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rotten-games · 5 years

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Gods

Okay so here’s the list. There are more but these are really the only ones who will show up. Save for two others that aren’t mentioned but they aren’t important in terms of any main plot or anything.

Golding – Considered the ‘Father God’ and one of the first to come into being, he is the sun and the stars in the sky as well as the Keeper of the Life Well, which is what the church believes maintains the process of reincarnation. Any other purpose besides is otherwise unknown. Golding is often depicted in art as a man of fire or pure light. He is probably the most prominently worshipped in the pantheon. The biological father to Orana, he is often depicted beside his lover, Lysandr. Sometimes art of him appears to make him out to be a Lion or large cat of some sort with a pelt of fire.

Lysandr – Lysandr is considered to be perhaps the second of the Deities to come into being, and perhaps one of the most derisive Gods in the pantheon. Because, despite his hand in shaping the mortal shells in which all beings walk, he is also considered to be a bad omen if seen walking the material plane. It is said that the day he walks with his creations is the day he takes back what he loaned out. Whether this is superstition or not is not known. There is some speculation that he hates his creations, or at the very least cares little for them. He is also more commonly worshipped by Infernals, or at least the few that have come out of hiding. It is thought that this is because of his important but precarious position in the Pantheon as one of the heads, as well as his similarities to Infernals in some respects. A lesser known attribute is that he’s called the ‘Father of Dragons,’ quite literally. He is often depicted with a missing right arm and a set of large horns atop his head. An alternative depiction of him in art is that he is the ice to Golding’s fire, however, this is a more recent representation.

Pyrrha – Pyrrha is considered the God of the Forest, but the actuality of it is she is the forest itself. Indeed, she is the land and the Mother of the creatures that traverse it, one of the few things she’s proud of that came from her marriage to Lysandr. She is also God of the Hunt, but has been known to show hunters and rangers quite disfavour when she perceives them to be hunting her children to extinction. Moreover, she also became the God of War after her more recent husband, the previous God of War and Strife, was killed at the hands of the Godslayer, and almost disavowed mortals altogether. Were it not for the other Gods, she may have caused the destruction of the world itself. She is the eldest and more hot-tempered of three sisters.

Adeliah – Adeliah is one of the three Gods who preside over the afterlife, for however much of an afterlife there actually is. It would be more accurate to say that she is the one who kills, or expels the souls from their shells. As a whole, she is widely agreed to be the Death God. She largely blames herself for giving her gift of Time to Wykk, as she was the previous Keeper, but ultimately didn’t trust Arior or Ataar to complete their work to the best of their abilities and wanted to dedicate her time to maintaining the Cycle of Life and Death. She is depicted as an uncaring old woman, and hasn’t been seen on the Material plane since long after she shed her guise of a young woman.

Arior – Arior is known as The Shepherd by the general populace, and indeed this moniker is more commonly used than her name. Though Ataar is her brother, Adeliah is not her mother, nor her sister, or aunt. It is unknown just what the relationship between Adeliah and the other two Death Gods are, but most agree it is not familial, or even friendly in any way. Arior’s job as The Shepherd is to herd the souls of the dead to their final judgement, where her brother will take her place and, well, judge the choices made in their life.

Ataar – Ataar is known as The Judge, and is one of the three Gods of Death. While it is often thought that the presence of a Judge is unnecessary due to the fact that mortals will just get reincarnated regardless, there have, in fact, been instances in history where particularly repulsive people have had their souls ‘passed on.’ The Godslayer would be one such individual. For the most part, his job is to lock away memories of previous lives more than actually judge, however, to do so he must look through all the memories of each soul so that he doesn’t make mistakes. As is often the case, however, mistakes are made, but it isn’t often.

Wykk – The Secretkeeper and a Shapechanger, Wykk is the beholder of all the secrets in the world. Their job centres around maintaining a balance between chaos and order, and because of their seemingly unbiased nature in regards to the politics of any given realm, they are often misunderstood. While they are also the Keeper of Time, and seem to live in a state unchanged by such a thing, it is said that to create their Oracles they manipulated it in a way that should not be possible and is generally looked down by the other Deities. Often said to be one of the Gods who most often visits the material plane, Wykk does not have a widely agreed upon appearance. Some think they must take the form of a large bird—a phoenix, perhaps—while others simply depict them as a cloaked figure, completely unknown in appearance. It is wholly possible that it is both. Often those who commit treason or collusion will claim that this God made them do it, but it is unknown whether this is true.

Radhel – The God of romantic love and sibling of Ren, Radhel is perhaps one of the more well-known Gods in the pantheon simply by virtue of his designation. While he does not make people fall in love, he is the entire reason mortals have the capacity to fall in love, however. The story in particular behind this is long and arduous, and has long since been bastardised by time but the ending is virtually the same. His lover dies and he decides to take their form whether they are depicted as masculine or feminine or neither at all. Radhel is said to be the first God to walk the land and have a child, however, there is little evidence of this and it is unknown when the first Godkin was born or to who. He is often depicted as the most juvenile of the Gods, not in appearance but in mannerisms. He seems to be seen as young and optimistic, and perhaps a bit simplistic, but above all, completely caring for others. There is no hateful bone in his body.

Ren – The God of sexual love and the brother of Radhel is the vastly more hot-headed of the two. Most commonly prayed to by those considered outcasts of society or those who have been wronged, Ren is most often represented by a viper. Many of his priests get tattoos to match his own, typically all over their bodies. He is feuding with Orana and dislikes Adeliah, extending that dislike to Ataar and Arior simply by association. For the most part, he is mistrusting of most of the other Gods, however, he was in a brief relationship with Rune and Lysandr’s daughter, Malgwin. Part of the reason he and Orana are feuding after it blew up.

Anathema – Often most associated with famine and pestilence, Anathema and his army of rats and other such pests are considered a terrible omen of mass-death and usually involves cattle mutilation for whatever reason. What is often overlooked about Anathema is that he has two sides. While one is of death and destruction in equal measure, the other is of compassion in hard times, and of the life that springs forth from death. He is a quiet God, one who has little relations with the others, but he seems to care deeply for mortals despite his obligations

Rune – A being of pure element, Rune is often considered the Patron God of witches simply due to their connection to magic. They were the shaper of the earth and is often the cause of natural disasters and other phenomena. Though typically associated with neutrality, their perception by the general populace is varied due to how connected to magic they are and their spawn are a few of the most hated of the Godkin. They are probably one of the few Gods who rarely visit the material plane, and as such there is rarely an issue with such children.

