Cozy Front Porch Ideas

...free to add your own ideas if you want! DECO ... 1 person gate for creating cozy gardens, kids play areas, ...These are just a few ideas I had when building my...outside....quite often on people's front porches from the eaves in...house and the little patio porch area I created and it..."stacked" together to create a cozy reading nook. Or rugs being ...free to add your own ideas or "frustrations" you've come across...

front yard shrubs overgrown and dating ... in front yard sitting area (versus pouring a full porch). i want a cozy, casual... I "contain" it - border ideas? hardscape/landscape. I'm just collecting...

Hello everyone, this is part two of my Spook Shack fanfic that resumes with Alice’s birthday celebration and a build up towards what I hinted at in the teaser post , no worries I did not forget that. Matter of fact, that will be in the spotlight next chapter so no worries. As far as i am concerned the dialogue should be improved and also the flow as well. Remember that the story is fully SFW but contains heavy loaded emotional scenes. As always, have a great day/night everyone and I really hope that this fic was an entertaining read! Note, once the finale is up i will upload a document with the whole story which can be freely accessed online/offline by everyone with every part highlighted so that way it's easier to navigate and read whatever part you desire quickly and with ease. Also good luck with the upcoming pulls! Source: https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/140204012 Part 1: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1tiwrJCeFjB7Xu0HEeUxLf24av3lZmIQIZgwX0YQuK2A/edit?usp=drivesdk PART 2 The house stood proudly at the edge of the lake, nestled between towering trees and lush greenery as if nature itself had chosen to protect it from the rest of the world. Warm sunlight poured over the dark wooden walls and stone foundations, giving the entire estate a peaceful, almost storybook-like charm. Large windows reflected the shimmering water nearby, while the wide balconies and covered terraces invited the kind of quiet evenings where time seemed to slow down. A gentle breeze stirred the grass along the shoreline, carrying the faint scent of pine, fresh water, and blooming shrubs. The private dock stretched calmly into the lake, its white chairs waiting untouched beneath the afternoon light. Every part of the property felt carefully alive, not extravagant in a cold way, but comforting, warm, and deeply lived in, bonus points for the show of lights displayed from the front porch. “That's……a proper place….” Said Manato wide eyed while scratching his neck “Just….how many houses does she have….and how come we were never invited yet” upon saying this Yuzuha shushed him and punched his shoulder gently “Shut it wolfie….ive been here once before….only she comes here….and judging by the condition and neatiness…” she paused, weighting her words carefully “She worked weeks upon weeks for this night….” She then let up slightly once Kama nuzzled with her cheek, while doing so Yidhari led the way and gently rang the bell. Five minutes later Alice came downstairs and opened the door, greeting everyone with a hug and inviting them in, her ears perked in excitement, flopping a few times atop of her head adorably and spoke right after hiding an undignified high pitched “mmmph” “Tha….thank you all for coming….it means….a lot…so please…we have snacks for every-” but before she could finish her sentence Lucia flicked her staff once and the pale chandeliers in the giant mansion's living room changed their warm yellow light to a warm blue. Then her grimoire opened just as practiced and a few hound Ethereals rose from the magic imbued pages. They quickly swarmed the bunny Thiren and started licking and tackling her to the ground from all sides playfully, the commotion being enough for Yidhari, Yuzuha and Manato to reveal her gift. Once it was set in place Lucia snapped her fingers and slammed her stuff firmly on the ground, an action that made the Ethereals fade into a azure mist which quickly dissipated. When Alice recovered and opened her eyes cautiously everyone else shouted “Happy birthday” while they gestured towards a box. The present was enormous, nearly a meter tall and impossible to ignore. Wrapped in rich crimson paper with flawless golden ribbons crossing neatly around it, the massive box dominated the room like the centerpiece of some grand celebration. At the very top rested an oversized golden bow, its glossy folds catching the light with every small movement. “Surprise your highness” shouted Yuzuha, meanwhile Kama made his way on top of the present, sniffing it and jumping up and down, as if it was meant for him. “Hey get down back here thief, or I'm cutting off your apple slices for the whole next week” said Yuzuha tapping her foot down once, a very well placed threat considering the tanuki’s love for fruits so he relented and got back on her shoulder. Alice didn’t seem to mind and slowly ran a finger over the present box “Mmph….perfectly symmetrical….the wrapping is not saggy on any side….the ribbon is placed right dead in the center…the color palette is so unique and well fitting” everyone waited with baited breath, it was finally time to see if the fruit of their labour paid off…. Once the box was opened, a beautifully handcrafted bookshelf stood at its center. The wood had been carefully polished to a warm sheen, every edge smoothly trimmed and every shelf perfectly aligned with patient attention to detail. Subtle carvings decorated the corners, giving it a cozy, personal charm that no factory made furniture could ever replicate. There were three shelves, each holding a neatly packed letter and small different plushies resembling carrots and other vegetables while in the middle one, right in the center of the shelves stood an amusing diary which had small prints all over it. “Dig in princess, we're not done yet!” shouted Yuzha smiling smugly at the flustered birthday girl, Alice nodded and retrieved the diary off the shelf, what lied inside were photos with everyone in different moments through their friendship, under each photo laid a sticky note with a quote and note from that certain day, there were dozens of such examples. She slowly flipped through each one and read aloud each sticky note while everyone else gathered behind and at her sides. The tension finally seemed to settle with each reminiscent memory. “Yea…i remember that…my shoulder was sore for a week straight after stopping that wall” laughed Manato after unclipping and holding a photo of himself where he was being bandaged by Yidhari and Yuzha. “Oh look, here! That's when Kama didn’t like you and would try to scratch or poke you with every occasion he got, I swear it was a growling contest each time you two set sights on each other!” laughed Lucia while clapping her hands She then flipped the page alongside Alice, who was still completely speechless, and unclipped another photo this one showing Yidhari passed out on the couch after one exhausting commission. While she slept, the others had clearly taken full advantage of the opportunity; colorful marker doodles covered her tentacles, ranging from silly faces and crooked mustaches to exaggerated caricatures and messy little messages. Even in the photo, her exhausted expression somehow made the whole scene twice as funny. After a few more flipped pages and sticky notes, the squad noticed a warm red glow emanating a few pages up ahead. It was subtle, barely noticeable by the naked eye but there nonetheless, only a few more unflipped pages away. Yidhari seemed to be the first who noticed, the octopus Thiren’s hazy purple eyes quickly locked onto the small abnormality while her whole figure tensed. Everyone else seemed to get the memo and also braced, with Manato unconsciously stepping slightly in front of Alice and Yuzuha, blocking a part of their bodies with his huge rounded shoulders. “I supervised the whole process….no way something like this slipped…the kids as well…” said Manato, tensing up even more, while he was speaking, Yuzuha’s hand also found Alice's , in a silent comforting gesture amplified by two small paws which held onto her leg, Kama was also hiding behind them, something that the rabbit Thiren gracefully welcomed with warmth. Lucia was the next to speak. “I don’t recall this either when I helped with the trinket finding….i swear…everything that i've found in the Hollow were from safe clearings or forests within the Night Watchers jurisdiction…” Right before speaking Yidhari seemed to have read her mind because of what she said next, “Feels strange….like….a forbidden kind of strange…something that lingers and watches…..yet….” Lucia then quickly added, seemingly stealing the words right from her friends mouth “Familiar….a familiar kind of strange” Alice, then who was suddenly overcome by bravery and Yuzuha’s warm and encouraging touch, quickly extended her left hand over Manato’s shoulder and flipped the few remaining pages, to reveal the source of the scarlet hues, which permeated from her gift. There was a single photo, poorly clipped on the page and a text, not written, burnt into the page, really hard to make out its meaning. “Wait….i think i can fix it….just let me…” said Lucia who reached for her staff and gently touched the page, her spell seeping onto the Diary and reshaping the contents of that page, slowly. Word by word the text morphed, the burnt spaces being replaced by now blue letters….ready to be read. The party now seemed to have been forgotten, replaced by the tension of this mysterious photo and the text under it. Yuzuha cautiously ran a finger over the text and began reading out loud: [Deep….within….the Cretan follow….in its wuthering plains….time is scarce….come find us….quick…..my….dear….the next….portion……only…….for my pumpkinbun….to read…..or else….it will be in vain] ““They sure have a way with words…” Manato muttered, scratching the back of his head as he tried to piece everything together, though none of it seemed to make much sense. “This is really shady… we can’t just ignore it,” he added after a moment. “But… it’s Alice’s special day. Whatever this is, it can wait until tomorrow, right?” “No… Yuzuha… could you hand me the book, please? I need to see this… that name sounds familiar…” Alice waited patiently, fixing her red-haired friend with an impossibly adorable look, one that was almost impossible to refuse. “Ugh… fine, here,” Yuzuha groaned dramatically while handing it over. “You know I can never resist when you pull that trick on me…” Alice gently grabbed the diary and read out loud [Forty eight hours…….starting today at midnight…you shall come……find me….side by side…….the tribe mage….take her with you…..only her…..during this time……no beast shall lay a hand on you]. Once she had read that part Alice felt a brief overwhelming burning sensation on her forehead, the pain making the bunny Thiren fall only for Yidhari to catch her quickly before she could hit the ground. “Thanks….ugh…my head, the pain….just went away….” Alice said still in a daze. “So did the miasma and text…only this blurry photo is left” said Manato while presenting the photo to her. The image was blurry, weird shaped trees could be seen in the background and also an overwhelming amount of crimson plagued the whole frame. Nothing made sense, but that was their second priority, afterall, the birthday girl just seemingly out of thin air got sick and almost passed out. Yidhari carefully lowered her onto the couch while Manato hurried off to grab a few ice packs for her forehead. Yuzuha immediately got to work in the kitchen, squeezing lemons for a fresh lemonade to help her calm down. Even Kama joined in, chittering softly as he scampered back and forth, proudly carrying a new lemon to Yuzuha each time she dropped one into the grinder. Despite the events Lucia seemed to be absent, she sat in the corner of the generous living room, looking out of the window and refusing to say a thing. Once the commotion calmed down she turned to everyone, weighing her words and spoke in a shaky voice. “This sort of communication, it has only happened once in our tribe….ive only heard tales of it from our elders” “And what does this mean? I swear none of us placed anything of that manner in that damned book” interjected Yuzuha who looked worried at her still fatigued friend, refusing to leave her side. Lucia paused, opening her grimoire and inaudibly chanting something, while doing so her fingers gained a warmer and lighter shade of blue with traces of purple. She then approached Alice cautiously, gently massaging her head and ears while the magic quickly dissipated. Upon contact Alice coughed shortly but also felt relieved, just closing her eyes and relishing in her friend's soothing touch. Yidhari was the first to understand, each one of her tentacles comfortingly brushed everyone, relishing in this vulnerable moment. “I understand now…this is a call….from beyond…from the Hollows….things that we still greatly don’t have an idea about…” said Yidhari refusing to retract any of her appendages. “Yeah…as i was saying earlier, the tales spoke about chosen ones who ventured deep within the unknown…seemingly protected from all danger…tasked with unraveling the truth” said Lucia while still petting Alice's head as the last traces of magic vanished from her fingers. “No….ive been to those places…unless Alice or any of you have the Night Crawlers curse then it's simply not possible, too dangerous even for all of our efforts combined…” added Lucia who now closed her grimoire and set it on a coffee table not to far off from the couch. Alice then got up, relieved that she was relieved of the earlier migraine and spoke softly “Then i will go with Lucia….guys…thank you all so much for the gift…it really really meant a lot…but” Yuzuha cut her off by chucking a pillow at her head “No way bunny queen, this is your birthday! We can’t just put you in danger because of a ridiculous fairy tale” the whole room then erupted in a heated debate where Manato took Yuzuha’s side while Yidhari, Alice and Lucia had the opposite. “But…the message” said Lucia who tried to look at everyone at the same time “No…she is our friend and has a very bright future ahead…we can’t lose her to a Hollow…i would never forgive myself” interjected Manato who was then cut off by Yidhari “This is a one in a lifetime opportunity…im sure their journey will answer a lot of questions..” But Yuzuha immediately butted in alongside Kama, the little critter chittering loudly in agreement as she pointed accusingly at them both. “Nope. Absolutely not. This is not happening, case closed!” Alice, overwhelmed by everyone, simply covered her ears and started to slowly walk backwards, away from this heated conflict, holding back tears. She was now residing on a rooftop, alone on her own birthday, her supposed special day where everything that she desired was to spend some quality time with her friends. Friends who saw her as who she truly was, friends who were now arguing in her living room. She stargazed, as she traced constellations with her finger, her mind started to wander to a distant time. She remembers being picked on by Jacqueline, forced to wear a carrot costume during a school play or bullied relentlessly, one time also being nearly expelled after cutting up school property, thinking that she was doing good by giving it style and a symmetrical touch. But despite these cruel memories, one brighter than the rest put them all to shame, her father, Lionel Thymefield, the man who was always by her side, who was always kind, giving his best to assure her wellbeing and happiness. As pleasant memories of him resurfaced the countless meals they shared, the stories he used to tell, the way he always dragged her into some fun activity her eyes slowly began to water. She missed him dearly.No matter how much time had passed, she still couldn’t truly come to terms with his death, and after witnessing her friend’s earlier breakdown, everything she had been holding back finally caught up to her. Her breathing hitched softly before she finally started to sob. “Dad” Alice uttered softly, who was now curled into a ball, uttering the same word like a broken record. As minutes ticked by she suddenly felt the same earlier pressure on her forehead, but instead of pain, it slowly migrated towards something else…calm yet overwhelming. She obliged and eased into sleep. The transition was seamless. She now stood back in her bedroom but….different..the wall paint, the posters, the drawers and wardrobe were all different, newer, changed. Her door softly opened and a golden figure stepped inside who radiated tranquility. He gently caressed her face and spoke, instead of a mouth he communicated telepathically, his voice ever so present ringing in her mind. “Hey baby carrot, long time no see huh? He then paused, scooting a smidge closer to Alice and also slowly reshaping himself, the golden humanoid now bordering a slightly familiar look. The bunny Thiren wanted to speak but her mouth felt heavy, burdened by an unknown force, unable to reply or ask a single question. “Happy Birthday…I see that Yuzuha took great care of you…” “You know…I just couldn’t leave her in that ve….veN….VENT” his voice glitched slightly. Alice, now afraid, shielded herself with a discarded blanket but much to her surprise only the figure's speech was off as he now stood in the same place as before. “Questions…i know you have many…but now….you have other matters to take care of….once that is settled….you will know how to proceed and seek those answers” After that last line was uttered the whole place started to spin and dissipate around her. While this was happening she also felt a slight tug followed by a dull pressure on her chest and a distant echo in the distance which resembled her name. She slowly opened her eyes and awoke on the roof, the same place as before but now with Yuzuha at her side who apparently with the help of Lucia tucked her in a sleeping bag. “I’ve got you Alice…” said Yuzuha while sporting a genuine smile, a rarity considering her bratty habits and nature. “We are so sorry…..for starting a fight earlier….me and Yidhari really got carried away back there…” said Lucia in a voice that hinted at sorrow, but Alice wasn’t born yesterday, she was nobility afterall, which meant that she specialised in picking up this type of behaviour, the signs all hinted at some sort of deception but she couldn’t just accuse her friend of anything remotely close to that, at least yet. Alice wanted to say something, but Yuzuha quickly cut her off by placing a steaming cup of hot chocolate into her hands, making absolutely sure her best friend wouldn’t catch a cold and nudging her shoulder to drink. Once she took a few careful sips, Alice finally decided to speak, steadying herself with a technique Yuzuha had taught her years ago, one that always helped whenever she had to speak in public or attend important conferences. She dressed her voice and spoke, refusing to look at neither of the two. “Look…Lucia…iv’e felt it to…the call of the unknown….but if this means that my friends have to argue or worse….even fight then i want to hear nothing of it!”, Lucia just nodded and looked away, as if she was scolded, hiding quickly a micro shift of her expression that also hinted at disappointment. “Yeah, it's her birthday for crying out loud, the least you can do is let her call the shots!” shouted Yuzuha who also picked on Lucia’s gestures. “YOU TWO STOP NOW!” shouted Alice at both while raising her arms and throwing the mug away from the rooftop which audibly shattered seconds later, the drink painting the pavement in a shape resembling a sad crying face. “Alice….im so sorr-” but Lucia quickly got cut off “NO, I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANY OF IT, I WANT YOU ALL TO GO HOME NOW!” upon uttering that the air seemed to still. Yuzuha wanted to protest but her words seemingly died in her throat. Resigned, both of her friends went back inside and gave the news to the others. Thirty minutes later and after a lot of reluctance everyone was at the door, Alice had the courtesy to accompany them all the way to her gate, wishing them a great day and then hurrying back inside. A lot was on her mind, the cursed entry in the diary, the dream, Lucia gestures, her mind quickly getting overwhelmed. So she decided to take a hot bath, surely a simple but effective solution. As the bunny Thiren slipped onto the huge bathtub, steam covered her flawless figure, which now sported no clothing garments at all. Letting out a contempt sigh she sunk onto the water, a euphoric feeling that also triggered a newfound clarity which allowed her to reflect with renowned efficiency everything that had transpired. Lucia was walking home well, this time toward Manato’s place just as dawn slowly began to break across the horizon, painting the once dark sky in soft warmth and hints of clear weather to come. She needed to sleep soon but not before shooting Alice a quick apology message and wishing her yet again a Happy Birthday. Once the night came Lucia decided to visit and talk things out with her friend hence she saw no reply to her message. Taking the same route as before she came to appreciate even more the scenery that surrounded the mansion.Steadying herself she knocked a few times at her door and waited….seconds upon second…which then turned to minutes but unfortunately for her no answer came. Taking the staff onto her hand she decided to use a small etheric bubble to propel herself up to one of the balconies. Which she did, now peering inside she noticed that every light was out. She once again reached for the phone and called, it rang for seconds and a ringtone could be faintly heard from inside but no one picked it up. Strange, she usually always answers. An hour ticked by where Lucia tried to see through every window, try calling again and again but was always met with the same bleak outcome. Then as worry licked more and more at her she decided to use a spell and undo a window lock, sneakily slipping inside. The giant mansion was eerie and every door was opened. She even summoned Ethereals to help her search, turning every nook and cranny. Worried started to wash yet again over her, lingering and picking up its pace with each empty place that she had searched. Frustrated, she went back to the living room and collapsed on the vacant couch, covering her eyes with her palms and holding back tears. After a frantic second rummage through the endless dark hallways, rooms and even the basement one thing was clear. Holding Alice's phone with all the missed calls the goat Thiren suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. Alice was nowhere to be found… submitted by /u/13taM to r/LuciaMains [link] [comments]

About 12 years ago, my family and I came home from a football party at my aunts house. My brother and I were already in the house when my mom came in from the garage holding this young, grey cat in her arms. We felt we had our hands full with our animals at the time, so my mom let us babysit the cat while she asked the neighbors on our street if they were missing a cat. 2 houses over, his owners were packing boxes and renting a u-haul. We were lucky we got ahold of them in time before they moved without their cat. Or sooo we thought.. Just a few days later, it was pouring rain. Being in Arizona, my family and I loved the rain so my mom, brother and I opened the front door to watch the weather just pour down to the ground. Not long after we opened the door, we could hear a cat calling, crying. We started calling back, making all sorts of kissy sounds. I even grabbed a bag of treats to shake. Out from under the neighbor across the streets car came the same grey cat. He bolted across the street and into our home. My mom grabbed him a towel and bundled him up. We kept him warm and fed, waiting for the rain to stop. Since we knew where he belonged, we went to bring him back only to find a "For Rent" sign already outside the house. We held onto him for weeks, only nicknaming him "Bob" just until his owners came back. But they never did. So "Bob" turned into "Gibby", named for my favorite character from iCarly. Im not sure how it really happened, but over time he became my cat. He always sought me out and would cry at my bedroom door when I had it closed. That was his way of knocking. A few years after he became part of our family, he started going outside. We already had indoor-outdoor cats (Fixed btw, and they never left the front yard. our neighbor even gave them treats, they were very sweet cats but I understand the issue with outdoor cats 100%) so Gibby joining them wasn't a big deal. He was never outside for more than a couple hours, and ALWAYS came home to me. One day, he didnt come home. He was actually missing for a handful of days before turning back up. When he came home, he was beat up like something happened to him. His paw pads were torn up, he had small cuts everywhere, and the tip of his tail was badly broken. My mom being a former vet student took care of him the best she could, but she couldn't do much about his tail. After a few weeks, the tip... broke off. Thankfully, it healed beautifully and the tip of his tail was no longer pointed, but round. It became Gibbys signature look, especially spotting him at night. After what he went through, which we still have no idea what happened to him, he became a very anxiety-ridden cat. During my teens, he and I became each other's anxiety outlet. He would make biscuits on a teddy bear I got for him to soothe himself, and anytime I cried he would come and cuddle me. He actually could not tell the difference between me laughing or crying so he would just comfort me regardless. Gibby knew his name. He knew his name was "Gibson" or "Young Man" when he was in trouble. I moved in with my boyfriend for about 8 months, where Gibby met Nugget, my Boyfriends cat, and they became the best of brothers. By this time, its been 11 years since he came into my life. From when I was 12 and anxious about my footing in the world to 23, he watched me grow, graduate, find love, but by October of 2025, he got sick suddenly. Mind you, the 8 months I lived with my boyfriend, we didnt let either cat outside. Gibby had fully retired from being outside and found solace watching the birds from the window. Him suddenly getting sick made no sense to me. I would have understood if he ate a bird or something, but just a week after I got back to my parents place, Gibby stopped eating. He would drink some water, but only a few sips to maybe help a dry mouth. My mom and I got him some wet food that was practically soup and for senior cats, hoping to boost his energy enough to get him eating fully again. Being out of work (and at the time, 4 months pregnant), I was going to try my best to make him as comfortable as possible while I found a vet who could tell me what was wrong with him. Over the course of a few weeks, he got worse. Bluntly, he looked like shit. But I gave him as much love as I could, not knowing if he would pass away in his cozy spot on my bed or somewhere dark and quiet in the house. I was talking with my mom one day when Gibby went to the front door. He didnt make a sound, he just looked at us. I knew what he wanted. My mom and I walked out onto the front porch with him. Gibby walked along the path slightly, sat down and shut his eyes as if embracing the evening air. It was a cool night, and Gibby looked so refreshed. I called for him, and he seemed to hesitate, but he came back into the house. A few days later, I was out in the garage talking to my dad when my mom entered, Gibby following. Gibby sat on the carpet we had by the garage door, seemingly admiring us and watching us. I wish I pet him on my way in the house that night, not knowing that just minutes after I left, he left too. Gibby wondered out of the parted garage door and into the night. The doorbell camera caught him sitting on the patio, but didnt catch which direction he left in. The next day, my mom told me Gibby didnt come home. At first, I was in denial. It genuinely took me a few days to realize Gibby wasn't home. We looked around the neighborhood, I asked Facebook groups, but nobody had seen him. Gibby had seemingly vanished... I was there when both my childhood dogs passed, I was there when my grandma passed in 2024, but I have never felt this emptiness and this sad about something before. Every day, I find something that reminds me of Gibby, my best boy, my first love, my soul cat, everything simply reminds me of him. Staying with my boyfriend as we are expecting our baby any day now, sometimes Nugget meows the way Gibby did, and it sends me into a spiral every time. This is hardly scratching the surface of Gibbys story. Even though he was roughly 12, a young senior, I expected to have him another decade since cats tend to do that. What crushes me is as Im having a baby now, Gibby won't get to meat him. Gibby didn't really like kids, but I knew that cat more than anything and I mean it when I say he would have loved MY kids. I wish I found him. I still have no idea where he is, what happened to him. Never found him on any of the local shelter sites, or in community groups on Facebook. I believe he passed away, but I wish I could have found him when he did. I dont have any of his whiskers or tufts of his fur. I have nothing of him to hold besides his teddy bear. I'm sorry for the long post, but thank you for reading Gibbys story. If anyone has any questions or want to know more about Gibbys wild life, I would love to tell you ❤️ submitted by /u/PromotionTop1935 to r/SeniorCats [link] [comments]

