/night and whatever, and if it's a drop-off, well if I see a door cam, I'll usually wave.
Oh and one thing from my earlier dash, I had to go to a restaurant to pick up an order (side note: OMG the food smelled AMAZING) and while I was waiting for it, I noticed the app said "pick food up by 5:30." I didn't even get the order request until 5:32, right after I had dropped food off for another customer. And it was 5:50 before I even got to the restaurant because it was a bit of a drive. How can I get the food before I even get the request? Ugh. the app is so screwy sometimes.
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2021.09.26 06:07 SoccerLex18 You guys have the worst endings
2021.09.26 06:07 FADIKALIL عاجل. مصادر "التيار" لـ"الديار": جعجع لطالما كان سباقا بالاستعداد للانتخابات بتقليب اللبنانيين على بعضهم ا…
|submitted by FADIKALIL to Beiruttime [link] [comments]|
2021.09.26 06:07 lavandermea Help guppies dying
I have had a 4ft aquarium with some mollies for nearly 2 years, i test my water regularly and my mollies are always having babies. I only have a few mollies atm and thought i would try guppies. I bought a large school a few weeks ago they were fine for a few days but i have been loosing 1 to 2 a day since and i have no idea why? I thought they were peaceful fish I've never lost my mollies, i cant work out if a fish is doing it or what does anyone have any ideas on possibilities as there are few left and i want to save them.
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2021.09.26 06:07 LudovicoSpecs At least 3 killed when Amtrak train derails in Montana
2021.09.26 06:07 Relative-Question731 When did Basic 4 come on the market?
2021.09.26 06:07 Zarkanthrex Returning NA player LF a regularly active PvE (maybe some light PvP as well) guild that dabbles in all content.
Came back about a week ago and starting to get the hang of things again. I'm an EST player but I'm usually on throughout the day and will stay up pretty late at night, so any NA timezone really works for me. So far, most of the people I've played with hop off around 10pm est and it kinda gets dull just playing in silence.
Mainly looking for a guild that has players on pretty latish and do things like Fractals/Dungeons/(i'd like to learn how to do raids), and some light PvP (mostly conquest, I've never done WvW but willing to give it a shot).
Honestly would like to be in a guild w/ an active discord (not active as in just people online but actually in voice chat). I'm probably being picky but playing an MMO like a single player game gets kind of depressing. Thanks for reading this long post x.x
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2021.09.26 06:07 Flasagna ring ring
|submitted by Flasagna to LiminalReality [link] [comments]|
2021.09.26 06:07 prawnbiryani 💗☁🍦🌸🧁🤍🦩
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2021.09.26 06:07 kanjscat Even cat have waifu !
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2021.09.26 06:07 Username-bot Disclaimer on the last slide
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2021.09.26 06:07 bernardkohdm Penrose mortgage details
2021.09.26 06:07 MrPoop44 Did no one see Max move the barrier closer to Lewis when he came in to pit?
2021.09.26 06:07 irrfin Found this growing near oaks in Northern California
2021.09.26 06:07 Fiction0286 Lauren Murphy should go back to video games
|submitted by Fiction0286 to ufc [link] [comments]|
2021.09.26 06:07 thedigitalcyborg USA’S Best Places to Visit
Travelling is a very beautiful experience for the ones’ who know how to enjoy every bit of it. It has numerous perks and gives you plenty of time to be yourself. Spending some time travelling to whatever place you want is like giving your mind some break from the monotonous routine.
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2021.09.26 06:07 Darth_Christos KnowBe4 - Phishing Email Admin available information
I need to know what information is available to admins of the KnowBe4 Phishing Product. Specifically, I need to know if the Public IP address is attached to user actions and if data entered on the subsequent webpage is displayed as well. I have someone that is being accused of clicking and entering data on this site I am putting together information that will help prove their innocence. It has been a while since I have used it and want to be sure that I am providing proper information since this is potentially a fireable offense (yes, even if it is the first one).