Orana – The Moon Maiden, as she is oft dubbed, presides over the tides and the night sky. Though her father is the creator of all the stars, Orana was the one who placed them on the canvas of the sky. Though she is often considered to be a calm God with eternal love for all who smiles under her light, she has a dark side. She is responsible for all floods, for all tsunamis, and all violent waves. For every child who is graced with her blessing to never be betrayed by her waters, there is a sailor lost to the sea. For she is an orderly being, even if she wishes she wasn’t. She is often depicted as the moon herself, or as a young woman with stars in her eyes and a noble appearance.

On the Great Mothers:

The Great Mothers are considered to be the first beings to exist, that they indeed existed before time, space, and everything, at least on the material plane. There is speculation that they created the material plane as a whole, however, others believe that their children created it as The Mothers had nothing to do with the creation of the world. They are called the Great Mothers, because they ‘birthed’ the current Gods and it is widely accepted that they all worked together to create them. There was a total of seven Mothers, each with vastly different appearances and skills, but it is said that they all loved one another equally. After they created their children Gods, and their children Gods created the land, they disappeared, never to be seen again.

There is one theory that they fell into an eternal slumber upon the Earth, and this theory makes up a large part of what the Elves typically believe. Often, you will find elves worshipping at large, mystical trees, or other such magical landmarks with no discernible power source, and they believe that these landmarks are where the Great Mothers finally rest and that one day they will rise. This can neither be proven or disproven at this stage, any excavation will more than likely result in war.

#god im so tired #lore #listen by the time i got to ren i was tired

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 years

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Dancing in the dark at Kathe Koja's DARK FACTORY

[Kathe Koja is one of my favorite writers (actually, she's two of my favorite writers!) and her latest project, am immersive, mixed-reality dance club, is so unbelievably cool that I jumped at the chance to give her a platform to tell you about it. Don't miss her Patreon! -Cory]

Kathe Koja:

Stories need an audience to be fully alive. I write novels (Christopher Wild, The Cipher, Under the Poppy, Buddha Boy, among others) and write and produce immersive events and readings (The Art of Darkness, Glitter King, Night School, ALI<E, among others), and when I work I’m always considering that audience, its shared energy and engagement with the story I’m working to tell: otherwise it’s just words in a row, props in a room.

So when I started putting together my newest project, DARK FACTORY, wanted to invite that audience inside the story from the very start.

Dark Factory is a mixed-reality dance club where each patron’s experience can be fully customized—they can dance, drink, have sex, tag the walls, revel in whatever manufactured sights and scents they choose from the menu—until the night ends and the doors open again on real life. But what if real life starts changing, responding, to something that happens in the club? What if it doesn’t stop? Would we even want it to stop?

And the doors open, the patrons start to enter, the night truly begins: the constant shift and self-perpetuating level of detail, the maze of it, the haze of it, the fog of scents like floating flowers, the sudden mirrored sheen of a wall, so the self seems to walk into itself, the hundreds of wax candles whose flickering flames are indistinguishable from true fire except they burn nothing, exist as nothing but light that itself does not truly exist—and everyone in this warehouse, show, environment, all these human moving parts, seem to have invested themselves so completely in Dark Factory that every dance step, every splash of booze, every flashed ass and fake fuck not only continually redefines reality, it simply shrugs off the definition altogether. [from DARK FACTORY]

DARK FACTORY is a novel first. But I knew that this story needed to exist in multiple ways, on multiple planes: there had to be music, and a real-world dance party, and a video—maybe with an AR/VR component?—and a way for the audience to add to the narrative if they chose. And all the puzzle pieces of the characters’ lives, their DJ playlists and posted pictures, their tattoos and t-shirts and favorite drinks, those had to be included somehow too . . . Call it a narrative mixtape, call it immersive fiction, call it a novel that knocks down the fourth wall—it’s incredibly exciting to open up this story’s world. That’s why I decided to do a Patreon for the project, to be able to offer different levels of engagement as DARK FACTORY comes to life. I’d done something on a smaller scale with my last novel, Christopher Wild, inviting readers to pledge, with work-in-progress access as the book was being written. But this turns the volume up even more.

What DARK FACTORY will read like, look like, sound like—we’re going to find out together. Time to immerse all the way, let’s dance!

https://boingboing.net/2019/05/22/beyond-redefined-reality.html

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foundcarcosa · 7 years

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cxcix.

When was the last time you saw a doctor? >> I really don’t remember.

Which internet browser do you use? >> Chrome.

Have you ever lived on a university campus? >> No.

Do you know anyone who is a firefighter? >> I’m pretty sure I don’t.

What’s your favourite alcoholic beverage? >> Absinthe, Dark & Stormy, rum & Coke, sweet wines.

When was the last time you saw a photo of your ex? >> Which one?

Do you have any piercings besides your earlobes? >> Septum.

How many push-ups can you do? >> I’m not sure. Probably 2.

What time is it right now? >> 11.31p EST.

What colour are your eyes? >> Dark brown.

Do you “binge-watch” tv shows? >> Sometimes. Usually comedies or animated shows, because they take less time and energy to process.

What is your opinion of clowns? >> I am completely disinterested in them.

Did you wear a necklace today? >> I’m always wearing at least one.

Have you ever received a compliment from a stranger? >> Well, sure.

Do you plan ahead when it comes to your outfits? >> Nah.

What colour is your front door? >> I’m not sure. It’s one of those out-of-sight, out-of-mind things.

Do you take the stairs or the elevator? >> That depends on how many stories, whether I’m going up or down, and how energetic I feel.

Do you know anyone who lives in Long Island, New York? >> I’m relatively sure I do.

When was the last time you wore a button up shirt? >> I haven’t worn one in long enough that I don’t remember. Probably on a holiday.

What’s your favourite song at the moment? >> Emperor’s New Clothes, maybe.

How many times have you consumed alcohol? >> There is no conceivable way for me to tally that.

Do you often forget what you were just about to say? >> Not often, no.

When was the last time you were at a party? >> About a week or two ago.

Do you own any striped sweaters? >> No.

Have there ever been any forest or grass fires in your area? >> I don’t know.

Do you ever get any important emails that need attention? >> I mean, sometimes, I’m sure. Not often.

Are you any good at packing a suitcase?: >> I’m quite adept at it. Experience, you know.

What are you hungry for right now, if anything?: >> Nothing.

Have you ever had a white hot chocolate? What did you think?: >> No, and I don’t ever want one.

What will you be doing in twenty minutes from now?: >> Something related to the internet, no doubt.

Is there anybody in your house’s bathroom right now?: >> No, because no one else is home.

Have you ever witnessed a serious physical fight?: >> Sure.

How much does gas cost in your area?: >> I don’t remember... $2-something, I’m sure.