Hey Guys! Help. I need to tap into some creativity here. Not sure what to do with this tall and wide front area of my new townhouse. I'd like it to be more inviting, colorful, and cozy. Looking forward to seeing your ideas. TIA. submitted by /u/goodson73Atl to r/ExteriorDesign [link] [comments]

I love the front facade of my house, but my porch is soo shallow, I can’t comfortably hang out there. The porch faces West and we get some gorgeous sunsets, but there’s no space to hang out there. To extend the porch, I’d have to move the flower bed in front of it (which usually looks much better than it does rn). I have lots of clay soil and I’ve worked hard to build up my soil with amendments so that’s not my favorite idea. It seems the flattest area is in front of the garage windows and so I asked ChatGPT to show me what a pergola would look like there. I’ll include that photo as well. But I can’t resist asking for your help as well. Any suggestions on how I can have a cozy space to relax in front of my house? submitted by /u/Difficult-Song227 to r/ExteriorDesign [link] [comments]

When my wife and I moved from Los Angeles to a small town in Ohio a little over a year ago, a lot of people asked why we would make such a move. Most people prefer warm, sunny weather, beaches, a vibrant food scene, and the endless entertainment that the LA area provides. Right? Well, there were two main reasons. First, California is an incredibly expensive place to live in, and I do not have the most lucrative career. And second, we managed to find the house of our dreams. Or so I thought. It was almost a decade into our marriage when we finally stopped talking about leaving California, and actually considered doing it. It wouldn’t be an easy choice for me. I would be leaving behind all of my immediate family on the other side of the country. Plus, I was a born and raised Californian, never having lived anywhere else. I had no idea what it was like starting over in a new, unknown town where we knew absolutely no one. What sealed the deal for me on making the move was when I stumbled across a listing for a house in Ohio that made my heart skip a beat. I had been getting bored looking at page after page of dull listings for dull houses, so I had decided to search for cool, old houses for sale. Both my wife and I had always fantasized about living in a house that looked like somewhere a vampire would live, and that’s exactly the vibe this house I found gave off. It was nicknamed “The Castle.” It wasn’t a castle, per se, but the architect had given this mansion awesome castle-like features. Built in 1908 for a local lumber baron, the house was a three-story behemoth whose façade was all beautiful gray stone, although with strange black stains all over the exterior. Probably some weathering or something that had affected the stone over time. Other features included multiple red-tiled roofs of various angles, dormers, finials, columns, several lovely stained-glass windows, a turret whose top point reached for the sky above the rest of the house, and a front porch bigger than our garage in California. The photos of the inside were just as impressive. Most of the original woodwork and early 20th century features was clean and intact. Other than the natural wear of time, the place was in good shape. I never thought we would be able to afford a place like this, but my eyes bugged out when I saw the price. There was no way it could be that low. Reading through the rather scant details provided on the listing, it looked like the current owner had been trying to get the property off his hands for decades, and had kept lowering and lowering the price. Why hadn’t this been snatched up already? I showed my wife the listing, and she booked us a flight to go look at it right then and there, and we left for Ohio that weekend. The moment we saw the house, we immediately fell in love with it. A beautiful foyer had greeted us when we first entered, a humongous green-tiled fireplace dominating the room, set just below the main staircase. As I stood before the enormous fireplace, studying it, it was in that moment that something occurred to me. The main staircase ascended directly over the fireplace. So then how did the chimney work? That was when I learned about what was referred to as a “witch’s chimney” or a “witch’s crook.” The realtor told us how in old houses, the chimney would sometimes have a bend in it so it could reach the roof when other architectural features were in the way. I asked him what that had to do with witches. He went on to tell us that a piece of folklore had developed due to these types of chimneys. Apparently, they prevented witches from getting into the house because they could only fly in straight lines. If a witch tried to get in, they would get stuck. I had to chuckle a bit at that, but it was an interesting bit of superstition. I thought that witch stuff was more of a New England thing. Anyway, it made me wonder if all the fireplaces in the house had bends in them. Were they still so worried about witches back in the early 1900s? Studying the foyer fireplace, we figured the chimney must have been angled to go backward behind the staircase so that it could then curve upward and reach the roof. The rest of the house was just as impressive. The west wing held a parlor with a grand piano, and a dining room comprised of dark oak and hand-painted wallpaper. To the east was a library that I drooled over, with bookshelves that almost reached the ceiling and a reading nook that took up the bottom area of the tower. In the back of the house was a cozy kitchen, with tons of old cabinets and even the original icebox. And all this was just the first floor. We never did meet the owner, only the realtor, who seemed like a twitchy, nervous man. That didn’t bother us, as we were focused on the house. We put in an offer the next day. Unsurprisingly, there were no competing offers. We made the move that September after a tearful goodbye to my family. Me, my wife, and our two dogs packed up and hauled everything we owned from California to almost the other side of the entire country. Excitement and terror thrashed inside me in equal measures the entire way. What would our life be like from now on going forward? Unfortunately, we soon found out, The Castle was in need of more work that we had initially realized. We had fallen for the house so quickly, that we hadn’t really considered what sort of upkeep a place like this would need. The fact that The Castle had been empty for so many years became evident in many ways, like the outdated electrical wiring and ancient plumbing. The thing that confounded me the most, however, was the fact that all of the chimneys had been sealed up with what looked like bad concrete patch jobs. Why? This was Ohio, where the winters could be brutal, so I had been told. It made no sense to cut off a means of heating the house. Well, the chimneys would have to be unsealed eventually. About a week after our arrival, I woke up one night with a sudden start. Looking over at the bedside clock, I saw that it was 2:09am. I wasn’t sure what had awakened me until I heard what sounded like scratching. My wife was beside me, snoring softly. She liked to wear earbuds so she could listen to music as she fell asleep, so the sound hadn’t roused her. But both dogs were awake, lying between my wife and me on the bed. They stared in the direction of the open bedroom door, deep grumbling emanating from their chests. Upon moving in, we had installed a dog door for them that led into the backyard. Had an animal gotten inside through it? Reluctantly getting out of bed, I grabbed my phone and turned on its light before heading out into the hallway. I kept hearing the scratching sound. Sometimes it sounded like it was coming from a different room or from inside the walls. Sometimes it sounded like it was in front of me, and other times behind me. I never could pinpoint the direction it came from. I went down to the first floor to look around, but the scratching had stopped by then, and I found nothing. Despite a sense of unease in the pit of my stomach, I went back to bed. I don’t know how much I slept that night, since my brain kept me on alert in case the sound resumed, or in case a rabid raccoon decided to pounce on me. Over the next two weeks, I heard that scratching on and off during the night. Each time it woke me up at 2:09am. Sitting up, I would always find the dogs staring out of the bedroom door, making their deep, angry growls. October arrived faster than I had anticipated. The weather grew chilly and the leaves turned from green into all sorts of reds and yellows. It was beautiful to see. I had never experienced a midwestern fall, but I’d heard stories. I just didn’t know if my Californian biology was ready. I decided it was time to unseal the chimneys so we were prepared in case the old furnace pooped out during the cold weather. We started with the main one in the foyer. We had hired Jared, a handyman, a week prior to help us with the ongoing work on The Castle. To be honest, my wife and I were not the most knowledgeable about house repair, so Jared became a huge help. We hired him because he had been the only person out of all the handymen we called who had been willing to come. Everyone else made excuses about being busy after I gave them our address. Looking back, it was weird, but at the time, I was so distracted with working on the house, I didn’t dwell on it. The first weekend of October, I asked Jared if he could unseal the foyer fireplace. His expression grew grim for some reason, but he assured me he could do it. After grabbing a hammer and chisel from his truck, Jared set about breaking through the concrete seal. I left him to it and went upstairs to where I set up my office to work on a few things. The idea of my wife and I cuddling on a comfy couch before a big roaring fire in that gorgeous fireplace had put me in a good mood. It wasn’t even twenty minutes later when I heard a heavy thud from downstairs, followed by loud cursing. The dogs, who had been sleeping at my feet, both jumped up and began barking like maniacs. As I rushed out of my office and reached the stairs, the most horrid smell I’d ever had the misfortune to inhale assaulted my nostrils. I had to pull my shirt up over my nose, and my vision blurred as my eyes watered. Downstairs, I saw that Jared had broken through the chimney’s seal, the concrete lying in pieces on the fireplace floor. The dogs ran over to the edge of the hearth, the fur on their backs puffed up, and barked their fool heads off. I couldn’t get them to quiet down, so I locked them in a bathroom, all the while trying to keep my nose and mouth covered. Not that it was really helping. Once the dogs’ noise was contained, I asked Jared what was going on. He stood on the threshold of the front door, gagging and spitting. He told me how he had worked on many houses over his career and had found his fair share of dead animals. But none of them had been as rancid as the smell that was coming out of that fireplace. With the flashlight from my phone, I knelt into the fireplace and looked up inside the chimney. The stench was hellish. A yawning black hole greeted me. There really wasn’t much else to see, beside scorched brickwork that went upward several feet before a forty-five-degree angle took the rest of the chimney duct out of sight and into a darkness that seemed to swallow my light. I proceeded to open all the first-floor windows and doors in an attempt to vent that putrid odor. It hadn’t dissipated much when my wife got home an hour later. She was nearly knocked off her feet as she walked inside and the reek smacked her in the face. Jared called Pete, a chimney sweep friend of his, since the fireplace would need a good cleaning before it could be safely used, and he could get rid of whatever dead animal was stinking up the place. He stepped outside onto the front porch to make the call. Through the open door, I heard what sounded like a heated whispered conversation he was having on the phone that seemed to switch between arguing and pleading. After coming back in, he let me know that the chimney sweep would be coming by the next day. By the time I went to bed that night, the smell had lessened somewhat. As my eyes grew heavy, I noticed that the dogs were still awake and alert, their ears perked up as if listening for something. I didn’t hear anything, so I figured there must have been something out in the yard drawing their attention. I woke up in the middle of the night, like I had several times before, at 2:09. This time it wasn’t because of any scratching. The dogs were still awake, their ears perked. Had they slept at all? That was when I noticed how cold it was. The house was like a freezer. Maybe a door or window had been left open downstairs from when I was trying to get rid of the stink. I went downstairs to check everything out. Everything was shut tight. The weirdest thing, though, was that it was coldest right in front of the foyer fireplace. Another problem that needed fixing. Pete the chimney sweep came the next morning. He brought with him enough ladders to make his way to the top of the house, as well as one of those cameras attached to the end of a long cable so he could see what was in there and how far down it was. I asked if he needed any help since Jared wasn’t there that day. He said he was fine, so I went back inside where I had been arranging stuff in the kitchen cupboards. I hadn’t even put two plates away when I heard a yell, and a split second later, I saw Pete plummet past the kitchen window. The sound of his body smacking against the ground is something I’ll never forget. I rushed outside with my wife right behind me. Pete was conscious, though not responding to anything I was saying. As my wife called 911, I kept trying to talk to him in an attempt to keep him awake. A red puddle formed in the grass around his head. The emergency responders arrived in no time, and took Pete away in an ambulance. As they were loading him in, the man looked at me and started to mumble something. I stepped over to his side, but the only thing I managed to make out from his hoarse whispers were the words “eyes” and “hair.” My wife was shaken by the experience, and I couldn’t blame her. So was I. Down to my core. Later that day, when one of Pete’s coworkers came to collect his truck and equipment, we learned that the poor man hadn’t made it. The doctors had done everything they could, but Pete’s head injury had been too severe, and he had passed away. I couldn’t sleep that night, instead sitting up in bed and looking at my phone. I was trying to distract myself. The image of Pete lying on the ground in a pool of blood was burned into my brain. I had never seen something like that happen before in real life. A heavy rock had formed in my stomach, making me feel nauseous every time I thought about the incident. Needing a glass of water, I headed downstairs, but as soon as I stepped off the last step and turned on the foyer light, a frigid wind swept over me from the direction of the fireplace. I spun around and stared. What I expected to see, I don’t know. The chandelier needed some better bulbs, because they couldn't illuminate the inside of the fireplace, leaving shadows so thick, I could have sworn they were solid. With slow steps, I moved closer until my toes almost touched the green tile of the hearth. My phone was upstairs. I berated myself for leaving it in bed. As I stood there, trying to see into the shadows of the fireplace, I felt myself shivering. Cold air came out from that darkness in puffs. There was a sort of rhythm to it, I realized. I stepped onto the hearth and knelt down, leaning closer and squinting in the dim light. Either my eyes were playing tricks on me, or there was a subtle movement in those fireplace shadows, like the blackness was actually some viscous liquid. Something compelled me to reach out my hand. I can’t say what exactly. The cold air that was coming out of the chimney had seeped down into my bones, and I shivered even more. I was about to stick my shaking hand inside the fireplace when a sudden noise on either side of me caught my attention and brought me to my senses. The dogs had come down, and both of them were staring straight into the fireplace as well, growling loudly. I got back to my feet and we hurried back upstairs, the three of us getting back into bed. Still shivering, I got under the covers to warm up, and checked my phone. The clock display rolled over from 2:09 to 2:10. Our town has a historical society, so I went there the next day to see if they had any information on the house. I had no idea what kind of information I was looking for, but I wanted—needed—to know more about our new home. Unfortunately, when I got there, the lady at the front desk told me how there had been a fire in the 70s that had destroyed a large portion of the historical society’s records. Disheartened but determined, I asked her if she could look to see if there was anything on my house. The moment I told her my address, I watched as the smile disappeared from her face. The Castle was well-known in town, she told me, which was no surprise. All older documents relating to The Castle had been lost in the fire, but she could tell me the basic history of the house, which had become something of a local legend by this time. It had been built in 1908 for a lumber baron by the name of Joseph Murray, who had moved in with his wife Margaret, two young sons, Matthew and Daniel, and Joseph’s elderly mother Enid. They lived happily in The Castle for about five years until, one night, according to Joseph’s later statement to the police, he woke up in the middle of the night, hearing the grandfather clock in the foyer chime 2:00. He had tried to get back to sleep, but noted a frigid temperature in the room, accompanied by what smelled like “rotten meat.” About ten minutes later, he was startled by sudden shrieking. That night, Daniel and his grandmother Enid had disappeared from the house. No trace of them was ever found. The second son, Matthew Murray, inherited the house in 1926 after his father passed away (his mother had died a few years earlier). He had married a woman named Lily Abner that same year, honeymooning in Paris. The very day they came back, however, tragedy again struck the Murrays. Matthew would go on to tell the authorities that he awoke that night a little after 2:00 in the morning. The room was like an icebox with a putrid odor hanging in the air. He noticed that Lily was not beside him in bed. That was when the hellish screaming began. Leaping out of bed, Matthew rushed downstairs, but—according to his account—as soon as he set foot in the foyer, the screaming abruptly stopped. Lily was nowhere in the house, and despite efforts by local police and the community, she was never seen again. For years, Matthew lived alone in the house, his mind fractured—so the townspeople said. He refused to leave the house or sell it. He refused to believe Lily had simply left him and moved elsewhere. On a warm July night in 1938, neighbors heard the sound of gunfire at around 2:00 in the morning. When police came to investigate, they found no one in The Castle. Long, coarse hairs, and some blood splatter on the hearth of the foyer fireplace were the only things out of place in the entire house. Explanations for the blood and hair ranged from crazed maniacs and rabid animals to more fantastical things like monstrous beasts and evil spirits. Matthew never reappeared. As I left the historical society, I wondered what I was supposed to do with this information. It was obvious to me now why The Castle had been so cheap, and why nobody had snatched it up. But how much was true and how much was just town folklore? I didn’t say anything about the story to my wife. There was no point in worrying her. Not until I figured out what I needed to do. I’m never going to forgive myself for not taking things seriously, and getting us out of that house as soon as possible. That night, I awoke once more to the sound of scratching coming from seemingly nowhere and everywhere. Grabbing my phone, I saw that it was 2:09 in the morning, as I had come to expect by that time. It was at that moment that I heard my wife start screaming. I had never heard her scream before, but I knew it was her. She wasn’t in bed beside me, and neither were the dogs. I could hear their furious barking mixed in with the shrieking, and I exploded out of bed, sprinting down to the first floor. The entire house was like a freezer with a familiar stench thick in the air. As soon as I reached the foyer, I hit the light switch. When the lights came on, I caught a brief glimpse of something dark retracting up into the chimney. Just a small, black blur of motion, the dogs barking after it. Had it been a foot? A hand? I don’t know. Whatever it was, it left behind a clump of dark, greasy hair that smelled rancid. It was not my wife’s hair. The dogs refused to even sniff it. I searched the entire house while I waited for the cops, the dogs at my side, but I couldn’t find my wife anywhere. Neither could the police. Five officers combed the entire property, finding nothing. It’s been over a week now. The police have made no progress in finding my wife. I don’t want to lose hope, but the guilt and fear and desperation are crushing me. Every night at 2:09, I sit in front of the fireplace waiting for something to happen, though I don’t know what I’m expecting. I would do anything to get my wife back, but what can I do? Every night at 2:09, the house grows cold, that rotten smell flows out of the fireplace to fill every room, and I hear scratching. There’s something new, though. Along with the scratching, I’ve been hearing a faint sound coming from up inside the foyer fireplace. I swear what I hear is whispering, though I can’t make out any words. Sometimes there’s also what I believe to be quiet laughing. It could be my imagination. Or not. I’m writing this down because I feel like I’m going crazy, and so there is a record of events. Last night, when I went down to sit in front of the fireplace, I found my wife’s wedding ring on the hearth. A lock of those dirty, disgusting hairs were tied around it. I’m thinking of climbing up into the chimney, I have to. Even though I’m afraid of what I’ll find. submitted by /u/SAlessandroMartinez to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

