My first wife was mentally ill. Her entire family was.
It hit her really strongly around when she turned 28 years old.
And from that moment on, it was Hell.
One mental hospital after another. Threats of suicide, as well as actual attempts. Circular thinking revolving around imaginary events, false memories, and horrible imaginations.
Anyways, this particular story takes place in a mental hospital in Massachusetts. It was in North Attoboro (as I recall).
I would visit her daily. She was an in-patient.
Yup. What you would expect on the stereotypes about mental hospitals.
And my wife… well, she freely roamed with the other crazies there.
Many ill people. Many fighting their very own demons.
And you know, today I want to chat about one of them.
One was a nymphomaniac.
…
She really was. He had an extreme case of nymphomania. Oh, for certain, no one told me her diagnosis. But it was pretty obvious.
Gosh.
I was blatantly obvious.
She constantly came on to everyone. Not “come on to” in the usual sense. No.
She would prey on you and attack you.
And, you know, she tried to assault me sexually multiple times.
She was a tall chick. Blonde hair. Pale. In her 20’s.
Thin. Stick-like. Twiggy.
Not my type.
As I tend to like women shorter than myself and softer, rounder… more feminine. Even chunky. Weight isn’t a turn off for me. As long as the girl isn’t obese, it’s all good.
Anyways…
She would see me.
Like in those zombie movies, where a zombie notices the hero, and then drops everything and breaks out in a sprint towards the camera.
And she would take off all her clothes.
She was good at it. All off in three seconds.
And then this fully and completely nude chick would lunge at me and hold me squirming all over me. Humping me in wild thrusts over my groin, on my thighs, and her hands pulls out my tucked shirt and undoing my belt buckle.
Hey, guys, I do like sex.
But this was really extreme.
And no. It did not turn me on at all.
Truthfully. It scared the living shit out of me.
Christ. A chick like that would be humping everything within reach. From waste baskets to fire hydrants. She was seriously ill.
It was like she was in perpetual “heat”; in a frenzy of lust. And she couldn’t control herself. Goosebumps all over her arms. You see, it wasn’t a fake pretend lust to freak people out. No. She was seriously ill.
You can tell.
She was another person. Pupils dilated. Arms full of goosebumps. her heart beating, pulse pumping. Body trembling. Mouth open and making these internal guttural groans.
Obviously something was seriously off with her.
Oh, sure, you all laugh about this. Your fantasies get all excited on this notion. But reality is never the same as fantasy.
I feel for her.
Always unsatisfied, never to have a relationship with anyone, for what boyfriend would be comfortable leaving her alone?
Now, my wife who was in the hospital knew about this situation. And she calmly would peacefully pry her off me and call the orderlies. And it happened more than three times. She was relentless.
I guess that I must have been her “type”.
Though I suppose that a door knob, faucet or bar of soap would be her type. Sheech!
That is my story for today.
Let’s move on…
Why is China not supporting its ally Russia militarily?
Because China’s main focus is on the US, which has declared China its strategic adversary No.1.
In order to wrestle with the US, China needs to unite everyone it can.
Russia is already very friendly to China, and by the war in Ukraine is forced to move even closer to China. The potential for more China-Russian relationship growth is limited.
However, if China publicly supports Russia, it would wreck havoc on China’s relationship with Europe. China stands to lose a lot from such maneuver.
There’s also the secondary issue of international law and order. Ukraine is a sovereign nation, if China supports Russian invasion of Ukraine under the excuse of helping defend the Ukrainian rebels (Russian speakers in Eastern Ukraine), then it opens the exact same reasoning for US invasion of China over Taiwan to help the Chinese rebels (Taiwanese).
China weighed the pros and cons, and chose its current position.
Now this is just for the war in Ukraine. If Russia were to be defeated and even invaded by NATO, China would help Russia with everything it got, because China doesn’t want to share a 4000 kilometers land border with NATO.
Bacon Mushroom Quiche
Yield: 6 servings
Ingredients
- 1 (9-inch) pie crust
- 1/2 pound (approximately 8 slices) bacon
- 1/2 cup chopped green onions
- 1 (8 ounce) package sliced mushrooms
- 2 cups (approximately 2 medium) sliced zucchini
- 2 pressed garlic cloves
- 1 cup (4 ounces) shredded Cheddar cheese
- 3 large eggs
- 1 cup milk
- 1 teaspoon parsley
- 1/4 teaspoon each salt and ground black pepper
- 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg
Instructions
- Heat oven to 375 degrees F.
- Place pie crust in 9 inch Pie Plate according to package directions; set aside.
- Cook bacon over medium heat in Generation II Skillet. Remove bacon; drain and crumble.
- Reserve 1 tablespoon of bacon drippings and sauté onions, mushrooms, zucchini, and garlic until tender.
- Add bacon to vegetables and combine.
- Spread vegetable mixture over bottom of pie crust. Sprinkle cheese over vegetable mixture.
- Whisk eggs, milk, and seasonings together in Batter Bowl.
- Pour egg mixture over cheese.
- Bake for 35 to 40 minutes.
Attribution
Pampered Chef
NOW Neocons Are READY: Make Taiwan The Ukraine Of Asia | Jeffrey Sachs & Joanna Lei
Ivan Off
Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story that begins with an apology.… view prompt
Dan Morris
‘. . . Sorry, Randy . . . I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.’
Thus began his Uncle’s Donny’s letter. The letter he had found slipped mysteriously under the door of the 3rd floor apartment he currently shared with his girlfriend. The lettering was very flowery and ornate, and done by hand and in cursive with what looked like some sort of ink dipped pen. It had come in a brittle envelope that had seen better days.