Are you a fidgety sort of person?: >> Sometimes.

What was the last thing you ordered at a restaurant?: >> A veggie burger and sweet potato fries.

How do you like to spend your alone time?: >> Playing video games, watching something on a streaming service, browsing the internet, thinking up headcanons, reading...

Have you ever mowed a lawn?: >> I seem to remember doing so, when I was in North Carolina. It’d fit the profile, since I was often recruited to do menial tasks other people didn’t feel like doing.

On average, how many hours a day do you spend online?: >> I’d say about 15. The Internet of Things really contributes.

When was the last time you were yelled at? What had you done wrong?: >> I don’t remember. The older one gets, the less opportunity one has to be yelled at.

Do you enjoy corn on the cob?: >> Sure.

Is there anything good on television at this very moment?: >> I mean, no, the television is not on. I’m not even in the living room.

Have you ever bought alcohol or cigarettes for someone underage? >> No.

Do you do your laundry regularly, or do you let it pile up?: >> Sparrow takes the laundry to her parents’ house once a week.

Did you ever play Habbo Hotel when you were younger?: >> No.

What about Neopets?: >> No.

Have you ever had to comfort a friend over the death of a loved one?: >> No. I’m generally not the person you call upon for that.

In your opinion, what’s the ideal age to start having children?: >> In my opinion, there exists no ideal age for anything.

Have you ever stabbed a friend in the back, intentionally or not?: >> Maybe. That particular terminology doesn’t mean anything to me, so I can’t say for sure.

What’s the longest you’ve ever slept in one go?: >> Probably around 10 or 12 hours.

Do you check the weather forecast everyday?: >> Almost every day.

Have you ever dated someone with an accent different than yours? >> Maybe minutely different, but not substantially.

What brand is your desktop or laptop?: >> Heimdall is an MSI and Normandy is a Lenovo.

Do you enjoy the smell and taste of cinnamon?: >> I do.

If you use Snapchat, have you ever had a screenshot taken of you?: >> I don’t use Snapchat, I just play with the filters sometimes.

Who were you last in a car with and where were you going?: >> Sparrow. To the Nature Center, then her parents’ house, then Meijer.

Does caffeine affect you, or not so much?: >> I have a high tolerance to it.

Do you make your bed everyday?: >> No.

Is your birthday before August? >> It is.

Are you an Aries? >> Nope. Jupiter is in Aries in my chart, though.

Would you consider yourself artistic? >> Yes.

Are you a brunette? >> Yes.

Where is your dad right now? >> I don’t know. From what I know of him, he is likely at home asleep.

Is it past 11am? >> In a sense. It is also before 11a, in a sense. It is also probably 11a somewhere.

Are you a Gemini? >> Yes, several times over.

What do you hear right now? >> The box fan and my typing.

Does your birthday fall in the months of January, June, or July? >> No.

Do you regret your last kiss? >> No.

Do you have any kids? >> No.

What is your favorite kind of music? >> I have no favourite kind. With 7k+ songs of wildly varying genres in my iTunes, how could I?

Do you have any nieces or nephews? >> Yes.

Do you live on your own? >> As in, not with my parents or a guardian, yes. I don’t live alone, though.

Are you the oldest child? >> I am the youngest of my father’s children.

Do you know anyone who lives in Oregon? >> Probably someone on the internet.

Do you have any pets? >> I don’t. My household does.

How many tattoos do you have? >> Three.

Are you a twin? >> I mean, I am a Gemini. But no.

Do you own an umbrella? >> We have about four umbrellas altogether, I think.

Are you under 21? >> No.

Have you ever been to Utah? >> No.

Have you ever been to Vatican City? >> No. Wouldn’t mind seeing it, though. I’ll try to keep my hands to myself. (...I did say try.)

Can you whistle? >> Nope.

How many X-rays have you had in the last 2 years? >> One, a dental x-ray.

Are you on good terms with your last ex? >> Sure.

Do you own an Xbox? >> There is one in the household.

Who is the youngest person living in the same household as you? >> Sparrow.

Are you wearing anything yellow? >> No.

How many zippers are on the clothing you’re wearing? >> None.

What time did you wake up this morning? >> Around 9.30, 10a EST, I think.

How nice of a person are you, honestly? >> I don’t know. I have little interest in being “nice” anyway. I prefer my adjectives more specific and descriptive.

Is there something you should be doing right now, besides this survey? >> Nope.

What color shirt are you wearing? >> I’m not wearing a shirt. Also, I’m not really sure what colour this shift is.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? >> No.

Are you planning on having sex tonight? >> No.

Have you ever suspected anyone of cheating on you? >> No.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? >> No.

Does your bedroom door lock? >> It doesn’t.

Do you think the last person you texted is a virgin? (You don’t have to tell us who the person is, just say yes or no.) >> No, because she isn’t.

Has your partner ever accused you of cheating when you actually didn’t? >> No.

What is a word that starts with the second to last letter of your name? >> Application.

Do you generally look nice in photos? >> I like the way I look in some photos. I don’t like the way I look in others.

Do you ever wonder what the world will be like in the distant future, when you’re long gone? >> I wonder that constantly.

What color are your father’s eyes? >> Dark brown.

If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer? >> I’m not too fussed. It’s been a while since I’ve been to a concert, I’d just like to go to one.

Do you like when it rains? >> Sure, as long as I’m not stuck in it.

What’s a movie you cried while watching? >> Gravity.

Do you think you’re important? >> I’m important to myself.

Have you ever sang at a karaoke bar? If so, what songs? >> Sure. I used to sing at the weekly live-band karaoke event at Arlene’s Grocery on the Lower East Side all the time. My standbys were Jeremy by Pearl Jam, The Trooper by Iron Maiden, Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana, War Pigs by Black Sabbath, and the occasional Led Zeppelin when I was feeling ambitious. Towards the end of my attendance they’d added No One Knows by Queens of the Stone Age and that had become my new standby.

Do you think you could lead a country? >> No, primarily because I have zero interest in doing so.

Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? >> I’ve been [mis]diagnosed with several over the years.

Have you ever viewed the moon through a telescope? >> No.

Do you normally finish one book before starting another? >> No, I usually have two or three going at once.

What is the last dream that you remember? >> Whatever it was, I don’t remember it now.

Is there anything you’d like to buy right now? >> Not at this moment, no.

Do you know how to play chess? >> No.

Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? >> I have one, so I did consider it.

Do you enjoy being outdoors? >> Sure. Just not under every condition.

Do you prefer road trips or traveling on an airplane? >> Both have their charms, but for travelling to and from places I’ve already been, I much prefer plane travel.

Do you cuss? >> Yes.