Per the timeline I have pulled together, it appears that these actions were performed by the CyberSec helpdesk as the email was forwarded to them as potential spam.
submitted by Darth_Christos to sysadmin [link] [comments]
2021.09.26 06:07 ShouldBeAnUpvoteGif The Devil in Air Park
This story is inspired by unexplainable and supernatural experiences that I had in my twenties and thirties. My therapist thinks that writing it all down in a fictionalized manner is a good way to overcome my trauma. To get it out. To share it so it's not just in my head. I have PTSD and this story encapsulates my struggle to live with the events that occurred in connection with that damnable block. It's a window into the terror I've lived with and the ending that I fear awaits me. Names have been changed for the privacy of loved ones but the event's described are true as I remember them.
The Devil in Air Park
Steve laid on an antiquated steel-framed single bed in a room that at first glance summons the words “sea foam”, “vomit” and “hell” to mind. This sea foam vomit hell was originally named the Nebraska Hospital for the Insane. Now they just call it the Lincoln Regional Center.
The head of Steve's age-worn bed sat against the sea foam tiled wall under a large window. Heavy steel mesh was bolted over the wired glass of the window. It was a dark portal looking out onto the night. Steve's gaze wandered over the seemingly ancient landscape of cracked ceiling and untold layers of white, lead-laden paint high above him. He sighed and sunk further into the old, surprisingly comfortable bed.
Across the twelve by fifteen foot room was another old bed like his. His roommate for the last few months, Reggie, laid on his side facing him. The room was dimly lit. Just the security light above for safety rounds during the night. It was dim, but still bright enough that it takes some time to get used to sleeping under it. One thing you never get at the Lincoln Regional Center is darkness. Maybe during particularly bad storms when they take you down into the tunnels. But otherwise nights are perpetual twilight.
“You okay, Steve?” The question seemed to draw Steve back to the surface from whatever darkness he was in.
Steve shifted his gaze toward Reggie. “Yeah, I'm okay, I guess.” His eyes were sunken behind his glasses. His skin was pasty and he needed a shave.
“Are you sure you're okay, buddy?” Reggie delivered it in his characteristic, good natured way as Steve returned his gaze to the high, cracked ceiling.
“Yeah . . .” Steve sighed. He let it just hang there for a long moment. “it's just . . . do you believe in the devil Reggie?” Steve asked softly. Confusion crept across Reggie's face. “I mean, the devil and everything that goes with believing in it? The existence of evil things that are neither dead nor alive?”
Confusion was replaced with amused understanding. “Man, are you talking about demons and shit?” Reggie chuckled at that. “Whatcha mean, man?” He prodded.
“You asked me if I was okay, and to be honest Reggie, I don't know. Part of me thinks I'm crazy. Part of me thinks I know the truth . . . Part of me thinks I messed with something I shouldn't have.” Steve didn't elaborate, he just gazed at the shadowed cracks in the ceiling.
Reggie waited for him to explain but when no explanation came, he coughed as if to remind Steve that he was there. It was almost imperceptible but Steve flinched then shot a side glance at Reggie.
“Do you know why I'm here Reggie?” Steve's question landed on Reggie with considerable weight.
“No . . . I haven't really thought about it. I don't like to pry, Steve.” Reggie really, didn't. It was a trait he got from his mother. A kind of passive acceptance. “Why?”
“Okay, so there's believing in something, right?” Steve asked. Reggie nodded. “Believing in something only takes faith. Faith, now, that's one thing but knowing something is different. To know something is more concrete. Do you think believing in the devil is scary? Well, knowing, actually knowing that the devil exists is terror. Real terror, Reggie.”
“So you're telling me you know for sure the devil exists? Come on Steve! Bullshit.” Reggie spat with a grin, clearly skeptical of his roommate. “Look, I believe in God, I guess. My mamma raised me up christian, but how do you know the devil exists? No one can know that. It's just stories, man.”
“Well, if it's not the devil, it's what the devil story is based on.” Steve said with confidence and nodded.
Reggie narrowed his eyes at Steve. “What do you mean it's what the devil story is based on?”
“Well, . . . the idea of the devil, Satan, whatever you want to call it, it had to come from somewhere, right? What if the devil story is actually based on something ancient people actually encountered?” Steve paused, swirling his tongue behind his teeth. “I think it's this thing. This thing or other things like it. I think they've been here all along and that's where the idea of an evil being, the devil, demon or whatever, that preys on men comes from.”