Bizarre for sure, thought Randy Phillipson, age 32, as he started scanning through the letter. Like something out of a freakin’ movie.
It read . . .
‘Randy, I know the past year has been challenging for you. Especially since your parents had just died and you had to spend three weeks at that homeless shelter last November . . . You called, but I didn’t help you. I’m sorry, but it wasn’t because I was cash poor, it was because I was a different person then. I want to make it up to you. In a moment, I want you to check outside. You should be pleasantly surprised.’
Yours,
Donald J Phillipson III
The box was the size of a damn refrigerator. And there was just an excessive amount of those ridiculous, little, white, fluffy packing peanuts in there is well; as he soon found out after he stabbed the stubborn cardboard box open with the dull boxcutter that happened to be handy.
The peanuts had gotten everywhere immediately, and Tim had to stop his new girlfriend’s little long-legged chihuahua puppy from eating the delicious, crunchy, and yet highly toxic marshmallows like they were candy.
After relocating Optimus Prime to the bathroom and closing the door, Randy returned to the massive box. It looks like it could hold several bodies in this thing! Thought Randy bitterly as he returned to stab the packaging.
He wondered just how in the hell the delivery man had gotten the damned thing up that grueling three flights of stairs with a box that big.
But, even though there was no one there a few minutes ago, there was a little clipboard lying on the ground with a grueling, eye-squinting contract to sign with a nifty silver pen, (the old-fashioned type with the arrowhead tip), attached to it with a chain. And the box.
And the box was heavy! Randy wasn’t sure how to move it at first, but he finally saw that the intrepid package delivery man had left him use of a shiny, steel-looking hand truck, still in place underneath it on the other side.
He shuffled the box inside quickly with the surprisingly squeaky hand truck, before the nosy Mrs. Peterson next door got whiff of her neighbor receiving a giant mysterious package. But, then, he had to open it. He supposed he could just wait until his girlfriend got home from work, (this was her apartment), But, the giant refrigerator-sized cardboard monstrosity was clearly intended to be delivered to him. It said so, right on the box, and on the weird form he was supposed to sign it said his name a few times. He scanned it only briefly, but he was sure that his name was the only one that was mentioned in it, and not his girlfriend’s.
Tearing away the last of the murky cellophane, Randy found himself with before a tall, mannequin-looking thing. It looked like a human, but without the reproductive parts where they should be. And the joints were obviously separated by a gap of maybe less than a centimeter, so it appeared that it had the ability to move its limbs, much like a child’s doll. And its face was so peculiar . . . It looked much like one of his action hero figures that he owned in jawline cut and appearance.
Neat.
“Is there an ‘On’ button on this thing?” wondered Randy aloud, looking around it on a goose neck for some kind of switch.
“Oh, it’s holding something.”
Randy pulled the envelope from the ‘dummy’s’ hand, also addressed to him, and read it aloud to himself. It was more of that flowery handwriting, this time even more compressed.
“Dear Randy, my favorite Nephew. This is your Uncle Donny again. If you have not guessed by now, I am writing to you from the grave. I know you must be quite startled, but I assure you everything is going quite as planned. Last March I received dire news. I found out I was going to pass away from terminal prostate cancer in the next few months, and that it will be an incredibly painful death. As I am writing this to you, I can tell you that, quite honestly, I believe they may be right. I do not urinate well any more. At all. And its always painful . . .
But, I digress. As you know, I love gadgets and robots and things. I have recently come into some considerable wealth. This has allowed me to always obtain the newest products way before they hit the market.
Before you is the TX-301 model ‘Mechanical House Maintainer.’ Or MHM, for short. It is, basically, a butler that will clean your house. Or entertain you, if you let it. To turn it on, just say its name, followed by the word ‘ON’. To turn it off, just say its name, and ‘OFF’.
Yours truly,
Uncle Donny
‘P. S. – Whatever you do, don’t tell the but—’
Oddly enough, the rest was blurred out by a water smudge. Or something. What the hell wasn’t he supposed to tell it?
There was nothing on the back. Randy let the letter fall to the ground and put his hand to his chin in quiet consternation. He realized Optimus had stopped whining.
“Great, it probably pissed or shit on the floor in there. Again.”
He was more concerned about the problem of turning this thing on. Actually, at the moment, he was wondering if it was even wise for him to turn it on . . . he had read a few sci-fi horror comics that had started out just like this.
But, the face of this weird robot butler thing his Uncle had given him was very familiar . . .
“No way.”
That odd grizzled jawline . . . His Uncle’s favorite video game?
“Is your name Ivan? As in ‘Krazy Ivan’? From my Uncle’s weird old Playstation 2 game?”
It was now or never.
“Ivan On.”
The effect was almost immediate. The eyes started glowing an almost blinding bright green for a moment, then, as the glow receded, it left behind the look of something alive. Or at least, intelligent and conscious.
Its head moved from left to right, and its eyes began to move as it seemed to scan the room, but with a creepy robotic lurch that made it seem to randomly jerk.
Finally, its head stopped in line with Randy, and its eyes stared at him directly.
It spoke. With a voice of gravel.
“Greetings. You must be my new master. I have already downloaded your voice profile to my data logs. I am now registered to you.”
“Huh?” wondered Randy aloud.
The robot said nothing.
“What do you do?”
The grizzled face of Ivan replied, in a perfectly unnatural robot voice, “I am yours to command. I will obey any order that you give me. Or rather, I will attempt to. My data slot is still learning, and processing new information.”
“Oh. Uh . . .” said Randy, “You could clean my house! You’re a butler, right? You clean things? And bring me drinks and food and stuff?”
“Affirmative.”
