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  1. Zylotta

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    I used the PC game Spore to create a reasonable construction of a Zylottan, what do you think? I had to make some compromises, there's no webbed and clawed hand, so I had to make due with webbed.








  2. Premonition or anxiety?

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    Lately, I've been having a gut feeling that someone (a specific person) is going to pass away, in a very specific way.  I had a dream about it at first, only one.  I thought about it, then forgot about it, as I am not afraid of death for myself or others.  However, the gut feeling started coming up during the day about a week later while this person was away and it was my first thought when that person wasn't home or didn't make it home in time.  This passed last week.  Now, starting last night, it randomly came back like a huge wave crashing, but much more heightened than it had been in the past.  It is now a constant nagging feeling in my gut that this person is going to pass, and there is no way I can help.  I am wondering if this is a premonition that gets more and more intense as I get closer to the event or if it has just become a form of anxiety. 

  3. Crypto Social

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    I always wonder this. There are thousands of Bigfoot sightings going centuries into the past. More happen now, I'm sure, because of population increase and urban sprawl. But I ALWAYS wonder about the other half of the coin here: the hoaxer. 

    • Why do you do it? 
    • How much time are you willing to invest into the hoax?
    • How much money are you willing to pay for a suit? 

    It's ridiculous once you start rabbit-hole thinking about their motivations and desires for the hoax. Sometimes it turns out really bad: like the guy who got run over by a 15 year old girl on the highway while dressed as Sasquatch. Sometimes it just makes you laugh your ass off, like with this weird monkey dummy thing someone threw into a swamp. And sometimes it is clearly just for financial gain, like with Rick Dyer carting a fake Bigfoot in a freezer all over the country charging $5 a  pop for a viewing. 

    Is there really some kind of weird secret society out there? I really really want to jump into this topic more. I think I might put this into deep research.  You know, I look at what many people consider to be a compelling bigfoot video like the Patterson/Gimlin footage and I'm just shocked at the potential amount of time and effort that a small group of people are willing to dedicate to this bizarre hobby. 

    Do you hoax? 


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      So this all happened when I was five.  I woke up from a bad dream and this unnaturally glowing silver cat with big blue eyes was in my room.  At the time we didn't own any cats, so I was mesmerized by this, yet still frightened because of my dream.  It just padded over to me, and lay down next to me.  As soon as it did so I felt completely calm and fell asleep, when I woke up it was gone.

      Ever since I have been seeing ghost dogs and cats.  One of which is my dead cat (who just so happened to be my mom's cat in high school.  She died at age 27).  She died six years ago and I still see her ghost to this day walking around the back yard sometimes.  Other times I will see one singular white cat with green eyes, who often likes to troll me.  So I'll be sitting around doing my own thing when all of a sudden I see it staring at me and I stare back, then it will just poof away.  Another thing I saw once is a large shaggy dog.  It just padded down the street and vanished into thin air.

       Not entirely sure why I see them, but they haven't really caused any trouble so far.  The only one that I get annoyed at is the white one which I have named Myst.  Sorry for the short entry, just thought this may be a nice thing to post for my first blog entry. 

  4. TheLight

    Google Sky Maps - Hidden North Star

    Why is the Polaris or "North star" hidden in Google Sky Maps? Who is behind this cover up - what are the connections? We look at some time-lapse footage and some astonishing information was revealed by shining the light on the darkness of this world.




    Jas 1:17  Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning. 


    DISCLAIMER: You may never look at the world the same ever again.

  5. It's Dire...

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    I wrote this in 2011, 4 years before my cat and familiar, Toulouse, was born.

    There is no real story behind the poem itself, as it was something I had decided to write one fall night, and thought it was just "magic in the air".

    My cat, on the other hand, is quite another story...

    He was one of three kittens born of a feral mother I had hand tamed over a course of months. By the time she had her kittens, she was comfortable enough to come and go from my house as she pleased (so long as the door or window was open). When her kittens were finally old enough to walk, she began bringing them to my back porch. As I was walking down the hallway one morning, two of the kittens had run, but one of them, the solid black one, just sat there, petrified, and looked up at me. His little blue eyes were so deep and intelligent, before I had even bent down to pet him, I could already feel the bond starting to form, and I fought it hard. I didn't want this kitten, I had already made up my mind to keep one of the others. But as I patted him, I could feel his tiny body shaking, and I wondered why he choose to sit and let me pat him when he could have run like the others. I considered that he was paralyzed with fear, but as I looked at him, I felt as if it were something more, maybe a test.

    Days after that, I had caught all three kittens and had put them in my bedroom while my husband and I moved our things out of the house (we were renting). I tried to interact with them a bit, but since they were still so young I was met with unfriendly spitting and swatting. The black kitten was the only one who did not spit or swat, he instead was very still and even purred when I pet him. The others, when I finally did touch them, tensed up and growled. When it was time to take the one I was keeping and let the others go with their mom, I kept the black one. I fed him boar bacon. He sat in my lap on the ride to the new home.

    He has kept me from suicide.

    He has been my best friend.

    My brother.

    My familiar.

    My rock when the anxiety gets bad.

    He has done for me than most any human could ever hope to claim.



    Black Cat Chivalry




    There's magic in the air tonight.

    I can sense the change in the breeze.

    Can you feel it too?

    Tell me you can feel it too.

    Tell me you can sense the magic in the air tonight.


    A haunting melody and a melancholic chant is all it takes.

    That's all it takes to bring tonight to life.


    Can you hear them calling?

    Can you feel the magic calling out to you?

    I feel like an addict.

    I'm addicted to this Black Cat Chivalry.


    Black cat.

    Magic cat.

    Look at what you've done.

    I'm addicted to you.


    There's magic in the air tonight.

    I can sense the change in the breeze.

    Can you feel it too?

    Tell me you can feel it too.

    Tell me you're the magic in the air tonight.




  6. A few weeks ago I shared the first day of my new job as director of the RCIA in our parish.  RCIA stands for the Rite of Christian Iniation of Adults.  It is the process though which people pass in order to be received into the Cathollic Church.  It is a wonderful concept.  I went through it myself over 4o years ago and although it was nothing like the process of today it was a wonderful enlightening period of my life.  I will never forget the dear priest who invited 5 or 6 of us "inquirers" into his dining room each week to learn about this wonderful faith community that has been growing for almost 2,000 years.

    For a decade we had a fantastic Sr. of Charity as director or our RCIA program but she was 92 and decided it was time to turn in her car and her license and go home to the Motherhouse in Cincinnatti.  Oh it was a sad time for all of us when Sister left us but she left us with a wealth of wisdom and we have been building on that for two years.  Now I am creating a program based on the Sunday scripture readings along with foundatons presented in the Catechism of our Church.  Here's where the miracle come in... I know that I am not the aurthor of this process.  I am just not that smart.  I just pray a lot and word come out of my fingers unto the keyboard.

