#recess was ten minutes of screaming and playing with rocks

[jovialtorchlight]

Recess--Flash Fiction

Recess

“Where did you learn Latin?” I asked seventh grader Audie Grant. “Youtube,” Audie replied,

pulling back her hood. “The ritual is complete,” said Sasha Cohen, taking out her phone and snapping a picture of the eldritch monstrosity that was sprawled out on the rock.

“A sacrifice has been made.”

5 minutes earlier. Early afternoon in May. A few small piles of snow, a little chill poking through the air. Finally warm enough to allow the middle schoolers out in the last ten minutes of lunch to throw around a football and do generally feral things on a small, muddy patch of lawn known as the “quad” of Cumberland Hills Middle School.

I had turned my back for less than a minute, and somehow, a group of seven girls took black robes from their bags, slipped them on over their clothes, and gathered in a circle around a rock, chanting. The chants started slow, low, reverent, with the coven rocking back and forth in unison, like some kind of intricate ritual. From where I was, I couldn’t see what was in the center of the circle.

“I mean, I don’t know if there’s a school rule against chanting,” I said, to no one in particular. I was alone. Mrs. Johnston was in the lunchroom with the kids who decided to stay inside and play Minecraft or watch memes of dancing cats on Youtube.

I was a little perturbed. This didn’t seem like a joke; no one was giggling or recording on their phones. If this was a bit, everyone was committed. No one was breaking character.The din of the chanting grew more intense, and more staccato, like a murder of crows swarming on all sides, caws reverberating and echoing in the air.

Dom Hinkley stopped his football pass mid-throw, raised his hands to his ears, and the football fell in front of him like a sack of potatoes. Bradley Leigh, who was running from Spencer Philbrick after stealing his snapback off his head stopped dead in his tracks, dropping the hat in the mud.

Spencer, who was about to punch Brad in the face, stopped mid-swing, like someone pulled his plug out of a cosmic outlet. At once, the field full of kids, as if marionettes on a string, lumbered, synchronized towards the circle where the chanting reached a climax, binding a curse of which I was somehow immune. A terrible secret only understood by the middle schoolers, a whispered, fetid spell reeking of old, forgotten magic.

I sighed. This was going to end in a lot of paperwork. I moved to the circle, weaving in and out of the zombied students. By the time I reached the edge of the circle, I could see over the shoulders of the girls. In the middle, I saw a potato, levitating a foot off the ground, writhing like insects were crawling under the surface of the potato’s skin. Some tremendous energy inside of it was ready to burst out.

“Friends,” I said, barely cutting above the dull roar of the chanting, “let me remind you of our lunchtime expectations. We need to make sure we’re at an acceptable volume.”

Limbs, soggy with the fluid of birth, sprouted from the potato; two swollen arms, stubs, and two knobs of purple, infected flesh sprouted, forming the monstrosity’s feet. A face, flat, locked in a grimace of pain, formed at the top, and began screeching, blubbering, like it was screaming through a mouthful of acid.

At once, the chanting stopped, and the potato creature fell onto the rock. The zombie students seemed to wake up, their consciousnesses once again taking control of their rigid bodies, and they all blinked, confused.

Spencer cut through the sudden silence, shouting, “GIVE ME MY HAT BACK!”

The potato child looked up at the circle of girls , and raised it’s stubby, disgusting arms like a toddler signaling that it wanted to be picked up. Audie Grant, still clad in her hood, bent down and picked it up, cradling it like a child. The child cooed, and spit up a little bit of foul smelling acid on her robe.

“Ew!” Audie screamed, throwing the potato onto the rock. It hit the rock, and with a yelp of pain exploded into chunks of starch and flesh.

“Where did you learn Latin?” I asked Audie.

#jonny bolduc #flash fiction #ya horror

[happylittletrees3]

alright i need to know

was heritage school a Midwest thing or did the rest of you do it to?

#midwest rise up #is this a midwest thing? #america #heritage school #we dressed up like pioneeers and spent the day in a one room school house #recess was ten minutes of screaming and playing with rocks #was this just us #or did the rest of you americans do it do #america is really weird #please let me know if this experience was experienced by others #it might have even just been my city

[lighterandpaper]

Mr. Jackson’s Class

Photo by @nicolatolin

Mr. Jackson drives east out of Lee for only about ten minutes, down highway 10, until he arrives in Carter. It wants to be antebellum-classy, but it is more like Lee--small-town-American-desolation--than it would prefer to admit. But they got a McDonald’s, so... That’s breakfast for Mr. Jackson.

Carter also has the Parish’s prized private school, Barham. Barham was originally a college for women, then it was commandeered as a hospital during the Civil War. After the war, it was abandoned for a while--until the screams and blood that lingered in the halls finally faded from memory. The war was before anesthetic, as well as a before a firm understanding of what causes infection. A shabby cemetery just outside the school with unreadable chucks of stone once told the tales of the men who died, but now they are mostly forgotten. They would be totally forgotten, if it wasn’t for the passion of one teacher, Mr. Jackson, who teaches the history of the Civil War as if he were there. He drives into the school’s parking lot, recently lain black asphalt with speed bumps--because, teenagers. He barely fits in his little truck, which leans to the left at his great weight, and the bed is littered with cans of Coke. Crafted in the 80s, it has sputtered along until now only because it is a Toyota, he says. 