“Cool. Can you drive a car?”
“I am designated as an ‘MHM’. If driving falls within the parameters of household duty, then I will attempt to learn this ability as soon as possible.”
“Oh, right. You’re kind of dumb now, huh? I gotta teach you things? Like a Tomagachi pet?”
“I do not understand ‘TOMAGACHI PET’ word usage.”
“It’s like a little digital pet you keep on like a tiny robot game thingy that you can keep in your pocket. You have to train it, and feed it. Stuff like that. If you don’t, it dies. But, it’s okay, it’s just a game.”
Ivan stared blankly. Randy could almost hear the robot’s brain clicking away as it processed that information.
“Master, would you permit me a question? I may ask a lot of these, as it is one way my processor can learn.”
“Shoot.”
Blank stare.
“Oh, I mean, ‘sure’. Ask away.”
“You just said you owned a robot that ‘ D I E S ‘, if you don’t interact in certain ways with it. This word is not in my data logs. What is ‘dies?’
Randy shook his head in disbelief. “Wow. It’s like I am talking to a child.”
Blank stare.
“When something ‘dies’ or is ‘dead’, it means their life functions cease. Oh, wait, no. That’s the medical meaning. Sorry, I’m in med school. No uh, I guess it just means that something no longer moves anymore. Its functions cease. Inoperable. It’s something that is usually irreversible.”
More of that brain clicking sound. Maybe Randy wasn’t imagining it. This time it was longer than normal.
“Master, it appears I was in a state of ‘death’, as you put it, before you have just turned me on. I was inoperable and did not function.”
Randy couldn’t stop from laughing. “Ha ha! Yeah, well I guess everyone is like that. Before they’re born, I guess everything is sort of ‘dead’. My girlfriend would love to argue that point with you, though, my friend. She is a Philosophy Major.
“Master, what does ‘born’ mean? This file is not in my datalogs.”
“Geez, whoever programmed you did an incredibly crappy job. You don’t even know all the words in the dictionary yet.”
“Master, what is meaning of ‘dictionary’?”
Sigh. “I’ll go get one for you right now.”
Randy turned to go back to the rear office nook where the couple kept such things as a dictionary. It always finds a way of coming in handy. Boring read, though, if one was to just read it straight through, as if it were a novel and not a reference book. From many steps away he saw the ridiculous amount of papers and books and junk almost spilling out of the office room.
This could be difficult.
“I don’t really remember where it is. Here, you pick up these peanuts while I’m gone, and I’ll be right back.
He heard Optimus scratch and bark as he passed the bathroom door. God, that dog is gonna freak when it sees the robot. Maybe he shouldn’t let him out yet.
Randy attacked the pile of intellectual debris with gusto, happily mumbling to himself as he did. “Geez, Uncle. You could have just got me a Roomba. I would have been perfectly happy with that. I wouldn’t have to teach the fucking Roomba basic words it doesn’t know by getting it a dictionary. Oh, my God. Here it is.”
Randy pulled out the dictionary, a small, ragged affair with watermarks. (Or were those coffee stains? Or both?) He held it in the air in victory.
“Huzzah! Okay, now to get back to my robot butler. Ha ha. He couldn’t have gotten into too much trouble, I hope . . .”
The chihuahua puppy scratched and growled, then bumped at the door as Randy passed it.
“Hold on, buddy. You are gonna hate this thing. Give me a second and I’ll put you in the big bedroom.”
He returned to find Ivan picking up the pieces of Styrofoam peanuts. He had gotten most of them too. He was pretty fast. All of the pieces were nearly in the box.
“You could have gotten a broom, you know. Oh wait . . . do you know the word ‘broom’?’
Ivan stopped and his eyes darted back and forth rapidly, and in a way no human’s eyes could ever do.
“A broom is cleaning instrument that could have helped me with this task, yet I have not the knowledge of one in the area.”
“Yeah . . . here, read this. It’ll catch you up. Or, I dunno, scan it or whatever.”
Ivan immediately dropped the tons of peanuts directly on the floor and accepted the book. The little puff balls scattered.
“Thank you. This will help immensely.”
Ivan opened the book and started eyeing the copyright page intensely.
“I am going to get you some clothes. You look like a naked Seargent doll from the G. I. Joe series. Except no one issued you clothes, I guess. Hang on.”
A few moments later and Randy was rummaging through the main bedroom’s closet.
“God, what is he? A size XXL? I don’t even think anything in here will fit . . . Oh, here we go. Well, not great, but it’ll have to do. I’ll have to get him some real butler clothes soon. Or at least a suit jacket. That would be cool.
Randy returned with Miranda’s Columb County Community College sweater, a pair of stretched out sweats, and grisly looking pink beach flip-flops that all probably would not fit very well, if at all.
Ivan had made it to the second page of the A section. Good for him. No . . . something was wrong here.
“You read almost slower than my Grandma, dude. Can’t you just scan the page and download it or something? I dunno, it just seemed like something that has a computer processor in its head would be able to do something as easy as that with no problems.”
Without looking up from the page, Ivan replied, “Negative. My CPU does not function like a normal computer does, nor do I learn in the same way another A. I. program would. My processor demands that I piece together the bits of logic I find when I am ‘reading’ something. I have to scan several lines of writing, then process it, then return to scanning, in order for me to properly internalize the data.”
“You’re gonna be standing there for three days going at that rate! Just put the clothes on.”
Ivan complied, in his jerky robot fashion way. It was quite comical, and the clothes fit badly. Optimus Prime could be heard howling away in the bathroom.
It definitely had shit in there. But . . .
“Oh my God! You look like a Florida Tourist! You just need sunglasses!” laughed Randy.