    I took this on knowing that I had to have surgery on my left hip.  I can't walk without a cane or a walker.  I had made an appointment with the surgeon who had done my right hip and double knee replacements. It took over 2 months to get the appointment and 2 weeks before the appointment I was informed that my appointment was cancelled because our insurance carrier had dropped them.  Now I had to find a new surgeon and in Florida that means another 2 month wait.  What to do?? Well I started praying.  

    After the second day at my "new job" I came home and picked up the phone and called the best and busiest surgeon in our area and miracle of miracles he gave me an appointment the very next week.  This Tuesday I met with Dr. Z and after looking at my x-rays he told me it was really bad... I wanted to say "you think?"  What I did say is how soon can we do this because I have a wedding in DC in September.  He said "you are really pushing me" but, God bless him, he scheduled me for next week!  

    "O give thanks to the Lord, for he is good; his merccy endures for ever! Out of my distress I called on the Lord; and the Lord answered me and set me free."Psalm 118




  7. Well after my last blog post, and despairing completely and the rhetoric of some here, I stayed away because it was honestly getting to me.

    So I left, went away for Star Wars Celebration and only came back (signed off) to see if some measure of sanity had returned.

    Alas, it's not. If anything it seems to be getting worse. Between people thinking it's the end time, practically wanting a civil war or wanting swathes of the population unable to vote... it's honestly become crazier. And yeah, I'm thinking of doing what I thought about before, leaving indefinitely, because I just can't take it. I can't take seeing how little these people care about human life or other people's rights. I can't take how much they'd rather hate, or how much they love their guns, or how much they want the end of the world, how much they long for other people to just be slaughtered in droves.

    So yeah, I'm out. I'm done. You can all stay and get more and more insane. Worship death. Worship guns. Go on killing sprees the second wthings don't go your way. But I won't be here to see it.

    I hope someone can restore some mesure of sanity here someday, but I just can't see it, not when members left and right seem to be baying for blood.

  8. Experiences of a lifetime

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    It's almost the end of summer break, almost time for my education on art and physics to resume, almost time to go back to that school, that old school that creeps me out to no end, but this entry is not about that school, but my own home, where I should feel safe as I have had it blessed 97 times in my whole life. Honestly i'm thinking of getting an exorcist because it's just insane, so to let you see what has been happening, I tell you the story of last night, well this morning at 2:30 but still.

    my room is upstairs to the right, blue walls that have taken many colours, the entity that has left me with scars that I can not explain, my parents chalked it up to self harm, but it wasn't, I just woke up with those. Honestly my parents think i'm going crazy, they even sent me away from the house once, that got me 2 months of peaceful sleep. But last night, I was terrified for my life.

    the old owners of the house liked to do satanic rituals, leaving my dad and uncle to have gotten the house cheap, my dad later bought out the house and my uncle moved two towns over, in the district that the bus that takes me close to my school goes (E34 in MA to be exact) this is important because I refused to go to my house most of the time so I spent time caring for my grandmother in the afternoons.

    so, on to what happened I woke up at 1:34 to my sister doing this ritual called the "hooded man" I naturally stopped her before it was complete and took the cross with a white candle I had bought (along with some sage I got from a cool store in province town it was a 3/2 sale so I got 9 candles) and then told the entities she had called that they were not welcome and were to leave the house after 30m I was like ok I think that was enough and went back to my room and watched YouTube 

    I then was startled a while later by the room getting cold, I was under my covers in sweat pants and a sweat shirt, I looked over to the corner where I had my papazon chair, to my horror there was an entity there. It kept getting closer every time I looked away, so I ended up on discord, a voice chat for gamers with some of my friends from the uk, they started yelling at me to take my bible and cross and get the hell out of that room. I was attacked on my lower right thigh I will insert a picture of the inflicted damage

    so I go downstairs and my parents wake up and start yelling at me and call me delusional, though this is not the first time it has happened.


  9. Hellofifa

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  10. Taça de Portugal 2016

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  11. DivineNinja

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    I just joined Unexplained-Mysteries and am feeling pretty good. The reason why I came to this forum is that I just wanted to discuss certain issues that are hindering my usual life aspects. These issues primarily pertain to peculiar subjects like paranormal and psychics. Since 2010 I have been experiencing telepathic attacks that continue till date. I was at the beginning of my career and was all ready to run the marathon of my life. At first I was mentally distracted by loud real time voices that eventually tried cutting me off my surroundings and made me talk and murmur to myself. I live in a city that locates country's biggest mental hospital which I also frequently visited due to one of my relatives. So, I knew a few things about mental problems and a lot about Schizophrenia. My sleep patterns were disrupted, I woke up in the middle of the nights as if someone shook my body to wake me up, slowly I also realized that I have stopped dreaming and someone kept talking to me like trying to instruct me.

    I never discussed this with my family or friends as everybody was and is so busy in their own life and above all I simply hated to be called a MENTAL. For the same when I visited my psychologist I simply complained him about my disrupted sleep patterns only. He prescribed me pills which he told were not the sleeping pills upon my concerns but they actually did put me to deadly sleeps. I hate those pills and try taking them only once in a month. But whether I liked it or not those pills did good bringing me back to normal. By normal here I mean that I was able to think and work normally again but the telepathic attacks never actually stopped. I also tried continuing the pills for a week but it did not worked..

    I often became speechless and used to ignore talking to people. However, since the childhood and teen days of my life I have been a guy who loved and lived with comics and movies and believe me this habit of mine did helped me a lot. The best thing I did during telepathic attacks is that I never responded to it, mentally. I knew it very well that once I get engaged with it I would literally develop a habit of mentally talking to the attacker. I don't know how I realized this but I really did exactly that. Currently I frequently hear telepathic comments that depict me as dirty, foolish and useless. But after spending 6 years under such attacks I have learned to ignore it.

    But ignorance alone never really ended this as I could feel myself being touched, pinched and pierced. My individuality got totally ruined and despite me feeling miserable at times I somehow manage to follow my daily schedules.

    As for relief and treatment information I switched to the internet. I must admit it here that for 5 odd years I really wasted my time searching info relating to white and black magic. The only useful info I tracked was that such attacks are linked with voodoo doll magic where the doll is baptized in the name of victim. It was only this year in 2016 that I somehow changed my search keywords and landed on subjects like telepathy and psychic attacks. This way I came to know about a stone called Black Tourmaline which is said to absorb negative energies. I quickly ordered it online and am currently testing it. So far it had successfully helped in removing my headaches and I can now actually sleep peacefully. I tend keeping these stones in my right or left hand as I lie down on my bed and as I fall asleep I drop them beside my pillow.  But what I still worry about is that black tourmaline does not completely stop it. I still feel it and feel really bad about it. Also, I never see proper dreams.