Is there anyone you would take a bullet for? >> No.

Are you a virgin? >> No.

Have you ever touched a dead body? >> Not a human one.

Did you have a Furby when you were younger? >> No.

Did or do you get good grades in English class? >> I did extremely poorly in high school English. As in, failing the midterm and the final by literally not being able to answer any of the questions poorly.

Would you shave your head for a million dollars? >> I mean, I shave my head like once a month...

X-files, Lost, or Twin Peaks? >> I am an X-Phile. I tried Twin Peaks recently but I haven’t gotten through the pilot yet. Lost I tried about a half-year ago and it was pretty all right but I just haven’t dedicated myself to watching the whole thing yet.

Do you have a passport? If so, how many stamps do you have in it? >> I don’t. It’s in the five-year plan.

Are there any keys on your keyboard that have letters fading away? >> Yes. That happens without fail within a couple of months of me getting a new machine.

What was the last thing you spent more than $20 on and where did you get it? >> I don’t remember. Groceries, probably.

What do you plan on having for dinner? >> I didn’t really have dinner, per se.

Were you ever rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room? >> Yes, several times.

Do you find it easy to fall asleep at night, or do you toss and turn for ages? >> I don’t bother trying to sleep until I’m sleepy enough that I can’t focus on something, which saves me from wasting time trying to sleep when I don’t feel like it.

When was the last time you were at the hospital, and why? >> I don’t remember.

#surveysofsamedi

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[RF] [MS] [TH] Escapism

I came-to midway through a vivid dream. I was not in my bed. I was not lying down. I was standing; staring blankly outside a broken window from the first floor. The glass clung to the skeleton of the window frame in lonely, trianguloid polygons. The sill was covered in scratches, and caked with grime, and seemingly years’ worth of dust. It looked especially filthy after the recent bursts of rain had blessed it with moisture.

I could smell my sweat; it was a sweetish sort of odour. My wet T-shirt was stuck to my back. My legs felt weak.

Outside, I could only see the forest of triangular, perhaps, coniferous trees all the way to the end until they went out of sight. It was dusk. As if in response to my observation, the remaining slice of the large crimson disk hid itself behind the safety of the shadowy mountains, as if it too was afraid of being ripped right out of the sky by a species prone to pillage, exploit, and destroy all that was natural, including themselves, and each other.

The sky was aglow in funereal orange; the clouds were heavy, sombre, and gathering. They looked like they were mourning the cowardly departure of the sun, or rather, were they celebrating it?

The agitated inhalations and exhalations of the flower-patterned curtains seemed to reflect my own condition. They were stained and damp as well. Like me, I thought. The damp, dirty smell of wet cloth hung in the air.

I blinked and returned to myself. I had been staring outside the window for quite some time now. I had forgotten what I was going to do, and I could no longer remember what I was dreaming about either. I didn’t know where I was or how I got there. I turned around to behold a dilapidated room. I didn’t know where I was, nor what I was here for or how I got here.

An immediate fear materialised somewhere within my gut and a rush of paralysis entombed my body. I was unable to move. I had gone from dazed to wide awake in thirty seconds. And from wide awake to deadly scared in another twenty. A static, spidery electricity seemed to have zapped my stomach.

The thought of computer filesystems came to mind. There are a bunch of different choices out there – for Linux users. Windows users can only use the NTFS file system. Windows’ NTFS can’t even mount Ext4 but Ext4 can mount NTFS. Momentarily, I contemplated a sexual connection between the two inanimate filesystems.

A filesystem determines the way data is accessed and stored. You have different types of filesystems such as Ext4, which is the most commonly used Journaling file system. Then there’s Btrfs (pronounced butterFS) which is an advanced copy-on-write file system. There are also other ones such as XFS, which I use, and ZFS. All of them function in different ways and are ideal for different use cases.

A filesystem helps a computer keep track of where every file is stored so the files don’t get lost in the delirious planes of 1s and 0s. Every read and write operation, no matter how small, is logged. And metadata about these operations is stored, and there are event files, and everything else that enables the computer to never forget how to interpret any binary data, or where it is stored.

Mostly even in the case of power outages, using metadata and logs, a filesystem can get back to where it lost its track of its work, but sometimes it becomes unable to figure that out. Or sometimes the hardware itself, that it operates on, starts to behave erratically, and that’s when all computer hell breaks loose. Everything will go wrong and get worse from that point on. The data can become mangled and interfere with other data too. It’s a mess. Ensue binary delirium.

Well then, I thought, which bug is affecting my filesystem, causing it to malfunction this spectacularly?

The last thing I could remember was watching a documentary film with Amanda. We were on a short vacation trip in the middle of Europe, and we were living at her elder sister’s house. It was afternoon, and Amanda was in one of her odd moods. She was deeply engrossed in watching the narrator describe in graphic detail, with photographic evidence, how the infamous serial killer, Jefferey Dahmer had sex with his victims, killed them, had sex with their dead bodies, photographed them, dismembered them, sometimes preserving the finer looking genitalia, and then, for him, the rest was just dissolve, drain, and repeat, if you know what I mean.

The scene cut. For me, it was all about the control, Jeffery Dahmer said, I wanted a completely obedient person under my full control. Living humans were too much hassle. So, I killed them, but that was not idea. That’s why I tried to puncture a hole in one of their skulls and poured acid inside in hopes that I could try make them more obedient. A picture of a sexually positioned torso appeared, its chest ripped open, and blackish organs spilling out. I felt nauseous even looking at it, so I looked at Amanda instead. She was engrossed. Amanda was so deeply obsessed with these things: sometimes it frightened me.

Every so often she would pause the movie and sit in silence, lost in thought. I watched her face closely. Sometimes small lines of tension formed on her forehead in response, as the documentary went on. What was she thinking? I wondered. Then, I asked her this. She didn’t even hear it, and if she did, she ignored it. I reached out to touch her breast, more to snap her out of it than in a sexual manner, and she hit my hand. Hard. She immediately apologised. Not right now, she said, not when I’m thinking, and she fell silent again. I didn’t try to touch her breast again.

I don’t remember what we did next. That was the last thing I remember, and it was probably this afternoon when these events took place.

The room that I found myself in was full of dust. If I had any term to describe the room with, I wouldn’t use abandoned, dilapidated, ominous, foreboding, flaking, run-down, collapsing, fear-inducing, paralysing, claustrophobia inducing, or such, despite it being all the above. I would say it was Dusty. The most prominent thing was dust. Everything was covered with layers of dust, undisturbed, for years at stretch, by any intelligent life. And it was not the light kind of dust that could be blown away in a breath, but sticky, heavy dust that had settled deeply into this room and burrowed into its metaphorical soul like a parasite into its host. The particles were heavier and larger than usual. It had descended endlessly and declared everything an extension to itself. Everything: the flaky walls, the moist, leaky ceiling, the rotting wooden tables, the broken bed, and even the humid, sallow air belonged now to no man, but only dust.