He couldn’t stop from going and grabbing his oversized beach sunglasses from right off the bedside table next to them.
Randy turned to run down the hall again, holding his sides as he did so. He was gonna take a phone video after this and put it on YouTube! He could see the tagline now . . . Terminator goes to the beach dressed like Grandma. Hahaha.
Strangely enough, however, the lights wouldn’t turn on in his room. Randy didn’t think much of it and went and grabbed the glasses off the nightstand.
He turned to see Ivan standing there in front of him, about a foot away. Staring down at him with those glowing green eyes of his . . . This didn’t feel right.
“Ivan? You scared the shit out of me, bro! Don’t do that!” said Randy, playfully punching at Ivan’s arm.
Ivan’s brain clicked and whirred.
“Master, why did you hit me?”
Randy shrugged, feeling a cold sweat break out on him. The robot butler was directly in his path. It would be strenuous to go around him. It looked like he had to talk semantics and social physical play with a robot.
His worst subjects that he took in college involved those two things.
“Just . . . uh . . . playin’ around man. You know. A joke.”
“What is the meaning of ‘joke’?”
“Ah, I dunno . . . you got me, man. Somethin’ funny? Oh, you don’t know that word either?” rambled Randy, starting desperately to figure a way out, but with nothing coming immediately to mind.
“Master, did you know that an Aardvark is a large, nocturnal, burrowing mammal, residing in central and south Africa, feeds on ants and termites and has a long, extensile tongue?”
Ivan lifted his right arm and cocked it back, not menacingly, but with a strange jerking motion that almost made Randy nauseous. Randy dropped the sunglasses and stepped back involuntarily, waiting for the strike that would certainly end his life.
Oh! Right.
“Ivan Off.”
Randy closed his eyes as he said this, still expecting the blow to come. But, he heard a metallic powering down noise and he opened his eyes to see Ivan’s head slumped forward, and his arms at his sides. This close, Randy could see there was something written in extremely small black print on Ivan’s neck. Almost like it was stamped there.
“WARNING: ONLY TEACH MHM BASIC HOUSEHOLD TASKS. TOO MUCH CONFLICTING INFORMATION WILL OVERLOAD THE PROCESSOR AND CAUSE ERRORS. THIS WILL VOID THE WARRANTY. Coppertap Ind. —-”
Below that there seemed to be even smaller writing that Randy had to squint to see.
‘Made in Mexico.’
Randy fell, or rather collapsed, sideways on the bed, and finally he could hear the sharp, piercing cries of the dog finally reaching his ears over the immediate panic.
The dark figure of Ivan stood over him like a malignant mannequin of death. Just sleeping for now. Yeah, thought Randy, I’m sending this fucker back. I don’t care that I voided the warranty.
Randy rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling, letting out a sigh of disbelief. And relief. Then he laughed. And couldn’t stop laughing for several minutes.
“Geez, Uncle. You could have just got me a fucking Roomba.”
I was telling my bestie how i regret marrying my husband but had no idea he was listening and then
https://youtu.be/kOTS4JOsOeQ
Shorpy
“They don’t care!” Jeffrey Sachs on US approach to Civilian Deaths in Gaza and Ukraine
Lost in a Dark Place
Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered.… view prompt
Patrick Huber
Deep on the horizon straight head a small flash of what could be lighting popped. Unsure of the meaning of what you saw, it is a promise of something other than darkness perhaps so you continue toward it. You believe you make out a rise in elevation in the distance. Could be mountains or perhaps unnatural mounds signaling life. Either way you head towards it. The mounds gradually grow in height and you can be pretty certain they are natural mountains. This brings a glimmer of hope to your otherwise bleak situation. The change of terrain is breath of fresh air so to speak until ground elevation drops off and you find yourself on the precipice of a deep canyon. Hesitation brings you to look around for other options.
The storm still intensifies behind you, the layer of bubbling blackness is twice as large as before and growing faster. With no alternative you find a gentle enough slope for you to slide down to a lower ledge. It’s about 8 feet or so down, you slide down with little trouble. You see that your path to the bottom is a much more of the same. A series of small rock outcrops and ledges a few feet or so down that allows you to get to the bottom.
Once at the bottom of the canyon your world view becomes much narrower. Your perception is now framed by the dark 60 foot walls that could not be more than 20 or so feet apart. You stay on the move. As you hustle through a maze of dark black rock, the storm has caught up with you and there is no more color to the sky. Black clouds spill over the sides of the canyons, cascading down the rock like water down a mountainside. And just like water it continues to flow in your direction. You pick up speed. But the rush of black most catches up with you. It builds around your ankles and yet you move with ease as there is little or no reaction.
You continue through the canyon as the clouds are up past your knees. You lose notice of any color in the sky, but rather different contrasts of darkness. You are aware of no light source but still you are able to see your path through this colorless void.
The canyon walls are narrowing and the mist is high up around your waist. There is an unmistakeable mass to it now. You feel resistance in your movement. The cloud is so dense you cannot see below the surface. The density as created a pressure and it restricts your movement. It feels as if you are walking through a storm cloud with wind crashing at you from every direction. You struggle to keep moving but you know you must. If anything because the alternative is to quit and die and you don’t quit eve if it means death. Your brain starts to process what it sees in front of you. You’ve reached the end of canyon and a 100 foot wall is ahead of you.
The cloud is nearly up your chest, you have to get out of this. As you approach the wall you a see a small crack about 8ft tall and maybe 18 inches wide. You stick the face shield of your helmet into the crack to see what’s behind it. Like everything else it’s dark, but you sense depth in the darkness and from the cloud that has seeped in the ground level stays constant at least for a while.