    At first I tried running away from home, asked myself what, why and how of this could happen to me. Believe me I also once said to myself that I am the one selected for destruction. But I hold a few habits that somehow make me step out of the misery. I am a hardcore bodybuilder; I do a lot of exercise and without supplements.  I am also a hardcore gamer who likes playing all new age and classic titles. I am also crazy about movies and prefer watching at least one flick daily. So what eventually I started to believe is that I am one of GOD's soldier and if that was not so why would such an evil thing may happen to me or I may have been doing the same evil to other people.

    Currently I am continuing my search for finding a complete solution for shielding myself from such attacks. I do not intend living and ending my life with the same problem. Black Tourmaline stones provide relief but never actually stops it. Also, this stone would work miracles for normal people who wish bringing peace to their life and enhance their focus and performance. I have spend a lot of time on the internet but just like the ocean I know that I have searched or viewed only a small fraction of it. I have provided my story so that anyone else experiencing the same may get a positive reference and if someone reading this knows how to stop or end telepathy or psychic attacks may please revert to this post.

    Wishing everybody cheers and good luck.

  12. Stories

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    Latest Entry




    This world is dark. It’s cold. Empty. I am alone. There is no one else left. They have all gone away… to another place… another world. They have abandoned me. I walk in this lonely place with no destination because there is nothing to walk towards. But, I continue on my futile journey, anyway. There is nothing else to do. I am naked and afraid. I have no possessions, no food or water. Yet, still I live. It is a desolate and miserable existence, but it is still life. I cling to it like moss to a tree, because it is all I have. This life and this barren land is all I know. If I had a life before this, I can’t remember it. I am nameless. I am no one. And yet, I am everyone, because there is nobody else. There aren’t even any animals or plants. In this world, there is only the rusty ground, and me. Sometimes, I look up at the sky. It is always crimson. There is a sun, a bright orange circle piercing through the scarlet clouds. The sun never sets and it never moves. It’s as if this place is frozen in time.

                I continue to walk, my bare feet kicking up the red dust with each step. I don’t know why I walk. All I know is that I have to. If I don’t move, I will lose what’s left of my existence. I know I will never reach my chimerical destination but still, I walk. Some part of me hopes that I’m wrong; that there is something else in this world. So, I keep walking.

                I wasn’t always alone. There were others with me not long ago. A man, a woman, a boy and a girl. They were like me. We were all wandering this place alone. I found the man first. We didn’t talk much, because there was nothing much to talk about. We talked about the ground, the sky, and the emptiness and then we were silent. Then we found the woman and the boy. The woman claimed the boy was her son. The boy claimed the woman was his mother. Neither knew for sure because none of us knew anything, except that we were here. Then we found the girl. She was lying on her side, curled up in the fetal position, sleeping near a rock. She looked afraid and cold, so we woke her up and she agreed to join us.

                So, there we were. The only five people in the world: A young man with thick hair, a thick beard and a thick head; a cautious and terrified woman; a silent yet playful boy; an innocent and timid girl; and me. We walked and talked, and then we slept. Sleeping was the only way to escape; for a short time the red was replaced with black. We did not dream, but still we slept. Then, everyone disappeared, and I was alone.

                It must have happened while we were sleeping because all I remember is waking up and being alone. I don’t know what could have happened to the others. They could have been taken to another world, another universe, or simply transported a few miles away. I suppose, another reason I walk, is for them. It has been quite a while, I think, since we were separated, but I still have hope that one day we will meet again. I will continue to walk this barren wasteland, I will continue my journey, and I will kick up tons and tons of rust-colored dust until I find something…or someone. I will not stop because I can’t. There is nothing else to do.

  13. Don Allison

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    In Search of Truth

    The Preface for I Met a Ghost at Gettysburg: A Journalist's Journey into the Paranormal

    By Don Allison 

        In the end, my career choice was a clear one.

        As a college student I thought about working in marketing, or perhaps obtaining a law degree. But I decided to pursue journalism, and for me it really was a no-brainer.

        At my core I’m a very curious person. I want to figure out how things work, and why things are the way they are. I love to discover things for myself. When I have to rely on accounts from others I want to gather input from a number of people, so I can sort out, analyze and compare what they say.

        What better way to pursue that passion than as a journalist?

        Through the years I’ve covered murder investigations and trials, political hijinks, civil and criminal court cases and public controversies. I’ve interviewed far more people than I can even begin to remember, on topics ranging from the trivial to the monumental.

        In doing so I’ve honed an intuition about people and things I’m observing or interviewing. It’s almost a sixth sense, really, of perceiving red flags that indicate when people are lying or skirting the issue, or when something just doesn’t feel right.

        Sometimes people with something to hide go on the attack, or try to avoid truly answering a question. For example, when asked “Are you guilty?” they may reply “I don’t think so,” instead of a clear “No.” At other times they simply appear uncomfortable, won’t look you in the eye or just give off a negative vibe. In some cases the facts just don’t seem to add up.

        Whatever the situation may be, I try to ferret out the best information I can to illuminate the truth. Sometimes that involves telling both sides of a story – or three or four sides if necessary – and by presenting the best evidence possible I can let the readers decide for themselves.

        I can’t say I’ve never been wrong or drawn faulty conclusions – actually, who among us can ever say that. But I try to be accountable, and when I am wrong I want to acknowledge it and learn from mistakes so I can do a better job in the future.

        For 34 years and counting I’ve worked at The Bryan Times, a daily newspaper in northwest Ohio. I was born in Bryan, and spent the majority of my formative years in nearby Stryker. Other than a few years residing in Toledo, where I completed my studies at the University of Toledo, I have lived in Williams County, Ohio.

        People here know me. People knew my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and they know my parents, siblings, wife, kids, and cousins. I have worked all my life to build a reputation here. I want to be known as an honest, reliable, friendly person, someone who contributes to the community and helps to make it a better place.

        As a journalist, every time one of my stories appears in print my performance is judged by my readers. In effect, my reputation is at risk every day if I don’t do my job properly. Since I have been at work more than three decades – actually four decades if you count my early work in sports with the former Stryker Advance – I must be competent. If not I would have been thrown out on my ear long ago. In fact, from my earliest days at The Bryan Times I was charged with editing the work of others, in addition to my own reporting. In 1996 I was named editor of the paper, a role I filled for many years in multiple stints, and now I am senior editor, semi-retired to devote more time to my Civil War and other historical pursuits.