On the floor there were the imprinted souvenirs of my trawling feet; I, the intruder in the realm of the dust. I could not look at the corners of the room. The caked filth evoked, in me, a severe sense of disgust.

The walls were heavily flaking. The wallpaper, wherever it remained, was yellow and stained. An unrecognisable pattern was visible. The ceiling seemed ready to collapse at any given moment. To the far side of the room, the ceiling had a dark, wet, leaky patch on it which reminded me of the sight of Amanda’s wet panties, and the walls were tattooed by the shadowy trail-memories of water droplets.

The air felt heavier, much heavier than outside air. It had some kind of weight to it that made breathing hard. Odours of the ageing wood of the bed, the moist walls, the rotting mattress, and the ubiquitous dust had mixed together into something jaundiced and sinister which pricked the lungs, and stuck to the alveoli.

The side table looked like it was eaten up from inside. Parts of it had turned into powder, or more appropriately, dust. The drawers were half-open, as left by the inhabitants, or the post-inhabitant raiders. On top of the side table stood a lamp. It looked like a bearer of unspeakable burden, it’s shade slightly tilted, as if in an expression of shame.

The bed was the only thing in this room that looked like it hadn’t aged badly. The mattress, however, was a different story altogether. It was ripped apart, it’s insides gouged out just like the victims of Jefferey Dahmer, exposing clumps of eaten wool infiltrated with dust, and springs that languidly stuck out and fell off-ways like they had lost all purpose to their life a long time ago.

Outside, it was cloudy, but it wasn’t raining. It had rained in quick bursts multiple times since the two days I had lived in this remote European town with pretty Amanda; Amanda who scared the wits out of me sometimes, but who I had desperately fallen in love with anyway. Being in a strange place away from home seemed to have made her more reckless and nihilistic than I had ever seen her before.

Hey, I know where you are, I said to myself aloud but softly, in order to stifle my fear of being alone in a strange place. Remember that abandoned mansion that Sophia was talking about? Amanda was so excited to see it. So that’s probably this place. But then, where are they? And how did I end up here alone?

I don’t know, I replied.

Talking to myself soothed me somewhat. I used to do this even as a child when I had to walk to the bathroom at night. I used to imagine snakes behind me for some reason, and I used to think that talking aloud would keep them away. Apparently, it did, because none of those snakes was ever able to bite me.

The initial paralysis that had gripped my body, prompted by the fear of being alone in a dilapidated, abandoned place was a lot more permitting now. My fingers were twitching because of the adrenalin rush. I could feel a warm sensation under my skin as if my insides suspended in a warm, viscous liquid. I slowly checked my jean pockets. No phone. My phone was not there. My phone was missing.

Once I had familiarised myself with the surroundings, more strength had returned to my body, but I was still fearful of stepping out. What exactly I was fearful of, though, I don’t know. Anyway, I grabbed a weak-looking wooden beam from the footboard of the bed and ripped it out. It took more strength than I thought it would, and the loud cracking it made took me by surprise. The dust exploded in anger, but nails and all still clinging to it, no more an extension of dust, the wooden beam was now an extension of my white-knuckled fist. I listened carefully for any sound in the house. Still complete silence.

Maybe she’s asleep somewhere too? Could that be? I asked.

I really don’t know, and I don’t think so. But you can try to call her, I replied.

Right, I said, I should try to call her.

And so, I did.

Amanda?

No response.

Sophia?

No response.

Amanda? I shouted, a little louder this time.

Where the fuck did, they go? I whispered to myself.

Is this a prank? I shouted. If this is, then you got me! Let’s go home now.

No response.

I knew I had to get home before it got dark outside, but I just could not move. I felt only fear. Fear of wild animals. An unfounded fear of cold-blooded killers lurking in the darkness. Whoever said that fear was based in rationality anyway? Nobody. No, it’s rooted in instinct, I thought. Clutching the wooden beam, hands shaking, heart thumping, sweat dripping, I walked out.

Look, I have a wooden beam in my hand to protect myself against wild animals, so don’t startle me if you’re around, I shouted to anybody who would listen.

No answer. I trawled on.

I could not have guessed that I would ever find myself in this kind of a situation a year prior, or even six months ago. I lived a happy life with my then-girlfriend Laura. We were happy, we were in love, we had plenty of sex, and lot to look forward to. Then Laura left me, and I found Amanda. Amanda and her slim, white body, her tiny breasts, her many, many tattoos, and a madness that scared the wits out of me, yet, at the same time, drew me deeper and deeper into her.

Amanda and Laura were so different.

I walked outside, ears ever-receptive, eyes darting, knuckles white and ready. There was nothing to fear. There was nothing here. And whatever was there, was probably harmless. Why was my imagination unnecessarily bothering me, then? Nor was I fearing rational things. I was fearing ghouls and fiendish creatures from another world. Why? I asked myself. But the fear did not simper and scurry away.

I had suddenly become aware of an odd feeling in my entire body. My vision seemed to have gotten darker as well. I felt a deeply ominous feeling creeping over me, like the dust was taking over me, making me a part of itself. There’s nothing to fear, I said to myself aloud. My voice was small and did not sound like my own. I said the same thing to myself again, louder this time. I felt a strange nausea, and my stomach seemed to be revolting to something. Probably just the fear, I thought and went onwards.

There were two more rooms on this floor. One seemed to be another bedroom on the far side, and the door was shut, and maybe a bathroom, whose door, too, was shut. I had no interest nor strength to explore these areas. I just wanted to get out and be home before dark. I kept feeling the presence of something behind me, but I urged myself to recognise the foolishness my imagination; and of this entire situation. I reminded myself of the truth: that this was purely manufactured fear, conjured up by my imagination.

I heard Amanda call my name. I heard her clear voice from the room below. I felt a flood of relief. Thank the fucking gods, I thought.

Hey, I said aloud, I’m up here! Let’s go home.

There was no response again.

Listen, enough messing with me. What had we taken? Let’s go! It’s getting dark and I’m extremely hungry!

No response.

Amanda?

No response again.

Why is she being like this? I thought. That was not like her.

I slowly descended the stairs, my grip on the wooden plank was lighter now, having heard Amanda’s voice.