I am NOT OOP, OOP is u/TheNextMrsDraper Originally posted to r/RBI Neighbor Says They Saw a Tent in My Living Room Original Post: August 3, 2025 I honestly don’t know what to make of this. The simplest answer is that my neighbor is lying, but why? Here’s what happened. This morning, my neighbor knocked on my door and told me that while I was out of town earlier this month, they noticed my front door was open and that a “very nice, blue and brown, two-person tent” had been pitched in the middle of my living room. They said they thought it was a little odd and that’s why they mentioned it. I was on vacation over the the 4th or July, and my nephew and another neighbor both fed my cat while I was gone. Neither are the type to pitch a tent in my living room (though, to be honest, I’m not sure who would do such a thing). Nevertheless, I asked them about the tent and neither knew anything about it. I also don’t have anything that’s blue and brown and could be mistaken for a tent (my living room is mostly black and white). I also don’t own a tent. I’m not a camper. Nobody has a set of keys to my house. I have an Arlo camera by my front door, and I set one up in my living room while I was gone so that I could periodically check in on the cat (I’m a little neurotic about her because she very old). I checked all the footage going back to June 4 (because my neighbor couldn’t say for certain when exactly they saw this tent). Needless to say, there’s nothing captured by either camera. Unfortunately, the cameras do sometimes fail to capture everything. I’d say they have a 10-20% fail rate when it come to turning in when there’s movement. So there’s a slight possibility someone could’ve entered my house, pitched a tent, taken it down and left, and the cameras wouldn’t have caught any of it. But I feel like it’s a pretty slim chance that neither would’ve been triggered. To add to all of this, my cat has been acting super strange ever since I came back. She’s very nervous, refuses to go anywhere near the back part of the house, and is not using her litter box. So something did weird her out. So Reddit, any ideas? If my neighbor is lying (which is the most plausible), why? They’ve never lied before and always seemed like a reliable narrator. They also said their boyfriend saw it too and mentioned how weird it was. Is there any scenario where it makes sense for someone to break in and pitch a tent but also leave the door open so anyone can see?? Is it a glitch in the matrix? Is she somehow suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? Am I?😆 ( Thankfully, the Arlo camera outside did capture part of our conversation, so I didn’t completely imagine it). It’s just so fucking bizarre! I’m just at a complete loss. The whole thing has left me feeling unsettled. Edit: Thanks to everyone who’s commented so far. To answer a some questions that seem to have come up: I took the cat to the vet and she got a clean bill of health. I’m trying some behavioral solutions (multiple litter pans, special cat food for urine health, calming cat treats, calming spray, felaway plug in, etc.). It’s been hard, but I’m committed to helping her get through this. The neighbor and her boyfriend are both older (I think in their late 60s) and we live on the same property, so she has to walk by my front door to get to the street. I’d say from the walkway to my front door is less than five feet, so she has a pretty good view of my living room. I agree with those who said her timing is strange (why mention it weeks later), but I had recently talked to her about my cat.’s behavior, so I think she mentioned it as a possible reason for the cat’s behavior. She did say, “maybe in the future you should let me know you’ll be out of town so I can keep an eye out for you.” At the time is sounded like a normal thing to say, but if she’s lying, then maybe it’s because she wants to know when I’m gone? My nephew is in his mid-twenties and very responsible. He owns his own home and works long days. Neither he nor his brother are campers and, as far as I know, don’t own any tents. The camera outside captured him entering and exiting all three days and he was in the house for less than five minutes. Same with the other neighbor who fed the cat. She came over three times, all for less than five minutes. Neither was aware of the where the was camera inside (but they knew I had one so I could check the cat). The camera also caught the cat chilling out in the house and all three days she was acting normally. TIL about “frogging” (or phrogging), lol. There is a crawl space under the house, but you can’t access it from inside. There’s probably a two- foot high crawl space in the ceiling that you can access from the closet in my bedroom, but I have a bunch of boxes and suitcases shoved up against the opening, and I don’t see how someone could put them back if they’d crawled back in. I will say that the more I ruminate on it, the creepier it seems. Update: Neighbor Says They Saw a Tent in My Living Room: August 6, 2025 (3 days later) So I spoke to all my neighbors again today. The neighbor who saw the tent is still adamant that’s what she saw. She said she and her boyfriend saw it around lunchtime and he confirmed. They said the tent was up when they went to lunch, and down by the time they came back. When I told her my cameras didn’t catch anything, she was unbothered. When I suggested that maybe she saw something else, she said, “it was not my imagination. I saw a tent from right here,” and the she stood on the walkway and pointed into my house. She seems to think someone might have a copy of my key and is accessing my house whenever I’m out of town. She thinks someone sabotaged both cameras and mentioned “black suits that aren’t picked up by security cameras” as a reason the tent sector wasn’t caught. She also mentioned that my other neighbor (the one who checked on my cat) had a large white tent in her yard a few months back. I saw that tent and can verify it existed. But this neighbor said that is not the tent she saw in my house. I rechecked all the camera footage one more time. There are no unaccounted for gaps. In fact, there are several snippets of the cat chilling in the living room looking completely unconcerned before and after the cat sitters came into the house. It’s actually making me rethink the timeline of when she got spooked. I rechecked the attic access and it hasn’t been touched. I also work from home, so it would be hard for someone squatting in the attic to go unnoticed. I also took the advice here to check internet data and electricity usage. Both weee way down on the days I was gone. My gas bill was smaller as well. But if the tent was only up for an hour, that makes sense. So then I spoke with cat sitting neighbor. She confirmed the existence of her white tent and explained that she was airing it out in her front yard after a camping trip (which aligns with all the tent care information in the comments). She also said that she has had similar conversations with this neighbor where what she is saying is bizarre and unsettling, but she says it with such conviction that you find it hard not to believe. She also understood my unease, saying the whole story reminded her of the Manson family and their creepy crawling (https://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/s/hNd6ZWZ5Ug ). Once she mentioned that possibility, it made me understand why I was feeling so anxious. I have read about the creepy crawling and the Manson family was a “boogie monster” for me growing up. For those worried about my cat’s wellbeing, thank you. She seems to be slowly coming back to herself. Right now, I’m putting her in the kitchen at night and she has a cozy little bed where she sleeps. So far, she hasn’t peed anywhere inside since I’ve started doing this, but I do wake up before six every morning to let her out, and she promptly uses the litter pan I have set up for her on the porch. I also started using the urinary health cat food from Royal Cain that someone suggested on another thread, and that’s seems to be working. Fingers crossed. Next steps: asking the landlords to change the locks To end on a lighter note, cat sitting neighbor also had a whimsical explanation (not to be taken seriously and just for fun) that I also thought I’d share: apparently there’s a Japanese folklore tradition of trickster raccoons who shapeshift and wreak havoc. She pointed out that it is raccoon season where we live (and in fact, I just saw a mother and her babies by my porch a couple of nights ago), and maybe they snuck in and pitched the tent just to mess with me. I mean….its as probable as anything else at this point. Final Update: My Neighbor Says They Saw a Tent in My Living Room: August 9, 2025 (3 days later) Second Update This update will probably be more than a little anticlimactic, and for that, I apologize. To the people who felt like this was much ado about nothing, I agree! But like I said before, it’s her continued insistence and certainty about this bizarre idea that niggles at me. So away we go! The boyfriend does indeed exist. I’ve met him and spoken with him several times. He seems older than her, and is quieter overall. He has stated that he’s a cat person and has engaged with my cat in the past. But I have not had the chance to talk to him separately to get his side of the story. The white tent was in the front yard of my other neighbor’s house and faces the opposite street, so a reflection is impossible. That being said, the older neighbor does keep brining it up and is convinced people were sleeping in it. I’ve spoken with the front yard neighbor, and she was airing out the tent after a camping trip…no on ever slept in it when it was in her yard. But I think a lot of folks in the comments are correct when they say the white tent unsettled the older neighbor, because she brought it up several times. I did loop in the landlord’s, but they seemed to also believe the older neighbor. She’s rented from them for at least 15 years (if not longer) and they told me that in the past she’s been very reliable and truthful. They seemed spooked by the whole story and offered to change the locks. I figure it can’t hurt, so I agreed. The landlords and I questioned the older neighbor pretty rigorously, and she stuck by her story, even as we all expressed incredulity. She reiterated that she saw a two person tent, blue and white, fully erected in my front living room. She said it was not a pop up tent or pup tent. She said she saw it on a Wednesday, because that’s the day her boyfriend takes her to lunch each week. She said it was up when he picked her up and down when he dropped her off. She got a little defensive as we probed, so people who warned that this could happen if we challenged her were spot on. She kept reiterating that it was a TENT and that she could SEE it quite clearly. She seems to want to pin it in my nephew (and the landlords seemed to be leaning that way too), which IS really frustrating: he’s a 25 year old man with his own home! He has no need to air a tent out in my tiny living room. And he doesn’t even camp! The cameras: I double checked every Wednesday for the last two months (that’s the limit for the stored videos). No tent. No people entering my house. No footage of her and her boyfriend staring into my house. That being said, there’s one Wednesday with no footage because the battery had died and I forgot to charge it, but I was home. There’s only one Wednesday that I went out of town, but I left after 4pm and returned in less than 24 hours. I still feel like this is pretty solid evidence of no tent, but I have to allow for the fact that the cameras were not fully operational. The cat is slowly getting better, though we had a setback today when she peed in the kitchen after the gardeners scared her. She is consistently using the litter pan I set up for her outside with no problem, she just refuses to use any litter pan anywhere inside. I have one in the kitchen, one by the front door, one in the pantry, and one in the bathroom. She will only use the one outside. I do think the calming food is helping since we’re down to just one accident (and it was on the puppy pads). I am keeping her in the kitchen at night and letting her out before 6am every day. Hopefully I can eventually get her to use her litter pan inside. “Raccoon Season:” I think my front neighbor used this phrase because it’s baby season right now. We have a mom and two kits that hang out in our property. If you’ve never seen a baby raccoon, you’re missing out. They are adorable! So like I said at the beginning, not much of a resolution. At this point, I just want to put the whole thing to rest. I’m changing the locks, so if there are mystery indoor campers (or mischievous raccoons) with a copy of my key, they’ll have to find another locale for their shenanigans. I’ll stop questioning the neighbor because she’s adamant and now it feels a little weird to keep harping on it. I’ll endeavor to be patient and kind to my cat so that she gets back to her old self. And that’s the end of the saga. I’m surprised by how much attention this all got (Reddit says almost 1.5 million people looked at the post and the update, that’s nuts!). Thanks everyone for all your comments, suggestions, insights and comic relief! Even the snarky comments made me laugh. REMINDER: I am not the original poster. Please do not comment on linked posts. submitted by /u/chinchillina to r/BestofRedditorUpdates [link] [comments]

This sweet kitty found his way to our front porch the first time just over 2 weeks ago. We have 2 indoor cats, so we are very cautious about keeping them healthy. My kids immediately feel in love with this sweetheart, who seemed starved for attention. My first suggestion was that they go around and ask neighbors if anyone is missing him. ... 4/5 neighbors didn't recognize the cat and the 5th didn't answer the door. The cat got spooked while at the 5th's house and disappeared in the darkness under a parked trailer. For 3 days & nights we checked every motion notification on our ring camera to see if he came back. Eventually I started to let go of the idea that he might come back... and then we spotted him crossing the other neighbor's yard as we returned from a grocery run. We allowed the kids to set up a safe shelter in our empty chicken coop so he wouldn't have to scavenge in the cold rainy weather. (We live in a rural area with big gaps between homes and farms, surrounded by forest, hills and close to a creek. ) The kitty was quite thin under all that fluffy fur and had huge trouble-puffs dangling and a few minor battle wounds behind the ears. He was ravenous and devoured a 5 Oz can of food in under 2 minutes. We gave him a cozy bed box with warm fleece and cushions, brought food and water out 4x per day, left the chicken hatch open so he could go outside to potty and not feel trapped. This went on for 3 days/ nights and we decided to get him scheduled to see our vet so we could hopefully add him to our family in the future. Once an appt was made, we moved him into our breezeway (fully enclosed space connecting the house to the detached garage), where he would be totally safe from predators, protected from the weather, and we wouldn't have to shovel snow to be able to visit with him. We have had to be very vigilant about making sure the kids wash after every visit and preventing our resident cats from getting out/ the new cat from getting in, but this space was the best we could offer until after neuter surgery and a clean bill of health. ... Well, the first appointment was yesterday, just before dinner. And at the appointment we got the devastating news that he tested positive for FIV. 😞 It stung. We were crushed. But we also very much love this little guy, now named Oliver. Even the vet looked devastated to give us the news. I asked what our options were. His response: 1) euthanize because he understands that it's difficult to justify to $350 neuter and future vet bills for a kitty that we don't intend to bring into our house; 2) take him to a shelter, knowing that his chances of being put down are ~99% due to limited resources and low adoption likelihood; 3) get him neutered/vetted and keep him as an outdoor-only cat so he at least won't add to the local cat population (not something we actually want because it's not safe for him or for the local birds); 4) foster him and try to find a suitable home ourselves, 5) integrate him with the acceptance that it will put our resident cats at risk if they ever get into a fight. 6) Keep him indoors, but in a totally separate part of the house (the basement) for the remainder of his life. We went ahead with the vaccines and kept the 8 Dec appointment for the neuter surgery. We are buying time to make decisions about Oliver's future. I feel like the vet, who was absolutely kind to us and our cats (he actually saw our resident cats earlier that same day for their annual exam & boosters), was being very pragmatic and realistic when explaining our options. But he did make it sound like if we chose to try and integrate Oliver, it was almost a guarantee that eventually the resident cats would end up with FIV, even if we are reasonally vigilant. I feel defeated. And heartbroken. Our other cats are 1.5 years old and very healthy and loved. I feel guilty admitting this next statement: they are far less affectionate, far more anxious/nervous, fairly independent and particular about how they want to be touched than Oliver. Oliver is a total cuddlebug, loves every kind of touch, loves every person, and was so chill at the vet office that he took a little nap on the floor while we waited for his test results - in other words - a dream cat companion. Adding him to the family would have really complimented the catness of our home - we would have had it all. I know this was long. I'm still coming to terms. But I am glad to have found a sub where I can read about others' experiences with FIV+ cats. I am hopeful that Oliver has a bright future ahead of him, whether it's with us or someone else. I came here to try and get a better understanding of what it's like to have a cat with FIV. What advice would you give to someone considering options 4-6? {Edited this post after realizing it somehow duplicated the text... All the original info is still here, but I deleted the unintentional duplicate.} submitted by /u/FeralHarmony to r/FIVcats [link] [comments]

As someone who spent months planning their first trip to Yellowstone via advice on this subreddit, I thought I'd share my thoughts on Yellowstone National Park lodging for those who are interested. Overall, we really enjoyed our stay in the Yellowstone Park lodging from August 14-18. We had considered some camping, but with only four nights in the park I knew we'd be on the go constantly and wanted a real bed to sleep in each night, bare minimum. I decided on the cheapest cabins in three different locations for the first three nights, plus our last night at Old Faithful Inn in their cheapest room. Yes, it's expensive and you pay a premium for staying inside the park. Honestly, I compared lodging options in both West Yellowstone and Gardiner, and lodging wasn't particularly cheap in those towns during August. Ultimately, I decided it was worth it for us to stay in a different location in the park each night. We wanted the opportunity to enjoy the park early in the morning or late at night without having to worry about a commute on either end. Keep in mind, this is all in spite of some pretty terrible reviews for lodging in the park from multiple travel sites. For reference, we were traveling as a solo couple, and we both tend to be pretty low maintenance travelers who don't bring an excessive amount of belongings with us. We each brought a bag with clothing and essentials, plus we packed a cooler along with a couple extra grocery bags of dry goods. The cooler and dry goods were kept in the trunk of our car, along with our small JetBoil setup and some camping dishes. I also had one bag with my journal, sketchbook suppies, and several history and travel books about Yellowstone. Our lodging included these places in order of stay: Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel Cabins, Lake Lodge Cabins, Roosevelt Lodge Cabins, and Old Faithful Inn. MAMMOTH HOT SPRINGS HOTEL CABINS: This was $180/night after tax for the "Cabin without Bath". Admittedly, a high price for shared bathroom accomodations. However, this was by far our largest cabin of the stay, was really nicely appointed with a comfortable queen bed, shared no walls with other cabins, and had a big front porch with seating. The cabin, linens, and bedding were all very clean and tidy. No cabin is too far from the shared bathrooms, which I also found to be clean and nicely maintained. Like all of our accomodations, there was no AC, but temperatures cool so quickly here at night that it wasn't an issue for us. There was an electric fan in the room, which we used in conjunction with open windows. It also had a desk and chair, which is something I always appreciate because I like to sketch and journal about my sightseeing adventures at night. The decor was tasteful and a historic photo of the Roosevelt Arch hung above our bed. The folks at the registration desk were friendly and helpful. We never waited at check in and the process was quick; we found that to be true at all the places we stayed here. The Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel common areas are nice and they have some fun history exhibits and an old stagecoach on display out front. The Art Deco influence on the hotel and cabins is apparent with clean lines and minimalist elegance. As a history buff, I also loved the Albright Visitors Center nearby and highly recommend it if you're interested in Yellowstone history. The gift shop here is also quite good...they have things I saw nowhere else in the park. We loved the location, as Mammoth is a very walkable area. It was nice to be able to be so close to the Mammoth Hot Springs boardwalks and explore them after the crowds left. We cooked dinner on our big front porch and watched the elk roam freely in the cabin area. We're from Oregon and used to seeing elk, but it was really fun to see them in such close proximity in the town. I watched the sun sink behind the Hot Springs terraces as I was quietly reading on the porch...a really idyllic way to begin our Yellowstone adventure! I would definitely stay here again in the exact same accomodations. I hear a lot of people aren't as impressed with the Mammoth area, but we really liked it and I'd love more time to explore and enjoy it. Although expensive, it was one of our two most comfortable stays on the trip. LAKE LODGE CABINS We got the "Pioneer Cabin" at $151/night after tax. This was our least favorite stay in the park and the only one I would term as "disappointing". Unlike our cabin at Mammoth, this cabin did have a bathroom with a small shower included (no shared bathrooms). It also had a heater, but no electric fan included here. Instead of a queen bed, this cabin had a double. We checked in at the Lake Lodge registration desk. The main lodge area itself it beautiful and, compared to Mammoth's Art Deco elegance, has that rustic lodge architecture I was really looking forward to experiencing in Yellowstone. It has a small gift shop I browsed briefly, and a cafe we never tried. The historical photo displays are something fun to look at, but mostly it's just fun to sit in the lobby and enjoy the ambiance or enjoy sitting on the front porch lined with chairs. I wish our little cabin hadn't been so sad. Don't get me wrong: it was absolutely clean and had fresh linens and bedding like every other cabin we stayed in. But these cabins have obviously been neglected, which gives the whole thing a sort of shabby summer camp feel. Not dirty, but just run down and tired with aging infrastructure. Although not as spacious as our previous cabin, I will say that we again still had plenty of room to bring everything we needed inside. Know that you will share walls with other cabins. This would not always be a deal breaker for us, but those walls are super thin and we could hear every screech and door slam from the kids next door. Also, we had no big, beautiful front porch here to cook on. We cooked dinner on the tiny steps to our cabin door and ate inside. We considered trying to find a picnic area, but we were tired and didn't want to make the effort. The bathroom was tiny and there was paint peeling in the shower. Being spoiled with a king sized bed at home, the double bed felt incredibly cramped. That's my fault for underestimating how small a double bed would feel, as we knew the bed size going in. We woke up the next day and pretty much immediately checked out and drove north to see the sights and on to our next destination, so we sadly didn't spend much time around Lake Yellowstone, except for exploring the West Thumb geyser basin earlier in the day (which we loved). Neither of us had slept well the night at Lake, probably partly due to noise from the next cabin and partly due to the adjustment to a double bed. If I make a return trip to Yellowstone, I would likely look into nicer cabins at Lake Lodge or splurge for a cabin at Lake Yellowstone Hotel, because I really regret not spending more time in this area of the park and would prioritize it on a return trip. I would not stay in a Pioneer Cabin again. In retrospect, the $30 extra for the cabin at Mammoth was worth it for the large space with desk, queen bed, big covered porch, and no shared walls with other cabins. ROOSEVELT LODGE AND CABINS & ROOSEVELT LODGE DINING ROOM We stayed in a "Roughrider Cabin" at Roosevelt, for which we paid $150/night after taxes (same price as our cabin at Lake Lodge). We knew going in that this was going to be a more rustic experience, as each cabin comes equipped with a little wood stove. We also knew that it only had a double bed, which we weren't looking forward to after the experience at Lake Lodge the night before. As with our cabin at Mammoth, we would have shared bathrooms. But, unlike our Lake cabin, this was a stand-alone with no shared walls. Roosevelt Lodge outpost appeared to us after descending the vistas of Tower and Dunraven Pass (which I feel like driving the mountains and coast of Oregon prepared me for my entire life). The lodge here is much more understated than any of the others we stayed, but seemed appropriate to the Old West ranch theme. It still has a charm about it and gives one a sense of place. The little mercantile there sells souvenirs and snacks was a fun stop on the way to check in. In particular, this shop has some unique Lamar Valley focused items. The cabins are relatively small but, again, we had more than enough room for the things we wanted to bring in. I was thrilled to see a desk in the room again here, as in Mammoth. The electric fan was also appreciated. The cabin itself and decor was absolutely perfect and really gave us the atmosphere we were looking forward to here. Tidy and clean as always. Other things we appreciated were the electric fan and bedside lamp with a USB charging port for my phone. The shared bathrooms were not far away and in good shape; there is a heater in them to keep them comfortable as temps drop overnight. The front porch here was better than the steps at Lake Lodge, but nothing as good as our big covered porch at Mammoth. We opted to have an early dinner at Roosevelt Lodge Dining Room before heading out to Lamar Valley for an evening wildlife spotting session. They weren't very busy at 5:30 on a Saturday, and we were seated immediately and food came out quick. Service was prompt and our server had a good balance of being attentive while not being intrusive. I had the bison chili, which came in a large bowl and was quite tasty. The cornbread muffins served with it were terrible and way too sweet. My boyfriend had the bison burger with fries which he termed "pretty good" and the fries "okay". He noted that the bison meat was noticeably leaner. Having read horror stories about the food in the park, I was pleasantly surprised. Although we didn't order complex dishes, the food wasn't bland and didn't seem like the "cafeteria food" I've seen mentioned so often. A couple things to note here. Although there are no shared walls with other cabins, these 100 year old cabins still have thin walls and no insulation. We could hear people talking as they walked by sometimes, but it didn't prove the noise issue that the cabin at Lake Lodge did. Actually, the whole place got blissfully quiet later in the evening and posed no threat to our sleep. We loved the little wood stove we had, and it made the cabin feel so cozy! The only mistake I made was underestimating how long presto logs burn, because we normally only use wood for camping. Definitely ask for more presto logs at the lodge before you settle in for the night, because we ran out and it was chilly in the morning! They burn much quicker and not as hot as actual wood. Even in spite of another cramped double bed situation and the chilly morning after the fire died, we somehow both slept much better at Roosevelt than we did Lake. And we both really enjoyed the experience of lightly "roughing it" coupled with the frontier atmosphere. It also provided great access to Lamar Valley, which we drove twice during our time there and sighted loads of bison, a grizzly bear, and many other critters. Our stay at Roosevelt was memorable and enjoyable. If we returned, I would upgrade to something with a bigger bed, and get extra presto logs if we had a wood stove again. OLD FAITHFUL INN & OLD FAITHFUL INN DINING ROOM As a child, I saw pictures of Old Faithful Inn and marveled that something like that existed...a sort of indoor treehouse fort of magnificent scale. That child grew into a woman who is enchanted with art, architecture, and history. I fulfilled a longtime wish by booking their cheapest room, being the "Old House Room without Bath" at a price point of $230/night after tax. Ladies and gentlemen, this is the most expensive hotel room I've ever paid for. And it didn't even have a bathroom. And I would do it all over again. Let me explain. The rooms in the "Old House" are the original rooms, not rooms added later in the new wings. I wanted as much history as possible, and this was where it was at. Our room was small, but again enough room to bring in our essentials and move around comfortably. The wood interiors are just gorgeous and the room was tastefully decorated in a sort of rustic-elegant manner. The walls and door seemed thick (the doors are massively heavy) and we had zero issues with noise from the hallway or other rooms. We were just an little ways down a hallway on the second level mezzanine area with the bathrooms being just diagonal from us further down. The tiled bathrooms were very clean and I never had to wait, despite how busy this place is. Our window overlooked the front entrance to the lodge and it was really fun to people watch from there. The lobby is breathtaking and no photos can do it justice. Shortly after I walked in, I looked up at started to get a little teary eyed. It was everything I ever dreamed it would be and more. It felt like walking into history. My boyfriend isn't even into that kind of thing, but he admitted he was awestruck by the place. We watched Old Faithful erupt from the huge deck that overlooks the front of the inn. In the evening, before dinner, we absolutely adored just sitting on the second level of the lobby that is lined with chairs, listening to live piano and violin music with other guests from all over the nation and the world. After my boyfriend went to bed, I took advantage of the relative quiet off the upper lobby later at night and used one of the antique writing desks to journal and write postcards. These little things felt like walking in the footsteps of generations before me and I cherished that unique communion with history. And, if you're a history or architecture nerd like me, you simply must do the tour of the inn that is offered several times a day. I've read much more than your average person about the inn, but I still learned new things. In keeping with the idea of the "big splurge" as the finale to our Yellowstone experience, we had dinner at the Old Faithful Inn Dining Room. Again, this was in spite of terrible reviews that the dining facilities inside the park seem to garner. We were seated in the newer addition to the dining room, which was slightly disappointing to the history purist in me, but it was still nice. Service was good and the wait for food wasn't terribly long at all. Neither of us enjoy trying to binge eat to get our money's worth out of a buffet, so we opted for entrees. I had the Chicken Sous Vide, and my boyfriend had the Shrimp and Grits. We were both very happy! My boyfriend can be a bit critical when dining out, and he really enjoyed his meal. Similarly, everything on my plate was executed well and plated nicely and tasted delicious. The grilled broccolini was outstanding. Portions were enough to leave us feeling satisfied. The sauces used in both meals were really flavorful and balanced. We left feeling very good about our experience there, and delightfully surprised given things I had previously heard. On a broader note, the entire area surrounding Old Faithful was the most insanely busy of our whole trip. I knew it would be that way and adjusted expectations accordingly. The parking lot was a nightmare, but once we did park and get unloaded, we were able to explore the whole of the Old Faithful area very easily on foot. I found the Old Faithful visitor center here less engaging and more sterile feeling than the one at Mammoth, but it's still worth a visit. Hamilton's General Store is worth a stop if only to experience this historic building meant to compliment the aesthetic of the inn next door. As far as shopping goes, the gift shop inside Old Faithful Inn is the better of the two and has a small art gallery area in addition to the standard souvenirs. We really enjoyed doing the boardwalks first thing in the morning, before the big crowds started arriving from elsewhere, given how crazy the area can get later on the day. We saw Old Faithful erupt from four different vantage points, as well as eruptions of both Beehive and Castle geysers. This was by far the best luck we had in seeing multiple geysers go off in one area during our trip. I would absolutely stay in the same accomodations at Old Faithful Inn if we go again; we loved the charm and history of the Old House room, and we didn't need anything bigger or fancier. More importantly, we just loved soaking in the splendor of the inn and the grounds, especially during quieter times. Yes, it's stupidly expensive, but it felt like the perfect culmination of our Yellowstone experience. It was the vacation of a lifetime. Summary: We came in at $932 for four nights of park lodging, including a big splurge for an Old Faithful room. We loved our stays at Mammoth Hot Springs Hotel Cabins, Roosevelt Lodge Cabins, and Old Faithful Inn. The Pioneer Cabins at Lake Lodge Cabins were our only disappointment, especially compared with other lodging we experienced. If you're used to a king sized bed at home, take the time to consider just how much smaller a double bed really is and factor that into your decision when booking lodging. Be sure to read the descriptions and understand the different amenities (or lack thereof), and adjust your expectations accordingly. Expect to pay more for minimal accomodations than you want to, but take into account the ease of hitting popular spots without the crowds and early morning wildlife watching. Also, our two dining experiences in the park were better than expected based on hearing reviews from others. If people find this helpful, I would gladly post our itinerary from our stay with reflections on how we spent our time and what we might do differently. We drove every part of the full Grand Loop figure 8, including some parts twice. We also drove two entrance roads twice and three of the scenic drives. We saw all of the major sights, and many of the more minor ones, along with some really great animal sightings. Yellowstone was so good to us! submitted by /u/TikiKat4 to r/yellowstone [link] [comments]