NO! NO! DON’T GO! STAY WITH ME!
A booming voice echoed through the walls of the canyon. Sonic booms explode in the totality of the atmosphere disrupting the rocky terrain. Large rocks crumble down from the walls disappearing in the surface level clouds. You cling to the wall, not wanting to get sucked under the surface.
You have to get of there.
You attempt to escape through the crack but your helmet and your suit make you too wide. You desperately try to force metal and plastic through rock but it won’t budge. A tsunami of wind builds and comes rushing through canyon. The force of dense air presses you against the wall. Your world is enveloped by swirling black wind. Your panic pushes you to act desperately and with little thought to possible consequences.
You take a deep breath and remove your helmet and try to squeeze through. Still nothing, so you quickly strip off your suit. Wearing nothing but a monotone under base layer you take your first breath of alien air and are relieved to not immediately die. It could be oxygen but for now it’s not poison.
The narrow crack blocks most of the wind but forces you to side step most of the way. With only the side walls to guide you, you press on. Without the filter from the helmet visor you see that the world takes on a dark bluish tone. Your arms spreading farther alert tell you the gap is widening. The ground slopes so much so that you lose your balance and begin to slide. A slide forms to a roll as you travel down a hill before coming to a tumble at the bottom. You roll to your back and look up. Large spikes of black rock with dim blue glow cover the ceiling hanging down at varied length. You sit up to see the ground is not much different with opposing spikes stretching up from the ground. You’re up on your feet, feeling little effects from the fall. Unsure of where to move next you stay frozen.
A low inaudible humming voice echoes through cave before a flash of light blinds you. The brightness subsides and the cave is alive with electricity, arcing from point to point in a concerted ballet. You are able to see the cave now in its full wonder. The ceiling must be 20 feet high and the expanse looks infinite. Most interesting is a reflection you notice from a large mass of black water. You run to edge and it is indeed a lake of blackness. You bend down and put your hand in it. It’s as dark and souless as oil but with the touch of water. You stand once again at the precipice of a decision with no clear motivation. The electricity has died down so you are back to a muted blue darkness. You see no end to this lake so it could stretch on forever. You step into it to check the depth. You look back away from the shore and see the hole you fell about 8 feet off the ground and the wall, about 50 yards from the shore, marking this end of the cave.
You look around for answers. There’s always something. You venture farther from the shore but a force pulls you back. You find yourself heading back to the lake.
Again the low humming voice throughout the cave and the flash of light. It knocks you into the water before giving way to the electric current dance above.
A rhythmic pounding, weak but noticeable, emerges. It causes the spikes to hum and reverberate.
You get up and are immediately taken back by a tall cyclone of light at the back wall of the cave, stretching from ground to ceiling.
You walk towards it and feel warmth immediately. It’s the first time since you woke up that you have noticed temperature. It never occurred to you if it was hot or cold. But now as you step closer to this light, arms of warmth reach out to pull you closer.
A small black wave rushes up from the lake and swirl around your feet before reseding back. You take an another step toward the light and again a black wave comes in this time up to your knees and you feel the pull of current as the water recedes.
You move closer to the swirling mass of white illumination and are hit by another wave that knocks you to the ground and this time the current drags you back a few feet. You jump to your feet and sprint toward the light. Another crash from behind and you fall face forward down into blackness.
The current has you, it pulls you under the black water. You tumble and roll around trying to get a sense of your direction. The wave crashes back on land. Your up and sprinting hard now toward the light. You dare to look back amd catch a tidal wave building and rushing up quick.
The brightness begins to hurt your eyes and you squint but still run. You are hypnotized but the warmth as it grabs hold of you. You feel drops of water falling as you know the wave is about crash down. You push forward with everything you have left and leap forward just as the wave crashes behind you. The intensity of the wave pushes you forward into the cyclone and your world goes to white.
*****
“I have a pulse” one EMT alerts another.
“Ok she’s stable. Let’s load her up.”
It’s early morning, the sun has broken free from the horizon. Last of the night, fighting a losing battle with the sun, paint an ombré of black to blue to yellow in the sky. The virgin suns rays reflect off the fresh dusting of snow, illuminating the world.
The two EMTs secure the woman to the gurney and exit a suburban home towards a waiting ambulance.
A man, early 40s runs along side the gurney, he’s wearing sweatpants, t-shirt, and slippers, he’s holding her hand. She’s loaded up, the doors are closed, and the ambulance drives off. The man walks back over to the sidewalk and bends down to embrace two small children their eyes red and swollen, their cheeks wet with tears.
“Is Mommy going to be ok” a young girl of 8 asks her dad.
“Mommy’s going to be ok, she got lost in a dark place but she found the light again” he tells them.
The flashes of red and blue fade on their faces as the ambulance gains distance from them. The family watches as their mother heads off toward the rising sun of a new day.
Scott Ritter : Does the West Understand just how bad they’ve been beaten?
Star – Light
Submitted into Contest #282 in response to: Write a story set in a world of darkness where light is suddenly discovered.… view prompt
Chris Cancilla
Walking through the streets towards the precinct, she looked at the people she passed. Oblivious to what was in store in their very near future. News, or more accurately, propaganda, is what you will tell the people tonight. Being a lead investigator, she is pretty high up on the information chain in the precinct. She reads stuff. She hears stuff. She knows stuff. Who is she gonna tell?