“Wait. What thing?” Reggie inquired, shooting a glance back at Steve.
Steve continued. “Okay . . . when I was in my twenties, my cousin Nick had this place out in Air Park. It was a duplex. It was mass produced Air Force housing put up during World War Two. You know, every block looks the same. Block after block.” He paused while Reggie shrugged.
“Nick moves in but his dad refuses to help move anything into the house. He won't go in the house at all but won't say what's wrong. My uncle was a helpful kind of guy but he wouldn't go anywhere near that place. He wouldn't help. Nick was really confused by this. A few months later he got it out of his mom that the duplex is where my uncle's friend Tom committed suicide. Tom went through a hard divorce and a custody battle. A deep depression. He couldn't handle it. He shot himself. So it made sense. It hit too close to my uncle's heart. Who wouldn't be creeped out over that?
“Well, time goes on and everything is normal. No scary, pictures falling off the walls kind of stuff.” Steve, looks over to see Reggie rolling his eyes. “I know, right? So anyway, nothing scary, just some weird stuff starts to happen. One of the kids dreams about a guy in the closet, wearing nothing but underwear who flies out the window to see his family at night. Another drew a creepy face with blood spraying out of the mouth on the wall in red marker. Nick painted over it but no matter how many coats of paint, that drawing just kept showing through. That's weird and all but that can be easily explained away. Well, here's where it gets really weird.”
Steve drew a deep lungful of air and continued, “Everyone who spent any amount of time in that place saw it. Everyone. It was always the same thing. Every single time. Everyone saw it. Their living room was actually downstairs in the half finished basement. It turns out that the furnace room, directly off the living room, is where Tom shot himself. The furnace room had no door but the entrance was partially covered with a sliding divider. It couldn't close all the way, so there was always this narrow rectangle of darkness watching whoever was in the living room. Well, that opening was put in after Tom's death. The door used to face the stairs leading into the living room, but is now just a wall.” Steve paused, gaze locked on the ceiling above him. He seemed to be remembering something, then he continued.
“The first time I saw it we were watching a movie. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement. I turned towards it and I saw a silhouette move from the stairs through that wall where the door used to be. It was like an anti-shadow. A flat, grayish, anti-shadow in the shape of a man. Like when you get your picture taken and the flash leaves a grayish after image. Except it moved against the movement of my eyes. An after image only moves when you move your eyes. This was different. I was kind of freaked out so I asked Nick, 'what the hell was that?' He saw me looking over by the stairs and was like, 'oh, you saw it too? Honey, he saw it too!' He thought it was funny.”
Reggie gulped ever so slightly as Steve went on. “I didn't just see it once. I saw it hundreds of times. Damn near every time I was there I saw it. It just got to be part of the routine. It was always the same. Always. Down the stairs, across the hall and through the wall into that furnace room. I always felt like he was just watching us in there. It wasn't like a bad feeling. Not really. I never really had a bad feeling about it. More of a sad feeling, it wasn't exactly scary, just weird. It was like he knew it was his friend's family, so he knew it was safe to be around or something. He didn't really seem to bother anyone either. He just watched us.” Steve shrugged, stretched and clasped his hands behind his head on the pillow.
“Now fast forward a few years. Tom is just a part of the environment at this point. Like anyone else in the household. Then, of all things, my best childhood friend, Jeff, moved in directly across the street. Nothing weird about that. We'd lost touch since his accident. A friend accidentally shot him when he was fifteen and he was paralyzed. He'd had a difficult struggle with meningitis that nearly killed him, but things were starting to look up. Well, as up as they can be after everything he'd been through. His accident. His brother's suicide. The surgeries and illnesses. I knew he was depressed, but I didn't know how bad he was.”
Reggie winced because he knew what was coming. He looked over at Steve but couldn't see his eyes past the glare on his glasses.