Barham resembles a plantation, with massive white columns along the front, a long porch, and two breezeways cutting it into three sections. Funding just barely manages to keep up with repairs to prevent the old place from collapsing, the textbooks from being more than twenty years old, and to keep fresh paint over the student’s constantly drawn penises.

The American flag in the front yard area is flown at half-mast today. Mr. Jackson notes this while he whips his little truck in his teacher’s parking spot, near the entrance. He wipes the crumbs from his belly from his breakfast, and lumbers out of the truck. “Mr. Jackson!” a kid says. Mr. Jackson raises a finger without looking to see who it is. 

He waddles up the steps to the porch, books in arm. “Good morning, Lisa!” he says, gentlemanly. “You look very beautiful today.” His is very gentlemanly.

Lisa smiles, like how you smile at creepy old men. Tolerating nonsense is not her job. She turns back to the conversation she’s having with the tiny old lady whose hair has been dyed shockingly red. Mr. Jackson’s expression is stately,  verging on giddy.

Mr. Jackson’s classroom is adorned with a confederate flag. Well, he knows it to be the rebel battle flag, and he will tell you all about that. There is a poster from the movie “Gods and Generals,” figurines of Peter Griffin, an American flag, and various educational posters. He hurries to the little window AC unit that has spent its life struggling to keep Mr. Jackson’s room cool, to varying degrees of success. 

The first of the students from his first period filter into his classroom. He greets each of them by their last name, jocularly. He drops into his leather chair, which is torn and strained. 

The bell rings over the intercom, which signals them to settle. A few moments later, a rustle comes over it, and then the voice of Principle Lisa Perkins. “Good morning, Students,” says Ms. Perkins. The tone conveys, ‘shut up,’ more than ‘good morning.’ “I debated whether to talk to you all about this, but I think everyone will know anyway, and I hope to give all of you some perspective about this terrible tragedy. As I’m sure everyone has heard, the Danielson family has been brutally attacked for an unknown reason. Honey, Darissa, Sampson, and Will Danielson were found shot to death in their home over the weekend. Most of you know Judah and David as fellow students, and can remember when Will and Sampson were students. Judah and David are currently missing, and have been missing for days now. Police are saying that they have likely been killed as well, they just have not found the bodies yet. 

“I know this is all very hard to hear. Many of you will hang on to hope for as long as possible, but I want you all to prepare for the worst, as most people who have been missing for more than two days never turn up....” She goes on, telling the kids like it is, treating them like adults. Some students cry. 

Mr. Jackson reclines grandly and puts his hands behind his head. His eyes dance around the ceiling, obviously filled with some fantasy to come. Some greater victory to achieve next. A girl with elfish features, a binder with stickers all over the cover, is the only one looking back to see Mr. Jackson, and her tear-filled summer-sky eyes narrow. 

Ms. Perkins finishes her prayer, and invites everyone to stand for the pledge of allegiance. They all stand, putting their hands over their hearts. All except for the Goth-y kids in the corner, who Mr. Jackson can no longer physically force to stand and say the pledge. He rolls his beady brown eyes. He says the pledge with hearty enthusiasm, so that his voice is heard over the lifeless drone of the students. “One nation, under God,” he says. The next part, which is “indivisible,” he does not speak. He continues with the rest. 

"The South is gon’ rise again!” he says at the top of his lesson. He waddles to the front of the class, uncapping a marker. “Y’all put your books away, I’m fixing to freestyle today,” he says, seeing them go for their books. 

“Now, someone tell me what the Civil War was over...” 

“The right to keep slaves,” says the girl with the elfish face. 

“Wrong!” Mr. Jackson says. Some boys in the class giggle. “States rights, Ms. Briar Beckman...” He slaps States Rights on the board. 

“States rights to keep slaves...” Briar mumbles under her breath. 

Mr. Jackson’s mood is too good to let this get under his skin. “Did I ever play the rebel battle cry for y’all?” He goes to his computer, pulls up YouTube, and plays a reenactment of the Rebel battle cry. It is like whooping Hyenas. “Imagine this coming at you. Makes your skin crawl...” he says. “Modern bullets go right through you,” he adds, pointing to his arm. “Muskets literally shatter all your bones.” He explodes his fingers, to illustrate his bones shattering. 

The intercom comes over the class. “Mr. Jackson, can you come to my office, please?” says Ms. Perkins. The class goes, Ooooo. Mr. Jackson almost forgets to laugh, real fear on his face. “Y’all shut up, now,” he forces a jocular tone. “Jessie, go get me a candy bar and some Doritos from the cafeteria while I’m gone. Go!” Jessie practically falls over herself to get out the door.

Mr. Jackson arrives in Ms. Perkins office. He is sweating profusely, which isn’t too suspicious, because he almost always is. “Yes, Ma’am,” he says. Her office is neat and shiny wood. There is a paddle for spanking children hanging on the wall. 

