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I found the guide in a book store that was closing down. Most books were 50% to 75% off, even the old and ordinarily expensive leather-bound tomes kept behind glass in the rearmost section of the store. I hadn’t gone in with any particular book in mind; I’d simply meant to browse, and pick a few books up with the twenty dollars I had reserved for the occasion. I crossed row after row, pulling, inspecting, and returning several volumes; nothing too interesting that I hadn’t already read, owned, or planned to own in some other, more preferable fashion. There were other shoppers, most appearing to be casual readers or first-year students—there is a college not far from the bookstore.
The shop-owner and his assistant were visibly melancholy, so I smiled warmly upon arriving and made efforts not to cross their paths; I’m terrible at consoling people, and figured that my plentiful patronage of the store would be better than any fumbling words I could offer. I made a few rounds of the store—it wasn’t a large place by any means—before finally settling on a few horror collections—Machen, Blackwood, Lovecraft, Bierce, Stoker—and some books on Eastern mythology and mysticism.
Satisfied with my haul, I made my way towards the registers at the front, but stopped short when I saw the assistant wheeling out a cart on which sat some particularly old looking books—the single pricing sign listing them all as being 90% off. Immediately attracted by the discount alone, I asked her if I could take a look at the books, and she happily obliged. She left me with the cart and went over towards a group of shoppers down an aisle.
Most were first or second editions of books by authors I hadn’t much interest in—but whose values were inarguable—and I felt sorry that the owners hadn’t the means or time to sell these books more appropriately priced. My eyes scanned the withered and warped spines, reading the titles with a casual literary appreciation, but finding nothing of relevance to my somewhat specific interests. I had almost left the cart when I spotted, on the second steel shelf, a book that seemed of an extremely advanced aged; armored in dust, with the spinal lettering faded, ashen.
I withdrew it carefully, so that the row in which it had sat did not totter. The book was averagely sized, though oddly heavy, and as I had initially observed, was of an age much older than its leatherbound companions. Upon brushing away the dust, I saw with no small shock that the title read: “How to Survive the Harrowing of 2021.” The lettering, once relieved of its ashen coating, glimmered faintly in gold, and was styled in a pseudo-cursive that flowed beautifully across the faded crimson cover. There were no other designs or markings on the book, front or back; only that bizarre title, whose message seemed an impossible thing considering the book’s obvious age.
No authorship had been assigned to the book either, and this immediately inspired the idea that the book itself was some sort of joke, a thing made to appear severely aged; a novelty that would’ve assuredly been a hit to younger readers if the store had had time to market it. I had no doubts that other copies sat in a box somewhere in the store, never to be sold as intended.
I was about to open the book, where I expected to find fittingly contemporary messages of hope, faith, determination, and positive thinking, but phrased archaically; styled anachronistically. But before I could crack open that expertly aged guide, I felt a sudden sensation of foreboding; an ominous and vague prescience which not only stopped my hand, but removed it from the book’s surface. Through no conscious thought of my own had I withdrawn my hand from the cover, and yet the compulsion had been immediate and incontestable. A fear mounted within me, swelling almost to the point of actual dread, and I considered unceremoniously tossing the book onto the cart and leaving.
But some other impetus, equally powerful, impelled me to not only hold onto the book, but purchase it.
I stood there for a while, and the baleful apprehension which had entered my mind faded away, and a curiosity—morbid, if not scholarly—took its place. I added the book to the bundle in my basket and took my haul to the front. Surprisingly, the sum amounted to only seventeen dollars, and I happily allocated the change to the tip jar at the register. The owner thanked me gratefully, as if I’d thrown in double the amount I’d brought, and wished me a happy new year. I bid him the same farewell, and left the store pleasantly encumbered with new literature.
It was a nice day, cold but not uncomfortably so, and sunlight fell plentifully upon the world. I decided to sit in a nearby coffee shop and read, rather than go home to my stuffy apartment to do the same. I walked down the sidewalk, contemplating which book to begin first. Looking back, I now think that I had always planned on reading the strangest book first; that guide which I had believed to be a fake, a bookstore’s joke. Perhaps if I’d read anything else, I might’ve avoided the horror which was born from the pages of that truly decrepit and sinister tome.
I sat at a table nearest the window for optimal sunlight, ordered a cup of Earl Grey tea, a freshly baked Oatmeal cookie—just one, they were quite large—and laid the contents of my bag out onto the table. I went through the “performance” of considering each book, but my mind had already decided upon the 2021 survival guide. I stacked the other books nearby to my left, cleared a space to my right for my food and drink, and placed the book immediately before me. In the brief time that had elapsed, I’d forgotten the intense feeling of apprehension that had come to me when I first considered opening the book. When I reached for the crimson cover, the feeling again returned, albeit to a lesser extent. But this time, curiosity prevailed, and I endured the unsettling sensation and gently opened the book.
I was taken back by what I saw on the very first page. There were lines upon lines of tiny strange runes, scribed in letters that seemed entirely alien to human language. The writing—I am sure that these letters had not been mechanically printed—was done in a deep red ink; absolutely sanguine against the thick and time-yellowed paper. The spacing, placement, and script were all immaculate; despite my certainty that a hand—of some nature—had written the words, I was nonetheless amazed at the impeccable penmanship of the author.
My eyes scanned this first page several times and yet I could intimate nothing of what it said, so I flipped it, and was again shown a language entirely unrecognizable. There were no hints or clues as to the meanings of any of the words, and, after flipping to the very end of the book, no cipher was found with which I might’ve decrypted them. I flipped the pages at random, finding only that odd, unfathomable language, written beautifully, and yet eerily, upon the sallow pages.
My order arrived and I set the book aside, not wanting to stain it, which despite its age was in a decent condition within. My fruitless scrutiny of its contents had changed my mind entirely in regards to its nature. I had abandoned my belief of its literary duplicity; there was no way that anyone—certainly not a small-scale bookstore owner—would've gone through the efforts necessary to create such a thing for the purpose of novelty. The language, though unreadable, seemed to be an inhumanly real one, in a way that is inexpressible. The color and feel of the pages were indistinguishable from the pages of other incredibly old books, and the smell was similarly genuine.
I ate and drank absorbed in thoughtlessness; thinking neither of the book nor its enigmatic language, but vexed by an undefinable impression imparted to me by the book. A similar sensation, though to a much less unnerving degree, might be the apprehension one feels as a child on the day in which school report cards are mailed; confident that your grades aren’t abysmal, but nonetheless fearing that some unforeseen or miscalculated grade still might appear and evoke the ire of your parents. I felt that I was for the moment safe, but that certain actions—or certain knowledge to be obtained later—would place me in the way of some terrible yet unforeseeable harm.
Once I had finished my meal, I returned my attention to the book, this time determined to uncover some meaning or message from its previously inscrutable contents.
Minutes passed, I finished my tea and ordered another—this time getting an infusion of lemongrass, citrus herbs, and ginger, among other things—and really scanned the pages; but my efforts were pointless, the pages yielded nothing to any interpretation I tried to force.
I was about to give up, when a woman entered the coffee shop and immediately passed by my table, which I had chosen due to its proximity to the front windows. She’d glanced down, and in my natural shyness I had averted my gaze. My eyes fell upon the pages, and for a moment—a brief yet clarifying moment—I found some sense in the words. Nothing that I could really reproduce in my own thoughts and language, but there’d been for a moment a glimmer of...readability. Instinctively—through an instinct I hadn’t understood—my attention returned to the woman, who’d suddenly worn an expression of confusion intermingled with intense interest.
Meeting my eyes, she asked what I was reading, and I admitted that I wasn’t exactly sure. I noticed the logo on the plastic bag she’d been carrying, and pointed out that I had bought the book from the very same bookstore; but that it was written in a language totally unfamiliar to me. Her curiosity piqued, she glanced at the chair beside me, and I nodded—granting her permission to join me. One of the café's staff came and took her order, and once that I was done, I slid the book towards her so that she could comfortably read it.
Initially, I had watched her face as her eyes crawled over the pages. Confusion and excitement illumined her green eyes, and her mouth twitched; as if the lips were attempting to read along, but hadn’t any basis upon which to form the unreadable words. A few seconds of this passed, and she sighed in defeat. I laughed, commenting on my own inability to decipher a single word of the thing.
It wasn’t until I had glanced back at the book that the sudden sensation of literacy returned. For a moment, my eyes and her eyes had rested upon the same line, and I realized—in both excitement and horror—that the script was readable when looked at by two persons. She must’ve intimated the same, because she turned to me, eyes wide with the very same emotions that I’d felt. We said nothing to each other, but my hand involuntarily turned the pages until it reached the beginning of the book, and my index finger came to rest on the book’s first line.
The moment our eyes landed on that first word, it was transformed from its alien text into English, or some interpretation simultaneously readable to us. I cannot earnestly say it was actually English upon the page. My mind reeled at the idea; the concept that the text was only readable by two readers, or by one in possession of four—at least four—eyes! Uncovering the secret of that once impassible barrier was exciting, pride-inducing, and yet I felt that I had finally arrived at that moment for which I had earlier felt such apprehension and ominousness.
I suppressed the rising terror mentally, and even physically with a few sips of tea, and once she had seemed to do the same for herself, we began reading the previously unreadable book.
The enigma unlocked before our eyes. The words shifted, re-formed, were unmade as if by some cryptographic sense inborn within us. Comprehension came immediately, as if we were reading any ordinary book. We read in tandem, effortlessly trailing the lines of script without one falling behind or pushing forward. Our eyes and minds were locked together, our thoughts fused in some tether of previously undiscovered hyper-cognition. We read as one, interpreted as one, thought as one, and the sensation was absolutely incredible—though entirely indescribable; at least in the language with which I compose this account.
Pages flew by, and I’m sure that to onlookers we might’ve appeared very strange; our heads practically touching, our eyes moving along with equal pacing, as if choreographed. In what couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes, we had reached the middle of the thick book, and by this time I had felt the indefatigable return of that monstrous horror. The things we’d read up to that point were nightmarish, unrepeatable; and though our eyes had easily discerned the words and our minds clearly understood the meanings, our human mouths had been woefully inadequate for the vocalization of the ultra-alien text.
It took a considerable effort to do so, but I pried my eyes away from the words, and they immediately resumed their inscrutable arrangement and forms in the corners of my eye. My reading partner sighed, exhaustion and terror clear upon her face. I glanced around, not really to see if we’d been watched, but just to keep my eyes away from the frightful book for a while. No one had seemed to notice our strange captivation. I turned to her, and saw that tears had begun to form in her eyes. I felt a similar deluge swelling within the ducts of my own, but tried to keep them at bay, if only to appear comfortably composed to her. The things we had read, the things the book had foretold, were appalling; things no human being, regardless of how black-hearted, would ever wish upon the species to which he belonged; the only world he knew to be home.
And there was still another half to read through.
She looked at the book, then to me; her eyes clouded with tears, the once vibrant light dimmed by a potent, insuppressible terror. Despite my own feelings, I wanted—almost yearned—to continue on, to read the rest of that darkly prescient tome. But with each page, the horror detailed therein had grown, worsened, and I knew that the trend would continue with each subsequent page. Conceding to her unspoken plea, I closed the book and set it on a table beside me. She smiled, and nodded to me with a gratitude that was almost spiritual in fervency.
Together, in silence, we finished our tea; both of our minds struggling to reconcile the abysmal predictions of that baleful book with the relative normalcy of our present world.
In a testimony to the weird unreality—or the chilling hyper-reality—of the event, I discerned a sliver of crimson light from the book. My heart seemed to irreversibly contract, my chest felt tight and hot, as I realized that the glowing line was a supernatural bookmark, keeping the place where we’d left off. I did not point this out to my partner, who had regained a bit of her composure and sanity. Instead, hiding as best as possible my distress, I packed up my things, and left that wicked book in a chair tucked beneath the table.
I will not repeat in detail anything I read. I will not subject anyone to the horrific prophecies, the diabolical incidents, the cosmically inimical afflictions to the human race described in those sanguine-runed pages. I will only give this instruction, this warning, and pray that it will be sufficient to prepare us for the coming storm—if the book is to be believed.
This woman and I—whom I have now befriended, as people who’ve shared a traumatic incident are often bonded—needed to read the book together, to decipher its abominable contents. Similarly, if we are to survive the coming year, we—humanity as a whole—must band together; intellectually, emotionally, perhaps even spiritually; or else we cannot hope combat the horrors which will descend upon us from the unmapped tracts of sidereal space; which will emerge from the molten depths of our own planet; and, quite possibly, arise from among our own allegedly human ranks...
Our strength must be communal.

The life of a psychopathic JustNoHuman

TL;DR A JustNoGuy has made my life difficult - never go too far out of your way to help people.
I will nickname this ‘bag of air’ JNGUY.
I sincerely hope that none of you here reading this ever encounter this kind of JNGUY, sadly some of you will, and if you already are in this position and if that's the case, it's not going to end well.
I met JNGUY through my sister, as she was his employer. JNGUY and another of my sister's employees came to visit me one night, I met JNGUY that night and he seemed like a rather great guy; helpful, honest and just extremely genuine and enthusiastic. JNGUY also told me that his family is from the same province as my family back in our mother country. JNGUY is on a student visa in Australia, I'm Australian but share the same background as JNGUY.
While JNGUY was at my house, JNGUY told me that his sister was throwing him out, he had nowhere to go, all his friends had cut him off, his life is difficult. JNGUY made very clear that he was very well off back in Lebanon. That his family had so much money and they were so wealthy, so my understanding was: JNGUY is new in the country, he's got money, he just sounds very lost and confused. JNGUY asked to move in, and after speaking with him, and seeing that we clicked together so well, he works for my sister so I know I won't have to be paying anything for him because he has an income, he will look after himself, and finally, it was very bold of me to assume he wouldn't steal from me or screw me over just because he worked for my sister.