“One day I'm just getting to work, it was an easy job, so I check the news. That's when I see it. A picture of Jeff's place, the duplex across the street from Nick's. Jeff's van. Headline said 'Police identify man found dead in duplex'. They suspected foul play. He had bruises all over. His place had been trashed. The furniture was thrown over. Even the L shaped recliner couch that was way too heavy for him to move. They were thinking robbery gone wrong at first. But after investigation there were no signs of forced entry. There was no evidence of anyone else being there. No prints. No hair. No fibers. Nothing. They did an autopsy. The examiner said he had overdosed on his pain meds. The officials think he trashed the place in a fit and took all of his pills. Suicide. I don't know. How could he flip over a couch that weighed more than him when he can only move stuff above the bottom of his sternum?” Steve poked himself in his chest. “From here up and they want us to believe Jeff flipped over that couch?”
“Jesus, Steve. That's weird. ” Reggie's nearly permanent grin faded as he said it.
“A few more years go by and Nick gets divorced. It wasn't particularly ugly or anything. No bad fights. It was mostly civil. They try counseling and even get back together for a while, but ultimately they break up for good. Afterward Nick's not doing that good. He moved into his parent's rental again. He starts drinking heavy. Like really heavy. It just got worse and worse until one day, my birthday of all days, I get the call. Nick was dead. He had shot himself. The best they could figure is he was there for three days before his brother found him. Now, the thing about Nick is that we were more brothers than cousins, ya know? So, it hit me hard. I got depressed. I started drinking heavy. Too heavy. I struggled.
“About a year after Nick's death I got a new client at work. As I get close I realize where I'm going. My new client lives in the same area. It's just a coincidence . . . but in the back of my mind I'd always had the thought that something was wrong at that duplex in Air Park.” Steve shrugged and continued, “so I get closer and closer. The address is on the other side of the block from Jeff's place. Remember how I said it was mass produced housing? Each block was literally a copy of the one before it. So, I pull up to the duplex. The exact same blueprint as Jeff's duplex. Across from a carbon copy of the duplex Tom died in. Just it's a block over. I sat in front of that copy of Jeff's place, I couldn't take my eyes off that front door. It was just a regular black door, but I felt something was behind it. Something wrong. I didn't even get out of my car. I thought about it, but I couldn't get my hand to open the door. I felt that if I opened the door whatever was wrong would get in.
“I start to panic. Like, legit panic. Cold adrenaline exploded into my blood. I was shaking. My palms went slick with sweat. My mouth turned into a desert. My heart was jumping up and down and around . . . it hurt. Then the vertigo. Like I was falling toward that black door and whatever wrong thing was behind it. I had to get away from there. I slammed that thing in gear and floored it out of there. I haven't been scared like that since I was a kid. And, I was scared. Real terror, Reggie.
“I called my boss. I told him that I just couldn't do it. It hit too close to home. He pressed me for more info, so I told him. I told him about Tom. About Jeff. About Nick. The vertigo. I told him that looking at that door felt like I was standing too close to the edge of a cliff. Like that, but if the cliff was able to push me off. I don't know . . . it was weird.
“He took a while to say anything. But then in a kind of tinny echo, he said, 'it's really interesting that you say that because that's where I found George's body'. I was stunned. My blood went cold, Reggie. I was like, 'what? What do you mean George's body?' Turns out, I got that new client because my coworker George had died. This is one of the most vivid memories I have.” He said as if he was watching it unfold on that cracked ceiling, “I remember the way his voice cracked, Reggie, he said, 'It's really weird, Steve. I've never experienced anything like it. I had to sit with his body until the sheriff showed up. It was the most terrifying two hours of my life'. This is my boss. He's an educated man. He was . . . scared. He said, 'The house made noise all around me while I sat with him, Steve. For two hours that house made noise at me. It felt like something was watching me. Like something wrong was there'. He said it was like something wrong was there . . .” Steve trailed off.
“So, your uncle's best friend committed suicide? Then across the street your best friend too? Then your cousin is found on your birthday? And a coworker died on the other side of the block?” Reggie's face was a mask of serious thought.
“Yeah, but George died of a massive heart attack and I'm still not convinced Jeff committed suicide. My boss said George died so fast that he was gone before he hit the floor. He hit the floor so hard his glasses broke across the bridge of his nose.”