[Second Update Below] [link to original post] https://www.reddit.com/r/RBI/s/ggzmHiiy91 So I spoke to all my neighbors again today. The neighbor who saw the tent is still adamant that’s what she saw. She said she and her boyfriend saw it around lunchtime and he confirmed. They said the tent was up when they went to lunch, and down by the time they came back. When I told her my cameras didn’t catch anything, she was unbothered. When I suggested that maybe she saw something else, she said, “it was not my imagination. I saw a tent from right here,” and the she stood on the walkway and pointed into my house. She seems to think someone might have a copy of my key and is accessing my house whenever I’m out of town. She thinks someone sabotaged both cameras and mentioned “black suits that aren’t picked up by security cameras” as a reason the tent sector wasn’t caught. She also mentioned that my other neighbor (the one who checked on my cat) had a large white tent in her yard a few months back. I saw that tent and can verify it existed. But this neighbor said that is not the tent she saw in my house. I rechecked all the camera footage one more time. There are no unaccounted for gaps. In fact, there are several snippets of the cat chilling in the living room looking completely unconcerned before and after the cat sitters came into the house. It’s actually making me rethink the timeline of when she got spooked. I rechecked the attic access and it hasn’t been touched. I also work from home, so it would be hard for someone squatting in the attic to go unnoticed. I also took the advice here to check internet data and electricity usage. Both weee way down on the days I was gone. My gas bill was smaller as well. But if the tent was only up for an hour, that makes sense. So then I spoke with cat sitting neighbor. She confirmed the existence of her white tent and explained that she was airing it out in her front yard after a camping trip (which aligns with all the tent care information in the comments). She also said that she has had similar conversations with this neighbor where what she is saying is bizarre and unsettling, but she says it with such conviction that you find it hard not to believe. She also understood my unease, saying the whole story reminded her of the Manson family and their creepy crawling (https://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/s/hNd6ZWZ5Ug ). Once she mentioned that possibility, it made me understand why I was feeling so anxious. I have read about the creepy crawling and the Manson family was a “boogie monster” for me growing up. For those worried about my cat’s wellbeing, thank you. She seems to be slowly coming back to herself. Right now, I’m putting her in the kitchen at night and she has a cozy little bed where she sleeps. So far, she hasn’t peed anywhere inside since I’ve started doing this, but I do wake up before six every morning to let her out, and she promptly uses the litter pan I have set up for her on the porch. I also started using the urinary health cat food from Royal Cain that someone suggested on another thread, and that’s seems to be working. Fingers crossed. Next steps: asking the landlords to change the locks. To end on a lighter note, cat sitting neighbor also had a whimsical explanation (not to be taken seriously and just for fun) that I also thought I’d share: apparently there’s a Japanese folklore tradition of trickster raccoons who shapeshift and wreak havoc. She pointed out that it is raccoon season where we live (and in fact, I just saw a mother and her babies by my porch a couple of nights ago), and maybe they snuck in and pitched the tent just to mess with me. I mean….its as probable as anything else at this point. UPDATE #2 This update will probably be more than a little anticlimactic, and for that, I apologize. To the people who felt like this was much ado about nothing, I agree! But like I said before, it’s her continued insistence and certainty about this bizarre idea that niggles at me. So here we go. 1. The boyfriend does indeed exist. I’ve met him and spoken with him several times. He seems older than her, and is quieter overall. He has stated that he’s a cat person and has engaged with my cat in the past. But I have not had the chance to talk to him separately to get his side of the story. 2. The white tent was in the front yard of my other neighbor’s house and faces the opposite street, so a reflection is impossible. That being said, the older neighbor does keep brining it up and is convinced people were sleeping in it. I’ve spoken with the front yard neighbor, and she was airing out the tent after a camping trip…no on ever slept in it when it was in her yard. But I think a lot of folks in the comments are correct when they say the white tent unsettled the older neighbor, because she brought it up several times. 3. I did loop in the landlord’s, but they seemed to also believe the older neighbor. She’s rented from them for at least 15 years (if not longer) and they told me that in the past she’s been very reliable and truthful. They seemed spooked by the whole story and offered to change the locks. I figure it can’t hurt, so I agreed. 4. The landlords and I questioned the older neighbor pretty rigorously, and she stuck by her story, even as we all expressed incredulity. She reiterated that she saw a two person tent, blue and white, fully erected in my front living room. She said it was not a pop up tent or pup tent. She said she saw it on a Wednesday, because that’s the day her boyfriend takes her to lunch each week. She said it was up when he picked her up and down when he dropped her off. She got a little defensive as we probed, so people who warned that this could happen if we challenged her were spot on. She kept reiterating that it was a TENT and that she could SEE it quite clearly. She seems to want to pin it in my nephew (and the landlords seemed to be leaning that way too), which IS really frustrating: he’s a 25 year old man with his own home! He has no need to air a tent out in my tiny living room. And he doesn’t even camp! 5. The cameras: I double checked every Wednesday for the last two months (that’s the limit for the stored videos). No tent. No people entering my house. No footage of her and her boyfriend staring into my house. That being said. There’s one Wednesday with no footage because the battery had died and I forgot to charge it, but I was home. There’s only one Wednesday that I went out of town, but I left after 4pm and returned in less than 24 hours. I still feel like this is pretty solid evidence of no tent, but I have to allow for the fact that the cameras were not fully operational. 6. The cat is slowly getting better, though we had a setback today when she peed in the kitchen after the gardeners scared her. She is consistently using the litter pan I set up for her outside with no problem, she just refuses to use any litter pan anywhere inside. I have one in the kitchen, one by the front door, one in the pantry, and one in the bathroom. She will only use the one outside. I do think the calming food is helping since we’re down to just one accident (and it was on the puppy pads). I am keeping her in the kitchen at night and letting her out before 6am every day. Hopefully I can eventually get her to use her litter pan inside. 7. “Raccoon Season:” I think my front neighbor used this phrase because it’s baby season right now. We have a mom and two kits that hang out in our property. If you e never seen a baby raccoon, you’re missing out. They are adorable! So like I said at the beginning, not much of a resolution. At this point, I just want to put the whole thing to rest. I’m changing the locks, so if there are mystery indoor campers (or mischievous raccoons) with a copy of my key, they’ll have to find another locale for their shenanigans. I’ll stop questioning the neighbor because she’s adamant and now it feels a little weird to keep harping on it. I’ll endeavor to be patient and kind to my cat so that she gets back to her old self. And that’s the end of the saga. I’m surprised by how much attention this all got (Reddit says almost 1.5 million people looked at the post and the update, that’s nuts!). Thanks everyone for all your comments, suggestions, insights and comic relief! Even the snarky comments made me laugh. submitted by /u/TheNextMrsDraper to r/RBI [link] [comments]

[UPDATE BELOW] [Second Update added ] I honestly don’t know what to make of this. The simplest answer is that my neighbor is lying, but why? Here’s what happened. This morning, my neighbor knocked on my door and told me that while I was out of town earlier this month, they noticed my front door was open and that a “very nice, blue and brown, two-person tent” had been pitched in the middle of my living room. They said they thought it was a little odd and that’s why they mentioned it. I was on vacation over the the 4th or July, and my nephew and another neighbor both fed my cat while I was gone. Neither are the type to pitch a tent in my living room (though, to be honest, I’m not sure who would do such a thing). Nevertheless, I asked them about the tent and neither knew anything about it. I also don’t have anything that’s blue and brown and could be mistaken for a tent (my living room is mostly black and white). I also don’t own a tent. I’m not a camper. Nobody has a set of keys to my house. I have an Arlo camera by my front door, and I set one up in my living room while I was gone so that I could periodically check in on the cat (I’m a little neurotic about her because she very old). I checked all the footage going back to June 4 (because my neighbor couldn’t say for certain when exactly they saw this tent). Needless to say, there’s nothing captured by either camera. Unfortunately, the cameras do sometimes fail to capture everything. I’d say they have a 10-20% fail rate when it come to turning in when there’s movement. So there’s a slight possibility someone could’ve entered my house, pitched a tent, taken it down and left, and the cameras wouldn’t have caught any of it. But I feel like it’s a pretty slim chance that neither would’ve been triggered. To add to all of this, my cat has been acting super strange ever since I came back. She’s very nervous, refuses to go anywhere near the back part of the house, and is not using her litter box. So something did weird her out. So Reddit, any ideas? If my neighbor is lying (which is the most plausible), why? They’ve never lied before and always seemed like a reliable narrator. They also said their boyfriend saw it too and mentioned how weird it was. Is there any scenario where it makes sense for someone to break in and pitch a tent but also leave the door open so anyone can see?? Is it a glitch in the matrix? Is she somehow suffering from carbon monoxide poisoning? Am I?😆 ( Thankfully, the Arlo camera outside did capture part of our conversation, so I didn’t completely imagine it). It’s just so fucking bizarre! I’m just at a complete loss. The whole thing has left me feeling unsettled. Edit: Thanks to everyone who’s commented so far. To answer a some questions that seem to have come up: I took the cat to the vet and she got a clean bill of health. I’m trying some behavioral solutions (multiple litter pans, special cat food for urine health, calming cat treats, calming spray, felaway plug in, etc.). It’s been hard, but I’m committed to helping her get through this. The neighbor and her boyfriend are both older (I think in their late 60s) and we live on the same property, so she has to walk by my front door to get to the street. I’d say from the walkway to my front door is less than five feet, so she has a pretty good view of my living room. I agree with those who said her timing is strange (why mention it weeks later), but I had recently talked to her about my cat.’s behavior, so I think she mentioned it as a possible reason for the cat’s behavior. She did say, “maybe in the future you should let me know you’ll be out of town so I can keep an eye out for you.” At the time is sounded like a normal thing to say, but if she’s lying, then maybe it’s because she wants to know when I’m gone? My nephew is in his mid-twenties and very responsible. He owns his own home and works long days. Neither he nor his brother are campers and, as far as I know, don’t own any tents. The camera outside captured him entering and exiting all three days and he was in the house for less than five minutes. Same with the other neighbor who fed the cat. She came over three times, all for less than five minutes. Neither was aware of the where the was camera inside (but they knew I had one so I could check the cat). The camera also caught the cat chilling out in the house and all three days she was acting normally. TIL about “frogging” (or phrogging), lol. There is a crawl space under the house, but you can’t access it from inside. There’s probably a two- foot high crawl space in the ceiling that you can access from the closet in my bedroom, but I have a bunch of boxes and suitcases shoved up against the opening, and I don’t see how someone could put them back if they’d crawled back in. I will say that the more I ruminate on it, the creepier it seems. UPDATE So I spoke to all my neighbors again today. The neighbor who saw the tent is still adamant that’s what she saw. She said she and her boyfriend saw it around lunchtime and he confirmed. They said the tent was up when they went to lunch, and down by the time they came back. When I told her my cameras didn’t catch anything, she was unbothered. When suggested that maybe she saw something else, she said, “it was not my imagination. I saw a tent from right here,” and the she stood on the walkway and pointed into my house. She seems to think someone might have a copy of my key and is accessing my house whenever I’m out of town. She thinks someone sabotaged both cameras and mentioned “black suits that aren’t picked up by security cameras” as a reason the tent sector wasn’t caught. She also mentioned that my other neighbor (the one who checked on my cat) had a large white tent in her yard a few months back. I saw that tent and can verify it existed. But this neighbor said that is not the tent she saw in my house. I rechecked all the camera footage one more time. There are no unaccounted for gaps. In fact, there are several snippets of the cat chilling in the living room looking completely unconcerned before and after the cat sitters came into the house. It’s actually making me rethink the timeline of when she got spooked. I rechecked the attic access and it hasn’t been touched. I also work from home, so it would be hard for someone squatting in the attic to go unnoticed. I also took the advice here to check internet data and electricity usage. Both weee way down on the days I was gone. My gas bill was smaller as well. But if the tent was only up for an hour, that makes sense. So then I spoke with cat sitting neighbor. She confirmed the existence of her white tent and explained that she was airing it out in her front yard after a camping trip (which aligns with all the tent care information in the comments). She also said that she has had similar conversations with this neighbor where what she is saying is bizarre and unsettling, but she says it with such conviction that you find it hard not to believe. She also understood my unease, saying the whole story reminded her of the Manson family and their creepy crawling (https://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/s/hNd6ZWZ5Ug ). Once she mentioned that possibility, it made me understand why I was feeling so anxious. I have read about the creepy crawling and the Manson family was a “boogie monster” for me growing up. For those worried about my cat’s wellbeing, thank you. She seems to be slowly coming back to herself. Right now, I’m putting her in the kitchen at night and she has a cozy little bed where she sleeps. So far, she hasn’t peed anywhere inside since I’ve started doing this, but I do wake up before six every morning to let her out, and she promptly uses the litter pan I have set up for her on the porch. I also started using the urinary health cat food from Royal Cain that someone suggested on another thread, and that’s seems to be working. Fingers crossed. To end on a lighter note, cat sitting neighbor also had a whimsical explanation (not to be taken seriously and just for fun) that I also thought I’d share: apparently there’s a Japanese folklore tradition of trickster raccoons who shapeshift and wreak havoc. She pointed out that it is raccoon season where we live (and in fact, I just saw a mother and her babies by my porch a couple of nights ago), and maybe they snuck in and pitched the tent just to mess with me. I mean….its as probable as anything else at this point. Next steps: asking the landlords to change the locks. SECOND UPDATE This update will probably be more than a little anticlimactic, and for that, I apologize. To the people who felt like this was much ado about nothing, I agree! But like I said before, it’s her continued insistence and certainty about this bizarre idea that niggles at me. So here we go. 1. The boyfriend does indeed exist. I’ve met him and spoken with him several times. He seems older than her, and is quieter overall. He has stated that he’s a cat person and has engaged with my cat in the past. But I have not had the chance to talk to him separately to get his side of the story. 2. The white tent was in the front yard of my other neighbor’s house and faces the opposite street, so a reflection is impossible. That being said, the older neighbor does keep brining it up and is convinced people were sleeping in it. I’ve spoken with the front yard neighbor, and she was airing out the tent after a camping trip…no on ever slept in it when it was in her yard. But I think a lot of folks in the comments are correct when they say the white tent unsettled the older neighbor, because she brought it up several times. 3. I did loop in the landlord’s, but they seemed to also believe the older neighbor. She’s rented from them for at least 15 years (if not longer) and they told me that in the past she’s been very reliable and truthful. They seemed spooked by the whole story and offered to change the locks. I figure it can’t hurt, so I agreed. 4. The landlords and I questioned the older neighbor pretty rigorously, and she stuck by her story, even as we all expressed incredulity. She reiterated that she saw a two person tent, blue and white, fully erected in my front living room. She said it was not a pop up tent or pup tent. She said she saw it on a Wednesday, because that’s the day her boyfriend takes her to lunch each week. She said it was up when he picked her up and down when he dropped her off. She got a little defensive as we probed, so people who warned that this could happen if we challenged her were spot on. She kept reiterating that it was a TENT and that she could SEE it quite clearly. She seems to want to pin it in my nephew (and the landlords seemed to be leaning that way too), which IS really frustrating: he’s a 25 year old man with his own home! He has no need to air a tent out in my tiny living room. And he doesn’t even camp! 5. The cameras: I double checked every Wednesday for the last two months (that’s the limit for the stored videos). No tent. No people entering my house. No footage of her and her boyfriend staring into my house. That being said. There’s one Wednesday with no footage because the battery had died and I forgot to charge it, but I was home. There’s only one Wednesday that I went out of town, but I left after 4pm and returned in less than 24 hours. I still feel like this is pretty solid evidence of no tent, but I have to allow for the fact that the cameras were not fully operational. 6. The cat is slowly getting better, though we had a setback today when she peed in the kitchen after the gardeners scared her. She is consistently using the litter pan I set up for her outside with no problem, she just refuses to use any litter pan anywhere inside. I have one in the kitchen, one by the front door, one in the pantry, and one in the bathroom. She will only use the one outside. I do think the calming food is helping since we’re down to just one accident (and it was on the puppy pads). I am keeping her in the kitchen at night and letting her out before 6am every day. Hopefully I can eventually get her to use her litter pan inside. 7. “Raccoon Season:” I think my front neighbor used this phrase because it’s baby season right now. We have a mom and two kits that hang out in our property. If you e never seen a baby raccoon, you’re missing out. They are adorable! So like I said at the beginning, not much of a resolution. At this point, I just want to put the whole thing to rest. I’m changing the locks, so if there are mystery indoor campers (or mischievous raccoons) with a copy of my key, they’ll have to find another locale for their shenanigans. I’ll stop questioning the neighbor because she’s adamant and now it feels a little weird to keep harping on it. I’ll endeavor to be patient and kind to my cat so that she gets back to her old self. And that’s the end of the saga. I’m surprised by how much attention this all got (Reddit says almost 1.5 million people looked at the post and the update, that’s nuts!). Thanks everyone for all your comments, suggestions, insights and comic relief! Even the snarky comments made me laugh. submitted by /u/TheNextMrsDraper to r/RBI [link] [comments]