JNGUY moved in the very next day. I had just moved into the place and he helped out a lot with assembling furniture, yard work and basically putting everything together. JNGUY also had money and was going to work, all this changed after about 2 - 3 months. He just stopped going to work and was broke, he became very, very lazy. I thought nothing of it; to me, it was just helping somebody as an "on your way" sort of thing, we both spoke the same languages, so I confirmed that was the case in two languages, to which he agreed.
This has a few twists and turns so I'm completely sure if it belongs on JustNotALK or elsewhere, if it has to be removed that's fine. This worth noting though that during JNGUYs time living at my place, he would periodically just burst out screaming stand up and declare that he was straight – It was becoming a bit weird as we would be doing something as simple as watching a movie. Not that his sexuality mattered or does now, but you'll see towards the end why it's sort of important to note. I once accidentally fell asleep on his bed; he woke me up at 4am and blasted me. JNGUY: GET THE F*K UP Me: yeah JNGUY: GET OFF MY BED NEVER TWO PEOPLE ON MY BED GET OUT GO SLEEP SOMEWHERE ELSE. Me: Okay man
Now, JNGUY started to become increasingly financially dependent on me, it wasn't a burden at the time, but it ended up getting to that point after a while. I would ask JNGUY to get the groceries, I'll pay for them, while I work, to which he happily agreed. I would give him the money and the list, he would never take the list, he would have claimed to have memorized it. He never memorized the list, never came back with what I asked for, and always ran out of money. He refused to consume generic brand water, no-name, home brand or whatever it's called these days. He actually refused anything and everything that was generic branded. I asked him why he wouldn't drink home brand water, its cheap and you get much, much more for less, and the toilet paper, you can get like 36 rolls for like $5 from a corner shop, he would return with the most expensive toilet paper money can buy and his response was that a dog wouldn't even drink that water and wouldn't even use that toilet paper. I would in turn reply, ‘Well, kids in Africa would probably trade an arm for that water, from now I'll give you the money, you can get what you need and I'll get the house goods and my own stuff, not to sound like a miser but there's only one income at the moment and two guys are eating it, I really need to start saving’. I then asked if he had ever lived alone before, to which he said yes. I asked this because, I know when you first start out, you learn how to budget, how to maintain the place. So, it was reassuring to know he had some sort if experience but concerning to see he wasn’t putting this in practice.
A couple of months had passed, there had be no tension, everything was fine, JNGUY had not worked in such a long time so I asked JNGUY to call my sister in front of me and see why not, and if there any shifts she can give him. Now, my sister was extremely generous girl, with him previously, she gave him plenty of shifts and extra money, JNGUY would call message my sister as well as cry in front of her in person about his money problems (I had no idea of this until after I was screwed over). My sister would take pity and give him extra.
Anyway, JNGUY called my sister, put her on speaker and I remained silent. My sister made it very clear to JNGUY that his position in her company had been terminated many months ago and that he is not to contact her ever again. She also put some very serious allegations of theft and drugs in the workplace. I was stunned. JNGUY looked at me and started crying. After the call, JNGUY started sobbing saying that it's not true, and nothing she said is true. I made the stupid mistake of giving JNGUY the benefit of the doubt. I knew he was going to have to rely on me a bit more, so I knew I had to work a bit harder. I tried to get JNGUY to get something done around the house, had a chat with him and tried to urge him to go back to college. JNGUY didn't want too. It was hard to get JNGUY to wake up before 1pm or 2pm. I start my day at 5am and I'll be coming home to have lunch, he would still be sleeping. I didn't mind, but again that in itself was bit of a downer. It was starting to become clear that this guy did not now how to function as an adult.
JNGUY would always use his religion to get his way, or something he wanted. For reference, I am Christian and he is Muslim. When he moved in, he started to demand that I get a new washing machine, I explained to him that the washing machine is already new, my family gave it to me as a gift when I moved in. It went something like this: JNGUY: We need a new washing machine. Me: No, we do not. Its already new, why would you NEED a new one? JNGUY: See, because in my religion, you can't wash clothes that have cat fur on them with clothes that don't. Me: That's not true man - I know Muslim families that keep cats strictly indoors. He was under the assumption that we are not educated here about Islam, so I explained to him that I have a thorough understanding of his religion and thats not one of the rules. He immediately would get aggressive whenever I would so much as question him, he would say: "Shut up you can't talk! You know nothing about my religion!" When it came to going places to eat, if he didn't feel like eating there he would say "Oh I cannot eat there, it's not Halal." We would spend hours and hours [Yes, literal hours] just searching for a place to feed JNGUY, he was picky about everything. When we would finally choose a place, I wouldn't be hungry anymore.
Now, please don't think that I helped a fellow out just to complain about it, nor do I even regret it, even though I got screwed I learnt my lesson, but JNGUY ate so much, he would eat 2 - 3 meals, then a few sides, in one sitting. I understand his nutritional needs may be more complex than my own, but he would normally just vomit as soon as we left the place we were eating at. What became even more annoying was that he would food that was not Halal when he felt like it. I would actually point out that fact that the food isn't Halal, what's the go bro? He would normally just tell me to shut up and not question his religion. He used his religion as an excuse to sit and smoke pot in his room all day for five days. They had their annual Eid, JNGUY thought I had no idea what that was, but he got offended whenever I questioned him so the same scenario. He was religious when he felt like it.
JNGUY slept on the couch and I slept on the ground. I did mention I was starting out so none of the beds had arrived yet. One morning, JNGUY wakes up and says: "Bro, I need a complete bed, my back hurts so much and this couch is uncomfortable. I need a complete bed and I need it by tonight otherwise I'm going to go crazy." I didn't know what to say to that – He did really look a bit mental. People that met have met JNGUY agree he is a complete nut. I just thought of the most peaceful resolution, I am supposed to buy a couple of mattresses anyway, might as well, he seems pretty stressed out. I organized a mattress for same day delivery, paid the extra, all out of my pocket. The mattress arrived and I was having a shower, JNGUY told the courier to return it, JNGUY didn't like the fact that they deliver mattresses rolled up these days. Luckily, I had finished my shower before the courier had taken off and was able to get the mattress (JNGUY has extremely poor English and can come off as extremely aggressive and somebody you would want to run from) I explained the situation to both. JNGUY ended up using the mattress, I slept on the couch while I waited for my own bed to arrive which was a for a few months.
JNGUY had no car, no way to get around and I made the stupid mistake of allowing him to drive mine. I would get parking ticket after parking ticket, fine after fine. One afternoon, he was driving my car and got arrested. The police called me and asked if I was ‘happy to speak to him.’ It went like this: Me: ‘What did you do?’ JNGUY: ‘Nothing bro I swear I was driving completely normally, the police just stopped me and they drug tested me and then they arrested me and then.... (his rambling just kept going) The police here are very racist and they're out to get me.’ Me: ‘There, there. I'll call tomorrow and see what happened. Just bring my car back home when you are released.’ A few days later, police knocked at my front door and asked to speak to him, I accompanied him out to assist with any language barriers that may arise. These were heavy duty police that came down to speak to him, as he had been slapped with a court order. Now, JNGUY said he was driving normally, however, the police directly spoke to me because they were over his incoherent ranting. They said my car was halfway up a trucks arse, he was speeding and driving extremely dangerously. The police actually said they were having lunch and off-duty; they had no choice but to abandon their lunch and stop JNGUY it was that bad. JNGUY denied it in English and in Arabic, he looked at me directly and said that he didn't do it. I am so stupid, I defended JNGUY, however, the police asked if I would like to see a video. I watched that video, and the cop asked: "If you were a police officer, would you not feel inclined to stop that car?" I couldn't say anything, I felt so stupid for defending him. I asked what the next best course of action for JNGUY, they told me to help him seek legal advice. I didn't mention the footage of the car to JNGUY, I just told him I'll stick by you but please get your act together.
Whenever I would have a friend over, JNGUY would start to have a little fit, become passive-aggressive or just wander off to his room; really antisocial. JNGUY never liked being seen, was extremely private, and was very careful around my guests, he was very sneaky. It got to a point where JNGUY literally begged me to not bring people to my home anymore. I said that might not be possible, I need to see other people man. JNGUY told me to go for a drive, I told him that I couldn't because he always had my car after work so essentially, I was doomed to rot at home. I put my foot down and I told JNGUY it's my house, I'll have visitors if I want. I have gay and bi friends; my best friend is gay and I would not trade his friendship for anything in the world. My mate, I will refer to as MM, came over a few times while JNGUY lived with me. MM pointed out on several occasions during his visits, that JNGUY was attempting to flash his ‘male parts’ to MM. I laughed it off – I probably shouldn’t have. MM didn’t get offended, just said be careful around this guy, and MM asked if there was a way to give him the boot, as JNGUY gave him very bad vibes.
I loaned JNGUY $3,000 for tuition, I paid it directly to make sure it was going there. I took JNGUY at his word that he had the money and would return it, I completely believed him. I am an idiot. An idiot that fell for the “My family is royalty in Lebanon” card.
JNGUY complained about his immediate family to an extent you just didn't want to hear it anymore. It was horrible and annoying. I was happy to hear it the first 40 times, but after that it just become like annoying static that I couldn't drown out, I normally just zoned out. One day however, he asked if he could bring his brother over, it was over the phone so I didn't want to go into why he is okay with his brother come over; since he dislikes his immediate family so much and dislikes his brother so much, what's going on? JNGUYs brother was worse than JNGUY himself. JNGUYs brother proudly boasts that he lives in the Northern Areas, really expensive suburb. However, JNGUYs brother fails to mention that he lives in the basement underneath the garage of the house of a 44-year-old disabled woman, from who he hopes to inherit something from her final will and testament [Which I find abhorrent]. He doesn't actually live with this woman, just within her basement, JNGUYs brother just dwells within her basement smoking pot all day. When JNGUYs brother came over the first time, I assumed it was just a visit, however, he stayed 15 days and did not leave. He then left for two days and would come back for anywhere between 9 - 15 days, would leave and then come back. I didn't care about their private lives enough to ask what was happening, I had bigger problems. I had these two grown men in my house smoking all day, using my income, and when I would come home after work, there would be no food left. They would have eaten the pantry, cleaned out the fridge, and, I kid you not, I once watched JNGUY cook and eat 36 eggs in one session. I don't know how but he managed. I really don't mind sharing the essentials (food) but it just got a bit much; I grew up in a larger than normal family, 36 eggs would last us at least 3 weeks, it lasted a few minutes with him. His bowel movement clogged up my plumbing at one stage. He refused to pay for it.
After a while, JNGUY got the hint that I was a bit frustrated so his brother stopped coming around which was a relief, I couldn't connect with JNGUYs brother on any level and I didn't like having him around, and I don't see why I have to have him lurking around when I just want to move on.
JNGUY said that he wouldn't be staying for too long but the months went on and on and there was no sign of him leaving. Now, I have three pet cats, they mix between indoors and out they come and go as they please but they know where home is. JNGUY one day brought home another pet cat. I could not understand why. My three hated JNGUY so much that if they knew JNGUY was on the premises they would run. They quivered at the very sight of him.
I was very strict on the topic of the cats, just leave them alone, if they want to interact with you, you'll know, if not, they will simply go do their own thing, they just don't enjoy being manhandled, and it really didn’t look like they vibed with JNGUY. I really stressed to JNGUY that the three of them dislike loud noises and I have spoilt them rotten so if they find you a threat, they're going to either run to me or run outside. On the topic of him bringing home another, it was complete and absolute fury. Chaos Manifest. JNGUYs cat Vs my team of three. JNGUYs cat stood no chance and we can all agree that cats are territorial creatures. It was a nightmare. So JNGUY trapped his cat in his room for about 23 hours a day, it would eat, crap and sleep in there, JNGUY wouldn't leave the cat. JNGUY was also barricading himself in his room with this cat. The cat was destroying all the new furniture in there and just making a mess all over the place, JNGUY was slacking off in cleaning and it was just becoming all too much for me to bare. JNGUY knew that he outstayed his welcome, so he left, this was 7 months of JNGUY torture.
However, he pulled a really disgusting sucker punch. JNGUY stole an iron, an iron board, hair dryer, hair straightener, smart mirror, PlayStation 4, 2 pairs of brand-new Air pods pro that I wanted to give to my brother and sister, a Nintendo Switch, a Microsoft Go, he smashed my phone. I told him to stop, return everything, he said its packed and that he promised to see me in the coming days. I took JNGUY at his word.
Weeks passed by and JNGUY was avoiding me like the plague, I was ready to go down to his sister's home but he eventually answered and we agreed to meet at a shopping mall. At the mall, it went like this: Me: ‘I want my stuff back and all of it too and I want my phone back too restored to the condition I gave it to you in.’ JNGUY: ‘I am entitled to keep all of the stuff I took, but I will fix your phone.’ Me: ‘You will fix my phone and some. I want my stuff back. Every last thing. You took household items, you robbed me, nothing gave you that right to take anything you did.’ JNGUY: ‘I can't return it.’ Me: ‘Why?’ JNGUY: ‘I sent it with my mum back to Lebanon.’ JNGUYS mother was here on holiday, he sent everything back with her. I was very disappointed with JNGUY but these are only materials. So, we parted ways, he said that he'd call me next day about my phone. The next day the video calls me and I can see he's sleeping on a wooden floor, he said that is where he was sleeping for the past three weeks, his back was sore and he was miserable, he said there were no couches left for him to sleep on, he asked to stay at mine. So, I let him come back, however I was a bit more watchful.