As I climbed down, I could hear more sounds coming from below. It sounded like a lot of different voices, like a large group of people was gathered around in the backyard. Maybe this was a party that we had attended? A party at an abandoned mansion sounded pretty cool. And maybe I had gotten completely drunk or something and gone upstairs where nobody really went?

With my newfound strength I began to strut down the stairs, but out of some clumsy mis-coordination I tripped and fell face first onto the ground. Luckily, I was able to shield my fall with my hands, but I hurt my elbow hard. I stood up quickly. Too quickly, I suppose, because a flood of white obliterated my vision. I rubbed my elbow intensely to make the pain subside. Once my vision had returned, I looked at the back of the room. there was no backyard, just a dark room, shelves, books, other left-behind junk, and a dirty sofa, ripped, too, like every other soul in this mansion.

But there were no people around. No people. No Amanda. No party. No nothing.

What? I thought. I could swear had distinctly heard many voices, and Amanda’s voice too, and her voice especially was unmistakable. That’s when I saw a darting shadow from the corner of my eye and I froze. This time the fear was like something I have never felt before. My hands were violently shaking. I found it hard to focus. I turned in the direction of the darting shadow. There was nothing there. No killer. No fiend. No ghoul. But no Amanda either.

There was some lazy, amateur graffiti on the walls. “Boo!” Was written in blue spray paint. And besides that, perhaps drawn by someone else, was an image in silver spray paint of a phallic object entering a hole with the caption “Boo, Ooh!” There were also a bunch of names, and other random words here and there.

I was here – Jeremy, 12th May 06:41 pm. The year when Jeremy was here was not mentioned.

Another darting shadow. I turned in that direction so quickly, I almost lost my balance. Again: nothing.

The walls were swaying slightly. I told myself that I was simply imagining things in my present state of agitation, and I walked outside through the main door. My legs were heavy and seemed to be refusing to co-operate without plenty encouragement. I was feeling helpless.

I stepped on to the gravel. It crunched. I could hear random tapping and clicking sounds from behind, but I didn’t turn to look in that direction, instead I looked for a way out of this place. No roads for a car, just a thick forest some distance away. The forest looked sinister and evil. The bad elves are waiting for me, I told myself, they are just waiting for me to leave...

I turned to my left and decided to circle the house in that direction. There had to be a path s

omewhere. But I stopped mid-stride. Wait. Wait. Wait, wait, wait! I whispered aloud. My voice did not sound like my own at all. It was heavy and cracked. What bad elves? I asked myself, silently. You just said that the bad elves were waiting for you in the forest. Where did that come from? I questioned myself. It’s like you’re falling asleep while wide awake, I said.

I jumped on my feet to wake myself up, but I was unable to. The sky was getting darker, but it wasn’t too dark yet to see.

Was this an in my mind or was the entire world shaking? Everything around me was swaying to an unheard rhythm. I could not think clearly anymore. There was what felt like static at the edges of my vision. The entire mansion looked foreboding, cold, and dangerous, but I had nowhere else to go. I knew I had to return to the room I had found myself in. I could not walk outside in this condition.

My mouth felt sandpaper dry. I wanted water, but I had none.

I slowly trawled back into the dark mansion. It seems that spiders had emerged from the depths of the house as it was getting dark. They were everywhere, and I was afraid that they had entered in my room too. I did not try to run lest I trip and fall into them, but I had much difficulty avoiding them. There were so many of them I felt sick and afraid. Most of them were small, fast, and translucent.

After an eternity I made it back the dilapidated bedroom. To my disdain, there were spiders here too, but they seemed to be content crawling in and around the mattress, and the corner walls.

I somehow felt less afraid of any fiendish things that I imagined resided in the house this time. I felt like I was one of them now. Inside the room I looked outside the windows. Soon it would be completely dark, and I would be enveloped in my shroud of darkness. My personal hell.

Someone said something right behind me. I heard it distinctly. And I turned around fast. I was still holding the wooden beam in my hands, but I couldn’t lift it up to defend myself anymore. Forget trying to use the wooden beam to defend myself, my own hands felt too heavy to lift. My eyelids too were heavy.

That’s when I saw my shoulder bag lying there. It was previously hidden from my sight because of where I was standing. My phone was probably in there. I ran to the bag. Or at least I tried to. My legs didn’t want to co-operate, though, it seemed, and I fell face first on the hard-wood floor, and I heard the eerie sound that my shoulder made. I felt a vague pain, but it felt so distant. My mouth was open, and I had gathered a quantity of the floor-dust, which tenaciously stuck to my tongue.

I tried to spit it out, but not a drop of moisture remained in my mouth. With much difficulty I lifted every muscle in my body and sat upright, or as close to an upright position as possible, and I wiped my tongue on my T-shirt. The sensation made me begin to retch and dry heave. Then I spilled my guts on the dusty floor. With much difficulty, I was able to regain my breath. I couldn’t breathe. I looked at the little puddle that I had birthed, and there were little moving beetles in it. I had thrown up live beetles. There were live beetles inside me. The sight of that made me heave more, but this time nothing came out.

A different sort of fear had gripped me now. There were parasitic bugs inside of me, eating my insides. Maybe this is why my stomach had felt odd previously. Maybe they had found their way into my brain, and that was causing all my madness. The dancing shadows. The wonky co-ordination and heavy limbs. The primal fear… I probably knew what had happened somewhere inside myself even when I came-to. I had just forgotten. There were bugs inside of me eating me alive from the inside out, and I had no way of saving myself here. I was about to die very soon, and this time I knew why. It was going to be a slow painful death, and I shivered at the thought of it. Horror. Horror was the only thing I felt.

I wanted to scream for help. SOMEONE. ANYONE. I was in tears. I began to cry uncontrollably. I could not bear the horror of my sad, pathetic, demise. I could not. I didn’t want to be eaten alive from the inside out by tiny, hard-backed beetles. The pain was about to get much worse, and I would not die until the very end. Why? What had I done? I said, but my mouth did not move. I knew the answer. I was being punished for what I had done.

If anything, I deserved this death.

Laura, I called out in my distress. Laura. I wish you were here, but I knew she was elsewhere. And I screamed a blood-curdling scream that sent an icy chill down my own spine. I fell into silence. Dark spots were dancing in my vision. I could barely move. The parasitic beetles had swum, with apparent difficulty, to the edge of my pool of bile and digestive sludge that lay withering on the dusty, hard-wood floor. Laura, I whispered but no sound came out. I wish I hadn’t…, I said, I really wish I hadn’t… I didn’t mean to.

There was a cacophony of sounds all around me. There was the sound of utensils, and voices talking over each other, there were people calling my name, and typing, and a scraping sounds coming from behind the walls as if some creature was trying to escape, and I just sat there among it all, insensible. I, the silent centre of the universe waiting for a painful end. At least it would all be over soon, I thought. This life wasn’t even worth living after Laura had left.