“You might have heard that the Danielsons were killed with Musket fire,” she says, getting to the point. 

“Oh?” he says. Ouch, he thinks, hopefully not a heart attack.

She blinks at him. “The police want you to help identify the type and all that sort of thing. We have a sub for you. Are you willing to do that?” 

“Of course, Ma’am,” he says.

He leaves in his little truck, escorted by the police. 

Later, during recess, a rock hits Briar in her head while she’s reading on the porch. “Ow!” she says, looking at the bush where it seemed to come from. She approaches it. “Judah!” she says. 

“Shh!” Judah says, ducking deeper in the bush. “No one else can know I’m alive!” he says. “I need your help. You in?” 

She puts a finger on her chin. She looks at her book, which she is just starting and struggling to get into. “Yes, OK,” she says. 

#writeblr #writer #writing #chapter 4 #chapter a day #daily writing #civilghost #louisiana #civil war #fiction #short fiction

[tjovalboy]

Days With the Boys (Lester)

Hey!! So I wrote a fic from Lester’s point of view about snowboarding. It’s mainly to introduce his friend group and give them some backstory. Also, it goes along with the hc that Lester doesn’t talk. This wasn’t supposed to be Rester but like I kind of ship them now after the way I wrote them aofuoeuoef. I also stan Reed so much more now I’m sorry. Hope you like it and please give me critiques!!

Lester pressed a finger on the foggy car window and drew swirls. Through the clear area, white mountains lining the  highway zoomed past while twigs and dry leaves bounced across the windshield.

The two other boys in the backseat snickered.

TJ threw a hand on his shoulder from the middle seat. “Yo, check this out.”

On his phone screen, a man, probably in his early twenties, stood only in swimming trunks on the roof of a house with a watermelon in his arms. He beamed at the camera and chucked the melon onto the grass lawn below where it smashed, then threw his arms up in celebration and screamed “That was sick!”

Lester’s shoulders shook in stifled laughter while TJ and Reed yelped, doubling over and banging their fists on the ground.

Lester, Reed, and TJ sat puff sleeve to puff sleeve with the familiar sliding noise between them. The car heater blew, but the icy air seeped in from the back windows tingeing their noses red.

“Lester, honey?” TJ’s mom looked up from her driving and searched for his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Your mother wanted me to ask if you took the big tupperware with your lunch today or the small one.”

The teen shifted so he was in full view in the mirror rectangle. He brought his palms together in front of him and then pulled them apart to communicate “big,” earning a polite smile in return.  

Snowboarding days were ritual for the trio. They loved anything dangerous, and for as long as they had known each other, they built their history of extreme outings.

Reed first approached Lester in the second grade. The small blonde handed him a pile of dusty rocks and invited him to throw them on the ground with him to watch them shatter. The crashes were exhilarating, and they couldn’t contain their grins even when the vice principal came out to shake his fist at them. When the last bell rang, Reed threw his arm around Lester and they imagined other objects they could break (without a word from Lester), eventually deciding to join the community baseball team together.

Reed never minded the silence. He was boisterous and liked having someone quiet to trust.

TJ met them a couple months later. The athlete had moved from California where he had played on more organized sports teams than either of them combined. He didn’t smile often and committed to the basketball court during recess. Reed and Lester were just rock throwing buffoons next to an eight year old like him, but it was TJ that approached them first. The three shared a love for dangerous activities and the outdoors and formed their friend group.

At first, it was weird seeing Reed with someone so much like him. When the three raced their bicycles down empty streets, TJ and Reed would whoop and cheer seeking attention from the pedestrians in the neighborhood while Lester shook his head. Because it was always just him and Reed, he forgot that his best friend was a social butterfly. But he and Reed didn’t drift, and he knew when he used a bad joke to lighten the mood when he was upset and Reed always stood up for him when the other kids teased.

Eventually, he and TJ were just as rhythmic. Reed was immature, so Lester and TJ often held the boy before he wound up making decisions he regretted. While Lester loved Reed’s chaotic games, he felt an exhale every time TJ planned a ball game with the proper rules.

Sports kept them close. They waited each weekend for new thrills around Shadyside, including dirt bike tracks, skating ramps, and rock climbing walls. Even when middle school started and they committed to different teams-- TJ stuck to basketball, Reed played baseball, and Lester swam-- their weekly hangouts didn’t change.

Every winter was snowboarding season, but they all had the snow date marked on their calendars for months.

It was the first day of winter break in their eighth grade year and TJ’s mom offered to drive them to the slopes north of Shadyside. The snowfall was supposed to be perfect-- TJ checked-- and the three raced to pull their gear from their garage boxes. Ten months since their last ride couldn’t have come sooner.

The white coating over the drab, dirt hills was infinite. Enough sun peeked through the clouds and enough breeze blew on their cheeks to heighten the adrenaline. The snowy scenery pulled them to the most dangerous slopes they could find.

The amount of puffer jackets and clunky boots made it impossible to move in the backseat. TJ’s elbow stuck into Lester rib and his foot had fallen asleep twisted against the door. Thank the snowboarding gods he actually liked the people he was with.

“TJ, who’s that?”