The second time JNGUY came around, it was only short, JNGUY was too much to handle and I have my own life to deal with. JNGUY was in a lot of trouble, breach of visa conditions amongst a host of other court matters, JNGUY does not mix well in Australia. JNGUY was saying some worrying things, so I organized an appointment with lifeline and a translator for him. He agreed to the appointment, I thought it would be good for him too he sounded like he needed it urgently. JNGUY however completely just made a joke of the session. I was not there I had returned to my job, JNGUY is the one who told me he made a joke of it and was laughing about it too. That's the moment I realized you can't help someone who doesn't want to help themselves.
In the final days JNGUY was housed with me, JNGUY was complaining a lot. I mean, you'd pay for it to go away. He complained about his phone bill (it really wasn't much but JNGUY was broke as a joke), his visa, everything. Then one night, JNGUY came home from seeing his family, he started smashing the furniture and smashing the doors; JNGUY then got into the fetal position, started crying, and then call the police, he just screamed at the phone saying: JNGUY: ‘HELP IM DYING SEND POLICE TO (ADDRESS)’ I didn't believe that he had called police as nobody in their right mind would speak like that. However, after 2 minutes there were 4 police cars at my front door. I had no idea what was going on, I just stood there. I just stood there and waited for them to escort him out. I didn't know what happened or what was going on, he was completely inaudible. I suspected drugs might be the issue but I'm not sure. It seemed staged and overreacted. So, I assumed JNGUY was gone for good, which was good, I needed to move on with other things.
In the following days however I realized that JNGUY used my kindness as a vulnerability. JNGUY came back and I completely let my guard down, I left my phone unattended with no pass code, my worst error. JNGUY completely cleaned me out. He stole everything. My gold, I've had since I was 12, cash, sunglasses, laptops, phones, he stole my vacuum (he stole larger things during the night when I was sleeping) he stole a fan, he stole a lot of things. I knew and still know that I'll never see the possessions he took from me every again so I just give up and deal with it. Nothing gave him the right to take what I worked for, however, JNGUYs can be absolute scum.
JNGUY then called the police, again. While he was not at the home. About 9 days after JNGUY had left, police came to my front door and asked how I knew JNGUY. I said he previously lodged here.
Now, here's the weird twist: JNGUY has now gone and told police that him and I are legally married and that I choked him. I was shocked to my literal, I froze. Up until now, I have no literal clue why somebody, a very picky JNGUY who I housed and fed for 8 months is doing this. I didn't know what to say, I still don't know what to say to that. I try to come up with a string of words to - defend? I don't know?
I just don't know - it bothers me, especially in the mornings it screws my day up horrendously. JNGUY has told the police that he is homosexual, which is fine all the power to him, may he live a fabulous life, just away from me. Although, as earlier mentioned, JNGUY would periodically burst and scream that he wasn't gay. Is he or is he not? I don't know. I actually have a girlfriend, I have informed her of situation, she was good enough to understand and she offered without any prompts to help me back me up, I am lucky and I am very glad for that too.
I spent 5 days after that just cut off from everything and everyone, all I could think about was the number of silly decisions that landed me where I am. I know I'm a dope for allowing what happened, I know my error and lesson has been learnt. I also mentioned that I left my phone without a pass code unattended, which was horrible idea, always lock your phone, it is very important to have a passcode. JNGUY took photos of the phone numbers of members of my Church, JNGUY contacted them. I do not know what was said, but it must have been pretty bad for people from my Church to block me without reason or question, I dare not go there again. I don't want to show my face because I have no clue what I am facing. There is no telling what lie JNGUY could have said. Its affected me deeply, I was really active in Church, JNGUY knew it was one of my passions, now I just don't go. I've tried to contact my friends from there, it goes directly to voicemail; and I get the hint.
Emotionally and physically its drained me. I went two entire weeks without holding a conversation with somebody, it's not healthy. You lose touch, you feel weird, you just out of place.
Turns out, as of a few days ago I found out, I am not the only one JNGUY has screwed over. I needed some sort of escape; I was invited to lunch, so I went at the last second. At this lunch, there were a lot of people who knew JNGUY and heard some tales of what happened, I was happy to answer any questions they may have, I have nothing to hide. They were mortified, they don’t believe that I could choke somebody, they know what kind of person I am, they know that I would take the shirt off my back for somebody if they asked. I explained it's all lies, I brought a copy of the police record with me, they scoffed at it. JNGUY owes in the tens of thousands of dollars to a lot of people; I figured that's the reason he remains hidden and completely incognito.
In the police record, JNGUY labels me as a racist controlling animal. Apparently, I dictated his diet, allocated him shower times, a whole heap of other shit. I would go days without food while JNGUY ate everything and consumed all my resources. Yes, I know it's my fault, I don't regret helping though, I cannot say that I would do something like that ever again but I don't regret feeding somebody. Though it is my fault, I didn't expect this, this crap, I didn't even get a common thanks. I just got setback but some JNGUY who thinks he is too good for water. JNGUY is still causing me grief, every time I turn my head, he is there in one way or another causing me grief. It got to a point where I needed some sort of support, anything would do, I spoke to my brother. Initially, my family ridiculed the crap out of me, however, that's in the past. My brother said that he heard that JNGUY was just out to destroy my life – he told a lot of people this.
That makes me glad. At least I know I'm not a shit person. At least I know somebody is actively out to make me miserable, it's just one person, one JNGUY, who can't deal with that.
Rubbing some more salt into the wound; JNGUY turned out to not actually not be from my province. It's true there are people there who share the same surname as him, but Lebanon is very small, it's very easy to remember all of it. He shares the same surname as people from my province, but those people want absolutely nothing to do with JNGUY. They loathe JNGUY, apparently, they are major Con artists in Lebanon. Wouldn't surprise me. I spoke to an acquaintance and explained the situation, he felt sorry and agreed to come at least keep me company, however, when I mentioned JNGUYs surname, he immediately said: "I am so sorry but I want nothing to do with this, I understand you're suffering but JNGUY and his family are very well known as major scammers, they ruin people's lives, they take people through hell and back, I can't be involved and I am really sorry but I wish you the best." I felt so alone after that.
Now, I have caught up, at least to as good as it can be. I lost a lot of money, my friends, my family; I love my family very much, I only managed just to catch up after 4 months. Every day there's something new I cannot keep up.
JNGUY memorized my password which was surprising as he always portrayed himself as somebody with extremely poor memory, he had me fooled. He used my bank cards and opened Netflix account not just for him, but for about 10 other families in Lebanon I've cancelled all my cards changed all of my passwords, the locks to my house, everything.
JNGUY is just dragging this out and I just wish it was over already and I wish I never met JNGUY.
TL;DR Theres heaps more of his crap that I have written here, there is just so much psychopathic crap, but some JNGUY’s can be really manipulative as they see it as a way of life.

Pawn Ch 4

It's been a crazy month. AS HAVE ALL MONTHS LATELY SHEEESH! Some health issues have cropped up lately but I think I've got them in hand now and the next year will feature an improved writing schedule. (Fingers crossed.) Still! I hope you've all been keeping safe and the coming year treats you all well! In the meantime however I have the latest chapter of Pawn!
Enjoy!
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First Chapter
Previous Chapter
Neu Vieumau Port Special Administration District
Vix never got tired of seeing the Ferry Building in the city. So much of her home district was built up around everything old. Old museums, old cultural centers, old habs, and old ruins from the war. But the Ferry Building was a gleaming monument to the new. Of course it was actually constructed before the war, but it was the newest proper building in the city for it and still looked it. Instead of slabs of gray, or concrete, or just the brutalist nature of so many structures this one was silver and glass and green. A giant garden dominated the entire roof of the building providing a flourish of color that any Jipasi could respect. Not to mention just how the interior looked, with the garden influencing a careful balance of shadows and golden rays of light that played off one another even as the wind gently made the trees sway.
Much of the Heights had taken up this same sort of look, integrating as many trees, flowers, and other plants into their architecture as possible. The entire wealthy neighborhood overlooking the port just beyond it on the cliffs which dominated the bay seemed to take on an otherworldly appearance for it. She always thought it was as if the neighborhood was a luxuriant green cloud rising above the grey and the ruin of much of the rest of Neu Vieumau. Considering how many fortifications were still set into the hills and cliffs the Ferry Building provided the best access to the Heights and its private pier. One of the reasons she was sure her brother had come through here before his disappearance. He’d done a number of musical gigs up there in the old days. She loved listening to him regale her of the things he saw up there...
Of course one could also catch a ferry heading across the bay, or get a connection to a ship in the harbor going… elsewhere. But her brother hadn’t gone elsewhere. He had to be around here somewhere… Just… stuck. Vix felt her shoulders sag a little as she thought about how long she’d been searching for more information about her brother. Raiden always encouraged her but it was… disheartening to think he’d been gone so long and she still couldn’t find what had happened to him. He’d promised her a quick return and plenty of credits. She knew he still had to be working towards that wherever he was. She still had his trumpet tucked under her bed waiting for his return…
“[Vix, you coming?]” Vix jumped a little as the voice brought her out of her headspace. She glanced over at the other ward, a Davari girl by the name of Celuna. “[We’re headed to the mall.]” She nodded to the shopping center that dominated much of the eastern side of the large open square that formed the center of the district.
“[I’ll catch up, I wanted to check out the Ferry Building.]” She pointed.
“[Alright, well you know when the last tram out is, we’ll see you then if not before.]” Celuna waved her off and headed off with the group of other wards they all lived with. They didn’t like to consider themselves orphans, since some of them still had family. Just families that couldn’t, or wouldn’t, take care of them. Which is why they were all wards of the state. It put her in an odd mindset at times. She knew she still had family out there, and she would find him. But she couldn’t prove he was there and so the state took care of her. Which… wasn’t bad. Not when she had Raiden to compare herself against. She still didn’t like it though. At least not the… feeling that the state wanted her to give up on finding her brother.
So for now she steeled herself up, taking a deep breath as she furled and unfurled her tail and then shook herself out from ear to toe, just wiggling and shaking everything. It was a thing her brother had done before big songs and she always felt a sense of relief and comfort wash over her. As if getting her whole body to move in some small way just pumped her blood better. Then she set out, full of determination and energy. There were more people in the square then she ever saw back home. Then again no one really had a reason to visit the joint occupation zone. Unless… they were military police she guessed. But here people were going about their days with a hustle and bustle she’d only seen in vids.
A few Davari in opulent clothes were followed by a trail of servants. Several Ravex in some gaudy outfits that were a cross between armor and robes strode by with purpose. Even some wet, dripping Kra’Kto’Sui ambled by with small bots wheeling behind them humming as they cleaned off the water trails. Then there were even the Quir. Small slug like creatures that had long formed the underclass of noble society on Neu Vieumau, and across most Telurcid territory before the war. Vix knew very little about them. Except they always seemed to be in shockingly good moods for what others might consider an oppressed peoples.
Based on how they looked she’d always assumed they just sort of… slithered? Slimed? Across the ground. But instead they seemed to scrunch up the back of their lower body and kind of… toss their front section forward and then repeat the process. They were only a bit slower than regular walking pace from what she could tell. They also seemed to have big smiles as if they were having a lot of fun just hurling themselves around the place. Then again, did smiles mean the same thing to them? She sort of took that for granted since humans, Jipasi, and Davari all had similar concepts of smiles. But Kra’Kto’Sui and Ravex didn’t.
Since they’d been subjugated by the Davari did that make them learn how to smile? Vix suddenly had a bunch of new questions about the odd little species but she didn’t have time for that now. Instead she had to keep focusing on weaving her way through the crowds to make it to her goal. There was a break in the crowds though just before the Ferry Building itself. Most people were travelling between the shopping center, the tram station, and the financial district in a triangular pattern.
Once she reached the more open section she could see why. Despite the massive scale of the building it looked like there were only two ways in on this side right now. Both of which were dominated by large security checkpoints. Security checkpoints weren’t anything new for Vix though. Anyone growing up in Neu Vieumau likely knew them intimately. Even as she approached she was already unzipping her mountain fatigue jacket, and folding it up to set into a tray along with her wallet. Then she unlaced her hiking boots just enough to pull them off, balancing herself in a careful squat on one leg to do it, before switching to pull the other off. With her jacket and boots in a tray she could push forward she then handed her student ID over to the nearest soldier.
“Uh, are you authorized?” The question was the first moment she actually looked at the soldiers manning the checkpoint. She’d been through so many over the years she barely processed them anymore. So it was a bit of a surprise to notice they were for some reason wearing desert camo.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” She asked, now as confused as the soldier who’d asked her the question. The man seemed to just blink at this and looked at her ID a moment before shrugging and handing it back. With that she stepped into the scanner and raised her hands up above her head, flaring her tail down wide and low after the first pass without needing to be told.
“Anything in your pockets?” She glanced over at the next soldier, just past the scanner, this one a female.
“No.” She shook her head.
“Okay, step out and hold.” The soldier waved her forward a moment, and then looked just over her shoulder. “Nothing in your pockets?”
“Nothing.” Vix confirmed once more.
“Going to do a brief pat, using just the backs of my hands okay?” The female soldier seemed to ask this, even though it was more a statement of intent because she immediately used the backs of her hands to pat against Vix’ pockets a moment. “Okay, you’re clear.” She waved Vix through then. Vix immediately grabbed her jacket from the tray and pulled it back on, before balancing on one leg yet again to pull her boots on.