“Fuck, Steve. You knew, didn't you. You knew something happened there before you found out George died? Damn, man.” Reggie looked like his buzz was killed.
Steve nodded, still staring deeply into the cracked surface of the ceiling. “I felt something at that duplex. Whatever was behind that ordinary black door. At this point I was just scared. I talked to a priest. I got a blessed rosary. I never believed in that shit before.” He raised his hand and jiggled his forearm exposing a green beaded bracelet with a small medallion dangling from it. “But it's not belief. Not really. It's knowing. It's different. I know Tom is in that duplex, or at least a shadow of him. That scares me. If Tom is there then is Jeff still across the street? Is Nick still in his parent's rental? Is George still on the next block over? What else is still there? Something wrong. Something wrong is there.” Steve let out a tired sigh.
“Catholics, now they believe. A few of em know. There's a guy here in town. A priest at Saint Francis of Assisi. Father Hamel. He knows. He told me the church has fought things like this before. They are evil. True, pure evil. Evil given form. Given thought. Given free will. He calls them demons but I don't think it matters what you call them. He said that they are at war with God and that they fight by making spiritual attacks on people. Different ones play different roles. They make different kinds of attacks. Some of them, now their job is to make people commit suicide. He thinks that's what I ran into in Air Park.” Steve ran his fingers over the medallion on his rosary.
“Father Hamel told me something that scared me. He said, 'if I were you, I'd forget all about this thing. I wouldn't talk about it. I would do my best not to even think of it. Live your life. Don't give it attention, that just invites it in'. He said it like it was already too late. He scribbled down a list of a few demonology books for me and said he would send a report to Rome but that was the last I heard from him. That was seven years ago. I did what he said. I put it out of my mind. I went about my life but everything just seemed wrong. Life seemed flat. It seemed like that thing behind the door followed me. Like I let it into my life somehow.”
“Now, this is something that actually happened, not some scary story you made up to creep people out, right?” Reggie was concerned. “Those people really died like that?”
“Yeah, that's how it went down.” Steve nodded.
Reggie pulled a small gold crucifix from inside his shirt and kissed it. He held it, rubbing it between his fingers. “Anything happened since then?”
Steve jiggled his rosary again. “After George I couldn't sleep. I was depressed. I was . . . obsessed. I read about demons. I read about exorcisms. I wore this all the time. It made me feel safe from it. Whatever it is. Slowly, the fear went away. Life returned to normal. A new normal. I felt safer. I stopped wearing it. Left it hung above my bedroom door. It was like it warded the thing off.”
“A few years after George died, my neighbor Hector had a run of really bad luck. In three weeks he had three cars totaled by uninsured drivers. His life's savings gone in three weeks. He was distraught. You know something's seriously wrong when you see a forty-something year old man weeping. We were friends. He barely spoke a word of english, but he was cool. So, I figured 'what the hell?' and I gave him my rosary. It helped me when I was in a bad place, maybe it can help Hector, I thought.” Steve pulled the string of green glass beads over his hand and stroked them between his fingers. “With his roommate translating, I told him its significance to me. How it helped me. How, maybe, it could help him. I've never seen anyone so grateful for something. He wore that thing all day, everyday. He wore it until the elastic was ready to burst. Then he hung it up. His luck had turned for the better. He was out of the slump, like me. Then . . .”
“No way?” Darkness seemed to fall on Reggie's face.
“One morning, I'm just waking up and I go out to smoke. I see movement as I walk out the front door of my complex. It took me a few seconds to register what I was seeing. At first It was just someone in black hunched over someone else on the ground next to my car. Then the elements went from abstract concepts to concrete horror. The someone in black was a police officer. That registered first. It took me another few seconds to recognize Hector. He was on his back, arms splayed wide. A sheen of sweat slicked his face. He was blue and gray. His tongue was swollen and wedged between his teeth. The officer wasn't hunching, it was CPR. ”
“I was frozen. Real panic, Reggie. I'm trained for CPR, but I was completely paralyzed. I couldn't move. I watched him die right there. The officer did what he could until paramedics arrived, but he was already gone. Paramedics tried for another ten minutes to bring him back. They strapped this machine on him. A last ditch effort to kick start his heart. It does compressions while they move people to the hospital. It thrusts a three inch plastic plate into his chest hard enough to cave it in. Over and over and over.