TJ stopped typing at the sound of Reed’s voice.

“Just Cyrus.”

Reed and Lester grinned at each other over TJ’s lap. He frowned. “Guys, really? Not this again.”

“Another hilarious conversation with him?” teased Reed.

Lester pressed a finger to his fogged window and wrote “TJ + Cyrus” inside of a heart.

“Lester!” TJ rammed into his side. His mother chuckled and shook her head from the front seat and Reed doubled over in hysterics.

After a few moments, Lester noticed antique shops and diners lining the street outside. He wiped away the rest of the fog with his sleeve and nudged TJ. When he saw the buildings, he shook Reed.

The resort was just outside this town.

TJ’s mom veered onto the plain of broken asphalt. The car tilted and bounced until she reached the smooth parking lot driveway. She paid for their day pass and drove until she found a spot close to the ticket area where kids lined up. As soon as she turned the ignition off, the boys thanked her and scrambled out.

With their snowboarding duffels slung over their shoulders, the ticket booth was only minutes away. The chill from the icy mountains reached their cheeks and froze their breath. 

Reed smiled.“This is gonna be so dope.”

#andi mack #reed with the weed #lester #tj kippen #tyrus #send me away with the last line #also i edited the last part a bit a few minutes after i posted

[thefinalkey16]

Cherished Memories

Riku’s favorite memories with Sora are of when they were kids and when they played on the islands. When they were allowed to go out on their own for the first time, feeling proud and grown up without any adults watching them. They had been ten, and they left early to go and explore every inch of the island, looking around in places they’d never been allowed to before.

He loved remembering the thrill of rowing themselves out to the island, even if Sora made him row back while he sat in the boat because he was too tired. Not that he minded of course, he was too excited about their day. Sora had fallen asleep halfway back, and they held hands while they walked back to their houses, even if Riku claimed it was just so Sora wouldn’t be able to wander off in his sleepy state.

Their first day of freedom, and it was spent with his best friend.

His favorite memory of Kairi was when he stole her surfboard in an attempt to beat her at a competition by making her lose by default. She’d been so upset, and Sora had nearly beat him up to try and get it back. Making her sad wasn’t his favorite part of the memory though.

It was how her eyes lit up at the sight of her surfboard, and how as soon as it was back in her possession she passed it to Sora and chased after Riku. He’d never ran so fast in his life, he had no idea Kairi could be so fast. Though terror and adrenaline courses through his veins, he couldn’t help but laugh when she screamed his name in fury, and he had no idea that he would end up cornered on the smaller islet.

What surprised him even more was how when he turned around with his hands raised in surrender, she tackled him into the water, her arms locked around him in a bear hug as they fell off of the island into the water. They’d surfaced laughing, and a splash war commenced, with Sora quickly swimming towards them to help Kairi take down Riku, only to help Riku defeat Kairi when she splashed Sora.

Sora’s favorite memory of Riku was the first time he ever defeated him in a fight. He’d been eleven, Riku twelve at the time, and he’d spent weeks training with Tidus and Wakka in order to beat him, not facing him until he’d beat them time after time again for three days.

The moment Riku’s wooden sword went flying into the water and Sora’s was pointed at Riku’s chest was a moment he had only dreamed of happening.The look on Riku’s face when he realized he’d been defeated made his chest swell with pride, and Riku had tried coming up with excuses as to why and how he lost. None of that matter to Sora though, because he had won, and that meant everything to him.

His favorite memory with Kairi was of them drawing their pictures in the Secret Place. It had taken weeks of pleading with Riku to let see the place only the two of them knew about. Eventually he agreed, and Sora had been so excited to show her it.

The look of awe and wonder on her face when she first looked around at the huge cave was a better reaction than he had hoped, and she immediately spotted the empty spot on the cave’s walls and insisted that they go and draw on it. Thankfully there were plenty of rocks that they could use to draw with, and after a few minutes of throwing out ideas, they decided to draw each other.

Sora’s drawing skills have never been the best, his turning out like a scribbly mess. Kairi though, she was amazing. She took a lot longer than Sora did, looking over at him for a reference and coloring everything except his eyebrows and eyes, and a large smile on his face as well as the outline of his ear. His jaw dropped at the sight, and her semi embarrassed giggle made his smile brighten as he began fawning over her abilities. By the end of the day, there were a few more drawings on the caves walls.

Kairi’s favorite memory with Riku was when they both had their first sleepover after their parents told them they weren’t allowed to anymore. He’d snuck into her room from the balcony, a backpack filled with clothes and snacks on his back. Sora hadn’t been able to make it, but they had a fun time anyways.

Riku and her didn’t do what they normally did, though they still played video games on her small tv. It was while she was kicking his butt in Mario Kart that he first told her about the idea for the raft, wanting to know if she wanted to go out and see if they could find her home. He hadn’t told Sora yet, and he wanted her answer first, since she was the reason he wanted to do it.

It warmed her heart that he wanted her okay to do this, and she agreed, even if she didn’t know that later on this would become a frightening thought for her. That night they slept in her bed, and though they at first were sleeping on different sides of the bed, she’d awoken enveloped in his arms, safe and warm.