“There are chairs.” A soldier mentioned with a point at the end of the little security area.
“I’m fine. Good balance.” Vix mentioned as her tail would furl and unfurl a little behind her to help keep her steady. With her boots back on and tied tight she finally strode forward into the actual Ferry Building, and felt like she was stepping into another world. The cool breeze of the port was replaced with the warmth of the sun as the glass walls helped build up the heat. Just above her was a massive tree with blue leaves, providing shade as the golden rays of sun she always loved spread between the branches and bathed her in a heavenly light.
The noise of the city completely died as the doors behind her closed, and instead she heard faint orchestral music along the sound of running water. An artificial stream ran from a cluster of rocks stacked up between this entrance and the other, and the bubbling water ran towards the bay as if truly feeding into it. The water then diverged into a small delta, with ornamental bridges crossing over them while rainbow fish swam around. Small tables and chairs were set up on the plots of grass and rock making up this tailored delta. Only the edges of the structure seemed to be there to fulfil its true purpose with broad counters for ticket kiosks and signs denoting ticket prices and destinations. The rest was more of this kind of pleasure park, and a few Davari servers in decorative traditional Kiosai uniforms weaved between the tables, serving food from a cafe she spotted to the right.
That’s when the smell of sugary desserts wafted up to fill her nose. She took a moment to just stand there and breath heavily through her snout as the complex smells resolved themselves. One standing high above the rest. “Cinnamon rolls…” The word alone could cause her to salivate, but combined with that smell she was hard pressed to not just rush towards the cafe she was sure the smell originated from.
She did have Raiden’s half a dessert ration coupon code… But cinnamon rolls wouldn’t last well on the tram. Especially if someone tried to snag it from her in the crowds… Maybe she could just have one here… She realized she was biting her lip just thinking about food and her tail had pulled in tight. So she forced herself to relax a moment and think about her actual plan. There used to be jazz bands that played here. Still were even, though right now it was just the piped in orchestral track… Looking around her eyes settled on a small stage nestled among some bushes for a natural alcove. That had to be where they played. But it was empty for now, likely too early. Or maybe the wrong day? She hadn’t been able to find a schedule for live music here.
Who would know? The cafe? Looking around a bit more she noticed the signs leading to the main piers, but the ones headed to the Heights were behind yet another security checkpoint. Which one also had to get through to access the restaurant proper, or the roof garden. She had no idea how much of the structure had been sectioned off over time. Why was it necessary to go through so much security to take a ferry or sit in a garden? The cafe. That was where she’d start.
Striding forward she found that there was no real direct path to the cafe from the entrance. The water paths splitting up the floor into the faux delta made it a much more meandering path. One that conveniently also made her pass by a small market on the way to the cafe. Likely as a tactic to get people to stop and shop. Which partially worked on her as she noticed a few of the things displayed. Meat? Just fresh looking cuts of meat? Not even locked behind display glass? Well… the only way in and out was through security right? So that made more sense. Still she was shocked at just how much meat and produce they seemed to have for sale. Then she saw how much the ration prices were and gasped softly.
“By the great Nomad’s spit…” She muttered to herself. Would someone really pay a week’s ration codes for one basket of apparently organic free range eggs? What did that even mean? She knew the human food staple had rapidly spread across other species for its incredibly versatile protein and fat values but that had made them a common good! Not an exotic delacy like this price would suggest! Then she saw the price for tidal oysters and her eyes got wider still. Maybe for those in the Heights it was just different? Why else spend a month of rations on a single meal's worth of molluscs? Either way she forced herself to move on and actually make it to the cafe now.
The sweet smells of baked goods was mixing in with the rich scent of spiced Ruza cider, the more bitter Vumrix root that the Ravex preferred, and even some hints of the black teas humans preferred. It was near impossible for her to find any Jipasi food… The reputation for being scavenger food was hurtful. And likely perpetrated by people who just didn’t know how to appreciate good scrimp. Or Honeyslush… Or even Bittersweet! Just thinking about it made Vix’s tail fan out in a moment of annoyance before she reigned it in and carefully furled it. No point in marching in with a full flair and scare them off…
Then again no one could truly appreciate the finer points of Jipasi tail signalling. For all their fearsome appearance Davari had such pitiful little tails… What could they do with them? A little flick or wiggle? Ravex had much more impressive tails of course, but they were muscular things built for strangulation. Or… swiping? Some form of combat. Which was a perversion of tails in a different way considering how drab they were… And humans? She truly felt sorry for them to lack all sense of having tails. And to know they had such close evolutionary cousins that kept them. Did humans envy monkeys? She’d have to ask Raiden.
Focusing once more as she entered the cafe she found the interior to be set up in a circular bar around a central serving station. The chairs were made of wood, and brass while the counters were topped with fine short grass. A few more of the Davari servers were moving in and out, but one was preparing beverages and gathering pastries from the oven set in the middle. The closer she got the more she fought the urge to drool at the scents of all this fresh bread and treats. Focus!
One of the Davari, a teen likely a few years older than her turned to her but before he could speak Vix set her hands on the grass counter and spoke first. “[Did you work here four years ago?]”
“Wwwoooo…” The Davari made his species version of an uuuhhh sound. “[No?]” He was obviously confused by the question.
“[Does anyone who works here also work here four years ago? That’s in here today. Right now?]” Vix's mind was fluttering a bit as she tried to keep her focus, and translate at the same time.
“Wwwoooo [I don’t… think so? Is something wrong? Did you need to… make a complaint?]” The server was clearly confused.
“[No. Nothing is wrong. Or… not like that. But I just need to find someone who worked here four years ago. And… errr… to make use of… instruments of musical nature.]” She stumbled a little in her Decktongue.
“[You need… a musician? We don’t… hire out bands. We serve drinks and pastries… Would you like one?]” He asked and slowly waved at the pastries behind him.
“[No… yes. Do you know anyone who plays music? Can I talk to a music individual?]” She tried.
“[A musician? I don’t… that’s not my…]” The Davari scratched at his horn. “[Listen esteemed customer. I cannot ask for a manager unless you ask me to ask for one. That might be better?]” He suggested.
“[Yes. But you’re not in punishment.] Eehhhh [Trouble. You’re not in trouble, I just want information. Sorry esteemed employer. Esteemed… individual.]” By now her tail was half curled as she felt entirely flustered with her own performance. She was usually perfectly fluent in Decktongue! But the smell and nerves were messing with her…
“[I shall fetch a manager.]” The Davari nodded to her and pulled back, leaving her to lean against the grass topped counter and clutch her head in her hands. She needed to get herself together. But the thought she might be so close to finding out more about her brother and at the same time be tormented by all these smells was driving her beyond the dune!
Closing her eyes a moment she realized she’d have to embarrass herself a little and she fully furled her tail before tucking it up between her legs and clutched it in her hands, brushing it against her nose. Then she took a few slow, deep breaths, helping filter the scents out and just focus on her own smell. Just a slow deep in… and out. Measure the beat of her heart… Slowly… After doing this for several seconds she released her tail and flicked it back out behind her. It was a childish thing to do but resetting her mind onto her scent greatly helped even her out. She would see the manager and it would all be fine…
An alarm went off. Her eyes snapped open and she looked around. Was it here? Had she been too much trouble? Did they think she was a creep or a criminal or something? A language began to speak out across the building but it was in a language she didn’t know. It was… close to Decktongue but… strange? People began to get up from their tables, some looking worried, others looking annoyed as they began to walk towards the exits. Around her the servers began to hurry this way and that, some grabbing orders to rush out, while others just flat out headed for the exits in a rush.
Then another voice began to speak up, it was one she had no concept of at all. What could it be? What was going on? Now worried she began to head towards the exit as well. The humans who had been guarding the security checkpoint were now inside, making clear waving motions for people inside to head outside and a few were spreading out, guns not exactly raised, but certainly in their hands. When she got closer she saw one point at her. Her heart beat began to race once more. Just keep walking… She hadn’t done anything…
“Hey! Uh… Jipasi… person. Do you eeerr… [Speaken human?]” He asked in heavily accented Decktongue.
“Do you mean English?” She asked, now confused.
“Uh yeah.” The soldier nodded.
“Why would you even ask me that in Decktongue? But the first part in English?” Was confronting the armed soldier about his own language mistakes really wise?
“Err… yeah well… Listen where are you from?” He asked instead.
“I’m from the cultural ah… The joint occupation zone.” She corrected herself.
“Oh great. Listen, we need some help. See there’s been a bomb threat.” He explained.
“Attention all esteemed shoppers there is currently a priority security incident ongoing. We ask that all those inside the building begin to exit in an orderly fashion.” She looked up as the speakers finally gave a message in English.
“Yeah that.” The soldier said. “Anyway, we need your help like I said.”
“Finding… a bomb?” She was utterly confused.
“No no no.” The soldier shook his head. “We’re… Sarge what are we allowed to tell her?” Vix shifted her attention to the slightly older soldier standing next to him who had been quiet so far.
“Well, first off we weren’t even supposed to tell her about the bomb threat. But you’re doing great specialist. Lets see how deep you can dig this hole.” The first soldier didn’t even seem to be fazed by this and just turned back to Vix.
“We’ve gotten intel reports that Death’s Hand is back and has a bomb somewhere in the city. We’ve narrowed it down to five potential locations, one of which is in the JOZ and we need to drive there so we need your help because we don’t have a map.” The sarge just groaned and set a hand on his face but the specialist smiled at her.
“I’m going to have to NJP your ass into the ground specialist.” The sarge muttered as Vix looked between them with even more confusion.
“Oh no, what am I going to have to do now? Mop the ocean? Dang. Guess I can’t do my job…” The soldier seemed entirely unconcerned with whatever was being threatened.
“You do realize I can just mandate no time off, and forbid you from any secondary tasks right? Did you think about the fact I can NJP you into doing your fucking job and nothing else for the next month asshat? God I hate you’re our best guy…” The sarge grumbled.
“Look, I was brought up for what was supposed to be a single tour because the war was going to shit! One tour! Twelve years later here I am! I want off this fucking bullshit ride!” The apparent specialist tossed his hands up as he complained.
“Do I need to be here for this?” Vix asked which brought their focus back on her.
“Right. Yes. We need your help.” The specialist repeated.
“With… what? You don’t have a map? Of the city? You’re occupying it. How can you not have a map?” She asked, utterly puzzled by their behavior so far.
“We don’t have an updated road map noting which roads are still passable. We’re American Marines, and have been posted around the port because the shitheads in charge figured oh yeah, put marines on the coast, as if that fucking matters right now. And because we’re marines that means we ain’t got shit for logistics. Which includes updated maps. So if you can go with us, we’ll drive and you guide and that’s what we need your help for.” The specialist rambled on a bit but the sarge didn’t add anything so she figured it was really what they wanted.
“What’s in it for me?” She asked as her intrinsic need to haggle began to rise up.
“What? We’re dealing with a bomb threat. Don’t you wanna help your city?” The specialist asked.
“You’re occupiers. I know you’re meaning well, but it doesn’t help me to be seen with you.” She flatley replied. “I’m not saying anything would happen, but why should I help you for free?”
“We’ll be giving you a ride back. Look at the tram station now.” The specialist pointed out the glass walls and she saw that all the people from the nearby shopping district and financial districts were flooding the station to leave the area.
“Yeah well it would take me a few hours to get back anyway.” She shrugged it off, holding her ground in negotiations.
“Right. Well… I have a drink mix.” The specialist offered which made Vix blink and arch a brow in confusion. “Here.” He pulled a small packet from a pocket of his tactical rig and handed it over. Vix slowly took it and turned it over in her hand.
“Drink mix #4 fruit punch?” She slowly rubbed her hand against the package to feel some kind of gritty sand like material inside. “It’s crunchy? I’m supposed to drink this?”
“No, have you never had drink mix? You pour it in water and stir it up.” The specialist explained.
“So I have to already have a drink to make this useful?” She countered.
“Right, you’re Jipasi.” The sarge spoke up and she was about to growl at him to ask what he meant by that when she saw him tug a packet from his rig. “I have bubble-” He didn’t even finish before she snatched the pack of Super Chew from his hand.
“Oh this is the good stuff!” This gum kept its flavor for ages and made big super satisfying bubbles. Her brother used to get it for her when he could but it was hard to find. She paused then realizing she’d destroyed her own negotiating platform and looked back up at the soldiers. “I mean… it’s fine… I guess… I’m also keeping the drink mix.”
“Sure cool, let’s go. This way.” The specialist turned and waved for her to follow them as they headed away from the main stream of people exiting through the security checkpoint and instead headed to the side of the structure. “I’m Tim by the way. Sarge there is Andrés.”
“For fuck’s sake specialist. First Sergeant Ramirez.” The sarge… Ramirez corrected.
“C’mon she’s a civvie.” Tim shrugged it off as he opened a door clearly marked for emergencies and fires only. It claimed to be alarmed but either it had been disabled, or just a lie as him opening it didn’t do a thing. Vix kept following them as they headed outside and the general murmur of activity in the city had picked up with the mass of people heading to the tram station. She could only imagine how annoyed the other wards were for having just gotten to the shopping district only to be forced to leave.
“This is our ride.” Tim announced then as he stopped before a… car? A four wheeled vehicle unlike anything she’d ever seen. It was a squat nearly square vehicle which seemed to consist of little more than four wheels, a frame, and some seats. A big white star had been painted on the hood in contrast with the rest of it being olive drab like her pants.
“What is it?” She asked even as the others hopped in. Tim climbed over the back using the back wheel as a step to hop in while Ramirez took the wheel, leaving Vix the passenger seat.