The eyes of everyone on this planet were well-adjusted for darkness. Bizzy could not imagine what it would be like when the planet is flooded with light. Would she still be able to do her job? Her eyes were more attuned to the darkness than most of the planet’s population. When she looked at something, she saw it as if for the first time. No preconceptions, her thoughts did not convolute what she was looking at. She saw no shadows; she could see it for what it was, and because of this, she could perform her job better than most. She was promoted quickly from security patrol to lead to Investigator and has excelled over the past few years. She solves more open cases than most; they know it will be closed if assigned to her.
“Bizzy!” The man at the desk said, “You’re a little early for your shift.”
“Couldn’t sleep, so here I am. What’s the word?” She asked.
Tom Bartholo waved her over, “Word is that the rock will hit tomorrow, and the light will hit us within a few days. They are putting all us uniforms on extra shifts. Worried about rioting, looting, killings, and suicides.”
She looked at him, “What about you?”
“Eh… Whatever. As long as I can sit here and talk to people as they walk in, my life is a bowl of cherries with no pits.”
They spoke for a few more moments, and Bizzy went to her desk, sat, opened her terminal, and read a few things.
“Elizabeth. In my office, now.”
“Yes, Chief!”
Chief Russel Irons motioned to close the door and sit as she entered his office. She did.
“Elizabeth.”
She gave him a side-eye look, raising her left eyebrow, the closest to him, “Yes, Rusty?”
“Sorry,” He smiled at her, “Bizzy. We just got word from the nerds. The rock that will hit tomorrow afternoon is not the first.”
“No?”
“No. It’s the sixth and smaller than a few of its leaders. The first two that will hit will be enough to slow the planet ever so slightly, and tomorrow afternoon, when the sixth hits, Mornaro will be slowed. Star light will hit Arnon, and all hell will break loose.”
“How so? What do they think will happen? When will the first hit?”
The Chief looked at the clock on the wall above his door, “10 AM and a few seconds, with the second and third hitting at 4-minute intervals. So, in 41 minutes, all life on this planet will change forever.”
She stood, “I’ll be in the streets. People are going to lose it out there.”
She left his office and went to her desk to pick up her weapon. Locking it into the holster on her belt, she looked around and saw the new people staring at her. They looked scared.
“Marc, Liz, with me.”
They were in full uniform. Fresh out of the academy.
They walked out of the building in silence. Stopping on the street, Bizzy looked at the two rookies.
“The shit is about to hit the fan,” Pausing a moment, “If you have a round in the chamber, remove it. The extra half second to rack the pistol will not make that much of a difference, and the safety factor will give us a bit of cushion in case we draw and do not need to fire.”
“At the academy, we were…….” Liz said.
Bizzy cut her off, “Not sure you noticed. This ain’t the academy. Clear your weapon, load the mag, and holster it. This is how I carry mine pretty much all the time. Stops accidental discharges.”
They both complied.
They walked for almost half an hour while looking at the sky. They walked in a circle, not straying too far from the office. The news told them about the rocks hitting their sister planet but stopped there. If you read scientific journals, you know about the slowing of Mornaro. The stars were pretty, and it was a perfectly clear morning. All three of their radios broke squelch, “Thirty seconds.”
That’s all that was said. They stopped and leaned on a cement wall, staring at the planet in plain view with the slight ring of light that provided daylight to her planet.
A moment later, they saw the first rock, maybe a second or two before it hit, and the plume of dust and debris was amazing. The cloud of dust was larger than the continent they stood on. Four minutes later, another, then another. “Looks like they all hit the same spot!” Marc said, “I wish we could see what the rocks did to that planet. I suppose we’ll be able to travel there one day.”
Now they wait.
About half an hour later, they saw it. A sliver of the star. The shadows that were cast on the area and the colors they showed on everything were new. People started screaming.
In the beginning madness, one man jumped off a nearby building and landed in view of the three from security.
Liz started to go to the man. “Wait!” Marc said. There is no way he survived that fall.” Marc looked at the place where he hit—or rather, where all the inside pieces and parts of the man were scattered on the outside. “The impact popped him like a balloon. Let’s try to help those we can help.”
They appeared in the chaos and commotion around them to be in the middle of an apparent riot. The street was in absolute chaos. People were running into each other, and Marc and Bizzy were thrown off balance more than once.
Someone screamed from the opposite side of the street that they could not go on. The world is ending, and they do not want to see it.
The screaming man saw Liz and ran to her. She thought he was going to ask for help and let her guard down momentarily. That’s all it took. Grabbing her pistol, he pointed it at her, pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. She knocked him out cold with her baton and reholstered her weapon.
“Get back to the precinct!” Bizzy yelled, “We can coordinate there and see what needs to be done.”
They took off at a dead run, and all three made it the few minutes run to the precinct doors. They were locked. They all pounded, and the doors opened. They locked the doors as they entered.
“If you had not told us to clear, I would be dead,” Liz said.
“People are basically stupid, gullible, and follow the idiot in front of them. If he had fired your weapon and you died, someone else would have done the same. We are riding on a new planet now, and we have no business being out there in the streets. Short of killing everyone, there is no way to stop something like this. Tomorrow, hopefully, people will start using their brains again.”
They looked out the door, and there was light. For the first time, they could clearly see people walking, buildings, fighting in the street, and the stars disappearing.
“I think I’ll spend the night here. Walking home will be dangerous, and that light will hurt my eyes,” Bizzy squinted as she looked out the doors, “The light is getting people off the streets. Hopefully, they will clear out and wise up.”
“Bizzy, they say we have maybe seven hours of this, what, light…. Anti-darkness. Each day, it will get brighter and brighter. The science geeks tell us that remaining in direct star light may cause skin burns. They also think our planet will warm up a lot, like next year at this time 50 to 75 degrees.”
Liz asked, “How can we survive at those temperatures? 120°! That’s unbelievable!”