        The point I’m trying to make is that when I put my name on a piece of writing, I stand behind it.

        I thought long and hard before deciding to tackle this project, an exploration of the paranormal. I know many people are skeptical when it comes to this subject. I understand, because I was a stalwart skeptic and still approach each paranormal experience as skeptic.

        The paranormal is not a subject I went looking for. It definitely came looking for me. After I have had experience after experience that I could not explain away by the laws of nature as we generally know them, I eventually felt compelled to learn more. The more I researched the topic, the more I realized my paranormal experiences were much more numerous and of a much broader nature than I had believed. And writing being at the core of my nature, I now feel led to share what I have learned.

        Once I decided to proceed with this book, I realized I could hold nothing back. I am treating the paranormal as I would any other topic. I am sharing my own experiences and what I have learned from research. I am passing on what other people have told me about the subject and in some cases their own perceptions of what I have experienced.

        I realize there are those who may laugh, or roll their eyes, or wonder if I have taken leave of my best judgment. But I appreciate the fact that such treatment has befallen many who have gone before me, people who put forward such outlandish ideas as that of a round earth, not a flat one; of man flying through the air or into space; a belief in rocks falling from the heavens; an impossible flow of energy we now know as electricity; and the sheer lunacy of waves traveling through the air transporting sounds and visual images to be retrieved by far-away machines.

        It takes people with such vision to expand our knowledge, and our societal comfort zone. Without the willingness to explore the unknown, our society cannot advance.

        So I will take this risk. I will do the best I can to present the evidence I’ve found and let my readers come to their own conclusions.

        In fact, I stake my reputation on it.

  14. cheap ffxiv gil

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  15. So I wandered around aimlessly for a while, thinking things over. What Zara said could be some of the answers I was looking for, but Dirth didn’t seem to think much of him. I didn’t want to get caught up in something that was phony, just a lot of gibberish. Zara was okay, but was he telling the truth or just jabbering about his imagination?

    I wondered where Henry was. The dome was so big I didn’t think I’d just run into him someplace by accident, and looking for him was just as pointless. I was on my own and I had to figure out the best thing to do next. I thought about going back to see Dirth, then I thought about that engineer I’d met in that eating place. He kind of said we’d meet again. I wondered where the engineers were. I thought they, if anyone, would know the secrets of the dome.

    So I turned around and headed back to that eating place, way over on the other side. As I walked, I kept looking around, hoping I’d see Henry wandering around, but like I said, I didn’t think I would.

    Suddenly there was a commotion behind me. I looked back and I saw a group of men in brown suits pushing their way through the crowd toward me. I turned to the side and started to walk faste away from them, hoping they were not after me, but they turned also. The crowd of Paratekes was pretty thick where I was and I pushed my way through them as best I could. I glanced back, and the brown suits were pushing their way through, too, getting nearer.

    I started to run, but the crowd was too thick. I stumbled and fell to the floor. Before I could get up they were on me. They surrounded me, and two of them reached down and roughly grabbed me and pulled me to me feet.

    Let go of me!” I demanded. “What are you doing? Can’t you see I fell? What do you want?!”

    One of them who pulled me up held me by my shoulders and said firmly, “You are to come with us. No nonsense, now. You are under arrest.”

    “But, what have I done?!” I demanded.

    “We have no authority to answer that question,” the brown suit said. “You are being detained. That function is all that is required of us. Others will continue the procedure.”

    With that, the brown suits pulled me through the crowd. The paratakes didn’t seem to take any notice of this; they just went on with their stupid activity as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening.

    I was pretty scared. I wondered how I was found out. Maybe Zara had something to do with this, I thought, after all his talk of peace and brotherhood. Or maybe it was that engineer. I wondered if there was anyone I could trust in this place. Just like in the village, I guessed not.

    I was taken through the bustling crowd roughly; two guys had me by my collar on either side, shoving me along, the rest pushing our way through the crowd ahead. I was scared but disappointed, too. After all I’d gone through to try to understand the Dome and everything, now it was over. It was all for nothing, and I might loose my life, as well.

    “Where are you guys taking me?” I shouted, but they didn’t answer or even pay attention, they just hauled me along. It was quite a ways across the Dome floor and I was getting tired of it. I thought I’d struggle some; maybe I could break free and run. But, run where? These guys wouldn’t give up, I figured. I thought if I could get back to Dirth, maybe he’d protect me, but then again I didn’t want to get him in trouble. So I just gave up and let them push me along.

    After a while I could see ahead of me a wall of the Dome getting closer. It was a black area in the wall. As we got nearer, I could see there was a big black door there. I also noticed, as we approached, the crowd of Paratakes thinned out until near the door there was nobody. It was like no one wanted to be close to that part of the wall. This didn’t relax my nerves any.

    One of the brown-clothed guys went ahead and pulled open the black door for the rest and me to enter. As I was jerked through it I took one last glance back at the Dome behind me. I wondered if I’d ever see it again. Probably not, I thought.

    I was pushed through and into a bright, long hallway. The two that had ahold of me pulled me along, the others disappeared somewhere. I couldn’t see where. It was all white in the hallway, floor to ceiling. The light hurt my eyes. We passed some doors on the sides, then down some stairs through another long hallway. Pretty soon the two guys that held me pulled me to a stop.

    “Here’s your new home,” one of them said, and pulled a door on the side of the hallway open and pushed me through into a bare room, only a cot coming out of one wall and a toilet. The door slammed loudly behind me.

    I stood there for a minuet, then sat down on the cot. Well, I thought, this is the end of my adventure. I wondered what kind of execution I’d get. I wondered if they had caught Henry, too. I put my head in my hands. I wondered if Dirth had foreseen this. Maybe it was Dirth who set me up. Who was Dirth, anyway? A lot of thoughts were going through my head.

    Then I heard footsteps outside on the metal floor. I looked up and the door opened and another man dressed in brown stood in the doorway. “You’re to come with me,” he said matter-of-factly without even really looking at me.

    “Yeah,” I said, “well I want to know why did you bring me here, and who are you? You have no right to push me around like this. I don’t like being kidnapped, fella.”

    The guy just repeated what he’d said and stood there looking at me with a blank expression on his face. I thought if I got into the hallway I could try to make a break for it, but I figured the outside door to the Dome was probably locked, so I stood up. “Where are you gonna take me?” I asked.

    “You’re to come with me,” the guy said again. He didn’t look too tough, but if I clobbered him, that might get me in deeper with these guys. I thought maybe it was a good idea to see what was up, I might learn something, so I said, “Okay,” and followed him out into the hall. We walked together down the hallway a ways until we got to another door on the side. The guy opened it and motioned me to go in.