“It’s a jeep. They were made centuries ago, and since we’re broke we busted them out of a museum.” Tim announced with a big grin.
“Smart ass. It’s a design based on an ancient vehicle of the same name. But obviously it’s modernized. We have no real industrial base anymore since the war cut everything off. These can be made with really basic parts and electric engines which we can procure from local civilian vehicles.” Ramirez explained.
“By which he means we rat fucked every city we could after the end of the war to steal all the parts and engines we could. Yessireee, no working cars in any city the marines liberated.” Vix frowned a bit as she got in the passenger seat and looked around. “No seat belts. No air bags. Your knees are the crumple zone. But hey, it’ll do sixty off road and there’s only a fifty percent chance you’ll be thrown out at those speeds while you hold on for dear life! But we’ve got hundreds of them now so that’s something.”
“You two are not the sort of soldiers I’m used to.” Vix admitted as Ramirez started the vehicle up and started to drive.
“We’re marines Miss. You’re from the JOZ? So you’re used to Rimjobs and Vuckers. We are a different breed entirely.” Tim explained.
“Rimjobs? Vuckers?” She looked over at the sergeant who just sighed.
“He is referring to the Void military, and the Reformed Imperial Military. I promise you Miss we’re not all complete degenerates like Specialist Taylor here.” He shook his head slightly as he began to drive through the edge of the square to get to the road. While people were still crossing over to get to the tram station he didn’t exactly stop, but he didn’t really speed up. Just kept an even speed which made the pedestrians move ahead of him so they didn’t get run over. Pretty typical for Neu Vieumau traffic.
“That’s right! Tim Taylor! TT! Sounds like Titty. I’ve heard all the jokes.” Vix glanced back as the specialist leaned back a bit, spreading out in the back seats of the vehicle.
“So, where are we going?” She asked, realizing she should probably do what they needed her to do.
“We are looking for the old cultural building.” Tim replied.
“Which old cultural building? There are a lot.” Vix mentioned.
“The uh…” Tim began to pat his rig until he pulled out a small scrap of paper. “The old cultural exchange building. That’s all it says.”
Vix had to think a little before realizing they probably meant the one actually right near her building. “Oh. I think I know what one you want.” Then she looked at Ramirez. “You’ll want to stay on this road for three blocks, then a right around the crater. Then take the hill.” He nodded and focused on his driving. Unlike the JOZ civilians in this district actually still had their own cars. It was a bit unusual for her to see non military vehicles driving around since she was so used to it just being big armored trucks and the like.
“So, how’s life in the JOZ? The vuckers treating you well?” Tim asked as they drove.
“They’re fine. Better than the uh… Rimjobs.” She wasn’t exactly sure what the word meant but she could tell it was belittling the Davari militia and she was fine with that… All those random searches and pat downs… Women were careful around those degenerates. It did help that she always wore such bulky clothes like her surplus fatigues, but it still should never happen.
“Cool cool. What were you doing in the Ferry Building? I can’t imagine getting an authorized day pass was easy.” When he said that she blinked. Is that what the soldier earlier had been asking about?
“I uh… Am trying to find my missing brother.” She answered honestly.
“He’s missing? Did you file a missing person’s report? How long has he been missing?” Ramirez immediately took her seriously it seemed.
“Yes, and he’s been missing for four years.” She replied.
“Four years?” Tim sounded a bit surprised. “Have you heard anything?”
“Not yet. He was last seen in the ferry building. I was… asking around.” She crossed her arms then feeling a bit… apprehensive about the sudden questioning.
“Just… literally asking around? You’d probably be better off making an appointment with the security staff. I think they keep passenger logs.” Tim mentioned. “What about your parents? Why did you go alone?”
“My parents are dead.” She had long since lost the sting of mentioning that to people. It could only hurt so much before she grew an emotional callus to that wound.
“Oh… So you’re…” Tim trailed off.
“A ward of the state. I live in one of the youth barracks.” She nodded.
“Sorry.” Tim muttered and the ride settled into an awkward silence while Ramirez drove on. He turned at the big crater at the base of Opulent hill, and start to drive up through the ruins of the old Hive complex. The buildings had been reduced to rubble, but a dirt road had been formed from years of first military vehicles driving the area since it was the most direct path between the port and city center.
“Where from here?” Ramirez finally asked to break the silence.
“Left at the spike.” She nodded at a large metal sculpture that had been twisted and wrecked in the war, leaving what looked to be nothing more than a giant metal spike in the ground. As he turned they had a nice view from the hill looking down over the city center. Most of it was dominated by the cultural district but she could still see City Hall in the distance. “Then right at the bottom and you’ll have to see if the ditch is flooded or not.”
The vehicle descended the hill a bit faster than she expected, but she enjoyed the brief sensation of speed and wind whipping at her hair. The streets at the bottom weren’t dirt but were partially ruined still, since no one had gotten around to patching them yet. Then they came to a stop before a big ditch between some blown out buildings. There was some water, but not too deep. “You should be fine.” She nodded and Ramirez pressed on, driving down into the ditch and up the other side as the vehicle seemed to handle it just fine.
“Okay… Left, then the second exit in the traffic circle.” She kept guiding them as they drove on finally returning to actually proper roads.
“Wouldn’t it be faster to take the first exit?” Ramirez asked.
“And go through the Ravex occupation zone? Oh… uh…” Vix glanced around a moment, reminded she was driving with soldiers. “Yeah I guess. I just… don’t go there. They don’t have a friendly reputation around here.”
“Do they have a friendly reputation anywhere?” Tim asked.
“I guess not. Did you need to meet up with them? Or other military people to check out this building?” She asked while they neared the Ravex zone. It had been the industrial portion of the city. Such as Neu Vieumau, a city of parties and museums had one.
“We’re just supposed to check out the building. Fuckwits in command sent the two of us so you can imagine how important they think this is.” Tim snorted. “Everyone else is being diverted to the possible threats in the port and financial districts. Some abandoned building in the JOZ? I mean they have to send someone but no one important.”
“We allerted the Void military to the possibility. They say the building has been cleared, and we’ve been sent to double check.” Ramirez explained. Just ahead was the checkpoint to the edge of the Ravex occupied zone. A group of human soldiers, Americans she had to guess were on this side, and the Ravex were on the other.
“Wait, if you guys have a checkpoint here how did you not know how to get to it?” She asked.
“Listen lady I just work here alright?” Tim immediately answered from the back.
“It might surprise you to learn this but we do in fact have some maps. It’s just that no one gave me any.” Ramirez revealed.
“And translators on the battalion level! Joy.” Tim added, which took a moment to filter through Vix’s mind.
“Wait. Do you mean you don’t have people who speak Decktongue in your patrols?” She looked back at Tim.
“Kinda. We do, but not official. We’ve had to rely on individual marines learning what they can of the local language and… Lets just say having professional translators makes a big difference. It’s more we only have a precious few people who can speak… Whatever Ravex speak. Not to mention Divine, or Russian for fuck’s sake. Damn slavs.” Tim shook his head and let out a heavy sigh.
“Divine?” Vix asked, unsure about that one.
“Yeah. The language the fancy lad Davari speak, up on their rich bitch cliff. And… churches too and stuff.” Tim shrugged. “You don’t know it?”
“No.” She shook her head slowly. “Just Decktongue. I’m not Davari, I don’t go to the Swagin Church.”
“Well, none of that matters right now because we’re gonna get growled at.” Tim muttered as they neared the checkpoint. The marines on the close side lifted the gate as they approached but the Ravex standing around didn’t move yet. The war had been over for eight years and still they held the position as if expecting an assault. Heavy barricades were set up around a heavily armored tractor to use as a gate of sorts. The buildings on the Ravex side also had nests up top, with armed soldiers watching them from above.
“Papers.” A heavily armored Ravex demanded as he stepped up to Ramirez.
“You kidding me?” Ramirez asked, but the hulking soldier’s tail just gave an annoyed whip behind him.
“Papers.” He repeated. Ramirez shifted and pulled a small card from his rig to hand over. The Ravex glanced at Vix. “All papers.”
“No. You just need mine. Scan it.” Ramirez growled back. The Ravex didn’t reply at first but pulled the card back and held up a tablet to scan it across. “We’re just passing through to the JOZ. That’s it. No stops.”
“No schedule. Make appointment.” The Ravex replied.
“No, fuck that. Open the gate. We’re pursuing an imminent threat. It’s been cleared. Scan it.” Ramirez growled. The Ravex took in a deep breath, towering over them even sitting in the jeep. Then after a moment it handed the card back and waved a hand as the tractor began to move.
“Follow bike.” The guard announced and waved them past.
“Bike?” Ramirez asked before they heard the throaty rumble of an engine. Just up the street they saw a massive motorcycle turn the corner and wait for them. A Ravex in sleak matt black armor was stradling it and it seemed to have a series of tubes clustered all along the back.
“Ooohhh a fucking rocket bike! I’m watching a werewolf lizard riding a legit rocket bike! So fucking cool.” Tim muttered behind Vix.
“Follow.” The guard announced once more.
“Yeah.” Ramirez agreed and waved him off as they drove ahead. The moment they were past the tractor it began to rumble back into place. The bike up ahead let out a roaring engine rev before taking a lead position.
“What… is the point of that vehicle?” Vix asked with a frown.
“Hit and run. Those massive wheels are for use in tons of terrain you wouldn’t expect. They were used to dash in, fire a bunch of rockets at Hive mobile hubs and then just fuck off. Totally useless in an urban environment like this but fuck do they look cool.” Tim explained as they began to follow it through the streets. Vix noted how many buildings in the district seemed to have Ravex posts up on top of them. But the few factories the city had were more important than ever since the war had cut them off from the greater galaxy, so the Ravex were likely taking any measures they needed to keep them operational.
Though as she looked up at the buildings she saw just the burnt top of a tower in the distance. “That explosion last week, was that Death’s Hand? Like you think the threat now is?”
“No.” Tim shook his head. “Some people think that was a mistake, not enough explosive to knock the whole tower down but that’s just not right. They meant to only take the top off. Why? No idea. But that was a very good, very specific explosive. Not Death’s Hand style at all. They want mass casualties.”
“So… why then would they want to blow up the abandoned cultural exchange building?” Vix asked.
“Not a clue. But we have an intel report so we’re checking it out.” Tim shrugged.
“You know since we’re getting a Ravex escort I’m not even sure we needed your help at all. The gum might be too high a price.” Ramirez mentioned.
“Too bad, cause it’s already mine now.” Vix grinned. The bike ahead of them just keep speeding up, seeming to test Ramirez and the jeep. Considering the otherwise totally empty streets she figured the driver just wanted to race, but she didn’t mind as the faster they drove the more fun she had but it also meant she was soon clutching the side of the jeep for support to not slide out of her seat as Ramirez rose fo the challenge and sped up to keep pace.
“Bump!” Ramirez shouted just as he saw a dip in the road just before they hit it. Vix felt her body rise up out of her seat a moment and her tail fanned out as if to start flapping before the jeep landed on the other side and she bounced back down into her seat hard. She couldn’t help but laugh though and let out thrill seeker’s cry as her call echoed out across the buildings around them.
“Fuck! I forgot you guys can make sounds like that.” Tim called out over the sound of the wind and the racing Ravex engine ahead of them.
“Gotta get us excited is all!” Vix called back.
“I think I’m managing!” Ramirez was gripping the wheel tight, focused on not losing the bike as it kept whipping around corners and no doubt breaking the Ravex’s own speed limits in the district. But before she realized it they were slowing down and the bike pulled off to the side. The rider leaned up and gave a wave as Vix and the others all waved back. Then Ramirez had to come to a stop before another security checkpoint.
“Are we through already?” Vix gasped.
“Record time I guess. Who knew the werewolf lizards could have fun?” Tim chuckled as they waited for another armored tractor much like the first to roll out of the way. As Ramirez drove forward at a much more appropriate pace for the city she saw the Cathedral up ahead and realized they were close to the building. Though, they suddenly came to a stop just as a human began to run out into the road ahead of them. A human who stopped when he saw them.
“Vix?” Vix blinked as she realized who was in the street.
“Raiden?” He was wearing a backpack she’d never seen and… nice boots.
“Hey! What are you doing back?” He ran over to the side of the jeep to talk to her. “Are you in trouble?” He glanced at the soldiers.
[Continued in Comments]

In 2016 the teenagers in my town started exploding. But we didn’t die. We became something else.

Disclaimer: I want to make it clear to you that this happened in the year 2016. What our town have never told the world, and if they have—the world have kept it silent. I’ve been advised to talk about my experience but sitting here on my laptop and just typing is so much better.
I want someone out there to know what happened to me and my friends. I want to tell someone, and you guys seem like the best people to pour my life out to.
-
The average human being is supposed to sneeze four times a day. According to Google at least.
Obviously test results aren’t always completely scientifically accurate, but that’s the most recent estimate.
I, however, at sixteen years of age, had managed to bypass that statistic by a mile. I wasn’t the first and certainly wouldn’t be the last. But it was rather the circumstances surrounding me that made my case a lot more interesting. Though it wasn’t anything to be proud of.
I’d sneezed nearly fourteen times in a row in the space of a few minutes and after desperately trying to stifle spluttered cough attacks attacking my chest, I was pretty sure I was dying. Fourteen sneezes wasn’t too serious. In fact, there was a Guinness world record achievement for eighty two sneezes, held by eighteen year old Lana Seldom from Germany. Forced of course. Though the thing was, I wasn’t just sneezing. To put it simply, my body felt like it was on fire. My limbs were numb. Every sneeze felt closer to projecting my lungs from my bloody lips. Bloody because every sneeze was agonizing, violently shaking my trembling body with every sternutation.