The beetles that I had coughed up seemed to have multiplied in my vomit and were clumping together and rolling and moving in a joyful, lively manner. I felt disgust to the pit of my stomach, but there was nothing more left to throw up. I had given up. A pang of pain rushed through me, as their beetle-brothers feasted on my juicy insides.

The world was completely dark now. I could not see a thing. I could sense the shadows. There were people moving around. Some creatures were still trying to break out of the walls around me to feast on me too, but so far, their endeavour seemed to have been fruitless.

I saw hordes of spiders scurrying around in groups whenever I opened my eyes. I tried to swat them away, and they went off. I cannot describe how it feels to be surrounded by insects. To have them inside you, eating you alive. To have insects crawling over you. Climbing you. Climbing your feet. Entering inside the cavity of your skull and eating your juicy brain as you slowly lose your sanity. No, this cannot be described. You can only imagine it, and that too would give you only a vague idea of the disgust, and true horror that I felt. I did not know this intensity of helplessness could even be humanly experienced.

I suddenly remembered that I was looking for my phone. Despite the impossible weight, I reached my hand out to the bag which was only a silhouette anymore, and I dragged it to me. I could not keep my head straight and it kept falling on my shoulders, lolling lifelessly on my neck.

A faint white light seemed to be streaming in from the windows, casting a ghostly-blue glow on this entire room, and on my clumsy, dying, figure. The curtains leisurely swayed and rolled, oblivious to my condition.

I managed to open the zipper of my shoulder bag and dumped everything out. One torch, two water bottles, four condoms and an assortment of pills fell out. My wretched little life lay thus defined.

I found no phone.

I opened the bottle of water. There was a sort of dark liquid inside. Suddenly a horde of tiny spiders began to crawl out. I threw the bottle and the liquid drained. It did not flow like water. It was a lot thicker and darker. I was dying of thirst, but I did not want to drink anything anymore.

I must have blacked out for a while then.

“Hey,” said Amanda. She was sitting beside me. It was still dark outside.

“Careful of the bugs,” I said.

“M’h’m,” she nodded, “I’m not scared, they don’t do anything to me.” she said, nodding several times and swiping them away whenever they approached her.

“Well, they’re inside me. Eating me alive,” I said. “I’m about to die very soon.”

“Cool,” she said. “Does it hurt?”

“I can’t feel anything anymore.”

She H’m’d.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah, of course you can!” she said.

“I think I am in love with you.”

“Are you?” she inquired. I could feel her narrowed, suspicious eyes boring into me.

“I don’t know.” I said, honestly. “I feel like I am. Stupid me. What’s the point of bringing this up right now anyway?” I shook my head.

“Well, I think that you’re a liar. You keep talking about Laura. Even in your sleep you say her name. How can you say you love me, then?”

“Because” I said. “Because…”

I turned to look at her face; to look at her clear, emerald-green eyes, but she was gone.

I must have become so senseless. I didn’t even notice her leave. I felt like she had left me forever this time. It was true, I had loved Laura, but she had left me, and just so Amanda had too. That’s when I noticed my phone where Amanda had been sitting. She must have left it behind as she left me forever.

I picked it up and tried to call her.

The line clicked.

“Hello,” a sleepy voice said.

“Hey,” I said, and then immediately recognised her voice. I was in fact trying to call Amanda, but instead, I must have called Laura in my delirium. Maybe Amanda was right about my obsession with Laura.

“Um, hey,” I said again, “I’m really sorry I called you this late. I was trying to call someone else – but don’t go away yet. Can you talk for a bit?”

“Oh, that’s fine,” she said, and I felt a warmth spreading in my heart. I could talk to her one last time, at least. I was relieved.

“Well, how have you been?”

“I’m…” she paused, “I’m getting well you know.”

An icy chill rushed down my spine. Getting well you know…

I dropped my phone in my surprise. I tried to get pick it up, but it had sunk into the ground. I could only see the top of it like a drawing on the floor. I tried to use my nails to pry it out, but it was pointless.

Laura’s words echoed in my mind, tormenting me. I’m… I’m getting well you know…

I’m… I’m getting well you know…

Stop. Stop. Stop it! I screamed. The voice stopped. Stop it, I said once again. I didn’t want to hear it anymore.

Laura had died six months ago of a drug overdose. A young, innocent, hard-working, straight edged girl, within months, dead of an overdose.

The memory of her lifeless body came back to my mind. Her body was just as calm as always. Not one wasted movement. That was Laura. Her skin smelled like warm, tropical flowers and I used to rub against it and explore it like a thirsty bee. Now she lay shrouded in her usual silence. She looked like she was simply resting in her grave. Her breasts were large and well-shaped in contrast to Amanda’s, and she had a full, motherly body, a little puppy fat, a few imperfections, and no tattoos. I could still recall, with clarity, the taste of her skin.

“Hey girl,” I had said “Wake up.” And she never did. My girl. She was gone.

It felt strange at the time. Like it was a dream. Sometimes I would forget that she was gone in the morning and call her name so she would come back to me in bed and cuddle for a bit. And instead of her warm, soft body, I would feel the intense wave of guilt answer my call.

Everything that happened henceforth, and a lot did happen, is foggy to my memory.

The shadows emerged from the walls, and I was talking to them. I became friends with the spiders, and like in charlotte’s web, I met their tiny, floaty little children. At one point, my mom was there, and we had some sort silly disagreement about a political issue.

A TV reporter in the corner was reading out a weather report, “…very closely right now. A massive earthquake off the west coast triggering a tsunami warning for Hawaii. LXXXX XXXX from our ABC affiliates in Hawaii, reports.”

“…the situation here in Hawaii earlier this evening. The civil defence calling for an evacuation of all low-lying areas because of a tsunami threatening our area, that generated by the 7.7 earthquake in Canada. We are expecting waves of up to, um, three to six to seven feet. Haven’t seen it materialise yet, but we are seeing some of those tsunami waves coming in at a couple of feet or so. Still a fairly serious situation out here with what might happen…”

Frank stopped by, and so did Cody. Rachel called me up on the phone because she couldn’t make it there in time. It seemed like they were all aware of my approaching death, and I was glad to be able to talk to them one last time.

At some point I lay down on the ground out of exhaustion and closed my eyes for the last time. When I opened them again, Laura was lying beside me. Daylight was streaming in. She said nothing. I peered into her deep brown eyes for a long time. I tried to memorise her features. Her long, wavy hair. Her nose. The curl of her lips. Her glowing smile… her smile was glowing. That’s when I realised. I had felt like she was pregnant with my child. I had strongly suspected it. I had seen her manner change in her final days. I wanted to help her out of the pit I had unknowingly led her into, but it was already too late.