    It was a bigger room, still all metal, with a two chairs around a table. On the chair at the far side sat another brown shirt. He looked up at me as I walked through the door and said, blandly, “Sit down.” So, I sat down facing him. “Well? I said.

    “Let me tell you at the outset that we know all about you, who you are, where you come from and why you are here. So, there is no use telling me lies about yourself or your purpose. You are an anomaly and must either be amended or eliminated. There are no other choices for you.”

    I sat back in my chair and looked at the guy. He looked like everybody else in the Dome. They all looked alike to me, anyway. I wasn’t going to take no guff from him, though. I figured I was caught anyway, so why make it easy for him. “You mean you think you know everything,” I said. “You don’t know the half of it, buddy. There’s more to me than you can imagine in your dumb little world.”

    “We know all about you,” he repeated. “You will tell me everything, you have no choice.”

    “Well then, if you know everything, you tell me who I am,” I said.

    “You are a member of the underground organization, a subversive. You are insane. You are here to destroy the sanity of the Dome because you are delusional in your psychosis. The Dome is a perfect society. Its citizens are perfect, the Paratakes, the Drones, the Engineers, even the Clerics and Nonconforants.

    “Because of your insanity you are an anomaly, you yourself are imperfect, and imperfection cannot be tolerated. The collective mind is sanity, the individual mind is insanity. We cannot be allowed to control our own minds, that leads to madness, so our minds must be controlled by the collective. There is not one thought that the citizens of the Dome think that has not been thought before. This makes us perfect and therefore society perfect.

    “You yourself control your own mind, like an untamed wild animal. You are insane, my friend. You must either be tamed or excluded. Self-discipline is not enough. Discipline in itself is useless. We cannot make you a sane citizen; you must become a sane citizen. You must conform or be eliminated. You are an anomaly.”

    The man sat back in his chair and looked into my eyes. “Which do you choose? Submission to sanity or the insanity of individuality?”

    I didn’t quite know what to make of what he’d said. All I knew was this guy wasn’t going to change me into no Paratake or have me eliminated. I leaned forward. “Listen, buddy,” I said. “I could easy knock you a good one and get out of here. I don’t like what you say or anything about you.”

    “That is immaterial,” the man said. “Now, I want to know the names of your comrades in the underground and their location.”

    Now I knew the guy didn’t really know who I was, so I said, “I don’t know anything about no underground, fella, so I don’t have no comrades in it. You think you’re some big guy around here, but you’re not. You got nothin’ on me, see, so why don’t you just be a good guy and I’ll go away.”

    “That is impossible,” he said. “I have my duty to perform. Now, will you confess to being a member of the underground?”

    “I don’t know nothin’ about no underground, I told you that. And listen to this, there’s something wrong with this whole Dome place. It’s not what I thought it was. It’s full of dead people as far as I can see.”

    “What are the names of the other members of the underground,” the guy repeated.

    “I told you, I don’t know and I don’t know anything about no underground.”

    “You are required to tell me,” he said, sort of mechanically. “The sanity of the Dome demands you to tell me. Your imperfection cannot be tolerated. Your mind must be reconfirmed into the control of the perfection. You cannot discipline yourself, you are like an untamed animal, you must confess your irrationality and therefore become sane or you will be eliminated.”

    “Okay then, how am I to become sane?” I asked.

    “You are an anomaly, you must confess. Either you tell me what you know and conform or you will be eliminated,” he repeated.

    “And how do you expect to eliminate me?” I asked.

    “Your elimination will be carried out by the proper authorities.”

    “Just who turned me in, can you answer that?”

    “You have been observed and reported. The sanity of the Dome must be preserved. All anomalies must be discovered and reported. We know all about you, who you are, where you come from and why you are here. It is useless to tell lies. You are a member of the underground organization, a subversive. You are insane. You are here to destroy the sanity of the Dome. You are delusional in your irrationality. You are insane.

    “You control your own mind, like an untamed wild animal. You must either be tamed or excluded. Self-discipline is not enough. Discipline in itself is useless. We cannot make you a sane citizen; you must become a sane citizen. You must confess and conform to perfection of the Dome or be eliminated.”

    I thought about what this guy was saying and repeating himself, so I said, “You’re a Drone, aren’t you.”

    The guy sat there for a while with no expression on his face. Finally, he said, “You must confess your digressions or be eliminated. It is your choice.”

    I looked at him. He was waiting for a response he could understand, I guessed. “Well, I’m out of here,” I said. “You’ll let me go or I’ll knock you good. Those others outside will have a hard time with me if they get in my way.”

    I stood up, walked around the table to the door and opened it. “You cannot leave!” the guy demanded, turning in his chair to look at me.

    I just walked out into the hallway, retracing my steps. There was no one around. When I got to the stairs I looked back, but the guy was no where in sight, no even following me. I walked up the stairs into the other hallway. It was empty, too, so I headed for the outer door. When I got to it, I pushed on it, it was unlocked and swung open, so I went through and stepped onto into Dome floor.

    That was too easy, I said to myself. That made me a little nervous. I walked a few feet looking back over my shoulder and bumped into someone. “Sorry,” I said as I turned my head around to see who it was, and there standing in front of me was the Engineer I’d met in the food place.

    “Having an interesting time, are you?” He asked casually. I was surprised to see him, and I stepped back a little.

    “I think now you’re ready to take a tour of the real Dome,” he said, smiling.






































  16. portia.angelique.lumiere99

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  17. DigitalDreamer
    Latest Entry

    I see these old blog entries riddled with depression and anger,And i don't even recognize that guy! 


    I've grown firm and hardened to the worlds attempts at kicking me while i'm down and hoping that i won't get up,Now i can see through the thunderstorms and can appreciate them.The cleansing they provide,the darkness ever so temporary until pierced by the sun rays of mushrooms and psychedelic awakening.



  18.   Chapter 13 Pic.jpg  

         Still surrounded by the pin-point lights, Cloney asks, “What are these strange lights, Zerak?

         “I don’t know. They’re all around us, but they don’t seem to be doing any harm. They’re like tiny stars.”

         “They are the portents of the Values,” Zarkor says, still in his trance. “They will guide us safely to the Depository. Within their enclosure we are hidden from the guards.”

         Our three heroes glide on. As they approached ever closer to the mysterious glow ahead, Cloney exclaims, “Look! Even this close it’s still just a wispy blaze of light! Where’s the Depository?”

        “I don’t know, Cloney,” Zerak replies. “I don’t understand.”

         Zarkor, withdrawing somewhat from his trance, says, “You two must wait here. You will be safe within the lights. I must go on alone.”

         Zerak turns to Zarkor in surprise. “Alone? Why, Zarkor? I thought we were in this together.”