"That's my childhood home." I wasn't turning down the street I grew up on. I wasn't standing near the large oak in the front yard of the house where I'd lost all my baby teeth. I wasn't sitting inside the kitchen, where, on my fifteenth birthday, I accidentally dropped the cake my mom had baked, which made my family laugh so hard that we shed tears. No. I was holding an oil painting at a Goodwill on the other side of the country. "That can't be possible," my husband said. "It can be possible, Parker, because I'm holding the flipping painting and telling you." "One, language. Two, can I say something without you jumping down my throat?" Parker asked, his voice even. "Yes," I said. "Is there an outside chance that this just looks like your childhood home? I mean, you grew up in the burbs. A lot of cookie-cutter homes, no?" I hated to admit he had a point. But as I stared at the house, I couldn't come around to that line of thinking. This was my house. Hell, the roses in the flower beds were the same size and color as I remembered them. "No. I mean, I hear you and you're not off base. But, dude, this is my house." I pointed at the porch. "I broke that railing trying to do a ballet spin and fell into the bushes." "You? Miss Two Left Feet? Senorita Trips-a-lot? Tried to do a ballet spin?" "To be fair, I did the spin. I just didn't stick the landing." "A minor detail in the world of dance. The landing part." "I landed…on the bushes right here," I said, pointing to the painting. "Hold on, I have to send a photo to my mom." "Does she have old house photos?" "Of course she does. You've met her, right?" I had Parker hold the painting and snapped a few pictures. I sent them over to Mom and asked if she had a photo to compare it to. The message came back a minute later. "OMG! That's our house! Weird." Another ding brought us a house photo. It looked exactly like the artwork in my hand. I showed Parker. "Christ," he said. "That's it." "Told you." "That's wild. Is it a print or a real painting?" I ran my hand across the art. There was a palpable texture to the brush strokes. Sometimes, a print may have varnish applied to give the impression of brushstrokes. This wasn't that. "I think this is real, but let me check something else," I said, walking toward the wall of ugly lamps. I turned on a lamp and held the painting in front of the bulb. Some artists will draw the picture first in pencil before painting. Sometimes, you can see those marks when you hold it up to the light. Staring at the oak tree in the painting, I saw graphite streaks underneath. "It's real," I declared. "Who painted it?" A slash of red paint in the corner mimicked a signature, but Parker and I stared at it as if it were written in Minoan Linear A. Parker traced the paint with his finger. Forwards and backwards. "The first name may be George or Jeff? I think George. Look at how it flows." He retraced the letters, and it made sense to me. "Okay, what's the last name?" "Hell if I know." I tried Parker's finger tracing. It felt like I was tracing a line drawing by someone with too much caffeine in their system. These didn't seem like actual letters. "Might be Moffit," a soft voice said from behind us. We turned and saw that a Goodwill employee had materialized. She was a short, frail-looking elderly woman with a hairstyle that resembled a well-constructed cumulus cloud in both color and shape. "Moffit?" I said. "I think that's an 'm'," she said, pointing to two humps. "Then it kind of circles into an 'o' and the double fs. The 'I' and the 't' are somewhat stylized, I think. Artists being artists." I looked and, yeah, it kinda looked like Moffit. "I can see it. George Moffit, you think?" "I do. Beautiful piece. Don't you think?" "Yes," I said. "It looks exactly like the house I grew up in." I showed her the photo my mom sent. "How strange!" "Right? I grew up across the country. Why is this even here?" "When I was younger, there was a company that would paint your home for you." "Painters?" Parker deadpanned. "Ignore him," I said. "He doesn't know how to act in public." She laughed. "I understand. I have one just like him at home. That's why he's at home." I laughed. "You're teaching and I'm taking notes, ma'am." "Anyway, they would come paint portraits of your house. It was a thing for a few years. This looks like one of those. There may be a company name on the back, under the frame." I flipped the painting over and gingerly removed the frame. Sure enough, there was a small, faded sticker that read "Cozy Home Portraits Company." There wasn't any other information. I made an impressed noise. "Look at that. Have a jumping off point to find out what this is all about. Thank you so much…." "Marge." "Marge, thank you. Sorry again for this guy." "Marge, please forgive me. You're a gentlewoman and a scholar." Marge leaned into him and nodded at me. "You're punching above your weight with her, kiddo. Keep her happy." Parker laughed, wrapped his arm around my hip, and pulled me in for a hug. "Marge, that's the best advice I've ever received from a Goodwill employee." "If only your barber had given you good advice. You could've avoided that haircut." I burst out laughing. Parker did too. "Marge, I hope to grow up to be just like you." "You found a guy who can take a joke. That's a start. You guys wanna get that or still debating?" I looked at Parker, and he nodded. "How can we not get this? Even if it's just for the story." Marge smiled. "See, you can learn. Come on, kids. I'll ring you up." When I got home, I immediately began researching the Cozy Home Portraits Company. I had a hard time finding anything. Most of the search results were links to people on Reddit asking the same questions. Apparently, there were a lot of folks like me who were surprised to find their childhood homes immortalized on canvas. One commenter said something that stuck with me. "Parker, listen to this," I said, reading the post. "My mom says she remembers someone approaching her and asking if they could take a photo so they could paint the house later. She told them no at first, but they said they'd do it for no cost. Mom agreed and assumed she'd get the painting at some point, but she never heard from the company again." "What's the next commenter say?" "This sounds fake," I read. "Kind of a dickish response, no?" "It's Reddit," he said, shrugging. "Maybe they just used the houses for inspiration and sold the paintings to commercial houses for reproductions?" "Then why bother involving the homeowners at all?" "Maybe to assuage their worries of someone standing outside their home snapping photos of their house?" Parker suggested. "I mean, anyone could take a photo of our house, and I'd have no idea unless I saw them do it." "True. It's weird, I'll grant you, but I think I'm on the right track. Commercial art. Americana stuff. That was to be it." He may have been onto something, but that answer didn't feel right. I couldn't work out the logic. If this company had been around for a while and painted portraits of homes all across the country for commercial sale, why wasn't there any record of them? No stories online. No official business records. No known CEO or lists of artists or anyone. Hell, even searching for the name George Moffit didn't yield results. My mind told me there was something off about this. A sense of dread loomed over the whole thing. I let it marinate all day to see if I'd reconsider. Shocking no one, I didn't. I told Parker as much as we got ready for bed. "You're reacting that way because of what's happening in the world right now," Parker said, yawning. "There are real evil people out there, but they aren't painting pictures." "Hitler painted pictures," I said. He gave me a deadpan stare. "You know what I mean." "I just can't let it go. It's odd. Odd that it was done at all. Odd that it traveled all the way out here. Odd that I found it. Odd stacked on odd stack on odd." "Turtles all the way down." "What?" I said, crinkling up my face. "What do turtles have to do with anything?" He laughed. "Nothing. Just a dumb expression." He yawned again. "Why is this bothering you so much?" "Some random company painted and sold pictures of my childhood house with no one knowing about it. It's…." "Odd," he said with a smile. "Very. It's just not sitting right with me." Parker yawned for a third time. "My melatonin is kicking in here. Get some rest and see how you feel in the morning. Maybe call your mom, see if she has a story to tell. She might know something." He didn't wait for my response. Instead, he rolled over, shut off the lamp, and turned on our sound machine. As digital thunderstorms rolled into our bedroom, I lay down on my pillows but didn't fall asleep. This whole thing smothered my thoughts as much as my weighted blanket did my body. I would call Mom tomorrow. See what she knew. If anything. I heard light snores coming from Parker's direction and sighed. That man could fall asleep even if the house were on fire. I flipped on YouTube, found something to help me sleep, and closed my eyes. Or would have, if I hadn't seen our front porch light turn on. A cold touched my brain and froze the rest of my body. The light going off didn't mean a prowler was trying to jimmy open our lock. It could be a bug flying too close to the sensor or a sleepwalking squirrel. Improbable? Sure, but they were better than the alternative. I didn't want to wake Parker, but I also wasn't keen on investigating alone. While I was debating getting out of bed, I heard a noise in the kitchen. That made the decision easy. I elbowed Parker. "What?" he asked, his voice a blend of exhaustion and annoyance. "Our front porch light went off," I whispered. "Raccoons tripping the light," he said. "Not worth waking me." "I know, but…but I heard someone in the kitchen." His eyes zinged open. In a flash, he was on his feet and grabbed the bat we kept near the bed. He quietly inched along the wall until he got to the bedroom doorway. He peeked out and scanned the room before turning back to me and shrugging. I pointed to the kitchen again before popping up and joining him on the wall. Parker wasn't pleased. He told me, not in words but vigorous nods, to go back to the bed and wait. I didn't. He gave in, and we made our way out of the bedroom. Me walking directly behind him like some backwards waltz. I saw nothing. That went double after Parker slammed his hand on the switch, flooding the room with light and damn near blinding me in the process. I let out a painful yelp and covered my eyes to adjust. I heard Parker sigh. "We're good," he said. "Nothing in here." "You gotta tell me before you do that," I said, finally checking out the room. Everything initially looked washed out. "I'm nearly blind." "I wanted the element of surprise," Parker said. "You achieved it," I said. "All I see now are a bunch of little diamonds everywhere." He walked into the kitchen. "Your intruder is nothing more than a fallen salt shaker," he said, holding up the culprit. "Oh." "Like I said, a raccoon probably tripped the light. I'm going back to sleep. You should, too." He walked past me, patted my ass, and headed back to bed. I was about to join him when my eyes landed on the painting. I walked over to it and stared. In the store, looking at it had flooded my emotions with joy and happiness. But now? None of that. Unease seeped into my blood and rushed through my body. Something was different about the painting. I couldn't put my finger on what had changed, but I knew something had. It was giving me chills. I grabbed a nearby napkin and draped it over the artwork like a coroner covering a dead body. My thinking was that if there was something supernatural about this thing, the napkin would keep it at bay. Dumb, I know, but it made sense at the time. "I couldn't believe that picture. That's so wild." Mom was too chipper for this early in the morning. She always was, though. A real 'rise with the early bird' kind of gal. That wasn't me. I still had bedhead as I sipped my cup of coffee. Parker, another early riser, cooked breakfast. "I thought so too. Someone told me a company used to go around and paint pictures of homes. They'd ask the homeowners beforehand. Any memory of that?" "Not that I can remember. Back then, it was mostly your father who spoke with salesmen. I found them unseemly. I can't imagine he'd allow someone to do that, rest his soul." "Yeah. Dad was pretty private." "We had a neighbor who was a painter, though. Carl, no, that wasn't it. Craig! Craig…aww goddamn my ancient brain. Bonnie, don't get old. It's hell." "I'm trying not to. It's why I do my nightly skincare routine." "It's intense," Parker added with a smirk. "What was his name? It's been years since I thought of him. Craig…Morris? Something like that. He didn't live near us for long. Dad didn't like him. At all." "Why?" "Craig was the human equivalent of a popcorn kernel stuck in your teeth. Irritating. He rubbed your father the wrong way." "I don't remember Dad talking about him." "He didn't around you, but with me, hoo boy. Craig used to walk by the house all the time, always whistling 'pop goes the weasel' for some reason. He'd stand too close when he talked to you. He'd leer at me when I was outside hanging laundry on the line. He'd never get the hint that I wanted to be left alone, even though I was always short with him. Especially after he said that you were growing up nicely." "Gross," I said. "I was ten." "Like I said, he was a weirdo. But, again, most artiste types are, I suppose. Remember your Uncle Walter? Made those ghastly papier mache skulls. They used to be all over his house. Was like walking into some cannibal's hut whenever we'd go over there. But he was good at making them. Who'd want them is another thing altogether. He gave us one, and I made your dad keep it in a bag in the garage. 'Don't bring that ghoulish shit in my house.'" As my mom rambled about skull shapes like a Victorian phrenologist, a thought came to me. I looked down at the painting and traced the painter's name. "Mom, could his name have been Craig Moffit?" Parker looked over at me. I nodded down at the painting and traced what I thought the letters were with my finger. He hit his forehead with the spatula and shook his head. "OH MY GOD! Yes! That was it! Craig Moffit. God, what a blast from the past. He really was a weird little freak of a man," my mom said, laughing. "He used to wear these tiny little shorts, and he did not have the legs for it. Looked like two toothpicks stuck in an orange." Mom droned on a little longer, but provided nothing of substance beyond Craig Moffit's horrid legs. But she'd given me some new information - the artist's real name. As soon as I hung up, I grabbed my laptop. "Craig Moffit! Not George! Craig!" "I see it now," Parker said. "We should've never trusted Marge. Didn't like the cut of her jib." "Babe, her jib was flawless," I said, turning to the painting. "Her eyes, not so much." "To be fair, we all agreed it was George Moffit…." "There! There's Craig Moffit!" I turned the computer around and showed a webpage dedicated to his art. Parker leaned down to get a closer look. "His legs do look like toothpicks stuck in an orange." Rolling my eyes, I turned the laptop back to me and clicked on the man's "About Me" page. It was illuminating. Craig had quite the little career. He'd worked for a few newspaper outlets. A few magazines. Some ad campaigns. His stuff was good. There was a list of known works. "There are a few house paintings listed here. It has to be him." "Has anyone mentioned how odd this is?" Parker said with a sly smile. "It's catching on." "Maybe he saw your home as a happy family home and wanted to capture it for that company. Is there a contact page?" "There is!" I yelped. I read the page out loud. "If you have questions about Craig or his work, please feel free to reach out here," I said. "That's great. You can email him and ask directly." "Moffit estate at Moffit art dot com," I read. "Shit. He's dead." "That shouldn't matter. Maybe the guy who runs the estate can answer your questions?" I nodded. It was worth a shot. I started composing a message, and Parker went back to breakfast. I glanced at the artwork on the table next to me. Something about it picked at my brain. "Hey, I meant to ask, have you been watching professional Wiffle ball games on our YouTube?" "Oh, yeah. I've started turning on games after your melatonin kicks in. Puts me right out." "Uh-huh. Are you a Wiffle ball fan?" "No," I said, laughing. "I just happened across it one night, and I fell asleep like ten minutes into a game. It's better than ocean waves. Which game was it?" "Umm, Rhinos against the…." "Storks? Oh man, those two teams hate each other. Storks have won the last three series behind Dustin Braddock's nasty banana ball…." I stopped speaking because I could feel Parker's smug smirk on his face. I looked up and caught it with my own eyes. "Not a fan." "What the hell is a banana ball?" PING! "They emailed back already," I said. "What the hell?" "Maybe there isn't a lot going on at the Moffit estate?" "Hi, Craig Moffit was my father. He did several pieces of local homes during that era. I would love to discuss this with you. Can we set up a call?" "So there clearly isn't a lot going on at the Moffit estate," Parker said. "I'm going to say yes. I think I have to, if for no other reason than my own sanity." "Go for it. I can be there for the call if you need me." So I set up a call with the estate for later that day. Hopefully, there'd be some information that I could use to stop the itch in my brain. Parker served me breakfast before he got ready to head out to the gym. "You never told me what a banana ball is," he said, placing the plate in front of me. "It's a side arm slurve. A strikeout pitch. Nearly unhittable if Braddock is on his game." Parker gave me a quizzical look. I sighed. "Not a fan." After Parker had left for the gym, I went back over to the painting. It was still sitting in the last place I had left it. Still had the napkin over it. The bad vibes I felt earlier were still there. In fact, they'd grown worse. I didn't even want this thing in my house anymore - covered or not. Despite my misgivings, I pulled the napkin off the painting and gave it a once-over. I felt my stomach gurgle, and my throat went dry. Looking at this now literally caused physical pain. It didn't make sense. "Where's the front door?" I suddenly asked myself out loud. The front door of the house was gone. Blacked out like an actor with perfect teeth coloring in one to look sufficiently destitute for a role. I scraped where the door had been with my thumb. No fresh paint. It was like it had always been that way. But it hadn't. I checked the photo I sent to my mom to confirm. "What in the…." There was a creak on the basement stairs. There very much shouldn't have been a creak on the basement stairs. The basement was home to nothing but dust, Christmas decorations, and my ugly childhood couches we didn't have the heart to throw away. Since none of those things can walk, this made no sense. I tiptoed to the knife block and pulled out a butcher knife. With my phone in my free hand, I used my nimble thumb to unlock it. I was ready to dial 911. But, as I stared at my reflection in the knife blade, I questioned whether I was prepared to stick it into another person. I wouldn't know that until it came to that moment. I very much prayed that wouldn't happen. Another creak. Near the top of the stairs now. It was getting closer. I flexed the grip on the knife. I tried to control my breathing, but couldn't. Turns out all that woo-woo TikTok relaxation breathing stuff was just bullshit. My heart was thumping like an angry jazz drummer's long-awaited solo. I felt sweat drip down my neck. Something flickered on the painting. It momentarily took my eyes off the basement door. Like last night, I initially registered nothing different. Then I noticed. Through the window of the living room, it looked like someone had turned on a light or lit a fire. Splotches of yellow and orange paint filled the window frame. The jingling of the basement door handle snapped me out of my trance. My palms were sweaty. My legs swayed like bamboo in a strong breeze. I gathered all my remaining strength and yelled out, "Hey! St-stay away from me!" I wanted to say more, but overwhelming fear shut me up. The jiggling stopped. Relief. My hectoring worked...for about two seconds. The basement door cracked open. There was a ghostly, pale face staring back at me. That was when my brain firmly decided whether I was a fight-or-flight kinda gal. I was flight. "Fuck this." I dropped the knife, which clattered on the tile like that drummer hitting the high-hat, and sprinted toward my front door. I yelled gibberish the entire time, tears streaming down my face, and blasted out of the door. My fingers hit send on the call, and seconds later, an annoyingly even-keeled 911 operator connected me with the police. Parker returned home before the police arrived. He found me sitting inside my locked car. Before he could crack a joke, he caught sight of my face. I'd been crying and could feel how puffy my eyes were. Consternation crossed his face. I rolled the window down. "Get in the car." He did. I explained everything to him. He was astonished. He was confused. He grabbed my hand and held it steady as I went over everything, pausing occasionally to sob like a child with a skinned knee. When I was done, he asked why I didn't leave right away. "Who do you think you are, Rambo?" I laughed. I need that. "For a few seconds, I was. Then I wasn't. I wasn't even Gizmo pretending to be Rambo." He gave my arm a loving squeeze. "If it'll help you calm down, we can watch some pro Wiffle ball tonight. I hear the Rhinos are playing the Turkeys." "Storks," I said, "but they are actually playing the Habaneros tonight. Gil Faust is looking to debut his 'chili ball' pitch." He leaned in and kissed my forehead. "But you're not a fan." "I'm not." A knock on the window caused me to scream. The cops had arrived. If they were curious why we were sitting in our car, they kept it to themselves. I relayed what happened, and they said they'd go into the basement and check it out. Fifteen minutes later, they came walking out. "We didn't see anyone down there," the Cop said. "But, to be fair to you, your basement gave me the heebie-jeebies." "Great," I said. "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but it's the truth. On the plus side, I haven't seen that love seat since I was a kid." "Want it?" "It's better left to the past. You two have a nice day." We watched them leave. Parker turned to me. "You okay?" "No, and I won't be until I go into the basement myself." "What? Why?" "I…I can't explain. Something is drawing me there. It sounds crazy, I know, but I feel it in my bones." Parker saw the determined look in my eyes. This was going to happen. Had to happen. He sighed. "Want me to go in first?" "Yes," I said. "Are you actually going to wait for me to go in or follow right behind me?" "We both know the answer to that." Resuming our reverse waltz, we went back into the house. Once in the kitchen, we stopped near the painting. Parker looked over and agreed that there were changes. We turned our attention to the closed basement door. Parker put his hand on the handle. "We don't have to go down here, Bonnie," he said. "The cops didn't find anyone." "Alive. If there's a ghost in this house, I need to know. If we know, we can remove it." "How?" "I'm still working on that part," I said. "But I need to know for certain. I won't feel safe otherwise." "I'm inclined to just say yes and move on. Something altered the painting already. Who the hell did that?" "One issue at a time," I said. He knew he couldn't talk his way out of this. He knew I needed this, and he loved me enough to see it through to the end. Even though he was petrified, too. The skin on his arm had goosebumps as soon as we walked into the kitchen. It felt like braille to me now, and the only thing it said was "let's not do this." But that feeling in my brain, the one drawing me down there, wouldn't leave. It was stronger now that we were in the home. Something was loose in my house. I knew it in my heart. Whatever it was, I needed to keep it from roosting in my new home. Let the ghosts live in the past. Leave my future alone. Parker gripped the handle, sighed so loudly it was heard two towns over, and opened the door. The stairs led down into the dark of the basement. The floor around the landing was the only thing visible. In the abstract, it wasn't anything. Right now, though? Horrifying. Parker found the light switch, illuminating the rest of the space. So far, so good. We took our time walking down the stairs. Creaking along the wooden stairs one step at a time. Maybe it'd have the same effect on the ghost that hearing creaking steps did on me. Perhaps the phantom was hiding, holding a ghost knife and deciding if it was going to play ghost Rambo or just fearfully disappear into the walls. "The house in the painting had a basement, too," I whispered. "When I was a kid, I hated going down there. Any time of day. Just didn't feel natural, ya know?" "Are you trying to get me to stop doing this?" "Sorry, I'm rambling," I said. I kept right on rambling, though. "What bothered me wasn't so much going down there. What scared me was the trip back up. Turning your back on the dark. I used to walk backwards up the stairs." "We can try that in a few minutes," Parker whispered back. "Any other ghost stories you want to share before we hit the landing?" "Sorry," I said. "It just popped into my mind. I haven't thought about that fear in years. Since we moved away from there, actually." "That's not comforting." We got to the bottom and took a look around. Everything looked normal. No surprises. Just our old, ugly furniture and friendly Santa decorations smiling and giving us a frozen wave. I thought about turning and heading back up, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was supposed to be down here. I was also positive Parker would be furious if I went darting up the stairs without him. Leaving him alone in Spook Central might be grounds for divorce. We headed over to the furniture. There was a layer of dust on everything. I smacked the pillow, sending it flying into the air. I coughed and sneezed, instantly regretting my actions. Parker's withering glare told me he wasn't fond of my actions either. "Sorry." "I don't see anything out of the ordinary here, do you?" "No," I said. "It looks like it always does." "Feeling gone? Can we go back upstairs now?" Before I could answer, we heard the familiar chime from our security system, followed by the calm, reassuring voice informing us that our front door was open. "What the fuck?" I said. "Shhh," Parker responded, his finger to his lips. He pointed up to the ceiling. We cocked our ears and concentrated. For about twenty seconds, there was nothing. Silence. It didn't last. CREAAAAK. The floorboards wheezed as someone took slow, deliberate steps above us. You could hear the footfalls as they moved from the front door to the hallway. Trembling, Parker pointed up at the ceiling. You could physically see the floor bow ever so slightly from the person's weight. I didn't even think that was possible. "W-what do we do?" I whispered. "I don't know," Parker said. "Maybe they'll leave?" A second later, we were cloaked in total darkness. All the power in the house had gone out. The only light came from the sunlight streaming in from the open door at the top of the stairs. It wasn't much, but it was a beacon. Our lighthouse. Our way home. "Let's…," is all I was able to say. Someone upstairs ran down the hall, through the kitchen, and to the basement door. They slammed it shut, plunging us into instant midnight. I wanted to scream. To yell so loud it'd shake the heavens. But I couldn't. My body physically couldn't make that happen. It'd give away our location. I clutched Parker's shirt so hard I was afraid I'd rip it right off him. If it bothered him, he didn't say. "This sucks," Parker mumbled. Understatement of the goddamn century. "HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS!" One of our Santa decorations started going off. I nearly peed myself at Santa's sudden arrival. I imagined it would've been the same response I would've had if I had seen him as a kid. Kris Kringle was soon joined by all of our Christmas decorations going off at once. Dozens of laughing Santas, lights flickering off and on, inflatables rising like zombified plastic bags. The noise was deafening, but strangely festive. The strobing lights in the pitch black caused afterimages to dance in my rods and cones. I slammed them shut and silently prayed for this all to end. Someone must've heard because, as quickly as they'd come to life, they stopped. We stood in the dark, not breathing. Not moving. Neither of us knew what to do. Nothing in my life had prepared me for this. I couldn't shake the idea that whatever was coming would be worse than what we'd already experienced. There was a creaking again and a sudden rushing of blinding sunlight from the top of the stairs. Someone had opened the door. Before we could get a glimpse, the door slammed shut, and something sprinted down the now-dark stairs. I pulled Parker back onto the old love seat. We sat on the edge and kept our heads on a swivel, even though the basement was too dark to see our own hands. We weren't alone anymore. As my fingertips grazed the couch, I realized something. These were originally my parents. My parents got them when I was living in the house from the painting. They were a physical connection between the past and now. Are these what caused my sudden desire to come to the basement? Was I being manipulated by this thing? Could I trust myself at all? That dread feeling I'd had since I brought the painting into our house intensified. I felt it in my bones. Deeper even. My aura. My soul. I leaned into Parker's ear and whispered an apology. He didn't vocalize a response, but squeezed my arm. I squeezed back. My body shook, and I couldn't get myself to stop. I wanted to run for the stairs, but that old fear came rushing back. I knew if I ran up those stairs, it'd follow behind me. Something wooshed by us. My hair flowed with it, trailing behind whatever had sprinted past. I nervously dug my fingers into the fabric. We heard the sound of some liquid splattering on the floor across from us. Water? No. Heavier than water. A sound that made my guts twist soon joined the drips and splashes. Someone started whistling a familiar tune. Pop goes the weasel. The Christmas decorations flickered on and shut off. In the brief flash of light, we could make out a figure standing across from us. Craig Moffit. "POP!" he screamed as the lights strobed. "GOES!" he screamed again, a foot closer this time. "THE!" Another foot closer. Almost directly in front of us now. The lights flickered again, and his face was right next to mine. A sinister smile as he slowly whispered, "weasel." I felt something wet and slimy rub against my cheek. Parker stood and, surprisingly, swung at ghost Craig. It didn't find the ghoul, and, as the darkness returned, his fist only found the arm of the couch. I heard his knuckles crack and him swear in pain. My ears were the only thing working at that moment, though. I sat frozen, tears streaming down my face. The lights in the house came back on, and I screamed. On the wall across from us, where we had heard the water, the painting was hanging. Only, it wasn't the old house. It was the current house. All the windows and doors were filled with flames. There were two figures on the front lawn. Parker and I. We were both dead. Standing behind our oak tree, watching it all, was Craig Moffit. "Parker! Let's go!" I didn't have to tell him twice. We broke for the stairs and took them three at a time until we reached the top. I grabbed the handle and shoved my shoulder into the door, expecting it to hold firm. It didn't. Parker and I spilled onto our kitchen floor. I scrambled up and practically yanked Parker into the kitchen. I was about to slam the door when I saw Craig Moffit standing at the bottom of the stairs. We locked eyes. My mind flew back to my childhood. A memory stored deep in the folds of my brain. I was sitting on our porch reading a book and heard that damn whistling. Craig Moffit. A Polaroid camera in his hands and portrait photos on his mind. I was afraid he'd stop and take a picture of me. I was right. Even now, I could hear the heavy clunk of the shutter and the whirring of the processing photo as it slid out. He shook it, and as the fog of war slowly dissipated on the photo, he smiled. "This way, I won't forget you." I slammed the door shut and urged Parker to grab the car keys. He turned the corner to do so when I heard him sharply yelp in surprise, followed by the squeak of his sneakers on the hardwood and his ass hitting the ground. I ran to him expecting to see Craig, but was stunned by the sight of a living man surrounded by two yellow hulks outside my front door. Once my brain processed the information, it was clear those men were wearing biohazard suits. It still didn't answer why men in biohazard suits were outside my door. But it cleared up that there were. The suitless man in the middle, though, had a more than striking resemblance to the ghost I'd just seen in my basement. Only younger. Fuller. Fleshy. "Sorry to startle you both," the man said, raising his hands in peace. "You contacted us about a painting you found. I'm David Moffit. Craig was my father." "You've got to be shitting me." "We were supposed to talk on the phone," I said. "Yes, but we were worried things might have progressed too much by then. Tell me, has the door in the painting disappeared yet?" "How did…." David turned to his men. "Call for the extraction team." Turning back to us, he urgently asked, "Where's the painting?" "The basement," I said. "But it looks different now." "What in hell is going on?" Parker asked. "Different? Would you say violently different?" "'Our-dead-bodies-on-the-lawn-and-the-place-ablaze' violently different." He nervously turned to where the biohazard-suited men had gone. "The experienced extraction team!" Parker stood and held my hand. We looked at each other and back at David Moffit. We both cracked. Small smiles that turned into chuckles that turned into a laughing fit. I read somewhere that mental breaks can start like this. Whatever. I leaned in. "David Moffit, the son of your childhood painter neighbor Craig Moffit, himself a ghost that nearly killed us, is standing in our fucking veranda," Parker said, barely able to get the words out between screeching laughter. "I mean, what the fuck is this life?" Seconds later, a team of armed men in hazmat suits carrying unknown machinery rushed in and headed for the basement. We heard one of them scream, and then the sounds of mechanical engines warming up. David nodded toward the front door. "We should go outside." We did. What the hell else were we going to do? Once we were outside, David pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered us one. We both declined. David indulged and nodded back at the house. "This is the experienced team." "What's going on?" I asked. "I'm going to level with you. What I'm about to say is pretty weird. I like to say weird to people. Sets the right tone." "Sir, on what is easily the weirdest day in not only my and my wife's life, but I'd argue humanity's life, nothing you can say will top what we've already been through," Parker said. "I mean, I just discovered my wife watches professional Wiffle ball, for God's sake!" "Not a fan," I mumbled. "Dad was a strange man. Lots of demons. When he could keep them at bay, he did great work. But that was never for long. Around the time when you were a kid, he got deep into the occult. It was a faddish passing fancy at first, but soon he found a deeper meaning in it. It consumed him. Around this time, well, he conjured a demon." "I think I'm having a stroke." "He made a deal. We don't exactly know the details, but what we do know is that Dad agreed to start a company that would paint portraits of people's homes. The twist was that the homes he picked would become targets for the demon." "Naturally," Parker said. "Because why not?" "He'd take a photo of the home and give it to the demon. The demon would curse it and insert it into the canvases of my dad's paintings. These photos would be a connection between the subjects in the art and the demon itself. The pull got stronger when the artwork found its way back to the subjects. Then, they'd, well…." He trailed off. "Meet each other?" I said. "In a manner of speaking, yes." So many questions bounced around my brain. This all sounded so outlandish and yet…. The memory of the photo came back to me. "This way, I won't forget you," I said out loud. Confused, Parker looked at me. "What?" "We don't know how many paintings Dad did during this time, but we've recovered sixty-five in locations from New York to California. The people selected seemed to be random…except for you." "Why me?" "My guess? You were neighbors and, well, my dad really didn't like your dad." "The feeling was mutual." Just then, the extraction team came rushing out. One was limping. The machines they brought looked broken, but the lights were still on. One of them had the painting in a bio-containment bag. It was smoking. "The experienced team," David said, ashing out his smoke on the bottom of his shoe and pocketing the butt. "Thank you for letting us help rid you of this…menace. The work is exhausting, but my family has to atone for Craig's wicked actions." David nodded and turned to leave. I reached out and grabbed his shoulder. "Wait, that's it? We're free? Just like that." "Just like that," he said, turning to leave. He stopped and spun on his heels. "Unless you have something from the old house in your new house. Then you kinda sorta leave a backdoor for the demon to return. So, if you do, I suggest destroying it." He tipped his cap and left. Parker and I locked eyes. "The fucking love seat," we said at the same time. My back hurt just thinking about hauling it up those narrow stairs. Later that night, we torched the sofa in a makeshift fire pit in our backyard. We ate pizza and watched the flames consume the potentially demonic couch. Can't imagine that's a sentence that's been said a lot in history. As we did, relief filled my heart. The dread was gone. I looked over at Parker and smiled. "I think we can put to bed the argument about who had the weirder childhood, Park." He laughed. "Yeah, summers with my Amish family can't compete with demons." His phone buzzed. He looked down at the notification with concern. I felt my stomach twist. "Please tell me it's good news." "The Rhinos/Habaneros game is about to start. I set a reminder. Wanna watch?" I touched my heart and felt pure happiness surge through me. Tears. Grabbing his free hand, I held it tight and gave it a big squeeze. "I have something to confess," I said. "I think I'm a legitimate fan of professional Wiffle ball." "I know, babe. I know." We sat together, letting the crackling of a burning demon couch and the crack of a Wiffle ball bat fill the night air. I snuggled into Parker's shoulder. It was warm. Inviting. Home…and not one haunted by an angry ghost. How did one girl get so lucky? submitted by /u/SunHeadPrime to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