It was the first time they really hung out just the two of them, and she felt closer to him because of the many deep conversations they’d had that night.

Kairi’s favorite memory with Sora is of the first time he made her smile. It was her first day of school, and she had been petrified at the thought about being around so many strangers. While being bombarded by questions and other kids wanting to know where she came from and why she was so pale, a small hand grabbed hers and pulled her over to the play structure.

At first she was nervous and scared, but he didn’t ask her any questions other than her name, if she wanted to be friends, and if she wanted to play with him and his other friend. “Riku’s too shy to ask, but he wants to play with you too!” He assured her.

They’d spent the whole recess playing games of make believe, and after recess ended and they were heading back to their class, Sora grabbed her hand again and smiled brightly at her, asking if she wanted to be his and Riku’s best friend. When asking what a best friend was, he told her it was “like being a friend, but better!” She’d happily agreed, and Sora, overwhelmed with excitement, pulled her into the tightest and happiest hug she’d ever received.

She smiled brightly as she hugged him back just as tight, and that day she’d become best friends with the two people she loved most in the world.

#kingdom hearts #kairi #sora #sokai #riku #Soriku #Rikai #Sorikai #imagines #there will be many more of these #i have big plans

[capitanogiorgio]

1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 11, 13, 14, 15, 16, 22, 28, 35, 39, 41, 43, 44, 55, 58, 67, 68, 70, 84, 85, 87, 88, 91, 93, 99 : GOOD LUCK 👍

1. Three teams you like 

Juventus, AS Cannes (and Valenciennes FC) and Liverpool

2. Three teams you do not like 

Inter, R Madrid and Nice

3. A team you can’t tolerate and you do not even know why

idk… I usually have a rugh idea why I don’t like a team of football especially if it’s at a “can’t tolerate” level. So no idea.

4. A team that surprised you in recent years (negative way or positive way) 

Actually the Spurs. I’ve never followed them apart from reading results or other relevent articles. They’ve progressed and have a strong team. There’s also Liverpool who has come back being a serious contender for titles, Klopp’s has done wonders.

6. The thing you dislike the most about your club or NT 

For both Italy and France it’s the lack of patience of the fans (and I know I can lack some at times). For France NT it’s especially that kind of French mentality that I’ve seen countless times : if we win, we’re the best, we’d known all along we would win but the minute they lose everyone’s like “Of course, french in sports are always so inconsistant, overpaid brats, smh, I knew we’d lose.” and stuff like that and it drives me mad.

For Juve, it’s that lately, there’s this big clash with the spirit of the club and a huge “marketing ideal” for lack of better term : the new logo, billion years away from the historical one, the huge rise in seats prices and a disdain for the ultras who pretty much are the only one who sings at the stadium and it just look like a big enterprise being run for maximum profit forgetting parts of what is essentials to the club in the process.

8. The one time football made you so happy you couldn’t stop smiling for days 

The first time was Italy NT’s win in 2006. I felt invicible at 10 years old. I had spent a whole month being teased at, Italy being insulted at recess, some kids not speaking to me because I was the only one supporting Italy and being shamelessly vocal about it. I spent all that journey on my own, even my parents thought it weird and I was devastated french TV wouldn’t show all the games of Italy NT or when my parents didn’t let me watch because I had school in the morrow. I was also very sad because I was being transferred in another school when I knew nobody and I’d lose all my friends because the school was in the neighbouring city. I learnt that the day before Italy - Germany and gosh, I cried and I cried again at the late goals of Grosso and Del Piero. It helped lessen my dramatic 10 year old self. And then the final, when Italy won I was so happy. I had to hid the remote control so my parents wouldn’t turn off the TV because they didn’t understand the point of watching since France had lost but I argued. I couldn’t tear my eyes of all my heroes lifting that golden cup and the next day when I faced everyone at school that had told me Italy was shit and would never win all month long. Biggest smile on my face. Three days later my mom took me to the sports shop and bought me the 4 stars jersey and I still have it today.

The second was when Cannes, while in 4th division, beat Saint-Etienne right for my birthday in the round of 32 of the Coupe de France. It was super cold and it went all the way to the penalties and we won and it was the first time I saw the stadium full, completely full with about 12000 people. It was magical. At the end there was a pitch invasion and players celebrated with fans it was amazing. We went to win against Plabennec and then against Montpellier, another Ligue 1 club ! We went up until the quarter finals but ultimately lost to Guingamp. But that feeling was… Amazing.

9. The one time football made you so sad you cried for days. 

First there was Cannes getting sent to 7th division. I thought it was so unfair since the owners had done fuck all while the team gave their max. There was Alex leaving Juve the way it happened. And more recently it was Italy not qualifying for the World Cup and Gigi leaving Juve. Gosh that one was a hard blow I spent the whole week crying from his press conference to the game and after.

11. Five players you really admire purely based on football

Giorgio Chiellini (what ??)