         “Because this is the will of the Values,” Zarkor replies. “Only I am in telepathic contact with them, only I can be guided by them to accomplish the task at hand, to free the Values forever. Do not worry, I will return safely. Trust in the wisdom of the Values.”

         Zerak and Cloney are silent as Zarkor in his Safety Cube drifts slowly away toward the glowing brightness beyond. When Zarkor is finally out of sight in the great nothingness, Zerak turns to Cloney.

         “We’ll have to trust in the Values and in Zarkor, Cloney,” he says. “There’s nothing else we can do. It’s up to Zarkor now.”

         “I don’t like this,” Cloney says, peering into the darkness after Zarkor. “Zarkor all by himself is a danger to himself, and probably to us as well. I’m afraid he’ll get himself in mischief and we’ll have to rescue him!”

         Suddenly Zarkor’s Safety Cube can be seen returning to Zerak and Cloney. “He’s coming back!” Cloney exclaims. “He probably got scared and needs our help after all.”

         When Zarkor has reached his two friends, he turns his Safety Cube to face Zerak and Cloney.

    “I thought you were going to free the Values,” Zerak says. “What happened?”   

         Now completely out of his trance, Zarkor is angry. “This is impossible! They’re still arguing! First they want me to come to them alone, then they change their minds and tell me to wait until they’ve made a unanimous decision! I’m tired of all this drifting about listening to all their stupid clatter! These Values still can’t decide on any reasonable plan of escape. It’s useless.”

         “I though they knew what they were doing all along,” says Zerak.

         “They’re still debating among themselves,” Zarkor says in frustration. “It’s confusing, telepathically listening to their pointless discussions. They can’t make up their minds about anything! I’m going to confront these so-called Supervisors myself,” he says finally. “My superior intellect will be more than a match for their puny minds. After all, they’re all just accountants and stuff, right? Supervisors, indeed! From what the Values tell me, their all incompetent fools. They say it’s always been a mess in that Depository. One of them is always escaping then being recaptured. These so-called Supervisors keep loosing track of who’s there and who’s missing. That’s why thru need that Sentinel and all those stupid guards!

         “The Values are smart enough to escape sometimes,” Cloney offers timidly.

         “Yeah, but they don’t know where to go when they do! They just wander about aimlessly until some guard spots them and then they’re brought back. Stupid. That’s why I’m going to take matters into my own.”

         “But what about the Vulgarians?” Cloney asks fearfully.

         “I’ll deal with them, too,” Zarkor states definitely. “I’ve met Vulgarians before once, or who they said they were. This Vulgarian guy was all fierce talking at first, but I soon put him in his place. In the end he was apologizing to me for the mess they made of this Universe!”

         Zerak and Cloney stared at Zarkor in wonder. “You met a Vulgarian?” Zerak asked, bewildered.

         “Sure!” Zarkor says proudly, and even in his Safety Cube they could see him puff himself up. “It’s when I bought that classic ship from Cousin Billy’s Pawn Shop, remember? I met this guy, Mr. Brain in a diner, and we went to this Vulgarian Outpost and I gave that stupid Vulgarian a good talking too.”

         “You never mentioned that to me,” Zerak says.

         Zarkor looks a little pale. “Well, for some reason you didn’t want me to fly that ship. You said it was junk, that Cousin Billy cheated me. Well, it wasn’t and he didn’t. It was a classic space ship, real old world craftsmanship. I still have it, in fact, tucked away on the planet. Needs a little maintenance now, I’ll admit, but it’s spaceworthy. It’s a classic!”

         Zerak turned and looks at Cloney, then back to Zarkor. “Maybe we should wait until the Values finally make up their minds,” he says cautiously. “We don’t really know enough about all this to make any real decisions, do you think?”

         “Nonsense,” Zarkor snarls. “You two wait here, I’ll straighten all this out. My infallible intuition tells me all I have to do is use my superior intelligence on these inferior species, these so-called Supervisors. And if any Vulgarian interferes, I’ll deal with him, too.”

         With that, Zarkor quickly glides ay from Zerak and Cloney, not looking back.

         “Do you think we should follow him?” Cloney asks. “I just know he’s going to get himself into trouble, and probably us with him.”

         Zerak turns once again at the distant glow. “Perhaps,” he muses. “But there‘s more to Zarkor than you know, you being so young and all. I have some confidence he’ll succeed better than we may think.”

         Cloney looks at Zerak doubtfully. “Maybe, but I know Zarkor, too. I’m the one who had to save him on our Adventure on the Next Continent, remember? I just hope his Dumb Luck Implant is up and running. I have a feeling he’ll need it.”


         Zarkor, all alone now, continues his glide toward the glowing mist ahead. After a while he spots a solid structure within the brilliant filaments of light. “That must be where the stupid Supervisors are,” he says to himself. Altering his course, he heads for a large silver globe to the side of the bright filaments.

         Zarkor drifts around the globe until he spots what he considers an entranceway. Gliding up to it, he telekinetically knocks on the metal door. After a moment, a voice from inside yells out, “Who’s there?!”

         “It’s me, Zarkor,” Zarkor answers. “Let me in!”

         “Who?” The interior voice asks.

         “Zarkor!” Zarkor shouts impatiently. “Let me in or I’ll blow the door open!”

         There is confused shuffling heard from inside. “What do you want?” The voice says, then it adds, “Go away!”

         “You better let me in, whoever you are!” Zarkor shouts at the door. “You’re in big trouble! I’m on a mission from the Galactic Council, and if you don’t want to be arrested right away you better open up!”

         There is momentary silence from inside. Then Zarkor hears some confused conversations. “Well?” He shouts.

         More confused exchanges from the interior.  Finally a voice yells out, “The Supreme Council has no authority over us!”

         “Oh no? If you don’t want Council battle ships to arrive, open this stupid door!” Is Zarkor’s response.

         There is a squeaking sound as the outer door of the silver globe slowly begins to open. “That’s better,” Zarkor says as he drifts inside the airlock. The outer door closes and air hisses into the chamber. The inner door then swings wide and Zarkor is confronted by three Humanoid Supervisors.

         Looking at the three, Zarkor mutters, “I should have known, Humans.”























  19. blog-0544041001463671897.jpeg(( this little story or whatever you wanna call it is gonna have a lot of swearing in it so if you don't like people who swear or can't stand it as it is, you can stop reading now even though the words are bleeped out.)) ((there may be more than one part))

    Almost three years ago, I met you, and you met me. It felt like a sigh of relief, the world being thrown off my shoulders. You felt like a pain pill that took it all away. Everyday we would meet outside on the sidewalk and then go into the back field. You were such an amazing friend, though there were times where your mom was a b****, yet I ignored her, you were one of the only things that mattered to me.