Whatever the hell was happening to me, it wasn’t your average sickness.
It wasn’t normal. And for the first time in my life, I wondered if I really was dying.
If that was it. The light at the end of the tunnel. I didn’t know what dying felt like. I was practically a kid, I didn’t even have a driver’s license. I was, however, pretty damn sure that normal people weren’t supposed to sneeze themselves to death. Because that would be fucking hilarious. It would be the bizarre, totally not-funny plot of an Adam Sandler movie that got shoved on Netflix, or my ten year old self’s feverish nightmares. Because that wasn’t how you were supposed to die. It was either a heart attack, or a brain haemorrhage. Especially so young. I didn’t understand why it was my time.
My life, or I guess my normal life ended, stumbling down some dead-end street on the south side of our little town. I should probably say our town isn’t very well known. We’re small, small enough to be forgotten. There are about 1500 of us, and everyone knows everyone’s business. Our high school had around 100 kids.
I was scared. I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. My steps were stumbled, and I could barely hold myself. Every movement meant more coughing, more spluttering, my hands over my nose getting wetter with stark red. That’s what I called it, anyway. Red. I didn’t want to call it what it really was, because then I would be admitting to myself that I was bleeding out; that every orifice was bleeding out, and there was so much fucking red, and it was everywhere. It was on my clothes and the tips of my fingers. I could feel it dribbling down my chin, and wet on my lips. So much fucking red, and I wasn’t ready to accept it. I wasn’t ready to come to terms that my body, for whatever reason, was rejecting me.
It didn’t make sense, I remember saying over and over again, muttering it to myself.
Though it kind of did. I was just in a fuck load of denial.
The truth was, in the back of my mind, I’d been expecting it.
I wasn’t the first one with symptoms. I had already seen them hours before, and I’d ignored it.
My first instinct was to call my father. He would know what to do, surely. Dad always knew what to do.
Slipping trembling hands into my pockets I grasped for my phone, and at that same moment something trickled from my nose. Something wet and warm snaking down my skin, tainting me, painting me like my body was its canvas.
It reminded me of earlier on in the afternoon. When everything had been reasonably normal. For me at least. I had been sitting a few seats behind another student in AP English. Clara Mayer. She was one of the popular girls, someone who stood out among the crowd. Clara had short blonde hair and wore pastel colours, like she was a walking Instagram edit. The girl had worn a flower crown every day that week, and I remember staring hard at it, wondering if the thing weaved through her curls would attract bugs. The flower crown on that particular day looked odd; blooming white roses that looked pretty, sure, but clashed with the blood pouring from her nose and pooling between pale fingers pressed over her mouth and nose, it made her look almost angelic. It was childish innocence placed on the head of a dying girl.
I thought it was a nose-bleed.
So did Clara, maybe. She had grabbed a tissue from her bag and pressed it to her nose, hunching over further.
I continued to ignore her. I thought about other things; the weekend that was coming up and having no friends to spend it with. Oh well. There was always The Sims, if my father wasn’t using my laptop to gamble away child support.
I thought a lot of things that afternoon. Most of which were nothing to do with school, or Clara, or my dissipating classmates. I didn’t notice the empty chairs dotted around me. I wanted to remain ignorant. I wanted to ignore Clara’s stifled coughing that she was trying to hide, hunched over her textbook, which wasn’t open. I wanted to ignore the cuffs of her cardigan sleeves splashed red, and her small body quivering in her chair, her hands flexing and then curling into fists.
And then I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I couldn’t push it into the back of my head.
Clara was coughing. Violently. She was well aware that there was something wrong with her. Maybe she was in shock, staring at her hands, which were splattered red. There was so much red, and the girl was frozen in her seat.
“Miss Mayer,” Mr Carlson who had his back turned to the class, cleared his own throat. “I suggest you pay a visit to the nurses office, young lady. If you’re ill, you shouldn’t have come to school in the first place.”
After a moments silence, Clara had stood up and wiped her hands on her dress, which wasn’t a good idea. She was still coughing, spluttering and staggering, like her body was refusing to hold her weight. I had watched her dart to the door in single strides, her expression twisted with determination. She knew what coughing again would entail.
“Excuse me.” Clara had whispered to the teacher, and then the class, before yanking open the door and slipping through. I could hear her coughing all the way down the hall. I could hear her laboured breaths, her struggles to suck in oxygen—
And I’d forgotten all about her.
The class had continued. Mr Carlson had yelled at Becca Jason for being late, and the remainder of us had laughed nervously at the class clown’s jokes. I don’t think any of us wanted to believe that Clara was sick.
That Clara was dying.
And approximately three hours later, I had it.
Whatever the fuck it was, it worked fast.
I was in a daze, blinking through feathered vision, trying to find my father’s number on my phone. But everything was a blur. Nothing made sense in the mind fog, and I was drowning in it.
“Ror?”
I teared up at the nickname my dad gave me. But it was slurred and wrong. I knew what was wrong with him automatically, but I felt too sick to be angry. Too sick to be fucking disappointed that he had once again failed to be a father. I imagined my dad knelt on our bathroom floor, his forehead stuck to the cool plastic toilet seat. In one hand was his battered phone, and in the other was half a bottle of whisky. I had taken a deep breath to steel myself, to stop myself shouting, because this was why mom left! I wanted to cry. Instead though, I gripped my phone tighter and prayed he was lucid.
“Dad.” I said softly. “Dad, there’s something wrong with me.”
There was a pause, before a shuffling sound. “What are you talking about, Rory? What’s up?” He gurgled a laugh. “Are you feeling sniffly? I’ve got some pain killers in my jacket. I don’t know how strong they are though.”
Sniffly. I wanted to laugh. I tried not to, but it came out explosively, before turning into a cough which nearly took me to my knees. More blood ran. I could taste it. Rusty coins on my tongue.
“Jesus!” Dad hissed. “Rory McCann, what did I tell you about smoking, huh? You’re heading for an early grave!”
Well, yeah. I kind of was. Biting back a sarcastic retort, I shook my head. In front of me, the sky was a funny colour. I don’t know if it was my vision, or a dense darkness had started to envelope the horizon. It almost looked like it was alive, moving through the air.
Turning my attention back to my phone, I shook my head. “No, dad. I’m sick. Like, really sick.”
Before he could speak, I cut in with a hiss. “Clara Mayer. She had some kind of sickness, and I think I’ve caught it.”
“What?” I couldn’t tell if dad was amused or freaked out. “Like a stomach virus? What have you got? some kind of cough?”
I didn’t answer for a moment. My tongue was tied. I didn’t know what to say.
“Rory.” The way dad was saying my name was making me tear up. “Boy, where are you?”
I struggled to reply. “On the other side of town,” I said, recognising the street. My whole childhood had been whizzing down the road on my bike, squealing with delight, before flipping over my handlebars and skinning my knees. I knew exactly where I was. I followed the moving cloud of black which was swallowing up the sun. “I’m near Jonah’s house.”
My first initial reaction was to go straight to Jonah’s house. It was just down the road, barely five minutes away. Jonah had been my best friend until freshman year, when he had traded video games for varsity. I held a grudge ever since, but if I was dying, if I really was fucking dying, then I didn’t want my last memory of him a petty argument that should have been resolved years ago. Both of us were stubborn. I wanted to go to him, obviously. But not in that state.
I just wanted my dad.
“Dad.” I spoke slowly, careful not to incite another coughing fit. “Dad, I need you to come and get me.”
There was no reply for a second, and for one awful moment, I thought he’d ended the call. But then his voice was coming through, prickly with static. “Stay where you are, okay? I’ll break out Black Betty.”
I’d nodded, even when I knew my dad couldn’t see it. Before I could make a fool of myself even more, crying out to him and pressing him to get there quicker, I ended the call.
There was a bench on the sidewalk, and I collapsed into it, struggling to hold back another sneeze that I knew would bring more blood. There was something inside me setting my insides on fire, but I was still shivering. I was freezing cold, wrapping my arms around myself. I kept stealing glances to the darkening sky and wondering why it was so dark. I don’t know how long I sat on that bench.
It was long enough for the sky to quickly turn a strange shade of black, a shade I wasn’t sure existed. There was no moon. No stars.
Because it was still daytime. It was 4:00PM on a warm July day.
“Rory McCann?”
The voice startled me after what felt like hours of staring at cracks in the sidewalk. There were two men standing over me, both of them dressed head to toe in black, both of them wearing visors. Looking them up and down I was already suspicious. They weren’t part of the sheriff’s department. I stared at them stupidly before one of them cleared their throat. There was an authority to his tone, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like the fact that the sky was dark when it was still daytime, and the two of them barely batted an eyelid.
“Rory McCann?” the man repeated. His voice muffled by the visor.
“You’re authorized to come with us.”
I shook my head, swiping at my bloody nose.
“No.” my voice was weak. “No, my dad’s coming to get me.”
“That won’t be possible.” The other man said. “We are required to bring in children infected with N7.”
“No.” my voice was shaking. I had no idea what N7 was, and I didn’t want to know.
“I told you. My dad is coming—” I trailed off when it sort of hit me, like a weight to the chest.
My father had contacted them.
Of course he had. He didn't want to deal with it on his own. I could have cried.
With that clear, I stood up. “I don’t need your help.”
One of the men reached into his pocket and my stomach flipped over.
But the man didn’t pull out a gun or a taser.
Instead, he pulled out a light-bulb.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“Mr McCann,” the man holding the light-bulb cleared his throat. Very professional.
“We’ve been led to believe that you are infected with N7.” He gestured to the bulb with a jerk of his head. “At 9AM this morning, a leak was reported from the West Country power plant. Whatever it is that has escaped appears to be infecting people under the age of eighteen."
My head started spinning.
Clara. Her father worked at the plant.
But I refused to believe whatever N7 was would be detected through a light bulb.
I blinked at the two men. My nose was bleeding again, but I didn’t swipe it. Opening my mouth to sputter questions, I was interrupted by a yell.
There was someone being dragged down the sidewalk. As they got closer, I realized it was a kid being apprehended by the same men in black. The kid had a gangly figure, dark red hair a scruffy mess on top of his head. Jonah.
As the three of them got closer, I realized Jonah was in the same state as me. His skin was white. Really white. The blood painting his face contrasted perfectly to the white. My friend was crying. I’d never seen him cry, and I’d known him since kindergarten. But there he was, stumbling over himself, coughing and spluttering, blood pooling from his nose and mouth.
Jonah was infected too.
“Rory?” Jonah hissed, his eyes widening, when his assailants forced him in front of me. I didn’t like the way they manhandled him, pinning his arms behind his back. Like he was an animal. “You’re sick too?”
I didn’t reply. There was too much information, and it wasn’t going in. I was staring at the light bulb still in the man’s hands. He held it delicately. “Boys, it’s a simple test. Touch the bulb.”
Jonah, unsurprisingly, laughed. He always laughed at the worst times. Though the situation was pretty obscene.
“You want us to touch a lightbulb?” Jonah spluttered out another cough.
“That’s correct,” the man said. “Of the little research we’ve managed to gather, N7 shows up in an infected child through electricity.”
“N7?” Jonah repeated, echoing my thoughts. “What the hell is that?”
The man ignored him. “Touch it, Mr West. You are testing my patience.”
I had found myself entranced by what the men were telling me. It sounded like bullshit. All of it. But I’d still watched Jonah lifting the tip of his bloody finger hesitantly, before pressing it against the glass bulb. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen. Though something did happen. I saw the spark before Jonah did, because he was coughing again, his whole body shuddering. The bulb seemed to struggle for a moment, before lighting up and illuminating every face in pulsing white light, Jonah included, exposing every freckle dotting his nose and cheeks. It was beautiful. It was so fucking beautiful.
That was the last beautiful thing I ever saw.
Because Jonah was still coughing.
His eyes were sizzling with light, with something alive, something teeming around his iris, and he was still coughing. He was still spluttering, and blood was pooling in his hands.
“That’s fucking cool.” Jonah said, his lips stretched into a wide smile. But his eyes were too bright.
The bulb was still sizzling.
Hastily, Jonah removed his finger, and then he looked at me. I don’t know what he was going to say. I feel like maybe it was wow. Something like that. I waited for him to stop coughing, but he didn’t. The men holding him abruptly let him go, but I barely noticed. The guy who was holding the bulb dropped it, and I failed to realise what was happening. I wondered if the others were ahead of me in time, because the bulb was hitting the ground and smashing into millions of pieces.
I felt warm arms wrapping themselves around me and pulling me back.
Something hit me. Warm and wet, and red. So fucking red. I felt it like paint, covering me. I felt the weight of it hit me in the face. I felt him, and yet, in my mind, I could still see Jonah’s lips twisted into that fucking smile that I loved.
I don’t know how long I stood there for. I was coughing again, but my body was ahead of my brain.
In my mind, I was still standing in front of Jonah, and he was illuminated in that light that had ignited the bulb. The men that had been holding me were yelling, and I was being shoved back.
One of the men pulled out a large clear bag and started shovelling the remains of my best friend inside. He didn’t look like Jonah anymore.
He was a puddle of red on the sidewalk.
Strong arms pulled me back before I could start screaming. “Sir.” One of the men was yelling into a walkie-talkie. “Sir, I’ve got McCann and West.”
“Affirmative,” a voice crackled on the other end. “Are they intact?”
“McCann is. West succumbed a few minutes ago, but we’re positive the remodelling is in progress.”