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Check the Full Details Article Here: https://trendwaveusa.live-website.com/spring-decor-front-porch/ ### Refreshing Your Entrance with Vibrant Colors and Greenery Updating your entryway for spring decor front porch ideas involves embracing the season’s lively palette. Incorporating bright colors like soft pastels, sunny yellows, and fresh greens instantly welcomes guests and enhances curb appeal. Strategically placed potted plants, hanging flower baskets, and window boxes bursting with blooms such as tulips, daffodils, and pansies create a natural and inviting atmosphere that complements any architectural style. Creative Ways to Incorporate Spring Accents Mixing textures and seasonal accessories can elevate spring decor front porch displays. Adding woven baskets, galvanized metal containers, or rustic wooden crates filled with seasonal flowers adds visual interest. Decorative touches such as floral wreaths, colorful outdoor rugs, and patterned cushions featuring botanical prints bring warmth and personality to the space. Incorporate weather-resistant materials that withstand spring rains while maintaining vibrant colors throughout the season. Lighting and Functional Enhancements Soft lighting is essential to highlight your spring decor front porch both day and night. Solar-powered lanterns, string lights draped delicately around railings, and candles placed in glass holders contribute to a cozy ambiance. Functional additions like a charming bench or a small side table encourage outdoor relaxation, making the porch a favorite springtime spot to enjoy fresh air and nature’s awakening. Check the Full Details Article Here: https://trendwaveusa.live-website.com/spring-decor-front-porch/ submitted by /u/affiliate1287 to r/AmazonBrandReviews [link] [comments]

Check the Full Details Article Here: https://trendwaveusa.live-website.com/front-porch-columns-christmas-decor/ Transforming your front porch into a winter wonderland is a delightful way to celebrate the festive season, especially with charming front porch columns Christmas decor. These structural elements offer a perfect foundation for creativity, allowing homeowners to express their holiday spirit in a visually stunning manner. When decorating front porch columns for Christmas, consider using natural elements such as garlands made of pine, fir, or cedar. These evergreen materials evoke a sense of warmth and coziness while complementing the classical architectural features of your home. Wrap them around the columns for a rustic yet elegant look. Incorporate cheerful colors by adding bright red or gold ribbons. Tying large bows at the top or bottom of your columns can create striking visual anchors. Additionally, ornaments can be hung from the garlands or positioned at strategic points to catch the light and draw attention. Light up your Christmas decor with string lights wrapped around the columns, creating a magical glow during the evenings. Opt for warm white lights for a classic appearance or multicolored options for a joyful, playful touch. Solar-powered lights can be a sustainable choice, ensuring that your display shines brightly without increasing your electricity bill. Another fantastic idea is to utilize decorative planters at the base of your columns. Fill them with festive plants like poinsettias or seasonal evergreens to enhance the holiday feel. Pairing these with ornamental winter berries can also enrich the color palette of your front porch. In summary, the potential for front porch columns Christmas decor is truly limitless. With thoughtful arrangements of natural materials, vibrant colors, and illuminated features, you’ll create an inviting atmosphere that spreads holiday cheer to all who pass by. Check the Full Details Article Here: https://trendwaveusa.live-website.com/front-porch-columns-christmas-decor/ submitted by /u/affiliate1287 to r/AmazonBrandReviews [link] [comments]

First | Prev The New Arxur [NEW] | Patreon | Subreddit | Discord | Paperback | NOP2 Species Lore --- Memory Transcription Subject: Adam Meier, Terran Citizen Date [standardized human time]: September 3, 2165 Running was a tireless process to me, though I kept my body keeled toward the ground and clapped my hands together. This was what a predator species with a fully-honed chase instinct looked like. Little claws tore through the grassy yard, leaping up to sink tiny teeth into my hand; that might trigger pain for most humans, but the metal skeleton could take it. I laughed as Launa held on tightly to my knuckles—what an adorable, precious angel she was. I hoisted my hand slightly, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. Launa flailed her head about emphatically, in an attempt to pull me back to the ground. I allowed myself to be felled, careful to roll onto my back. The Jaslip—with brown eyes the size of moons—walked across my chest, licking my cheeks with affection. Life was good. I smiled and tickled her ears, enjoying the sight of the little boots I’d gotten her to wear. She’d grown up so quickly that it stabbed at my heart to be sending her away. Was this the hardest part of any parent’s existence? “I love it when we play, Daddy, even though your metal skeleton hurts my teeth sometimes,” she yipped, wagging her tail. “The den-tist complains. I don’t like the dentist. Why don’t you ever have to go to him?” I knitted my eyebrows together. “I’ve explained that I was…someone’s memories put into a computer body. I require different kinds of maintenance. You don’t need teeth if you don’t need to eat, Launa. You don’t want to not have food, do you? How would you bite me if your teeth fall out. The dentist is better than that.” The Jaslip pouted, ears sinking down and tail drooping between her legs. “Okay. I guess you’re right.” “Sorry, darling. Sometimes, we have to do things we don’t like, so we can enjoy the things we do. You might not have fun with every subject in school, but they’re all going to pack your brain full of knowledge—so you can be smart and do anything when you grow up. Do you remember what I told you?” “‘Don’t bite any people at school. It hurts humans without metal skeletons.’” “Good girl. Here, take your lunch.” I placed the lunchbox into her tail wagon, which included two cans of tuna and a few hard-boiled eggs. I checked one more time that all of her books were there, as the school bus pulled up by our driveway. “Alright. Run along to catch the bus. You’re going to do great, and I’m a phone call away if you need anything!” “I’m excited. Bye, Daddy! I love you.” “Love you too, Launa.” I pulled out my holopad to record her going onto the school bus for the first time, skipping with excitement to join the other kids. The Jaslip child glanced back over her shoulder at me, and I waved at her for encouragement. I paused the video once she disappeared into the vehicle, and watched in a bit of a sad silence as my daughter was driven away from our home. My hands found their way into my pockets, leaving me to stare at the horizon; I missed her already. What would I do to busy myself when she was gone? “Mind if I join you, old friend?” a voice asked behind me. “Huh?” I swiveled around, finding myself looking at a hobbled-over, aged Erin Kuemper, clutching onto a cane. “I’m sorry. I don’t go by Elias anymore.” “I know. You’re him to me, and always will be. But I respect that you don’t believe you’re him…Adam.” “Thank you. I…I’d love to catch up. What’s got you in Austria, not counting cacti in Arizona?” “I wanted to check in on a friend who I’d missed dearly, and admired so much. I wanted to see how the years are treating you. Being Secretary-General, it aged me far faster than I liked. You: you still look the way you did 3 decades ago. You don’t know how…funny that feels to an old woman.” I led Kuemper back to my porch slowly, helping her with the stairs. “I look different on the inside. To some people, they would say that’s what matters.” “That’s where you’re wrong. What’s on the inside is a lot more important than how it looks. And speaking of wrong, do you know where you showed me I was wrong?” I arched an eyebrow. “The Ship of Theseus, I’d hope?” “No,” she chuckled. “I said that there was never an option to be moral and just in the Sapient Coalition. But that wasn’t true. The option was you. Elias, or at least his soul, was the only one who could be true to his beliefs no matter what.” “Now, I don’t agree that I was the only one capable of that. Secretary-General Osmani has done an excellent job, avoiding the pitfalls his predecessors ran into after the Federation’s collapse. His reserved dignity has shown that he’s perfect for the job. I don’t miss that life one bit.” “You truly don’t want to go back, do you? Even you tire of the burden.” “It wasn’t that. I loved helping humanity, but I wanted to see what it was like to take care of—just one person. To have that be the entire world that I looked out for.” Erin Kuemper rocked back in the chair, binocular eyes growing misty as she stared out at the horizon. I still remembered the young, snappy scientist who was trying to spoonfeed Elias information, and thought he was just any old politician that could bungle up first contact. She’d been there throughout the most stressful months of his life, on the front lines of first contact. It was difficult to see her growing old, though I figured that I would have to get…used to outliving the people I cared about. I had no context of what it felt like to have your body begin to break down. That’s the worst part of loving anything, if I choose to believe that a digital reincarnation doesn’t bring them back. What if I just blink and Launa’s life is gone? How will I know when I’ve existed too long, when I know even now that there is pain in my future? “Erin,” I croaked. “I’m afraid.” My old friend continued staring at the horizon with clouded, weary eyes. “Of?” “Losing everyone I love. Forgetting them. What happens when you’re…gone?” “Oh, goodness, death is only the beginning; I intend to join you in immortality. I signed a consent slip to be digitally resurrected, and I believe it’s me. Is that enough for you? Can you respect that, just as I respect that you see yourself as Adam?” “I’ll accept that it’s a part of you. I hope you’ll come find me. We can tell Launa and her human friends, who can’t imagine what it was like, how the world was when we didn’t know about aliens. Earth before we met the Venlil; Earth before it was a ‘predator world.’” “Earth was always a predator world, Meier. It’ll eat you up and spit you out if you’re not strong enough.” “That’s living; that’s every world under every sun. It was never about predators or their nature. It was about the beliefs people have, and use as the pretext to insist that others carry on their hatred. That’s what I pushed the SC to finally see.” Erin swallowed, choking up with emotion. “I know. Your speech opened their eyes, and you dared to call them out when no one else would. For all of the works they put on your statue, that’s the best thing you’ve ever done.” “No. The best thing I ever did was adopt an Osir.” A lengthy future was stretched out before me, but in this moment, there was peace in the love of a father. I would sit here and reminisce about a life that was not my own, and what the future might hold in store for the Sapient Coalition. Overall, I saw a multitude of reasons to be optimistic. Esquo had several regions restored for Jaslips to live on, and they even welcomed in Consortium refugees to reside on orbital rings. Launa would have a homeworld to visit, and I hoped to take her when she got old. We’d enhanced our own capabilities after studying the Krev’s architecture, with orbital rings now encircling many SC worlds, including Earth, Skalga, and Leirn. We needed somewhere to house revived, synthetic beings, given the swelling populations. In the Venlil’s case, they could use a little extra space to expand, given they only had a small strip of habitable land on their tidally-locked World of Death. Aafa was in the rebuilding process too, with Kolshian refugees flocking to human colonies as full SC citizens. Many Shield members had assimilated into the Sapient Coalition, cutting ties with the Remnant states that were under a rehabilitation program; the treachery of intending to wipe out any species that ever ate meat, and concealing their true backers all the way, was a bridge too far. Despite the neutrality, they split from the Federation in the first place because they abhorred the conspiracy. Dual membership made it easier to join us, though about a third—including the Ulven and the Racads—still valued total independence from the predators. The Arxur had opened exchange programs with every member species, including humanity; there were Venlil, Duerten, and even Thafki citizens bonding with the reptilians. Positive recognition in Sapient Coalition media became commonplace, turning public opinion to at least acknowledge all that they did to defeat the Consortium and their ghost Farsul puppets. In a vote that was expected to be contentious, two-thirds of the assemblage had passed the Arxur Collective’s official membership bid in 2164. Elias never would’ve imagined when he first sat in that briefing. He would’ve never imagined he’d even want it, despite the fact that it wound up being his last wish! Tarva did it in the long run, memory man. She did enough to make it possible to have peace with the Arxur, and reached out when it wasn’t easy; not to mention sparing us. This all goes back to her. The world had changed a lot since the good old days of 2136, as evidenced by the fact that I was sitting here carrying the memories of a dead Secretary-General. I was far from alone in my situation, with the mind uploading technology being rolled out to include more and more species by the month. Progress was making society unrecognizable in many ways, but we used our forward-thinking ideas to help improve the lives of sapients across the galaxy. The predatory viciousness observers saw on Earth was used to protect the ones we cared about with ferocity, and to take on nature itself if need be. We’d tussle with death itself! “I’m going to wait for my daughter to come home. She’s the reason I want to be around to see the future. Because it’s hers,” I whispered. Erin patted my leg. “I think I’ll stick around to meet her. I knew you’d be a great father.” “I’m just glad I had the chance to prove it.” The two of us, shadows of the old UN officials who took our first steps into the galaxy, sat in comfortable silence on a cozy porch. After all of the years that had gone by, it was a wonderful treat to enjoy the peace that we’d fought so hard and long to attain. --- NEW BOOK — PRISONERS OF SOL First | Prev The New Arxur [NEW] | Patreon | Subreddit | Discord | Paperback | NOP2 Species Lore submitted by /u/SpacePaladin15 to r/HFY [link] [comments]