    I remember your 14th birthday party, I still remember all your friends that I may never see again.

    I still remember how your friend showed me "Don't Hug Me I'm Scared: Time". She was the main person who got me into the fandom and kept watching theories and videos about the series. I remember how we made videos and made parody videos that were ******* hilarious and made me laugh so hard that I almost peed my pants.

    Then things started to change, your mom started to act more of a b****, and you started texting me less. What happened, where did you go, why were you ignoring me? I still don't know to this day. You invited me to a New Year's Eve party and I agreed to go, you never texted me after that. I texted you that I was ready to come over, you said you didn't see me as a friend because I ignored you? Really? You're the one who didn't text me that past week.

    After the New Year party, you came up to me like a little child and started crying and asking ((forcing)) me for forgiveness, so I gave in. Oh boy, was I an idiot.

    Part 2 coming tomorrow or Monday

  20. I do not remember having this episode but my partner told me when the alarm went off.

    She said I had awoken and my eyes were wide open, my body was vibrating and looking at the fan. She said i was making weird gasping noises. She said I turned the light on by my bedside and pointed at the fan. When she asked me what is wrong. I replied "the fan is falling on us".

    When she told me i am dreaming i looked at her annoyed and rolled over and went back to sleep but left the bedside lamp on.

  21. myABBAsheart
    Latest Entry

    Do you remember my tree? It was strong and steady. It was something I always could count on. It was not so much a secret as it was smack dab in the front yard of my home. However, it was mine and no one could understand or feel it's beauty as much as could. I had other issues that I discussed with this tree. It was a place I was able to let go of my worries, I felt great every time I put my thoughts at the foot of this tree.

    When I was in the fifth grade, I had a teacher that loved my brother, whom he taught a couple years earlier. He was happy to have me because he stated that my brother was smart and I probably was too. I knew I was slipping big time. My heart was just consumed with things. I felt disconnected. I knew we were barely hanging on and our home life was day by day. We also lived in a run down area and had what is known as a welfare hotel next door to us. I had ALOT of fears and insecurities. I was scared of everything. There was always some sort of direct or indirect crime that targeted the area. You really could not walk down the street without watching your back. However, with that there was something protecting our street and there was that sense of community to look out for each others children. We made the rounds in our street. There were the elderly, whom we made sure we visited promptly after school. They loved all of us, and they rewarded us kindly with candy to keep us coming back. We did, but it was not for the candy. One of the homes, were owned by Mr. and Mrs. Ryan. He would hand out Blow-pops to us. They had gum inside and were awesome. When he died, we all went to his funeral. The neighborhood kids placed Blow-pops in his jacket pocket. Mrs. Ryan hugged us and sobbed. They really did mean the world to us. We made sure to still keep visiting her.

    There was a sense of evil around us. Remembering what I felt, there seemed to be a battle between good and evil. We found comfort in each other as neighbors; a street that consisted of over twenty homes. We knew each and everyone that lived on our street. We knew when we something was not right and we were taught to keep alert. We were almost kidnapped, we were stalked, and we did at some point get the crap kicked out of us for having something that someone else wanted. Our house was vandalized on Halloween. I laugh at it now, I just remember not understanding why someone would be so cruel as to smash my pumpkins that I carved. I hated Halloween ever since. We knew what drugs were, we knew what stolen goods were as well. The game was to see how much we stolen items we could find around the block. Our houses were broken into, arson, and we could not play at the park across the way at the lake. It instantly became polluted with leftover drug needles and paraphernalia. I went to sleep every night to the sound of gang fights and watching the view from my bedroom window of the VFW having bonfires. It really became a place for motorcycle gangs to hang out and party. The FBI used my room to stakeout and investigate a murder. It just so happened that we were at my fathers when this occurred. Scary thing is, my brother and I went exploring back there one day, I thought I saw a body against our fence. Wild imagination....who knows!

    I loved being outside. We did not have television, or video games. We were sent outside until that street light came on. I enjoyed being outside and feeling free. I hated school. I felt lost and confused, my head hurt when I was there. I just wanted nothing more than to be with my mother. The more I was at school, the more I became lost. I loved art class, and my fifth grade teacher would play the piano for us throughout our day. Those things I loved. I felt alone at times and not really understood, in as much as not feeling worthy. My teacher seemed like he was good. He noticed my daydreaming. He noticed I was not interested. He tried in his own way. He nicknamed me "airplane". He laughed at me to get the other kids to laugh at me and pull me out of myself. I would just sit and smile. I hated every second of it.

    He was nothing like the teacher in my third grade, who loved me and understood me. She was my favorite teacher whom said I was different and made me feel special. She would separately pull me up to her desk during assignments and help me one-one. She listened and cared. One day she did not come back. She was sick. We had another teacher, whom I could not connect too because I would not allow myself to get close to anyone. I was hurt and felt abandoned. I would send notes and tell the substitute to pass messages to her. I for some reason cannot remember my teachers name. My brain works that way, I remember every detail of her manners and face. Not so much her name.. She was my favorite teacher though and she allowed me to finally look forward to school. She saw potential and saw me differently. She always hugged me and gave me kisses on my head. She took so much hurt away. However, she got sick a lot. We were told that one day she would be there when in fact she go too sick to come back. I look forward to hearing updates on her. I was so excited to hear her come back to school after Christmas holidays. I could not wait. She never came back. I remember the last thing she wore. was devastated. The updates stopped coming. I asked one day and we were only told she was very sick. We were told that she loved us so much. I remember thinking all kinds of things. The substitute pulled me up to her desk after class one day. Told me that my teacher had spoke a lot about me. The substitute (instantly blocked her name) told me that my teacher loved me and that if I needed anything to ask her. I was so hurt, and pushed her away. I was just a kid feeling and did not understand. It was a hard year and I just stopped trying. The substitute won us over in time. I told her at one point that I thought she was a great teacher, although deep down I knew she could not compare to my favorite teacher. What I did see, is her understanding our feelings and helping us all through this. and towards the end of the year, I opened up to her. She did hug me and told me how she appreciated me sharing with her. I knew my teacher would not be returning. I am not sure I knew that she died of cancer in the middle of the school year. I was not told the details until years later. Funny, I felt her prayers when she was sick. I felt her presence over our classroom. She was a great teacher and loved children. My fifth grade teacher was nothing like her. He antagonized me and made me feel like I was stupid .I will never forget the name of my fifth grade teacher, because I despised him.