“You know, you make noise when you get CPR. The compressions force air through your vocal cords. You make a kind of low grunting noise. His grunting voice, his death voice, squeaked through that breathing tube like a dog toy, Reggie. Thrust after thrust after thrust. I don't know if I'll ever get that sound out of my head.” Steve shook his head and loosed a shuddering sigh. He let the silence linger.
“So, what was it?” Reggie asked, seeming to already know the answer.
“Massive heart attack. Maybe he saw something. I don't know.” Steve seemed exhausted. Like it had taken all of the energy he had to get the words out.
“You know, I've thought about renting that place. Seeing if I could get Tom on camera. But, the thought of going back there … makes me feel like I'm sinking. Sinking into some black abyss. I probably shouldn't even be talking about it. What if talking about it gets its attention and it decides it didn't just want Tom and Jeff and Nick and George? What if it's not enough? What if Hector and Sarah aren't enough? What if it decides it want's to make me commit suicide? I've had depression my whole life. Hell, I tried once. After Nick. I got lucky. I got away from it. What if it decides to make it look like I committed suicide, like Jeff? Or just scares me to death like George?” Steve became quiet. Introspective. Like he was flipping through a book of his life.
“Man, Steve? You don't really think . . .” Reggie struggled to find the words, “you, really . . .” Now Reggie trailed off.
“I don't know, Reggie. I've had this rattling around my brain for a long time and I just can't seem to ignore it anymore. Something wrong is in Air Park. I'm sure of it. I know it. I can feel it. That same feeling. Like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and the cliff is going to push me off. Like a kind of vertigo. It's weird, I know.”
“Fuck, man. I feel you. Just you talking about it is scary enough, I can't imagine actually coming up against something like that. To think there's people that fight things like that. Exorcists and shit. I was raised up a good christian and I'll tell you that you need to leave it alone, man. That priest was right, you don't mess with stuff like that. You gotta ignore it or else you give it power.” Reggie kissed his crucifix again then whispered a short prayer with it against his lips ending it with a firm, “amen.”
Both men stared at the ceiling in silence. A long moment passed where they were both lost in thought. “You know? I haven't thought about that since I was a little kid.” Reggie was looking at Steve again.
Steve's eyes met Reggie's. “Thought about what?”
“What you asked me, man. I . . . I honestly haven't thought about whether I believe in the devil or not since I was a kid. You kind of just stop really thinking about it. After high school, life is about getting a job. Getting a wife. Getting a family. Getting a house. You know, just making progress. You just stop thinking about it. But if you ask me? Yeah. I believe in the devil. I definitely do. You?”
“I know there's something that's at least like the devil. The 'devil' in Air Park, I guess.” Steve squeezed out some air quotes when he said devil. “People say that the Air Force was in such a hurry to build the base that they just bulldozed any Native American sites they found. It seems that these kinds of stories always have that. You know, dumb, greedy white folks desecrating sacred sites. This time I think it's true. They put those neighborhoods in almost overnight. It was the height of the war. No real building codes. It was all Air Force land. Just get it done and worry about it later. There's pictures of it. Bulldozed fields from horizon to horizon. The whole area, gone. Who knows what was there?” Steve shrugged, “I think they disturbed something the Natives knew to leave alone. Maybe they even locked it away there, but we let it loose. We let it out.”
“And now it can move. It can follow people. You think it followed you and got to Hector and Sarah? Do you think it's still following you?” The words came slowly but steadily to Reggie as he navigated the story in his mind.