The men’s words were like spider-tongue. I was frozen, staring at the smear of red that had been my best friend. Maybe it was a trick of the light, or the fever eating me up inside, but I could have sworn the pieces of my friend covering the tarmac had began to wriggle and squirm, like insects crawling over each other. I was screaming. I don’t think I’d stopped screaming since Jonah had popped. More people arrived, and muffled voices behind visors were telling me to stay calm, telling me to stop screaming.
But I couldn’t stay calm. I couldn't stop fucking screaming.
My best friend had exploded.
And something was putting him back together.

Understanding 'Lovers' Vows' - The key to loving Mansfield Park!

I’m a big fan of Mansfield Park, it’s my favourite Austen novel by far. I’m aware that amongst Austen fans, Mansfield Park is possibly her least loved child.
I think that one of the difficulties modern readers have with Mansfield Park - that has contributed to its lack of popularity - is that Jane Austen expected her contemporary readers to have at least some understanding of the play ‘Lovers’ Vows’. Mansfield Park has 48 chapters, at least 8 of these chapters cover the characters attempting to act in that play and the events of the play are referred to in later chapters. They form a significant part of the novel.
Key things happen in these chapters which enlighten the reader about the true nature of the characters and even provide some foreshadowing for what will happen to them in the future. The characters and events of ‘Lovers’ Vows’ parallel some of those of Mansfield Park, and at times, contrast with them sharpley.
Unfortunately, most modern readers are completely unaware of the characters and events of the play. This means most readers will miss out on a great deal of what Austen was trying to show us.
It’s doubly difficult because as modern readers, we are looking back at a culture that we don’t fully understand and it makes it difficult to comprehend exactly why the play, the choice to perform as actors, and the actual specific play itself are so significant. In our culture actors are revered as icons and dramas and similar forms of entertainment sometimes bind us together. It’s very hard for us to understand the entirely different mindset of the people Austen was writing about.
It’s even more confusing for those Austen fans who know a lot about her life. Not only did Austen perform in plays at home, she also wrote them - so it seems very hard to understand why Austen appears to present plays and acting itself in such a negative light. Much of this can be easier to understand when you have some knowledge about the play itself.
Without this understanding, Mansfield Park can leave many people feeling rather disconnected, as if you were trying to join in with an inside joke that you don’t understand. Perhaps most damagingly, it can leave the reader with uncomfortable feelings about the heroine of Mansfield Park, Fanny Price. Her decision not to act in ‘Lovers’ Vows’ and her disapproval of people who do can make her seem cold, boring and a bit of a snob. I do not believe this was Austen’s intention and I think having a better understanding of ‘Lovers’ Vows’ makes it clear exactly why.
I wanted to help other Austen fans to understand more about ‘Lovers’ Vows’ in the hope that more people will be able to share my love of ‘Mansfield Park’.
With that in mind, I decided to write a summary of the events of ‘Lovers’ Vows’. Initially this was just going to be a quick summary, but I’ve found myself exploring each characters relationship to the play - and it’s become too long for a single Reddit post. So I’m going to post them as separate posts over the next couple of days.
I want to be very clear. These are just my ideas, I’m not a scholar or professional academic so any errors are my own. This is 100% my own interpretation of events.
I’d also urge you, if you are interested, to read ‘Lovers' Vows’ for yourself. It’s available for free at Project Gutenberg, which I will link to below. It’s quite an easy read and is very accessible. I can see why Austen was drawn to the play.
https://www.gutenberg.org/files/4554/4554-h/4554-h.htm
Before I begin, please be aware that this contains spoilers for Mansfield Park!
So firstly, who wrote Lover’s Vows and why is the authorship potentially significant when understanding the characters perceptions of the play?
‘Lover’s Vows’ was originally written in German by August von Kotzebue in the 1780s and was known as ‘Das Kind der Liebe’ which loosely translates to ‘Love Child’, meaning illegitimate child. The version of the play that Jane Austen appears to have used was an adaptation by Elizabeth Inchbald, which included significant revisions from the original.
Both of these figures are interesting because they were controversial in their own way, which may have impacted on how the characters of Mansfield Park perceived the play.
Kotzebue
Kotzebue was born in the Holy Roman Empire, in Weimer which is now a city in Germany. As well as being a playwright, he was a law student and was eventually to work for the Prussian ambassador at the Russian Court. He married a Russian woman and became a magistrate. Buffeted about by the events leading up to and including the Napolionic wars, he lived in both Russia and Germany. He was eventually assassinated because of his political views. His life was really interesting and it is worth your while to read about it on his Wikipedia page.
His literary work was initially well received and he wrote several successful plays. However his reputation was deeply damaged when a satirical play, published under a different name, was attributed to him. This play accused several leading political figures of various sexual perversions. I haven’t been able to find out whether he did actually write it or not. He claimed that he had not when the matter was investigated by the police. Whatever the truth of the matter is, he never really recovered from this situation and the damage it did to his reputation.
Inchbald
Elizabeth was born as Elizabeth Simpson in Surrey, England in 1753. She was from a relatively ordinary family, was one of 9 children and was a Roman Catholic. Already, this would have made her a somewhat controversial figure for some people in England as there was a public distrust of Roman Catholics.
Eventually, Inchbald became an actress and married another actor who was much older than her and also a Roman Catholic, Joseph Inchbald. Joseph already had two illegitimate sons. The couple do not appear to have had their own children.
Inchbald’s life demonstrates the moral complexity of the Georgian era. As an actress, she was already someone marked out as being part of a morally dubious section of society. The connection between actresses and prostitution pre-dated the Georgian era, but it was cemented by the rise of an entertainment region in Covent Garden, in London. There were two licensed theatres there, but there were also many brothels. It was not unheard of for men of society to have affairs with actresses, most notably George IV who while he was still a Prince had a relationship with the actress Mary Robinson. Inevitably, Inchbald could not entirely avoid being associated with this even if she did not engage with that behaviour herself.
While working as an actress, Inchbald engaged in a controversial practice, taking on what was known as a ‘breeches role’ in the play ‘Philaster’ in 1780’, playing the character of Bellario. Breeches roles were those in which women wore men's clothes. This was controversial for many because the close fitting nature of the breeches exposed the form of the actresses legs and buttocks - something that was seen as risque. Others disapproved on religious grounds as the Bible forbids women to wear men’s clothes and visa versa, as well as feeling that this behaviour encouraged women to behave inappropriately.
At the same time however, Inchbald frequently wrote and spoke about moral topics and was a friend of many notable philosophers and political figures. She appeared to have a strong desire to promote good moral values. She spoke out against the sexual harassment she had experienced while working in the theatre. She had been a good friend of William Godwin the political philosopher, but publically disapproved when he married Mary Wollstonecraft in 1797, as this exposed the fact that Mary had not been married to the father of her first child.
Interestingly, Inchbald was able to support herself financially for many years after the sudden death of her husband. This is perhaps something Austen felt some interest in?
Inchbald wrote an introduction to this version of ‘Lover’s Vows’ which it appears was published sometime after her version became a success, as she speaks of the play as if many people have already seen it and refers to its popularity.
In her introductions she admits that she made several changes to the play to make it suitable for the delicate feelings of the English audience. She also admits she didn’t know any German, but was given a rough translation of the play by a German woman, which she used as the basis of her own version.
I don’t speak German, so I can’t read the original and compare the differences myself, but Inchbald gives us some idea of what she changed and why.
It’s maybe worth your while to read the introduction for yourself to see what she changed, because it’s a lot, so much so that she admits it would take pages to explain what she changed and why. She admits she changed the characters drastically and shortened many of the speeches.
She says that the original was unfit for an English audience and seems to imply that she meant morally unfit. She further hints that this is perhaps why no one else seems to have undertaken to translate this particular work of Kotzebue when others have been translated.
She states she also made significant changes to Amelia. In the play, as you will see if you read my synopsis, Amelia is indirect about her feelings towards the man she loves, stating the truth boldly only when she is pressed to do so. She says that in the original version Amelia was completely forthright - something which she believes an English audience would find ‘revolting’. She believes that the popularity of this character in her version confirms her judgement was the right one. I think it’s illuminating that this is her take on what was expected of English women and their behaviour in her era.
What did Austen know and feel about Kotzebue and Inchbald, and what can we infer from that for the characters of Mansfield Park?
It’s not clear, at least to me as a non scholar, what Austen knew or felt about the two figures behind Lover’s Vows.
In the case of Inchbald, it’s quite possible that she knew of her other works including her two novels which were nearly all published during Austen’s lifetime. She may even have respected her as a fellow female author. However her true opinion of actresses is not particularly well known. Austen was only 5 years old when Inchbald took on her ‘breeches’ role - so it’s very possible Austen remained totally unaware of that and may not have cared about the more controversial aspects of her life.
When it comes to Kotzebue, we do know that Austen saw at least one of his other plays, ‘The Birthday’ while staying in Bath in 1799, although again this was an English translation by someone else. Annoyingly I haven’t been able to find out what ‘The Birthday’ was about, other than it was a comedy. I’ve seen no evidence as to whether or not Austen was aware of Kotzebue himself and the controversial events of his life.
What do the characters of Mansfield Park know about the play and it’s author?
Austen never fully explains the plot of ‘Lovers Vows’ in Mansfield Park. It appears that she expected her readers to have a decent understanding of the plot of the play and the nature of its characters and exactly why the behaviour of her own characters in relation to the play is so controversial. The closest she comes to explaining it is during passage where Fanny, who appears to have no knowledge of the play, reads the text to herself and explains that “she ran through it with an eagerness which was suspended only with intervals of astonishment, that it could be chosen in the present instance, that it could be proposed and accepted in a private theatre! Agatha and Amelia appeared to her in their different ways so totally improper for home representation - the situation of one and the language of the other, so unfit to be expressed by any woman of modesty, that she could hardly suppose her cousins could be aware of what they were engaging in.”
The subject of the play is first introduced in the novel by Mr Yates, a casual friend of the eldest son of the Bertram family Tom Bertram, who is visiting Mansfield Park. In his first scene he talks at length about the characters and the strife and struggles of his own group of friends when they tried to perform the play - however it’s never expressly said that he has to explain the play or what the plot was.
Later it begins to emerge that the characters have various levels of awareness about the play. In an argument about whether or not the play is appropriate for them, three of the major characters appear to have different levels of knowledge about the play.
Edmund expresses shock when he learns that his siblings have decided to act Lover’s Vows, and argues that it’s inappropriate for women - but in that conversation he never exactly explains why that particular text is so inappropriate and it seems to be tacitly understood by the other characters why Edmund would have objections, which implies they have at least some understanding of the key events of the work.
When challenging Maria about her choice to portray Agatha, Edmund asks her to read the first few scenes, believing this will convince her the play is inappropriate, suggesting he feels this will be the first time she has read it. However Maria says “I am indeed acquainted with the play”. Of course, she could simply be saying this in order to win her argument - but in an early scene in which they choose their characters Maria does seem to know the play well enough to know that Agatha interacts a great deal with Frederick, who she wants to be played by Mr Crawford.
Others in the Betram household seem to have little or no knowledge of the play. Aunt Norris claims she does not know it and Lady Bertram is similarly unaware of what it contains. It’s only when Fanny gets the chance to flick through a copy that she learns what it contains.
This is important because which characters know what about the play, and how they feel about whether or not it is appropriate for themselves or others to act in the play - teaches the reader a lot about the nature of each character and also gives hints about what will happen to them in the future.
Neither author of the play is mentioned or referred to in Mansfield Park, so we have no way to know if any of the characters had reservations about portraying work by Kotzebue or Inchbald because of who they were as individuals.
It is worth noting however that some of Inchbald’s other writings included anti-colonialist sentiment. Given that Mansfield Park was being funded by overseas property and slavery, it can certainly be seen as hypocritical for the Bertram family to perform Inchbald’s work.
So what is Lover’s Vows actually about?
A much shorter synopsis is available on Wikipedia.
‘Lover’s Vows’ is set in and around the countryside estate of a Baron Wildenhaim, in Germany.
Scene One
It starts with a poor woman, probably in her late 30s early 40s called Agatha. We first meet her when she has just been thrown out of an inn due to lack of funds. She is in extremely ill health as she has been in poverty for a long time.
By chance, her grown son Frederick, who is a soldier, happens to find her. Frederick has been away at war for 5 years. He has only returned to that part of the world because he needs to get his birth certificate in order to leave the army and get a job.
This situation forces an ashamed Agatha to confess that Frederick doesn’t have one, because he is an illegitimate child and the laws of the country of that time forbid that. Frederick previously believed his Mother was a widow.
She confesses that she was born in the nearby village, to poor but respectable farmers, but that when she was 14 the Lady of the local estate asked to take her in and raise her, promising that she would provide for her for the rest of her life. Her parents agreed to this and Agatha lived there happily for three years.
The Lady of the Estate, whose name is never given but I have to assume it’s Lady Wildenhaim, had a son, the eventual Baron Wildenhaim, who was away in the army. When he returned he fell in love with Agatha, seduced her and promised to marry her. When he discovered she was pregnant he promised again that he would marry her, when his Mother died. His leave of absence from the Army was then up and he was forced to return. He forces a promise from Agatha that she will not tell his Mother that he is the one who has got her pregnant.
After he leaves, Agatha’s pregnancy is eventually discovered. She keeps her promise and refuses to say who got her pregnant - for which she is thrown out by Lady Wildenhaim. She attempts to go back to her family, but they refuse to accept her. They close the door to her and her Father condemns her (her Mother is more compassionate). In despair, she seeks out the village clergyman and swears to him that she repents her conduct and will attempt to amend. The clergyman helps her to go to a different town. There, she earns her living as a teacher and raises Frederick alone. Frederick grows up and leaves to be a soldier, after which Agatha slowly becomes so ill that she is no longer able to work.