Paolo Maldini

Thierry Henry

Eden Hazard (saw him twice when he was in Lille and it was already a recital)

Iker Casillas

13. Five most underrated players in your opinion

So many qzesrdtfygu ! Any GKs and Defenders go there. For having many OM fans in my acquatainces and being up to date with their club as a result, I’d say Hiroki Sakai is really underrated. Unpopular opinion but Pippo Inzaghi was constantly underrated for saying his goals are easy and he’s lucky and he doesn’t know how to play. I said what I said. Danijel Subasic, my good peeps and that’s the truth. Hm Olivier Giroud and Hugo Lloris ???? ANYONE ???? (that counts as a two for one package). And as a very great and Scouse philosopher once said : “Gary Neville is the most underrated player”

14. Five most overrated players in your opinion

Ronald, Titbot, Rami (and even more since the world cup win), Ratmos, Müller (sorry Garance)

15. Name 3 most despicable figures in football in your opinion (coaches, players, owners, companies, anyone…)

UEFA and FIFA tbh.

16. What makes your favorite coach better than other coaches?

He screams like a metal rock star ! And he’s super intense :

Also because he’s done a tremendous work winning 4 Coppa Italia, 4 Scudetti, getting to two UCL finals and keep the team hungry for more !

22. Favorite Left Back today

Me of course aqzesrdtfqzesrdtfyghj ! Ugh today ? I’d go with De Sciglio (he’s polyvalent)

28. Your dream eleven

Buffon, Maldini, Chiellini, Scirea, Gattuso, Pirlo, Giggs, Beckham, Del Piero, Inzaghi, Vieri

35. Favorite tactical formation

4-3-3 or 3-5-2. Although my first love in managing games was the 4-1-2-1-2. Or as I like to call it : 4-4-2 losange !

39. A moment in football that changed you as a person. (e.g injuries, trophies, or transfers)

It’s honestly quite a rollercoaster when you’re ten years old to see your heroes win the world cup and then learn a week later that your favourite team is going to Serie B. I didn’t understand. That was the first time I really read all articles and papers I could find on the matter, even going to the public library to look at the ones I couldn’t buy and try and read everything to understand.

There was also Riccardo Montolivo’s injury just before the 2014 World Cup and Laurent Koscielny’s injury before the 2018 World Cup. I saw both happening in front of my very eyes and I felt awful, I almost wanted to cry. Injuries at such a time are, truly, the worst thing. And Montolivo wasn’t left alone by injuries afterwards and it breaks my heart.

Also, that 2005 ucl final like. The d r a m a (tm)

41. A player you are ashamed of loving

No shame, no regrets, just love !

43. Your achilles’ heel. The player who is your weakness.

Gigi Buffon (and Pippo Inzaghi)

44. Which team did you support the last time two teams you hated played against each other?

None, I wished for a draw aqzesrdtfygu

55. Three players from past generations you wish you had seen

Gaetano Scirea, Giampiero Boniperti and George Best (and Lev Yashin)

58. Most undeserving winners you can think of

Portugal at Euro 2016. They had the crappiest run and yet…..

67. A rival player you wish had joined your team

MON-TO-LI-VO, Icare about nothing ! Otherwise, although he’s a milanista through and through, would have love Gattuso at Juve, see how it would have been.

68. The time you really thought about leaving football

I never wanted to left but I had breaks. It especially coincided when I was playing football myself and the club’s environement was shit. I received insults just because I was 100% at training and dared tackle the ball away from the starlette diva of the team and the coaches didn’t bat an eye. Spent a whole year like this before I had enough and changed club.

70.The best transfer decision your club made

Just saying but buying Andrea Barzagli from Wolfsburg for 300k was like. Genius.

84. A player you wish you could’ve known in real life because you really think you guys could’ve been best friends.

I’d go with Andrea Pirlo, my good bitch I love dearly

85. A player who you want as your partner (lover, boyfriend, husband)

Pippo Inzaghi or Alessandro Del Piero.

87. Five players who others find attractive but you just don’t see it

Max Allegri for Beatrice Icardi, Luka Modric, Griezmann,

88. A player you think you totally would have had a crush on if you were born in another generation

Probably George Best and Paolo Rossi

91. A player who you think has the worst sense when it comes to fashion

Pretty much all players who lived the 90′s and early 2000s. But like… Gigi Buffon always delivered….. looks™ lmao

93. Top 5 bromances that you swear by.

Giorgio Chiellini and Leonardo Bonucci bitch !

Pippo Inzaghi and Bobo Vieri

Dejan Lovren and Mo Salah

Rino Gattuso and the Dickheads™

France 98 is a whole bromance by itself

99. The 5 most attractive players in your club and NT

Juve : De Sciglio, Matuidi, Bernardeschi, Dybala and Chiellini

France NT : Samuel Umtiti, Raphaël Varane, Blaise Matuidi, Benjamin Pavard and Nabil Fekir

Italy NT : Salvatore Sirigu, Ciro Immobile, Mattia De Sciglio, Federico Bernardeschi and Giorgio Chiellini

Thanks !

[redditnosleep]

I'm A Search And Rescue Officer For The US Forest Service, I Have Some Stories To Tell

by searchandrescuewoods.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 (Final)

It's been way too long since I posted an update, and I'm sorry about that. There's also been some confusion about the new formatting requirements on the board, which I've cleared up. So these next few stories are going to be posted a little differently! They'll be in chronological order, and I'll do my best to tie them into each other as much as I can so it doesn't skip around too much.