“I know. But what can we do? Our little planet hovers around 40° to 50° everywhere. 80, 90, 100, 110. That is going to be a challenge.”
Chief Irons asked Bizzy, “What’s this about clearing their weapon?”
Marc replied, “She had us remove the round from the chamber. We know it is against policy, but it saved Liz’s life and maybe more. The guy who got ahold of her pistol started pulling the trigger, and he would have shot all 23 rounds, possibly killing 23 people, starting with Liz, I mean Security Officer Moore. Point blank, on her forehead.”
The Chief thought momentarily, “Security Officer Moore, you lost your weapon?” He looked at her service pistol in its holster.
“No, Chief, I mean yes, Chief. I thought the man was asking for assistance, but he wanted to use my pistol to end his life and possibly a lot more people than just himself. But, Investigor Russo had us clear our weapons in the event of what happened, happened. It saved my life.”
“Good work, Bizzy—all of you. Now, head to the briefing room. We have some planning to do. If you think people were a bit off today, wait till tomorrow morning. Supposed to be five times brighter.”
He walked away.
“You heard the man. You two are on my team. Let’s grab some coffee and help plan to save the planet from itself.”
After grabbing a coffee and a sandwich, they sat in the front row of the briefing room. A small man walked in and dropped a lot of papers on the desk, some falling on the floor.
The room was filled, standing room only. The Chief quieted the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is the lead astronomical scientist here to brief us on what we can expect.”
As he sat at the desk, the Chief realized the light from the star was on his face. His skin began to get warm, really warm.
“Hello,” The scientist said, “I am Ricardo Isbellia. The lead scientist and the person on this planet who knows more about Mornaro and the light from the star.”
He paused a few moments, looking at the faces. He stopped on Bizzy. The look on her face was not like the others. He asked her, “Is there something….”
Bizzy was grinning, “No, nothing specific. But, there is no policy, procedure, rule, or anything to look at for a situation like this.”
The man grinned back at her, “Correct. That’s why we’re here. To create the policies, procedures, rules, and whatever else we need to do to protect the population.”
He walked to the desk and picked up an odd pair of goggles. “These will protect your eyes from direct star-light.” He put them on his face and strapped them around the back of his head.
Liz said, “Fashionable!”
People in the room chuckled.
Ricardo removed the goggles and handed them to Bizzy. She held them over her eyes, “Interesting. They make the room lighter but not painful at the same time.” She looked at the window, where the light from the star was entering the room. “It masks the star light and lets you see what is there,” She saw the plume of dust and debris from the multiple impacts. It was massive. More extensive than she imagined. She removed the goggles and asked, “What are the chances the dust and debris will affect Arnon?”
Ricardo looked at Bizzy with a look that made her not know what he was thinking. “Exactly. We believe we will be OK. But the orbits of our planets mean we have a year until we pass through that dust. We have known this was coming for more than two years. Now that it’s here, we are ready. Be careful if you are in the light for too long. Your skin will get hot and begin to burn. We do not know the other effects, but we know that the burns from the star light will be painful.
Ricardo continued the briefing, “OK. Moving on. Here is what you can expect in the next year.”
His intern passed out the goggles to everyone in the room.
How can civilians fight trained soldiers, as in the case of Ukraine?
Ukrainian troops are mostly civilians. They are grabbed by force on streets, and spend 1-2 weeks preparing in training fields before being sent to the frontlines.
Behind them, there are barrage squads of nationalists, who prevent territorial defence forces from retreating.
155 Brigade trained in France, retreated before first fight. From 2000 of prepared civilians, 1700 run away. Without barrage squad civilians usually run away from positions.
For russian artillery shel or precision bomb theres no difference how skilled soldiers who sitting in trenches.
Skilled soldiers AFU used at second or third wave. In first two come civilians with no skill. Their aim to show where defence troops are sitting.
In Ukrainian army General Syrski called as butcher. Because of using meat wave tactics. For this one no need to have skill.
The proportion of loses can be compared to the last body exchange.
- 08.11.24: 37 bodies of the Russian Federation for 563 bodies of the AFU,
- 29.11.24: 50 bodies of the Russian Federation for 502 bodies of the AFU,
- 20.12.24: 42 bodies of the Russian Federation for 503 bodies of the AFU.
Artichoke Frittata
Yield: 16 servings
Ingredients
- 2 (6 ounce) jars marinated artichoke hearts
- 4 eggs, beaten
- 1 cup small curd cottage cheese
- 1 small onion, chopped
- 1/8 teaspoon dried rosemary
- 1/8 teaspoon dried thyme
- 1/8 teaspoon dried basil
- 1/8 teaspoon dried marjoram
Instructions
- Heat the oven to 350 degrees F.
- Drain the artichokes, reserving 2 tablespoons of the marinade. Chop the artichokes.
- Combine the reserved marinade, artichokes, eggs, cottage cheese, onion, rosemary, thyme, basil and marjoram in a medium mixing bowl and mix well. Spoon into a greased 8 x 8-inch baking pan.
- Bake for 30 minutes or until set and light brown. Cut into 1-inch squares.
Nutrition
Per serving: Calories 55; Fat 4 g; Sodium 182 mg; Dietary Fiber 1 g
Attribution
Posted by FootsieBear at Recipe Goldmine 8/26/2001 4:23 pm.
Pampered Chef
Title: Sir Whiskerton and the Case of the Bedtime Bandit
Ah, my dear reader, welcome back! I must say, your enthusiasm for these tales warms my noble whiskers. Today’s adventure is, quite literally, a personal matter. You see, even a brilliant detective such as myself isn’t immune to petty annoyances, and this time, someone—or something—has dared to invade my most sacred sanctuary: my bed. What followed was an investigation full of twists, turns, and surprises so shocking that even I, Sir Whiskerton, was briefly left without words. Briefly, of course. So sit back and enjoy the laugh-filled mystery of The Case of the Bedtime Bandit.