I could feel my soul crumble. My insides writhed. My eyes grew hazy with tears. I knew it. I knew it. I just didn’t want to face it, but I had always known it…

And then I died.

A long, loud car-horn woke me up. It’s anger very evidently penetrated the air to reach me, after all, it was meant for me. I knew it instantly.

I hadn’t died during the night. Somehow, I knew I wasn’t going to.

When I opened my eyes, it was bright outside. I could not see the sun, but there was plenty of light around me. I used my elbows, with difficulty, to prop myself up. The puddle of stomach sludge was still where I had birthed it during the night. There were no bugs in it, just remnants of gel capsules. Pink gel caps. Benadryl. I could see six. I counted. The rest had probably been absorbed by my body.

My legs felt jittery. I couldn’t move my arms correctly. It felt like the place my arms actually were, and where my body thought they were was different. My arm always either overshot, or undershot.

I heard Sophia yell my name. I felt afraid of her because of how angry she sounded. I was covered in the old, familiar dust. Some distance away lay the hopelessly strewn open water bottle and a black liquid had spilled out. It smelled like rum. I turned around and gathered my things. The condoms. The pills. The torch. From the other bottle I took a sip without considering what may have been inside it because I was so thirsty. Thankfully, it was water. My phone was not around. I probably never had it.

Even though I knew that none of it had taken place, the memories from last night felt one hundred percent real. I had lived through it all. Through the horror or dying painfully because parasitic beetles in my stomach. Through the hallucinations, through the final conversations with all my friends, through the impossible sense of disgust, through the primal fear and the pain… through it all.

I collected the things and stuffed them into a bag. In the corner there as another puddle with the unmistakable yellow colour and the smell of urine. I did not remember pissing in the corner, but thankfully I had the sense to go to the corner to relieve myself rather than pissing my pants.

I cloddishly stood up and turned around as the door opened. Sophia breathed a sigh of relief, and then she yelled at me for a long time. She was scarier to me than my own mother. And my mother is the scariest person I have ever known.

“What the FUCKING FUCK were you two lovebirds thinking?” she yelled, “AMANDA had a FUCKING SEIZURE! A FUCKING SEIZURE BECAUSE OF THIS! I knew you both were acting weird as fuck when I was driving you here. I knew it, but I thought you guys were just high on grass or something. You know, we did that as kids too, and that’s what I thought it was. Then I FUCKING FIND OUT that you both were SHIT HIGH ON KETAMINE, and had taken a ton of BENADRYL after that so you won’t remember that you took it by the time it kicked in.”

Yep, that sounded like us, I thought.

“Then you both had made me drive out all the way here. KETAMINE?! I have never even touched that shit in my life! And Benadryl? I DON’T FUCKING UNDERSTAND?! Why would anyone even do this? And look at you! You look fucking dead. You both stepped out of the car, and immediately after that Amanda collapsed and began to have a seizure, and while I was trying to take care of her you had fucking disappeared somewhere. I had to take her to the emergency room. I was so worried. My God. My entire YEAR’S WORTH of SAVINGS, all gone in a single night. Thanks. Glad to have had you visit. Thank fucking god. But I’m not even angry about that. I’m just confused. Who does this? Who?”

Sophia paused to take a breath.

“When she came-to I asked her what the fuck she was thinking, and she said that you both were going to get shit high and delirious here, and then you were gonna fuck each other. I don’t even – UGHHHHH! Like do what you want, fuck all you want to but like what?!”

I could understand her exasperation, so I offered no explanation. There was no valid excuse.

“Is.. is she…” I managed to speak.

She softened. “Yeah, she’s fine. But I was so worried. Oh god.” She massaged her forehead. “This entire night… it has been a nightmare for me.” she said.

I nodded. It had been the same for me. “I’m sorry.” I said.

Sophia just shook her head several times. Apology not accepted. You need to think about what you did first.

We got into the car in silence, and she began to drive.

I buried my head in my hands. My body was tired; my brain exhausted.

“You’ll be fine,” she said and rubbed my shoulder reassuringly. “Let’s get you washed up and we can go see Amanda.”

“Why are you guys like this?” she asked me after a while of silently driving. She was asking me earnestly, without any hint of ridicule or a taunt.

“Well… I.” I began. “Amanda… She keeps me. Everything she does, it kind of keeps me occupied. She protects me from my thoughts. She keeps me distracted. I feel like I have really fallen in love with her now, after spending so much time with her for just the kind of person she is. And I just don’t want to ever be left alone with my thoughts anymore. She gets me, I get her. We both are the same. Before I met her, I had resolved to end my life. And then she made me forget about it.”

Sophia was silent. She asked softly, after some time, “What thoughts?”

“Laura,” I said. “I was always so pushy with her. I was always indulging her. I wanted her to ‘Enjoy Life’, you know, ‘to get a taste of real life’ – even I don’t know what that means – but I would encourage her to get high, and we would get drunk and have fun… she was so innocent. I ruined her. I always felt like there was something inside her. Something that she was hiding from me. She never ever opened up to me, even in our entire time together. She was an enigma. I felt like having some fun would solve her problems. She trusted me, and I was an idiot. It only made things worse for her. She retreated deeper into herself, and before even knew it, the silent, cheerful girl was gone. I loved her, and I had done this to her. And just like that she was gone.” My voice had grown weary. I wiped my silent tears.

Sophia stole a glance at me and looked back at the road, saying nothing.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about the pregnancy. I couldn’t think of it myself. I wanted to jump out of the running car and die by getting run over by a truck. I had made my final decision. I unclipped my seat belt.

Sophia saw me do it, but she remained silent. I was toying with my fingers.

She looked at me again. “U’m…” she began. “You know I do interior design, right?”

I nodded. I didn’t know why she was bringing that up.

“And the thing is that most of my clients are middle class people, and they’ve got a very rigid perspective towards spending money – and spending money on appliances in their home is a big no-no. I mean they’re really silly about it. They don’t understand how big a difference is between good and bad appliances. The good ones may not cost much more to build from a manufacturing perspective, but the thing is that these companies will add a premium on top of that and make things all the more expensive – but if you’ve ever seen the stats, the good appliances despite the heavy premiums last a looooot longer. And these people don’t get it, which is why I have to tell them something that’s very important: “think very carefully about the decisions you will make because they will stick to you”

She looked me in the eye.

I looked at her with a sideways glance.

I didn’t reclip my seatbelt on our way back. But I didn’t jump out either.

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