When I started out as a rookie, no one had told me a lot about the job in terms of weird things that could happen. I'm assuming this was largely to prevent me from freaking out and abandoning the park. But a few months into my service, when I was still a rookie, a friend and I were drunk at a party, and he opened up a bit: "Yeah, it can get a little crazy out there, I guess. I think the worst are the ones where people die when they just shouldn't, you know? Or when we find 'em dead like ten minutes after someone says they saw them last. 'They were fine when I passed them on the switchback, I swear!' That sort of shit. Like, take this guy who I found one spring out on a really popular trail. Someone comes into the VC freaking about about some guy who's lying in the middle of the path in this giant pool of blood. So we run out there, and we find this guy dead as a doornail. Which he absolutely should be, because the back of his head is like mashed potatoes. The skull is decimated, brains are leaking out like custard filling, and they guy's old so you figure yeah, he probably fell and hit his head. Old people fall all the time, it's no big deal. Except that this area where he fell doesn't HAVE any big rocks. There's not even any stumps or big branches. And on top of that, there's no blood trail, so he clearly died where he dropped. Now that's when you'd turn to murder, but there were people just out of line of sight with the guy. If someone came up behind him and murdered him, there's no way someone wouldn't have heard. And again, even if someone had, there'd be a blood trail, spatter all over the place. But everyone on the scene said it looked exactly like he'd fallen and smashed his head on a rock. So what the fuck did he hit his head on? And then there was this lady I found in a different park about five years ago, back when I was upstate. We found her in the middle of a stand of big junipers, curled around the trunk, like she was huggin' it. We pick her up to move her, and a fucking waterfall comes out of her mouth, splashes all over my shoes. Her clothes are dry, and her hair is dry, but the amount of water in her lungs and stomach was phenomenal. Unreal, man. Coroners report? Says the cause of death was drowning. Her lungs were completely full of water. This, even though we're in the middle of the high desert, and there isn't a body of water for miles. No puddles, no nothing. No signs of anyone else being out there. I mean yeah, it's possible they were murdered. But why go out of the way to do it like that? Why not just stab 'em and be done with it? I dunno, it just sits weird with me."

Now of course, that freaked me out a little. But we were wasted, and I guess I sort of wrote it off as a fluke. I also assumed there was exaggeration there, since, you know, we were wasted.

Now, I don't like talking about this next case very much. It was an awful one that I've done my best to forget about, but of course that's easier said than done. This happened about six months after the conversation with my friend at the bar, and up until that point I hadn't had a lot of really weird shit go down. A few things here and there, and of course the stairs, but it's amazingly easy to get used to stuff like that when it's treated as if it's normal. This case was a little different.

A guy with Down's Syndrome in his 20s went missing after his family lost sight of him on a major path. That was odd in and of itself, because this guy never left his mom's side. She was absolutely convinced he'd been kidnapped, and unfortunately a Ranger who isn't with the park anymore insinuated that no one was going to kidnap someone... well, with that kind of disability. Not very tactful, to say the least. We wasted a lot of time trying to calm her down enough to get information about him, and then we put out an official missing persons call. Because of the urgency of the situation, him being mostly unable to function alone, we had local police come in and help us. We didn't find him the first night, which was heartbreaking. None of us wanted to think of him being alone out there. We assumed he'd just kept wandering, and was staying ahead of us. We brought out helis the next day, and they spotted him in a little canyon. I helped bring him back up, but he was in bad shape, and I think we all knew he wasn't gonna make it. He'd fallen and broken his spine, and couldn't feel his lower half. He'd also broken both his legs, one at the femur, and he'd lost a lot of blood. He was confused and scared while he was alone, so he'd probably exacerbated the injuries by dragging himself a little ways. I know it sounds awful, but while I was riding in the copter with him, I asked him why he'd wandered off. I just wanted something to tell his mother, to let her know it wasn't her fault, because he was fading fast and I didn't think she'd get to ask him herself. He was crying, and he said something about how 'the little sad boy' had wanted him to come play. He said the little boy wanted to 'trade' so he could 'go home'. Then he closed his eyes, and when he woke up again, he was in the canyon. I'm not sure that's exactly what he said, but it was what I thought the gist of it was. He kept crying, asking where his mommy was, and I held his hand and tried my best to keep him calm. 'It was cold out there.' He kept saying that. 'It was cold out there. My legs was frozen. It was cold out there. It's cold in me.' He was getting even weaker, so he eventually stopped talking, and he closed his eyes for a while. Then, when we were about five minutes from the hospital, he looked right at me, with these big tears running down his face, and he said 'Mama won't see me no more. Love mama, wish she was here.' And he closed his eyes and he just... never woke up. It was horrible, and I don't like talking about it. That case was one of the first ones that really rattled me badly.