Looking to transform your home into a winter wonderland with a rustic twist? Our Rustic Christmas Decor Ideas will help you embrace the warmth and charm of the season. From earthy tones to vintage-inspired touches, these ideas add a cozy, welcoming feel to your holiday space. Think wooden ornaments, plaid patterns, and natural elements like pinecones and greenery. Whether you're decorating the living room, dining area, or even your front porch, these rustic Christmas decorations will instantly create an inviting atmosphere. In this post, we cover everything you need to make your home feel festive and stylish, with tips on how to incorporate rustic charm into your Christmas tree, mantel, and table settings. Don’t forget to add a personal touch with DIY decor ideas that reflect your unique style. Want to learn more about creating the perfect rustic Christmas vibe? Click to read the full post and get inspired for your most memorable holiday season yet! submitted by /u/Prize-Percentage-341 to r/BestReviewGuy [link] [comments]

Looking to elevate your home's curb appeal? Discover stunning modern farmhouse front door ideas that seamlessly blend rustic charm with contemporary design. Whether you prefer a classic wooden door with intricate detailing or a sleek, painted entry that makes a bold statement, there are endless possibilities to personalize your entrance. Incorporate elements like large, welcoming wreaths, stylish hardware, and complementary lighting to enhance the aesthetic. Consider adding a porch swing or inviting seating to create a cozy atmosphere, making your front entryway not just a passage but a charming space to relax. Embrace natural materials and earthy tones to capture the essence of modern farmhouse style, ensuring your front door stands out while harmonizing with the surrounding landscape. Ready to transform your entryway into a warm and inviting focal point? Click to read the full post for more inspiring ideas and tips on achieving the perfect modern farmhouse look for your front door! submitted by /u/Prize-Percentage-341 to r/BestReviewGuy [link] [comments]

https://preview.redd.it/593ap7l58nhd1.jpg?width=616&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=b866d55de8aba8329d0dd260f13947c1a3d1fdb9 Getting in the mood for Fall! 23 Cozy Front Porch Fall Decor Ideas: Trendy and Affordable! (sarahscozylife.com) submitted by /u/sarahscozylife to r/Autumn [link] [comments]

Check out these 23 cozy front porch decorations to get in the mood for Fall! Witchy/cottagecore is definitely the theme this year: 23 Cozy Front Porch Fall Decor Ideas: Trendy and Affordable! (sarahscozylife.com) submitted by /u/sarahscozylife to r/CottagecoreStore [link] [comments]

My cell phone rings on the table beside my armchair. It’s him again. Just calling to check in, he sometimes says. I consider checking to see if the call recording application is up and running but decide it isn’t worth the trouble. I’ve tried to capture his calls dozens of times without success. When I play them back I can hear my voice on the recording, but any response I receive is nothing but a wall of static. The call log on the phone never shows I received a call from him after we hang up. My cell carrier also has no records when I call to check. For an old man, his technology skills must be top-notch. When I retired from the force six years ago, he remained a suspect in my oldest and most frustrating unclosed cases. I call him The Mimic. He kills three victims, once a month for three months, using the modus operandi of some of the most infamous serial killers in history. Once his cycle is complete, he vanishes for nine months. The cycle would start over in a new city across the state. Sometimes he vanishes for a year or two, but he always comes back. He never stops calling either. Tension mounts at my temples as I accept the call and put the phone to my ear. “Hello.” “Merry Christmas, Detective Coats,” says the calm voice on the other end of the line. He calls multiple times a year, and I dread every one of them. His tone always sounds like that of an old friend. “How have you been? Is retirement treating you well?” “I’m about the same as last time you called,” I respond. May as well talk to him. If I don’t, he will call back dozens of times anyway. “Retirement isn’t very restful knowing you’re still out there. Maybe one of these days I can change that. Half a dozen state prisons would love to give you a cozy little room and three hot meals a day. I’ll drop you off there myself. Just tell me where you are, Alistar.” The voice on the other end of the line booms with gleeful laughter. His name is Alistar Lynch, I believe, though I can’t be positive. A rare book dealer by that name vanished in 1986, the same year The Mimic claimed his first set of victims. Alistar liquidated his estate, drained his bank accounts, and disappeared without warning. How did I make the connection? I hate to admit it, but he told me himself. I was two years into my career and still had the new car smell of a rookie on my uniform. Dennis Garrison, a veteran detective, had drafted me into the investigation. During my first week, Alistar called and identified himself to me unexpectedly. By that point, he had been active for over five years and we were no closer to catching him than we had been with his first cycle. Boredom, he told me, was his motive for identifying himself. He thought if we knew who he was, perhaps we could have provided him with more of a challenge. “Bartholomew,” he coos through the phone line. “I told you where I was two years ago and I tried my best to meet with you. All I asked was that you didn’t call the police, but you didn’t listen. Instead of discussing our bond face to face, I had to take care of the two police officers that you sent to the location. Why should I trust you again? You would just end up with more blood on your hands.” A sour knot balls in my stomach at the mention of the fallen officers. Two years prior, Alistar called and offered to meet me. He said he wanted to meet the man who had spent so many years tracking him, and perhaps he would allow me to take him into custody. I wasn’t to call the cops or he wouldn’t show. Four years into retirement, my training still clung to the back of my mind like tar on a roof. Of course, I wanted to bag Alister. The monster had evaded capture for the better part of four decades, but going alone to meet a self-confessed serial killer was madness. I knew I was past my prime. Even if I did manage to take him in, I had no authority. The arrest wouldn’t stick. What if after all of these years of chasing him, I botched the process and the beast walked free? I decided to call the state police and give them the time and location. Better to let the young bucks handle the action. The officer taking the call was an old friend, Walter Dempsey. A hard-nosed detective himself, he was preparing to retire at the end of the year. Walter attempted to reassure me that someone was just playing a cruel joke on me, but I insisted that our prime suspect would be waiting there. Everyone at my old post knew about my “phone calls.” The lack of call logs or recordings made them skeptical and I understood. Some cops don’t take to retirement well. Can’t let go of the job. They try and find ways to stay relevant with your old colleagues. Walter, for his part, thought that it may be some asshole kid prank calling me. A handful of the younger guys at the post thought my cheese was slipping off my cracker. Maybe they were right, but not about the calls. Nonetheless, Walter agreed to take a young patrolman named Vincent Harris with him to the location to do a walk-through. It was a courtesy, he said, for my years of service. I found out later he didn’t even enter it in the patrol log for the day. He didn’t think enough of the tip to make the search official. No one knew where the two of them had gone. Hours after he was due to return my call, I still hadn’t heard from him. My incessant calls and text messages went unanswered. In a panic, I called the patrol post but none of them had heard from Dempsey or Harris in hours. Their shift had ended but their patrol vehicles had never checked back in. All attempts to hail them on the cruiser radio went unanswered. After speaking with the post captain and telling them of my discussion with Dempsey, he dispatched five units to the derelict warehouse where Alistar Lynch had requested to meet me. Unlike Walter, they went heavily armed and in larger numbers. I still don’t believe the captain thought I was telling the truth, but he was wise enough not to risk it. They found the patrol car outside. Inside, they found a bloodbath. Both men were found kneeling in the center of a filthy room, shot execution-style in the back of their heads. They had been disemboweled post-mortem. Their blood pooled around them in a horrifying crimson disk. A message had been haphazardly traced on the floor from the vile runoff. Bart Coats, I just wanted to talk. Now, look what you made me do. Shame Shame, old man. I told myself that day I would meet him alone if the opportunity arose again. Doing things “by the book” resulted in the death of two brave men. Just doing a retired detective a favor. A little bit of post End of Watch comfort, they probably thought. This was the first conversation since their deaths that he had even responded to the idea of meeting. Sleep rarely comes at night anymore. When it does, ghastly images of Dempsey and Harris accuse me of sending them to their deaths. I have to make this work. “I’ll meet you, Alistar,” I respond. “Name the time and place. No cops. I won’t bear the weight of another death. We’re not young men anymore. I’m pushing sixty and you’ve got a decade on me. Aren’t you getting tired?” Silence from the other line fills my head. “Alistar?” I question. “I’ll meet you, just…” “Fine, Bartholomew,” he says. “Meet me at this address and we will have a little chat. Got a pen and paper?” _________________________ I pull my car into the lot of a long abandoned gas station four miles outside of town. A sign rattles back and forth in the breeze advertising gas prices that haven’t been seen in twenty years. A relic of times gone by, I think to myself. It’s almost poetic of him, to pick this place. It used to be useful years ago, but now it was just falling apart and taking up space. Like me. The pumps are crumbling away into flakes of rust. Two large panel windows are caked with so much dust and dirt that my obnoxious headlights can’t penetrate the darkness within. Everything here has been left to decay. A location that embodies the ravages of time. The bright sheet of yellow legal paper taped to the window stands out against the ruin like a lighthouse. Carefully, I step from the car and pat my side. My Glock 22 is nestled in the holster beneath my jacket. The sleek body of the weapon comforts me momentarily. I know I shouldn’t be here, but finding a resolution to this is all I have left. By the end of the night, I’ll have my man or my man will have me. Either way, the phone calls will stop. As soon as I see the bastard, I’m putting a bullet in his head and another in his heart. One for Dempsey, the other for Harris. If I succeed, I’ll put the empty casings on their gravestones. I slide the 22 from my holder and switch off the safety. Each step I take through the debris-ridden parking lot fills the quiet night air. Scanning my head from side to side as I approach the note, I see no trace of anyone or anything. The corpse of the gas station is abandoned aside from one old cop and that fluttering yellow note. My blood turns cold as I reach out and pull the note from the window. Flowing cursive fills the page. I can’t help thinking what a steady hand he has for an older man. Bartholomew, If you’re reading this, then you showed up just like the good detective I’ve always hoped you were. My apologies if you’re disappointed not to find me here. I haven’t backed out of our deal, but I wanted to be able to see you from far enough away to be sure you were alone this time. While it wouldn't upset me in the least to dispatch a few more of your old friends, I would much rather meet you face to face. As you read this, I’m watching you from a great distance down the road. Night vision scopes have come so far over the decades. Worry not! I wouldn’t shoot you. What a cowardly and anti-climactic ending that would be to our game of cat and mouse. Get back in your car and flash your high beams three times so I know you’ve read this letter. Wait until you see three flashes in return and then head down the gravel road in the direction of the light. If you continue past the beacon for three miles, you will see a hunting cabin. Come inside. You can bring your gun. I know you have one. It won’t keep you safe. Your friend, Alistar Lynch The smooth paper goes rigid and coarse as I ball it in my hand. Sitting down behind the wheel, I crank the ignition, and the car roars back to life. Turning the light control knob three times, the field beyond the decaying gas station illuminates momentarily. Dry grass sways in the evening breeze and the yellow eyes of nocturnal creatures reflect the unexpected blasts. Then nothing. Darkness swallows my world again. Dull neon dash lights glow weakly against the evening inside the cab of the car. Sweat is dripping down the back of my neck. The night isn’t overly warm, but I can feel the sick bastard gazing at me through his night vision apparatus. A brilliant beam of light shoots into the sky car in the distance and vanishes. Then a second before the darkness returns. Now a third. He’s there. Shifting the car into drive, I pull my car back onto the gravel road and begin in the direction of the signal. Gravel peppers the bottom of my car like half-hearted buckshot as I creep down the winding path. The swaying grass and yellow eyes return to my field of vision as I roll slowly ahead. There are too many yellow eyes watching me. The hairs on my arm are standing on end as I look around the field of piercing gazes. It is almost as though this evil man has drawn every dark thing to him on this unsettling night. Yips and howls are filling the air. At first, they sound threatening, but slowly they begin to sound mournful. Like warnings in the dark. Turn back! It isn’t too late! Death awaits you down this road! I pound my hands against the car horn and the high-pitched wail causes the yellow eyes to break and scatter. The field is dark again, tall grass swaying lazily. No more warnings. My car tires crunch in the gravel as I pull over to the spot where the light came from. On the ground, there is a floodlight, a night vision scope without a rifle, and a tattered paperback. Rolling it over with my foot, I see a crimson horse on the cover and bold yellow words hanging over its head. The Catcher in the Rye. While I was creeping slowly through the darkness, taking an account of my life, and pondering my precarious future, Alistar Lynch had sat in this spot reading a book. I laughed loudly. From the moment I left my house this evening until now, I’ve felt as though I were on a collision course with my ultimate fate while a murderous old man sat in the dark with a paperback. I kick the book into the high grass and slide back behind the wheel of the car. My mind flirts with the idea of picking up the night vision scope to try and spot Alistar in the distance, but I decide against it. Leaving it behind is smarter. If he manages to either kill me or escape, this will be the first physical evidence he has left behind in half a decade. No sense in leaving my prints all over it. I can feel my heart slamming against my chest as the car rolls on. It is still a long way off, but as my headlights bounce, they are catching the distant silhouette of a cabin. Alone on a small hill, it rests there like a small castle in the inky darkness. An evil man sits inside, I think, awaiting an audience with me. My mind races with a fearful survival instinct. Turn the car around. No, I’m too close. He would never agree to meet again if I leave now. This is no time for cowardice. He’ll kill you. Is that what you want? You’re no martyr, Bart Coats. He may, but I’ll try to kill him first. And so what if he does? This is a trap! Do you really think he will let you take him to the authorities? No, truly I don’t. It’s too late anyway. My car creeps up a slight incline off of the gravel road and onto a packed dirt pullover. I’m here. The cabin is only fifty feet up the small hill. Shutters have fallen into the yard and dry-rotted in the sun. All of the windows are broken out, leaving jagged glass teeth in the warped frames. Holes puncture the roof in a dozen spots and the rough-hewn wooden rafters droop beneath. The front door is closed. Through one of the broken windows, I see a silhouette. Cutting the ignition, I step out of the car. Dry autumn air fills my nostrils mixed with the scent of old lumber from the cabin. The night is cool, but a chill permeates deep into my bones. Decades of work end up at a dilapidated cabin on a hill. A rusty squeal pierces my ears as the door of the cabin swings open. I level my 22 and fire three rounds into the center of the opening and wait. My heart races and I can feel my pulse in my ears. Struggling to focus in the dark, I can’t tell if I hit him. “Whoa there!” Alistar proclaims. “I thought we were going to talk! That is truly no way to start a conversation, my old friend.” “Alister Lynch,” I call. “Step out of the house with your hands in the air.” “Fine, fine.” He chirps. “Have it your way, Bartholomew. Cross my heart, I’ll do as you’ve asked.” My eyes have adjusted to the darkness of the countryside now. The dark silhouette of a thin man fills the doorway. His arms, disturbingly long, reach so high they almost brush the frame. I exhale deeply and a cold sweat spills into my eyes as I pull the trigger three more times. Each bullet lands center mass, but Alistar doesn’t even stagger. Sirens are blaring in my head to get in the car and leave, but I’m so close. I pull the trigger until there is nothing but a hollow click. Still, he stands in the doorframe, unmoved and uninjured. “I told you your little toy wouldn’t keep you safe,” he says in a patronizing voice. “I’ve met you here in good faith, yet you try and shoot me down like a bothersome animal. Shame, Bart. Shame.” My mind reels and dizziness overtakes my vision. I can feel my stomach churn as my blood pressure skyrockets. I don’t understand. There was no way I could have missed him. “I’m feeling a bit angry, detective. Last chance to come inside and speak. If you want your answers, you had best come inside. I won’t be here for long. If you continue to misbehave, you may not be either.” The figure vanishes into the darkness of the house. I fumble the keys from my pocket and begin to back toward my car. Fumbling for the door handle, I prepare to get in the car to speed away. I thought it was too late to turn back. This wasn’t what I expected. I can’t hurt… him? It? “Inside!” he demands. “Now!” My legs feel as though they have lost their own agency as I lurch forward and up the hill. I struggle to turn around, but my knees bend against my will and I ascend the stairs. The planks of the old wooden porch sag under my weight and I try to increase my speed before I fall through, but I continue on at the same even pace. My body continues to carry me toward a threadbare couch opposite an old armchair. Alistar is already settled in the chair as my body guides itself to the couch and my body guides itself gently to the cushions. It is too dark to see, but particles of dust fly into my nose and the smell of mildew overwhelms me. I try to lift my arms and legs, but they sit heavily on the couch. It feels like I’m a marionette without strings. Whatever force he is using over me, I cannot fight it. “Here we are, Bartholomew,” he says. “How old you’ve gotten. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you.” “We’ve never met,” I say, calmly as possible. My mind is in full panic, but I’m doing my best not to show it. “I’ve seen your picture a hundred times in the case file. I would have seen you.” Alistar laughs. “You’ve seen pictures of Alistar,” he purrs as he says the name. “I left that vessel long ago, detective. You’ve never seen me.” I hear the dry crack of snapping fingers. A soft, yellow glow blooms on a table between us. The wick of a fat tallow candle ignites. Alistar’s silhouette comes into sharper focus. Other candles around the room begin springing to life. The room is alive with dancing flickers of light. In front of me, I can see the thing I’ve been tracking for so many years. My stomach drops. If there was an ounce of moisture in me, I would piss my pants. I’m still frozen in place by some compelling force, or I would run in terror. The outline of a man fills the chair in front of me, but it is featureless. A complete absence of color or texture. I would call it a living shadow, but the thing is somehow darker. The thing I’ve called Alistar Lynch isn’t black. It is the absence of any light. Darker than the recess of any cave. There is simply nothing in the silhouette. “What… what are you?” I stammer. “I simply am, Bartholomew,” it says. The cool and collected voice of Alistar is gone. The thing sounds like thousands of voices speaking at once. There is no emotion in its words. “I have always been. I always will be. Every man and woman will meet me one day, but few have spoken to me.” Hot tears are filling the corners of my eyes. I want to speak. To ask it something. Anything. I’m afraid if I open my mouth, I’ll vomit. “Santa Muerte. King Yama. Thanatos. Maweth. Humans have called me so many different things. The list is long but tiresome. I am Death, Detective Coats. Not a dealer of death, but Death itself.” “No…” I say. This is beyond my comprehension. I’m going mad. “You’re not…” “But I am, old friend.” says the choir of voices. “I’ve grown tired of my duties. Your kind has glorified the darkest amongst you. Bundy, Dahmer, Gacey, Gein. Their artistic flourishes in my work have fascinated me for some time. I’ve even reproduced their efforts for my own amusement, but I wish to be free of it.” It stands from the couch and begins walking toward me. “The light of life is beginning to flicker in you, Bartholomew. Your days are few.” Its hand stretches toward me and extends a finger. Slowly, it presses the tip against my forehead. My body spasms uncontrollably and I feel void of all warmth. “To learn so much of death, one may become Death, Bartholomew. When the last grain of sand in the hourglass of your life falls to the bottom, you will replace me…” _________________________ I awake in my bed in a pool of sweat. My clothes from the previous night are still on and I can feel my belt cutting into my waist. A dull throb emanates from the center of my head, so I head to the bathroom for some medicine. It’s the middle of the night. I can’t decide if everything was a terrible dream or a horrifying reality. But my head hurts so damn much. I flick the bathroom light on and walk toward the medicine cabinet. As I prepare to open it, my heart skips a beat when I look in the mirror. In the center of my forehead, there is a gray fingerprint. The whites of my eyes have gone black. No, not black. Void of light. Like a living shadow. submitted by /u/GTripp14 to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