“I don't know. I think it was for a while but once I got this . . .” Steve presented the rosary in his palm, “I think it lost interest and found Hector. Or I gave it to Hector. I think it followed Sarah after that. She took Hector's death hard. In the weeks following Hector's death she drank heavy. Too heavy. She got alcohol poisoning. She was a diabetic and the alcohol killed her kidneys. She died a few months after him. Who knows what's happened since then? I got lucky I think. I think it lost me. That's why I don't talk about it but, damn it. Sometimes you just need to get shit out of your head, you know? The therapist knows some of it, but I never give her the whole story. I don't want to sound crazy like that. But, it does sound crazy. I know that. I live with that. You asked me if I was okay and I still don't know Reggie. I still don't know. Can you be okay and crazy?”
Reggie felt the sinking tingle of pain deep inside him. “I don't know.”
“That's why I'm here Reggie.” Steve was looking at him now. “Do you know who H.P. Lovecraft is?”
“No?” Reggie was unsure of the direction Steve was going.
“Lovecraft was an early horror writer. He did most of his work in the 1920's and 1930's. His brand of horror is the insanity of the cosmic scale and man's place, or lack of one, within it. He knew insanity. His father went mad, supposedly from syphilis, and died in a sanitarium when he was eight. It fucked him up. He started having nightmares. He dreamed about winged beings that would fly him out into the night and show him horrible, unspeakable things. His mother was overbearing. She was abusive. She went mad too and died in the same sanitarium years later. He took the fantasy of his dreams and the reality of the madness he witnessed, mixed them together and invented his own unique form of horror.
“Did I do the same? Did I just mix my experiences with my horror fantasies? Did I watch too many scary movies when I was a kid? Am I just so deluded that I can't see it? The human mind is hardwired to seek out patterns. Am I just seeing patterns in meaningless, coincidental noise? How do you tell what's reality from what's fantasy? I'm not sure I can tell the difference anymore. Does that make me crazy? Does that make me mad?”
“Fuck man!” Reggie laughed. “Why's everything gotta be so damn serious with you? I think you went through some trauma. I think you ran into, something, in Air Park. I believe that. My dad always told me to follow my gut when it came to right and wrong. Right now my gut says something wrong happened there, maybe something wrong is there like you said. Like your boss said. The question now is what do you do with that knowledge?”
“I don't know Reggie.” Steve said, resigned. “I guess that's what I'm here to figure out.”
“For one, I'd stay the fuck out of Air Park, man.” Reggie's chuckle was cut off by the stern tap, tap, tap of the night nurse's flashlight on the door's narrow window. A bright cone fell on Steve, then on Reggie. Steve rolled over to face the wall away from the bright cone of light. She waited a moment then the light and her footsteps receded down the hall.
“What would you do if you were me Reggie?” Steve's voice was still resigned.
“I'd go to fuckin' church, man.” Reggie was serious. “If I were you, I'd find God, honestly. If everything you say is true, how can you not believe in God?”
“I know. Reggie. I don't believe, I know. It's different.”
“Then you'll have to find a way to bring what you know and what you believe together. Mix it up. Create your own truth.” Saying it made Reggie realize that he too needed to find his own truth. “You gotta have faith, man.” His words carried with them a certain finality.
“Yeah.” Steve mumbled more to himself than anyone.
Reggie rolled onto his other side, facing away from Steve. He drifted off just to the edge of awareness. He felt as if he was floating on a dark and fitful yet insubstantial cloud of frightening hypotheticals.
Reggie scrambled from his bed onto the old linoleum tiled floor. He crouched, wide eyes level with the top of his bed. He saw it in full. It was a flat silhouette. A negative shadow in the form of a tall man. Its piercing fist twisted back and forth. Steve's eyes had rolled back in his head. Foam flecked his lips. The negative, gray thing turned toward the noise. Its eyeless gaze bored right into Reggie. It let go of Steve who crumpled against the window. The silhouette squared its shoulders and advanced on Reggie.
“Hey! Help! Nurse, please! Hey, let me out! It's in here! It's in here . . . Get it away from me, get away! Get away, aah!” Reggie's raving pleas and blows on the door echoed off down the hall. Down the hall and towards the clack, clack, clack of the night nurse's panicked approach.