Because of how badly it affected me, I reached out to a senior Ranger, and who ended up helping me through it. As time went on, and we got to know each other better, he ended up sharing one of his own stories with me. It was disturbing, but it helped to know that I wasn't the only one affected by the things going on out there. "I think this must have happened before you got here, because I think if it had happened while you were here you'd have remembered it. I know it didn't end up in the news, for some reason, but I think most people who've been here long enough know about it. The park sold off a portion of land to a logging company, and it was a really controversial thing. But it wasn't that large or old of a plot, and it was right after the recession, so we needed cash bad. Anyway, they were felling this plot of land, and we get a call that we need to get our supervisors out right away. I don't know why, but they ended up sending me and a few other guys along with the heads, I guess for power in numbers, to see what was up. We got there, and all these guys are crowded around a tree that they've just cut down. They're all pissed off and freaking out and the foreman comes over and says he wants to know what we think we're up to. "What the hell y'all think this is, some kinda sick joke? You've got a lot of fuckin' nerve pulling this shit, we bought this land fair and square!" Well we don't know what the hell he's talking about, so he brings us over to this felled tree and points at it and tells us that when they cut it down, it was just like this, and they'll be damned if they put it there. The inside of the tree was all rotted out and hollow in one spot, and when they'd cut it down it had exposed that chamber, and inside it is a hand. Like a perfectly severed hand. And looks like it's actually fused with the inside of the tree. Well now we think THEY'RE pulling a joke, so we tell them that we don't like being fucked with, and we start to leave, but they tell us they've already called the cops, and that they'll go right to the media if we don't stick around. Well that gets the heads' attention, so they stick around and talk to the police about it. Everyone is denying that they put the hand in there, and besides, how would anyone have even done it? It's clearly a real hand, but it's not mummified or skeletal. It's brand new, probably not even a day old. And it is definitely fused with the wood, you can see that it's coming right out of it. The loggers, they insist that they didn't put it there. Somehow, this fresh human hand ended up fused to the inside of this living tree. The cops have them cut up that section of tree into a movable chunk. Then they take the hand away, and the area is closed off. There was a pretty big investigation, but I know they didn't find get any answers. Now it's become this legend, and as far as I know we haven't sold any more property for logging."

As you all know, I went to a training seminar recently, and heard some amazing and horrible things there. One of the guys I talked to while I was there told me a story when we were all around the campfire one night. We were both pretty drunk, you'll see a pattern here, and we were swapping stories. He told me this one: "Me and another guy were out on a field search because some campers reported screaming noises at night. So we head out there to look for whatever fucking mountain lion has wandered into the area, and I'm pissed. We've had three of them show up in the camping areas that year alone and I'm getting tired as hell of constantly having to deal with them. Plus, I just don't like them anyway. They're a pain in the ass and they're loud and they scare the shit out of me. Fuckin' cats. Pieces of shit. I'm groanin' about it to the guy I'm with and he thinks it's a real fuckin' riot. So we're seeing all these broken branches and what look like dens and we're pretty sure we know where this thing is. I call in and they tell me to confirm if possible, which you know just means they want to you to step in a big pile of shit and use that as proof. I'm not seeing any, though, so I basically just tell 'em to shove it, I'm done. We know that damn thing's out here somewhere, even if I'm not stepping in its shit or inside its mouth or whatever. Guy I'm with wanders off to take a piss or whatever, and I stay behind watching this little burrow under a tree to see if maybe a fox or somethin' is living under it, 'cause I love foxes, man. They're cute as hell. But anyway, I'm watching this tree and I start hearing branches crackling and it's coming from the direction my partner went opposite of. Now I've got my pistol, but you and I both know that's not gonna do shit against a cat. I cock it and holler for my partner to get his dumb ass back, but he's too far and he can't hear me. I stand up and get my sights on where the thing is approaching, and I shit you not, man, I just about peed myself. This guy is coming toward me, and he's back-flipping through the fucking woods. Like, instead of walking, he's doing these crazy fucking back-flips, and I swear to God he cleared every fucking log and bush in his path, it was like he knew right where he was going. I yell at the guy to stop right where he is, that I'm pointing a gun right at him, but he keeps coming, and I just kinda lost it. I shot at the ground in front of him, and it was a dumb fuckin' thing to do, but man I didn't want this guy anywhere near me. When I fired, he was about fifty yards from me, and as soon as the gun goes off, he whirls around and goes off, back-flipping back into the woods. My partner hears my gun go off and runs back and asks what's up, and I tell him there's some fucking weirdo out here hopped up on God knows what, and we need to get the hell out of Dodge. I let the cops know what happened, and I didn't get in any trouble for firing, but man, I don't know what that motherfucker was on but I've never seen anything like that before. Shit was absolutely butt-fuck crazy."

I think we can agree that there's stuff going on out here in the woods, and while I'm not going to spout off about what it could be, or offer any theories, what I want people to take away from all of this is that it is so damn important to be safe when you're out there. I know a lot of you think you're invincible, but the fact is that you CAN die out there, or be hurt, or go missing. It's easier than you'd ever imagine.

I apologize for this relatively short update, guys, I will do my absolute best to continue this series as soon as possible. Thanks for all your continuing support, it means the world to me!

#search and rescue series #creepy #horror story #series