The Great Bed Crisis
It all began one crisp autumn evening as I returned to my favorite napping spot: a cozy, sun-warmed pile of hay tucked neatly in the corner of the barn. It was my most cherished spot, a throne worthy of my brilliance. But when I arrived, I found… evidence. Evidence of a crime so heinous it made my fur stand on end.
My bed was mussed.
“Oh, the horror,” I muttered to myself, circling the hay pile. My eyes narrowed as I noticed strange tufts of fur that did not belong to me and a faint but unfamiliar scent lingering in the air.
“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed,” I growled.
“Sleeping? Oh, how dreadful!” Doris the hen clucked, fluttering down from her perch.
“Dreadful! But who could it be?!” Harriet added.
“Who?! Oh, I can’t bear the suspense!” Lillian squawked.
“Enough,” I said, holding up a paw. “This is a matter for my expertise. I will get to the bottom of this.”
Assembling the Team
I wasted no time calling a meeting of the most capable minds on the farm—well, the most available minds, anyway.
Porkchop the pig arrived first, munching on an apple. “What’s this about, Whiskerton?” he asked. “You look… uh, more annoyed than usual.”
“Someone has been sleeping in my bed,” I said gravely.
“Sleeping?! Oh, that’s terrible!” Doris squawked, arriving with her usual entourage of Harriet and Lillian.
“Terrible! But also mysterious!” Harriet clucked.
“Mysterious! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.
Rufus the dog trotted in next, his tail wagging. “You called for me, Whiskerton? What’s the case this time? Missing milk? Stolen carrots?”
“No,” I said, flicking my tail. “This is far more serious. My bed has been compromised.”
Rufus raised an eyebrow. “Your bed? Really?”
“Yes, Rufus. And I intend to find the culprit. But it seems there’s more going on here than just my bed,” I said, my whiskers twitching thoughtfully. “I’ve been hearing strange reports from around the farm. Doris, you mentioned something earlier about missing corn?”
“Oh yes! The corn! It’s gone! Oh, all gone!” Doris cried.
“Gone! But who could have taken it?!” Harriet clucked.
“Who?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian screeched.
“And Porkchop,” I said, turning to the pig, “you’ve been complaining about your apples disappearing, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” Porkchop said, scratching his head. “Thought maybe Rufus was sneaking them.”
“Hey!” Rufus barked. “I wouldn’t touch your apples. I’ve got my own stash of bones to chew on, thank you very much.”
“Indeed,” I said. “It seems we have a serial intruder on our hands. And I intend to catch them.”
The Investigation Begins
I began my investigation at the scene of the crime: my bed. Using my keen senses, I sniffed the hay and detected the faint scent of something… unfamiliar. It was musky, earthy, and had a hint of… feathers?
“Feathers?” I muttered to myself. “Interesting.”
Next, I inspected the area around the chicken coop, where the missing corn had last been seen. Sure enough, there were small, scattered kernels leading away from the coop and into the woods.
“Ah-ha!” I said, my tail flicking with excitement. “A trail!”
“Trail?! Oh, how thrilling!” Doris squawked.
“Thrilling! But also terrifying!” Harriet clucked.
“Terrifying! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.
“Enough,” I said, waving a paw. “Porkchop, Rufus, you’re with me. We’re following this trail.”
The Plot Thickens
The trail of corn led us deep into the woods, where we found… nothing. Just an empty clearing with a few more scattered kernels and some oddly shaped footprints. They were too large for a chicken, too small for the farmer, and definitely not from any of us.
“Strange,” I muttered, examining the footprints. “Who—or what—could this be?”
“Uh, Whiskerton?” Porkchop said nervously, pointing his hoof. “What’s that?”
I followed his gaze and saw a pair of glowing eyes peering at us from the bushes. Before I could react, a blur of feathers and fur burst out of the bushes and darted past us, heading straight back toward the farm.
“After it!” I shouted.
The Culprit Revealed
We chased the mysterious figure all the way back to the barn, where it finally stopped and turned to face us. To our surprise, it was… a goose.
But not just any goose. This goose was enormous, with wild feathers sticking out in every direction and a guilty look in its eyes. It was holding an apple in one wing and a cob of corn in the other.
“Wilma?!” Doris squawked, recognizing one of the geese from the neighboring farm.
“Wilma! But what are you doing here?!” Harriet clucked.
“Here?! Oh, I can’t bear it!” Lillian cried.
“I… I just wanted a place to stay!” Wilma honked, dropping the apple and corn. “My pond froze over, and the farmer doesn’t feed us geese as much as he feeds you lot. So I thought… why not stay here for a while?”
“And you thought my bed was the perfect place to sleep?” I said, narrowing my eyes.
“Well, it was very comfortable,” Wilma admitted sheepishly.
A Happy Ending
In the end, we couldn’t stay mad at Wilma. She was just a hungry goose looking for a warm place to rest. We helped her set up a proper nest near the barn (far away from my bed), and the farmer, noticing the new arrival, started leaving extra corn for her.
The moral of the story, dear reader, is this: sometimes, those who disturb our peace are simply in need of a little kindness. And while it’s important to stand up for your personal space, it’s equally important to lend a helping paw—or wing—when someone needs it.
As for my bed? I gave it a thorough cleaning and reclaimed it as my throne, where I can nap in peace… until the next mystery, of course.