She arrived at the door to a near silence. She could hear some kind of muttering over her winded huffing. A cone of light swept the room. The cone landed on a cowering Reggie. He was crouching against the wall holding his blanket in front of him as if it were a shield. His wide eyes just showing over the blanket. They were fixed on the other side of the room. The nurse swept the cone of light to the other bed. Steve was bent up against the window on the bed. Clutching at his chest with his left hand and holding out his right. A broken string of green beads dangled from his white knuckled fist.
“Oh, Jesus fuckin' Christ!” She shakily sorted her keys as the shock set in. “No, fuck . . . fuck. Fuck, that one!” She found the key but the tip shakily tapped and scraped off the lock as she tried it. Her hands refused to do what she told them. She tried three more times before persistence paid off. The key found its way in. She threw the lock and rushed inside. Steve was sweat slick and blue gray. A frothy string of spittle dangled from his chin, down over his clenched fist and into a spreading, wet blotch on his gray sweatshirt. She checked for his pulse. No pulse. There was an obscene quality to the bulge of his reddened eyes and the wet thickness of his swollen tongue. In the way it had wedged itself into his agonized grimace.
“Reggie, what the fuck happened?” She spun away from the grisly, contorted corpse and swung her light back to find Reggie again.
“It got him, it fuckin' got him!” Reggie screamed it more than said it. He had crouched as far as he could into the corner of the wall and floor. Blanket shield and crazed, raving eyes.
“Reggie what are you talking about?” She had moved to the edge of his bed. She stepped on something. Looking down, she turned her foot to the side revealing a crumpled up golden crucifix, still on its broken chain.
“It got him . . . The anti-shadow. That . . . demon. That devil. It reached into his chest and grabbed his heart. Like George. Like Hector. It killed him. Then it walked through the wall.” He dropped the blanket from one shaking hand and thrust his pointing fist in Steve's direction.
“For fuck's sake! God damn it Reggie. Come on, we need to get you out of here. Just come with me Reggie. You're okay. Just move . . . yeah, that's right, into the hallway . . . okay, now stay here. I'm gonna go get the doctor, okay? Just stay right here.” Having settled Reggie in the hall, she closed the door, extracted her key then turned and clack, clack, clacked her way back down the hall searching, begging for the doctor.
Reggie's experience was determined to be a stress induced delusion. They argued that Steve's story and the shock of witnessing his fatal heart attack induced stress sufficient enough for Reggie to hallucinate. Out of sheer emotional desperation, his mind created a mixture of reality and the fantasy of Steve's own delusions to build this narrative of the “Anti-shadow” being.
No one believed Reggie. No one believed him but he knows the truth and Steve was right. Knowing is different. Knowing is terror. Real terror. Reggie knows. He knows Steve ran into something wrong. No. Not just something wrong. He ran into “the” something wrong. It was a demon. Or a devil. It found him. It followed him and eventually it got him.
Reggie thinks that the priest was right. You don't give it attention. You don't invite it in. So, Reggie doesn't talk about it anymore. He goes along with the official story. “It's a delusion.” It's better that way. He goes to church. He reads his bible. “You'll be getting out soon”, they say. “You're better now”, they say.
But he knows, yes, he knows. He's getting out but he is not better. He saw it and it saw him. That demon, that devil, the something that is wrong behind the door, and it will get him.
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2021.09.26 06:07 NiteTiger Belle was unamused her hunt was disrupted
2021.09.26 06:07 TruthToPower77 5 to 1 Baby. 1 to 5. No one here, get's out alive! (here is the GOP death cult) per Neil De Grasse Tyson. Is anyone else starting to really like COVID? I mean at first, I was all like "it's a deadly pandemic" but now I wonder if it isn't a gift from Dog?
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2021.09.26 06:07 Bannana_Cheese Two titans clash
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2021.09.26 06:07 Hayd0471 Timing
I’m doing structural depth. Time is killing me on my practice tests. I’m just so slow.. On my most recent practice test, I was only able to get to 32/40 of the problems in 4 hours. I even skipped the 3 problems I recognized as longer problems (indeterminate beam, NDS beam stability factor, a tbeam).. and still only got to 32 questions.
Any advice on how to get faster?
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2021.09.26 06:07 celis702 Rare photo of EM ,pac an biggie lol
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