I don’t have to tell you how scared I was when I saw it. Like scared shitless. I didn’t believe it was real at first, I thought maybe I was dreaming, but soon after I concluded that I was dealing with a creature that’s out of this world. It isn’t every day that you meet with intergalactic, demented creatures or demons from hell or whatever other evil places. I just found it on my couch one morning after I woke up. It was the oddest and scariest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. When it saw me too, it started howling, raging like crazy, probably demanding food. The game was on and it was watching it like it was the biggest football fan in the world. Then it started dragging its ass on the carpet, circling around me. The creature didn’t attack me or anything, he seemed harmless but still goddamn horrible to look at. It burped and started running through the living room until it went headfirst into the furniture, where it instantly blacked out. I honestly thought it was gonna bite or kill me when it’d wake up and my heart was racing inside my chest, drumming so hard like Tommy Lee was playing a solo in a Motley Crue live concert. I saw a letter on the carpet and I wondered where or whom it was from, aaaaaaand, of course, that’s when the troubles started. Let me just write it here verbatim and then I can go on with it. It was written in red ink, the letters were pulsating different shades, and I was pretty sure it had to be supernatural or the likes of that. Luckily I took a photo before reading it all, you’ll see why it was a good idea. “Dear Jonathan, Hello there. Sorry to send Fluffy out of the blue but I am really busy at the moment and I need you to take care of him for a few days. These are troubling times down here, I had a few guys who went overboard with drinking and gambling and they haven’t been doing their duty properly. I won’t get into detail about how things here work as you’re not eligible for a place yet. You’re very close though! I don’t even want to start telling you what a crazy party we had on Halloween. We had stripping demon hookers, we smoked DMT, drank whisky that was one thousand years old, brewed right down here with our special recipe. Good times! I left one bottle in the fridge for you as well. Just be careful with drinking too much or you’ll go insane. It kinda burns your throat like really bad and if you do shots, you’ll be able to breathe flames. No, not really. Joking, duh! I like bringing the lolz, you know what I’m saying? Seriously though, don’t drink too much in a single day. If you have just a single on the rocks, you should be fine. If you actually do get drunk on it and see the dancing devils just ignore them, they’re not real. Or are they? Lol, jk. Anyways, the reason I sent Fluffy over is that I have some business to attend here on earth and I can’t leave him alone down there. The last time I did it, he ate my sidekick after he forgot to feed him on time. I can’t carry him with me either because… well, I got important stuff to do that require my utmost attention. So, I have chosen you to watch for my dear old Fluffers! Ain’t he great? Did he get to run headfirst into the furniture by now? He does that when he’s in a new environment. Speaking of, you have to feed time every Wednesday, at 12 pm sharp. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later. I can’t even highlight the importance of that! Even if he is a demon, he still eats the usual raw stuff: raw hearts, raw kidneys, raw muscles. You know, everything meaty basically. Also, aside from that he requires milk daily, just a little, it doesn’t matter when you’ll give it to him, he will not refuse it. Just make sure it’s not too much otherwise he’ll start barking and howling like crazy and your neighbors will hear him and you don’t want that to happen. No bueno. He does like strawberries from time to time but I recommend giving those only on Friday mornings and only in moderation (like two or three of them) because he has a tendency of getting bloated and he’ll start shitting all over your house. And you do not want that to happen because his shits are very acidic and will punch holes in the floor. You’ll have a shitty floor. Get it? Anywho, I gotta bounce. I’ll come to get Fluffy later this month. DO NOT GET PHYSICALLY OR VERBALLY VIOLENT WITH HIM. Toodles! Yours truly, Sa†an P.S. If you’re lucky and he likes you, he’ll try and communicate with you. So if you ask him a yes or no question he’ll reply with one bark (I personally call them barks) for yes, two for no. Try it if you get the chance. P.S.S. If I see that you took good care of him, I’ll make sure you get a big fat reward. If no, then… Right after I finished reading it, the letters scrambled all by themselves into the face of a devil who smirked and winked at me right before vanishing. What the fuck, right? If you’re like me, then you’re wondering what the hell was going on. I just experienced two supernatural events in less than five minutes and I didn’t even think that there was a word in the dictionary to describe how scared I was. The tag on his collar was in the shape of a pink heart with the name Fluffy written on it so I knew he didn’t lie in the letter but… Fluffy? There was a huge discrepancy between the name and the actual way the creature looked like. Anyway, let me tell you a bit about Fluffy. God, I can’t even say his name without my heart starting to rise up in my throat when I think I had to monstersit the Devil’s pet. The small creature was approximately three feet tall, it had purple fur all over its body and two crimson tusks, one longer than the other. Its eyes were a bright hue of glowing pink, and it had three legs and four arms. The arms had little claws on them, probably so that it could grab its food better. I still couldn’t believe it but… I was sure it was real. I had to do what he said in the letter and I had to take care of it. I found myself in a situation in which I’ve never thought I’d be. I decided to call it a him, just like Satan wrote in his letter, maybe that’d have helped. Fluffy was waking up and I approached him. He was a bit scared, I could sense it and when I tried to pet him on the head, he hissed at me, and that’s when I noticed his dark orange tail that ended in an arrow-head tip. Classic demon stuff, right? I let out a ‘Woah!’ and I saw his pink eyes and the tail both lit up in flames. The light was flickering while he focused on studying me and my moves. The tail was colored a bright flamy orange that seemed to contrast the dark hue pretty damn well. I wondered how should I’d call him, ‘Here, Fluffy’, ‘Here, here, little demon’, ‘Atta monster’??? … “Fluffy, want some milk?”, I asked. He started wagging his tail and ran towards my leg. Fortunately, the fire was gone and nothing burned. “Does Satan gives you milk in Hell?” I asked again and I heard him… bark, sorta. It wasn’t your traditional dog bark, more like a thousand barks that echoed in one. You know… like could you imagine a creature of Hell doing one? Yeah, that’s exactly how it sounded. I took a bowl and put some milk in it and he started drinking with his three tongues and spikes started coming out from his back. That probably meant he liked it, I thought. I felt physically sick when I heard the sound of them erecting from under the flesh and I started shivering with a fear that I’d never thought to experience ever in my life. I made his sleeping spot in the kitchen and I tried to make it as comfortable and cozy as possible. After all, I didn’t exactly know how to take care of a demon pet, except for the instructions I was given. Of course, I had to call in sick at work that morning because you know you don’t get the chance every day to monstersit Satan’s pet. Time passed on and nothing significant happened on that Tuesday. Oh, luckily I remembered I had to get his food for the next day. There was a butcher’s shop nearby so it was a quick errand to run. I left him sleeping and I wished that nothing bad would happen. I mean… Satan would have him trained by now, right? I bought like twenty pounds of chicken hearts, beef steaks, sirloins, and pork chops and I put them in the freezer to make his lunch the next day. Then I heard my neighbor Gary blasting that stupid black metal shit and screaming vocals over the original song like a goddamn lunatic. “Hey, fucking asshole! Mind turning that down, I’m trying to rest?!” I angrily yelled. “Up yours, ya pussy, this is real fucking music, not that pop shit you listen to!” his wife Karen replied. “Hey! Fuck you both, you demented scumbags! I’m going to call the cops if you don’t turn that shit down, you hear me?!” I said, blood starting to boil inside my veins. Five minutes later, the music stopped. Fucking Gary and Karen, what a lovely couple. I saw Fluffy standing behind me growling. “Sorry, little guy. I shouldn’t have yelled. It’s that they piss me off sometimes with that stupid musical vomit,” I told him but he didn’t stop growling. I moved past him but he was still standing there, motionless, just growling in their direction. I assured him it’s alright and told him to come with me, so I can give him some milk. He happily obliged. Night came and I took Fluffy to bed. Even though he seemed to listen to every word I said there was still some sort of darkness in the way he looked at me. They say that the eyes are windows to the soul so maybe that’s exactly what he was doing. Trying to ‘read’ my soul and see if I was fit to take care of him or not. “Listen here, Fluffy. Your owner gave me strict rules and told me to be really careful about taking care of you, ok? So please, don’t start throwing tantrums in the middle of the night or become too curious about the neighborhood, ok?” I told him, hoping that maybe he could understand. Still, I was trembling with fear. Then I remembered what Satan said at the end of the letter. One bark for yes, two for no. “Do you understand?” I asked him again and I heard him bark once. We were starting to get along pretty good and I went to bed for the night. Lights out. Someone knocked on the front door. I got out of bed to see who could’ve been at that late hour in the night. Half asleep I opened the door to see Gary enraged with madness, drunk as a skunk and high as a kite, holding a knife in his hand. “You disrespected my woman, you piece of shit! No one talks to her like that,” he said, his hands shaking. “Listen, man. I’m sorry, alright? I shouldn’t have said those things,” I told him, hoping in resolving the conflict peacefully. Of course, that wasn’t the case, you can’t reason with madmen. His right fist connected with my face and I was sent on the floor, start filling my vision. My upper lip split and I felt blood entering my mouth, the salty and coppery taste was something I haven’t felt since I was in a school fight as a kid. I tried to punch back but I couldn’t match his enormous size and strength. He put the knife to my throat and asked me if I wanna die. I shook my head as tears starting to form in my eyes. He was pressing the tip of the blade against my neck, I thought that the end would soon follow and I’d die at the hands of a drunken crack addict. He pocketed the knife and spat at my face, telling me that if I ever even look at them, I’d be dead. He ended by saying that if I’d call the cops, he’ll kill me. Even if he were to be arrested, he’d hire a guy to kill me. Or worse, just cripple me. Make it look like an accident. I looked in the corner where the kitchen was and saw Fluffly standing there, just watching. I shook my head at him not make a move. Then I pissed myself with fear, the warm liquid staining my pajama pants. Gary punched me one more time in the ribs and I coughed blood on the floor. “You’re fucking disgusting, you stupid fuck,” he said, right before leaving, slamming the door on his way out. I didn’t want to call the cops straight away because fear overtook all my other senses and the guy was batshit crazy. I mean he could’ve come back any second and I never trusted a person as erratic as him. Besides, I had to deal with more important things than my split lip and pissed pants. I raised myself, patched my lip, and went to take a shower. I was in and out of sleep for a few hours when suddenly I jolted awake when I heard the front door slamming shut. Someone was trying to rob me. I had to deal with a demon, a murderous neighbor, and now a burglar. Or maybe it was Gary who changed his mind and wanted to finish me off for good. Shit, shit, shit, SHIT! I thought. I didn’t have anything to defend myself with so I just took a pencil from my desk so I could stab the motherfucker in the eye if push came to shove. I checked the living room, nothing. I looked around nothing. I went to the kitchen and turned on the lights. Fluffy was standing there with a human arm in his mouth while his tusks were dripping blood. I recognized Gary’s tattoos on it before I stumbled and fell down on the floor. Fluffy was different. He was bigger in size and now there were spikes all over him and they dripped with blood too. He started wagging his tail and dropped the arm at my feet, barking at me to take it. Then he pushed it again with his tusks towards me. “Oh no, Fluffy… What the hell did you do?!” I yelled. Big mistake because his eyes and tail lit up again. “Sorry for yelling! Didn’t mean to, it’s just… I’m scared and you shouldn’t have done that!” I said. Then I saw Gary’s head watching me from the corner of the room, his lifeless dull eyes frozen with fear. I shrieked and fell on the floor again. Then from across the street, I heard Karen letting out a huge scream, one that woke up the whole neighborhood. I understood why Fluffy did it, he wanted to protect me from the bad neighbor but he left me with a bad situation on my hands so I had to think fast. “Fluffy, is the rest of the body here in my house?” I asked. He barked twice. “Did you leave it in their house?” I said while pointed to Gary and Karen’s house. Woof. Well, at least we got that figured out. I was afraid he would’ve eaten parts of him and get me in double trouble. He wasn’t allowed to eat anything except on Wednesday, remember? I told him to stay put. I got some trash bags for Gary’s head and arm and then stuffed them inside the freezer with the rest of his food. Figured, I don’t know, maybe he’d eat them in a few hours. I then wiped the floor clean with bleach and made sure there wasn’t any more blood in the house. Fluffy went to sleep like nothing happened. What a shitshow. Then I heard the police sirens and as I watched through the window I saw them pull up in front of my neighbors’ house. I didn’t even notice it was morning. I just stood on the side of my bed petrified, all kinds of scenarios going through my head: jail for the rest of my life, death row, things like that. 11:30 in the morning. Time passed so fast while I stood there like a statue, still and unable to move. Frozen with fear. I heard a knock on the front door. Two police officers came to ask me questions. They wanted to see if I know anything about Gary’s killing. As soon as I started talking Fluffy started barking. “Hey Fluffy, keep it down please! I’m trying to talk with these officers about the tragic accident that happened last night! Do you understand?” He barked once. I’m trying to save both our asses here, I thought. “His wife told us that you got in a fight yesterday, Mr. Turner. She said that you were pretty aggressive towards them. Mind telling us why?” one of them asked. I looked at Agents Suck and Fuck over standing on my porch and wished that Fluffy would come and rip their heads off. “I wasn’t aggressive, officers. It’s just sometimes they took that black metal music too seriously and forget that other people are living in the neighborhood… It was very loud and I was trying to get some rest,” I told them, whimpering. More questions followed and when I checked the clock, it said 11:51. “If that’s all, officers…” I said, trying to make them leave so I can feed the “dog”. “Got somewhere to be, sport?” Agent Suck asked me, patronizingly. I shook my head and said that I just needed to feed my dog, he’s very hungry. “Come on, Gary, leave the man be. We’ll be in touch, Mr. Turner. Thank you for your cooperation,” Agent Fuck said. His name was Gary…. I felt like I was in some sort of bad cosmic joke. “What happened to your lip?” Officer Suck or Gary asked me. “You got your ass handed to you or something?” I said that my dog accidentally scratched me while I was training him, it was no big deal. Then they both said goodbye and I was getting really nervous and stressed because I didn’t want to miss Fluffy’s lunchtime. 11:54. I ran to the fridge and I took the frozen meat and quickly placed them in the microwave, hit defrost for three and a half minutes, and fed Fluffy. The spikes came out again from his spine and I asked them if he liked the food and he barked once and kept eating. Then I heard another knock. It was Officer Gary again, this time alone. His voice tone was a little bit changed. “I know you killed him, Jonathan. I know you have his head and arm in the fridge,” he said. No, no, no, fucking no! This wasn’t happening. He pointed his gun at me, “On the ground with your hands behind your back! You’re under arrest!” he said while I followed his instructions. I was basically fucked. I’d go to prison first, then Satan would come after me for not taking care of his pet. Then Officer Gary started laughing. “Oh, man! You should see the look on your face right now! Get the hell up, man! I was just messing with you! I told you I like to bring the lolz!”, he said, crying with laughter. “Where’s my Fluffy?” Then the little creature came running from the kitchen and jumped on Officer Gary, I mean Officer Satan. I mean… Ugh…. “Thank you for taking care of me for him. My business here finished earlier than anticipated and I am truly grateful for your absolute dedication towards the little fella here,” Satan said. “Mind if I take all the meats from your fridge? Including the… you know.” I nodded. “Jonathan. I told you that you’ll get a reward for being nice to my Fluffers, didn’t I?” he asked me. I nodded and he told me that my mortgage has been paid off in its entirety. “I’ll be seeing you around, Johnny boy. I like you, you could work for me. Think about it, will you?” he said. “Come on, Fluffy. To the Batmobile!” he finished. They hoped on in the car and started driving into the distance. Well, my piece of shit neighbor died. That meant no shitty black metal music unless Karen decided to go solo on the vocals. Maybe I’ll get Fluffy again and teach her a lesson too if I get the chance. At least I’m debt-free so I got that going for me which is nice. Might as well pour myself a glass of Satan’s whisky now. Join the party. submitted by /u/PostMortem33 to r/nosleep [link] [comments]

As a kid I lived with neglectful parents at best. At worst dad would turn his screams and fists on me but I learned quickly how to dodge the worst of it. Mom wasn’t much help, she’d just smoke in the kitchen and bitch at him for staying out so late. At the time we lived basically in the middle of nowhere, our nearest neighbors were a long walk away for a six year old and we had trees between us. No one to run to for help. But I was pretty small for a kid my age. I learned I could fit pretty much anywhere. The closet. Dryer. I think even once I tucked myself under my futon in such a way I could still get some air but no one could see me. I was a master at hiding. But it wasn’t for a good reason. One night though, one night I chose to do something different. I could hear it in dad’s yells, he was pissed and was about to get violent. Mom wasn’t helping either, just piling fuel onto an inferno of a flame. So I knew I had to find a good hiding spot. I’d gotten the idea a few days before, when I realized the lattice covering the bottom half of the back porch had a hole in it. Not big enough to fit a full grown man, most likely, but it could fit a skinny six year old no problem. So wrapping myself up in my blanket and grabbing my hippo stuffie, I snuck out my window and ran into the backyard. In the middle of autumn. When it was forty degrees out and the temperature was steadily dropping. I crawled under the porch, scraping my elbows and getting splinters in my palms but I fit inside. It was actually quite spacious compared to most my hiding spots, I couldn’t sit up all the way but I had plenty of room to spread out my limbs. Of course I was also getting covered in dirt. It’d rained a few days ago so the mud was still a little wet. I wrapped myself in my blankie the best I could and settled in for the night. But soon, even with my blankie and my hippo, my teeth were chattering so hard I could barely breathe. I didn’t want to go back inside though, knowing if my dad caught me I’d be in for the whipping of my life. So I had to tough it out. “Honey, are you cold?” That voice was not the voice of my mother, scratchy from all the smoking and screeching she did. It was sweet, like honey. I turned over to see the dim outline of a woman, lying on her stomach next to me. She had a pretty butterfly necklace and was just as dirty as I was. I nodded, not wondering how she’d been down there without me noticing. The woman belly crawled forward and wrapped her arms around me and suddenly I became warm. Like I was sitting next to a campfire. I snuggled into her arms, not minding the mud, after all we were both dirty. “You’ve gotten so big,” the woman said, examining my face. “How old are you now, Alex?” “Six.” How did I know this woman again? I didn’t think I did. “Six!” The woman gasped. “You’re all grown up then. I’m so happy.” She sighed pleasantly and stroked my hair. I’d never felt so cozy in my life. “What’s your name?” I asked. She smiled, I could hear it in her voice. “I’m Lily. What’s your favorite thing to do?” I had to think for a second. “I like board games. And coloring.” Lily chuckled. “Just like me then. Could never get enough of Scrabble. But I guess you’re still too young to play that, huh?” I nodded. “Lotsa words. I wanna play it though. I like the tiles. Would you play with me?” I heard Lily sharply inhale. “I… I don’t think I can. Your daddy put me under here, and I can’t leave… but…” She thought for a second. “Alex, could you do me a favor?” “Of course!” This lady was oh so nice. Why wouldn’t I do her a favor? “When you wake up in the morning, go to the police station. Ask for an officer by the name of Lowell Joyce. Tell him where to find Lily, okay? Under your back porch. He’ll come and he’ll get me, okay? And… and then maybe we can play Scrabble.” Yippee! I was too excited about the possibility of playing Scrabble to notice how Lily’s voice caught at the end. I nodded vigorously. “I’ll do it! We can be on the same team, right?” Lily softly laughed. “I’ll help you understand the rules. Goodnight, Alex.” When I woke up the next morning, I heard Lily’s voice. “Go now. Your dad’s gone to work. I’ll tell you how to get to the station.” Rubbing my eyes, I crawled out from under the porch and went into the house to grab my shoes and a coat. I shivered in the frosty cold. But I thought Lily was right behind me. After my shoes and coat were on I started walking. It was long enough to get to the neighbor’s house. I really can’t remember how long it took to get to the police station, although I have no idea why no one pulled over to see what the hell a six year old in dirty pajamas was doing walking alongside the road. Lily kept guiding me onward. “Wait. Okay, cross the street now.” “Turn right here.” “Keep going! You’ve almost made it!” I nearly collapsed with exhaustion by the time I walked into the station. The guys out front chatting and having a good time didn’t see me until I almost made it to the front desk. “Whoa! Kid! You okay?” One of the officers knelt down to my level, eyes wide. I nodded. “I’m okay. Can I speak to Lowell Joyce?” I asked. One of the other officers picked me up. “Sure kid, sure, let’s just get you someplace warm, holy shit your lips are blue…” I remembered quietly scolding the man about watching his language. ‘Shit’ was a bad word. I was given some warm cocoa and wrapped up in a blanket by the time an old man with a graying mustache sat by me. “Hey kid. I’m Sheriff Joyce. What’s your name?” He asked. “Alex.” I set down my cup and looked him straight in the eye. “I was told to tell you that Lily is under the back porch. You need to go let her out so we can play Scrabble.” I had never seen a grown man turn pale before. Lots of things blurred together at this point. I remember being taken back to my house and there were a lot of police cars and people around. The back porch was surrounded by yellow tape, and someone was taking a black bag away while my dad was in handcuffs. After that, I lived with my grandparents. Sheriff Joyce and his wife. I tried to ask about what happened and who was Lily but I always got shut down. I was too young to know. But life got better. A lot better. Grandpa was the best man I could’ve hoped for in my life. We went out on weekends to the movies where he let me have the giant soda even though I’d have to pee in the middle of the movie. When I asked if I could drink when I was thirteen he let me try a beer. I spat it out and didn’t touch it again. He never judged me for my love of art, letting me paint my own bedroom multiple times over the years. I felt safe around him. He never laid a hand on me. My grandmother was amazing too, over the week she’d homeschool me along with teaching me things that you wouldn’t learn in a school, such as how to respect others but not take their crap. And cooking. Lots of cooking. I could make my own birthday cake by the time I was twelve. But I usually just made them for my friends. I got a lot of those, after I was free from my dad. When I turned sixteen, Grandpa took me back to my dad’s house. The whole thing had been bulldozed over. But I could still see the yellow tape wound around a few trees, faded and torn. We sat together on the back of his truck. He opened a beer and drank half of it before setting it down and grabbing me an orange soda. After I’d drank it he told me. “Lily was your mother.” Good thing he didn’t tell me as I was swallowing, I likely would’ve had it coming out of my nose. “My mom?” I questioned, confused. “Your actual mom. The woman who lived with your dad was not your mother.” My granddad grabbed another beer. “Lily was my daughter. I loved her so much… but when you were around six months old, she vanished.” My stomach dropped. “My dad just imprisoned her under the porch?” I asked, starting to feel sick. Grandpa took a deep breath before setting his unopened beer down. “That’s…. something I’ve never been able to understand. Lily told you to find me? And that she loved Scrabble?” “Yeah. She kept me warm that night. I probably would’ve frozen to death if she hadn’t been there.” I was a stupid kid, even I knew that. Grandpa went dead quiet before he opened that beer and slammed the whole thing. “… Alex, Lily had been dead the whole time she was gone. When we dug her up she was bones. Experts confirmed it, and your dad confessed to what happened. They’d gotten into a fight and he threw her down the stairs. She… broke her neck.” He clenched his fists. “I knew he had something to do with her disappearance, but I never had proof until you walk into my station, covered in dirt and telling me she was under the porch.” I was floored. I couldn’t breathe. All I could do was shake my head. “But- I saw her! She was alive! She had this butterfly necklace…” I trailed off when Grandpa pulled an evidence baggie from his pocket. There was that butterfly necklace all right. Rusty, and parts of the paint had chipped off, but I remembered it as clearly as I remembered Lily’s voice. Grandpa took a shaky breath as he pressed the bag into my hands. “… Lily loved you so much. ‘ts why she stuck around that bastard. You were her whole world. She was constantly taking pictures and sendin’ them to us in the mail. Sometimes a mother’s love can accomplish things that no human can do.” My eyes overflowed with tears as I clutched the necklace to my chest. Choking on sobs, I leaned against Grandpa. He held me tight and I swear I felt a few of his tears land on the top of my head. And for just a brief moment, I swear I felt that warm love I felt that night under the porch. submitted by /u/theoddcatlady to r/nosleep [link] [comments]