    I would hide everyday under my tree and just let my heart flow again. I knew there was something in me that needed help. I pleaded to my tree to help the adults of this world understand what is going on the minds of children like me, especially those children who just can't. There was a child I had known through the years in elementary school. He was severely hyper and would just eat everything even if it was not food. No one knew what was wrong with him. I used to sit and just watch him. I would also talk to him time to time, and sometimes I could not because he was like a rubber bouncing ball that got loose from your grip. It was hard to contain him once he was in this mode. The thing was, he was typical at times. I knew about handicaps and mentally retarded individuals, I went to visit my new aunt in her facility. She had TB and became mentally handicapped from loss of oxygen as a child. I like going to her group home. Sometimes it was hard to bare though. I went to my tree and begged my tree to allow people one day to see how children learn differently, think differently, to see what was on the inside. I begged my tree to one day change this and allow us to see it. I was told to be patient. I wanted to see it in my lifetime. That I did want.

    The pain this teacher put me through was heartbreaking. It made me cry and not want to go to school. My teacher went from what seemed like trying to pull me out, to downright cruelty. He would make the other kids point and laugh, and make them isolate me. He was ignorant as a teacher. It never occurred to him, that I have been tested for a learning disability. I had a lot of headaches, and well to be honest, was not eating properly. I had allergies then, that I know now were the cause of my spaciness. I was also consumed with hurt and emotional distress when my dad would not show up, or act like an animal towards my mother or someone else. I felt very lost and alone in school. Not one time did my teacher care how I was.

    We had open house one night at school and I was excited because my father was going to come. He told me straight to my face, that I was liar because I did not have a father. He announced it that way to the class and told the class that I was acting like an airplane again because I told everyone my father was coming. He was antagonizing and asked how that could be, I don't have a father and my mother is not married. The whole class laughed at me again. I would just take it every time. I took it again, I knew what I had, he could not touch. What he did was tell me all my brain was good for was flying around in the air full of clouds. That is all he saw in me. I saw right through him after that. I would take it and smile and nod because I knew more than he did. He wanted to dress nice and act like a hot shot, so be it. He had beady eyes and looking back reminded me of an Italian Hitler. I smiled and nodded.

    What he did not know was my mother remarried during the summer to my stepfather. I asked my stepfather to go to open house, and he said he could not. He would if he could, however he had military duties that required him to be gone Thursday to Sunday. I was hurt, but I knew he would if he could. I trusted my stepfather completely. I begged him though and he just said he could not. I understood this. I so wanted my teacher's approval. To see that I mattered too. I could not understand why my teacher hated me. My stepfather assured me that was not the case. However, I knew my brother was smart and I hated being compared to him. I hated it because my brother was mean to me too. He loved this teacher and I hated this teacher. I was told that I was the problem. I just went to class and sucked it up....besides it was only for a few months until I was away from him. I always went to my tree, I knew it understood without words.

    Open house in Elementary school was my favorite time of the year. We had our science fair and art exhibits all at the same time. I loved it and looked forward to it. I was however, not looking forward to what my teacher would tell my mom about me. I just knew I was not keeping up and could not compare to the others. I really felt inferior and intimidated. I had no confidence left either. I felt shame and hurt. I went to my desk and watched all the parents, moms and dads, be present for this. I felt alone and happy for them. I knew I had my stepfather, I did not need to prove myself to this joker. I'll just make the best of the remainder of the year. My mom left me in the classroom and she told me she would be right back. She tried to understand this teacher at times and thought I was just a deep child who was imaginative. It hurt that she could not hear my pain, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Plus, she was the happiest I had ever seen her in such a long time. Maybe she was right...... Who would believe me anyway?

    My mother came back in with my stepfather. I was puzzled and ran to hug him. He had surprised me. He had managed to take time to come and see my brother and I. He was still in his uniform, big black boots and all. I was so touched and excited. I shot such a look at my teacher and told him, "see I do have a father". My stepfather stopped long enough to see how I was doing in school and talk with the teacher. I was not made fun of after that, not to that extent. The teacher did try and stopped himself at times. He did not stop and I just smiled and nodded at him. I knew I had something higher. I told my tree again what had happened. Happiness flooded me. Hope flooded me. My heart swelled with love. If ever I am reminded of being in fifth grade, all this comes to mind. My stepfather was like a super-hero to me. He still is!

  22. I figured I would do a blog post and a forum post for a resource some might find useful. A former professor of mine, Alex Jassen, has a website in which he has provided texts for anyone to read. This is from his website...

    Texts and Resources for the Study of Ancient Judaism

    Welcome to my Website. Here, you will find information about me, my scholarship, teaching, and public outreach activities. This site is also designed to provide a portal for online resources for the study of ancient Judaism, specifically the Second Temple period and rabbinic Judaism.

    In the Online Text Library, I have gathered together editions and translations of biblical, Second Temple, and Rabbinic texts that are available online.

    The Site also contains more general resources for students and teachers of ancient Judaism, such as bibliographies and course syllabi. I have posted my own course syllabi and assignments. Please feel free to draw upon them. I also include information regarding upcoming scholarly events I am involved in planning.

    Thank you to all those individuals who are responsible for the content on the pages linked here. Please contact me if you know of additional sites that should be included or have any general suggestions for improving the site.

    Alex Jassen

    Here is the link directly to the library. I hope some people find this helpful and useful!

  23. XHauntedPoetX's Blog

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    I'm looking for anyone who wants to share their true experience of strange unexplained or paranormal happenings. I am hunting around looking for anyone who wants to share them so that I may use their experiences for my next book.

  24. Here Be Dragons

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    blog-0606498001456733292.jpg WHEN THEY ARE COMING FOR YOU

    Remember the first things you say are

    1. I have a heart condition and

    2. I'm allergic to capsicum spray.

    This should prevent them from tasering and capsicum spraying you. It doesn't hurt to have a pair of sunnies on just in case.

    3. Remember the po po have no training in how to handle mentally ill people and frequently shoot them so try not to freak them out. Speak as calmly and rationally as you can.

    4. Get up early. This means you are less likely to be caught off guard and that you are prepared.

    5. Never carry any books

    6. Never admit that you think someone is out to get you or they will bust you for paranoia and lock you for good

    7. Always go in conscious. If you can sign yourself in, you can sign yourself out

    Points four to seven come courtesy of one of my favorite films since childhood, Bliss.

    When the police rocked up I was in the middle of a magikal ritual and my face was painted blue Braveheart style. There were candles and sigils everywhere. There were also barricades, places to fall back to, weapons stashes, etc. My psycho ex had threatened to kill me and I was ready.

    The cops were FREAKED. I told them calmly where my medications were and asked if i could pact some clothes. One officer flinched as I walked past him.

    About 5 minutes later a psychiatrist and a psych nurse entered the scene. Sure enough they looked at my book collection and art. I was asked if a picture of a girl with flames for hair had a name.

    "Do you think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool?" I thought remembering Hannibal Lecter