I’m not exactly clear on why she makes the journey back to the village, it’s possibly to show the kind clergyman that she kept her promise?
Anyway, she further reveals to Frederick that she attempted to contact Baron Wildenhaim and informed him that he had a son, but that he did not answer her letters. She also reveals that he did not keep his promise to her, and actually married another woman - a rich woman of noble birth.
Frederick is furious at the situation and forgives his Mother for her part in it. He tries to get her help and eventually manages to persuade some local cottagers to take her in. He then leaves her alone with them so he can get other help.
In conversation with these cottagers, who have no idea what Agatha’s true identity is, it is revealed that the kind clergyman who helped Agatha died two years prior and has been replaced by a new, much younger man, who has the respect of the cottagers. Not only that, but Baron Wildenhaim, having avoided his estate since he inherited it, has suddenly returned and has been resident in the area for 5 weeks, alongside his daughter.
The cottagers reveal that the Baron’s wife has died in France. They appear not to approve of him, Cottager’s Wife (she isn’t given a name) says he is ‘haughty’ and mentions rumours that his marriage was an unhappy one. They also refer in disparaging terms to his seducing of Agatha (still not knowing who they are talking to) and mention that they believe the incident led her father to an early death - a fact she was perhaps not previously aware of. They speculate on what might have happened to Agatha, who they appear to have great sympathy for. In shock, Agatha faints.
Scene Two
The action then moves to the Baron’s Castle. The Baron is alone with one of his servants. He enquires of his servant about his guest, a man called Count Cassel. He makes it clear he doesn’t like the Count and that he fears that he wants to marry his daughter Amelia. He says he is reluctant to let this happen, and he doesn’t want his daughter to marry someone she can’t love or respect, but he doesn’t know what she actually wants.
Amelia enters and the two discuss her feelings for Count Cassel and whether or not she is aware that he is likely to ask her to marry him. In an attempt to ascertain her feelings, he asks her if she dreams about the Count, she admits she does not but says that she dreamt about their local clergyman, Anhalt, who was once her tutor who lived with them in France. The Baron sort of bulldozes over this hint, as well as other hints she drops about Anhalt, and continues to question her about the Count, pointing out that he is rich and well connected, but urging her not to marry someone she doesn’t respect or love. There follows a sort of comic scene in which Amelia evades her Father’s queries, although in fairness he doesn’t really directly ask her what she feels.
The Baron says he will send Anhalt to talk to her about the importance of matrimony.
There then follows a scene in which the Count enters and he proves himself to be a bit smarmy, trying to impress Amelia but making a bit of an arse of himself. This is interrupted by a servant announcing that Anhalt, the clergyman, has arrived. When questioning Amelia about who he is, it is revealed that Anhalt is financially poor.
The Baron takes the Count out hunting so that Amelia and Anhalt can talk in private. As he is leaving he explains to Anhalt that he believes the Count wants to marry Amelia. The Baron admits he doesn’t like the Count but that due to his experience of being compelled to marry someone he didn’t want to - he does not intend to influence his daughter either way. Anhalt is distressed by the news and asks the Barron what he thinks Amelia feels about the Count, but the Baron doesn’t give him that information.
The Baron tells Anhalt he wants him to explain the duties of a wife and mother to Amelia, in the hopes that this will force her to seriously consider whether or not she can really marry the Count.
The Baron also reveals that he has asked Anhalt to help him find someone. Anhalt says he has not been successful. It’s not expressly said who he is referring to, but we can assume that it was Agatha - who he has been obliquely referring to throughout the scene. The Baron leaves and Anhalth has a short monologue in which he reveals his distress about the news and attempts to calm himself and resign himself to Amelia’s possible marriage to the Count. It becomes clear he is in love with Amelia himself.
Act 3 Scene 1
In a field on his way to the cottage, Frederick returns with a little money, which he is angry that he has had to beg for because he is poor himself. He further reveals his anger towards his newly learnt about Father.
He is then caught up in the beginnings of a hunt, as gamekeepers and servants run about him. He realises this must mean that a noble man is nearby and resolves to go to him and beg for money for his mother, Agatha.
He first approaches the Count who dismisses him very uncompassionately. The Baron gives him something, but to the Count’s consternation, he asks the Baron for more. Also disapproving, the Baron dismisses him and refuses to give him more.
The desperate Frederick however attempts to rob the Baron, grabbing him by the chest and drawing his sword on him. The Baron calls for help from his servants and Frederick is quickly disarmed and captured.
The Baron orders Frederick to be imprisoned in the castle. Full of regret and aware that he now likely faces a death sentence, Frederick accepts his fate but begs the Baron to help his mother. After Frederick is taken away, the Baron sends a servant to see if there is really a sick woman in one of the cottages as Frederick says there was.
Act 3 Scene 2
Alone, Amelia walks into a garden.
Anhalt arrives. There is now a long conversation between the two in which Amelia hints at her feelings for Anhalt. Eventually she forces him to confess that he does indeed love her, as she loves him. Anhalth is resistant to admitting this and says he believes it is futile as they cannot marry due to their difference in status. Amelia insists she believes her father will support them, particularly as the subject of her marrying has been brought to the fore by the attention of the Count.
Their conversation is interrupted by the Butler, who comes to congratulate Amelia and says he is going to read her a poem about the occasion of her father’s recent escape from danger, a thing about which Amelia and Anhalt are still totally unaware of. They urge him to tell them quickly but he insists on reading a poem about Frederick attempting to rob the Baron, and his claims about having a sick Mother.
Doubting his account, they then see Frederick being brought into custody to the Castle, accompanied by the Baron. Feeling sorry for him, Amelia pleads with her father to have mercy on Frederick.
The Baron attempts to ask both Amelia and Anhalt how their conversation went but neither will give him a straight answer. The Baron demands to see Anhalt in private, but Anhalt leaves, claiming to have someone waiting for him. Amelia asks to speak to the Baron in private, but he refuses, believing she only wants to plead for Frederick again which he does not wish to hear. He leaves Amelia alone.
Amelia then has a conversation with the Butler in which he reveals that Frederick is only being given bread and water. Amelia resolves to take him something better.
Act 4 Scene 1
Imprisoned in the Castle, Frederick laments how quickly his life has changed from good to bad in just a few short hours.
Amelia visits him with her basket of provisions. Frederick wishes he could send them to his mother. Amelia questions him about his motives. In doing so, she reveals to Frederick that the man he assaulted is Baron Wildenhaim, her father, which shocks Frederick. Astonished, he repeats the phrase she uttered ‘My Father’.
Amelia cannot understand his reaction and believes that Frederick might be insane and she leaves.
Anhalt enters the room, probably unaware that Amelia had been there. He and Frederick speak and Frederick asks him to confirm the details that he has heard from Amelia. After confirming that the Baron he has robbed is indeed Baron Wildenhaim, he asks Anhalt to arrange an interview with the Baron - to which Anhalt conditionally agrees and he takes Frederick to see the Baron. To himself, Frederick prepares to confront the man he sees as his neglectful father, for the sake of his Mother.
Act 4 Scene 2
The Baron and Amelia are alone discussing Count Cassel. It is apparent from their conversation that she has recently had a private conversation with the Count. Amelia reveals she hates the Count. He has effectively proposed and has been boasting that he has had so many love affairs that his marriage to her will break the hearts of hundreds of women. The Baron suggests he is exaggerating, but Amelia believes it is true - because an acquaintance of their Butler has been seduced and ruined by the Count. The Baron sends for the Butler to question him about this information. The Butler arrives and the Baron sends Amelia out of the room. The Butler insists on giving his information in verse. He reveals that the Count had courted a young woman and promised to marry her, but slept with her the night before the wedding. On the wedding day itself, he never arrived - ruining the unnamed young woman.
Enraged, the Baron calls for the Count. He confronts him, but the Count is fairly indifferent and attempts to explain away his actions. The Baron becomes agitated by this conversation because he is keenly aware that he behaved in the same way as the Count has done - and feels he is on shaky ground. Confused, he asks the Count to leave the room.
Amelia enters. The Baron forbids her to marry the Count, to which she happily agrees and the two discuss how neither of them ever liked him. Nervously, Amelia brings him round to the subject of Anhalt and eventually confesses her love for him and that she would like to marry him and him her, and that Anhalt only didn’t ask because he felt it was inappropriate because of their difference in status.
As they are discussing how she came to find out Anhalt’s feelings, Anhalth himself enters the room and tells the Baron he has brought Frederick with him, who is waiting in the next room. The Baron at first refuses to see him despite the pleading of Amelia, but Anhalt persuades him that Frederick needs to hear his fate directly from the Baron. The Baron asks Anhalt to wait in the next room while he speaks to Frederick.
Frederick enters. The Baron expects him to use his Mother’s illness as a plea and points out this isn’t sufficient to excuse his crime. Frederick argues he has a second motive, a neglectful Father. Slowly suspecting the truth, the Baron questions Frederick who eventually reveals that his Father is none other than Baron Willhaim himself.
Frederick angrily berates the Baron for his actions towards his Mother and himself. Hearing the Baron’s agitation, Anhalt runs into the room as Frederick storms out of it. The Baron tells Anhalt what has transpired and urgently sends him to fetch Frederick’s mother from the village.
Act 5, Scene 1
Agatha is waiting in the cottage in agitation. She has received a purse of gold from an unknown benefactor (which we the audience know to be the Baron) but she is concerned because Frederick has not returned and asks the Cottager to look for him.
Anhalt arrives and he asks to speak to Agatha alone. Agatha tells Anhalt who he is, and Anhalth tells Agatha what has happened - leaving out the robbery and possible death sentence part - and persuades a reluctant and confused Agatha to go to the castle with him.
Act 5, Scene 2
Back at the castle we find the Baron and Frederick talking together much more calmly. The Baron asserts that he will financially provide for both Frederick and Agatha, and will make Frederick his legal heir.
Frederick asks, in a roundabout indirect way, if the Baron will marry his Mother, but the Baron refuses to say.
Somewhat annoyed, Frederick leaves the room to go and meet his Mother.
Anhalt enters, and he persuades the Baron that he must marry Agatha. He agrees, but expresses anxiety about meeting with her again and what she might think of him.
Amelia enters and they discuss the discovery of her new brother.
Thankful for Anhalt’s help in this entire situation, he agrees to the marriage of Anhalt and Amelia, to the joy and gratitude of that couple.
A physically unwell and mentally overwhelmed Agatha is led into the room by Frederick. She is embraced by the Baron and helped into a chair. She tells him she forgives him and it is implied their marriage will go ahead.
END OF PLAY
The particular text I have has an epilogue, a speech made by someone else which is about the benefits of poetry and has nothing to do with the play or the characters. I have no idea why it’s in there. I assume it’s justification for the changes she made to the Butler character which she referred to in the introduction.
EDIT: I'll add my character summaries over the next few days and link them to this post.

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jokes in english for students short video

Newest Jokes Short Jokes ... Misuse of English Short Jokes The Perfect Son. A: I have the perfect son. B: Does he smoke? A: No, he doesn't. B: Does he drink whiskey? A: No, he doesn't. B: Does he ever come home late? A: No, he doesn't. B: I guess you really do have the perfect son. How old is he? A: He will be six months old next Wednesday. Girl: You would be a good dancer except for two ... Short and Funny Jokes, One-Liners and Sayings. 2. That bizarre moment when you pick up your car from the garage and you realize that the breaks are still not working, but they made your horn louder. 3. I had a dream where an evil queen forced me to eat a gigantic marshmallow. When I woke up, my pillow was gone. 4. Can a kangaroo jump higher than a house? -Of course, a house doesn’t jump at ... Here I’m coming with new funny jokes in english, WhatsApp Jokes In english, etc. If you are looking for funny jokes or funny jokes in english then you are in the right place. here I’m going to share with you the best and unique collection of 100+ funny jokes in English, WhatsApp Jokes In English, jokes of the day, new English jokes, etc.. so that you can share with your friends and family ... english-jokes here we provide many category of Jokes in english like santa banta jokes,best jokes in english ,top funny jokes,best jokes,santa vs banta best joke ,comedy Jokes,2019 english Jokes,latest Jokes short Jokes funny jokes, racist funny jokes, yo mama jokes, political jokes,best jokes,best funny English Santa banta jokes, husband wife funny jokes,cricket funny jokes. Original Resolution: 500x500; Funny Joke Jokes Photos Love Quotes Very Funny Jokes Joke In English Image Of Funny Jokes Funny Husband Funny English Jokes English Jokes Very Funny Jokes We all like very funny short stories, irrespective of our age and education level.. 1000x664 - Intelligence is not information alone but also judgment, the manner in which information is the student says: top funny jokes in english for students. The doctor to the patient: ‘You are very sick’ The patient to the doctor: ‘Can I get a second opinion?’ The doctor again: ‘Yes, you are very ugly too…’ I use this joke for retelling in reported speech. A man goes to the doctor and says, “Doctor, wherever I touch, it hurts.” Funny Jokes In English For Students 2020 school jokes for teachers. Teacher: What’s the difference between a cat and a comma? Student: One has claws at the end of its paws. The other is a pause at the end of a clause. Teacher: Why do geographers find mountains so funny? Student: Because they’re hill areas. Andy told me he knew a man with a wooden leg named Smith. So I asked him, “What was the name of his other leg?” Classic, Short English Jokes An Englishman Irishman…. Ten Short English Jokes The Problem with Speaking English Laugh Along At The British Funny English Jokes Right and Wrong Mrs Cameron, a … Short English Jokes Read More » Jokes are not only fun, but they are also relaxing and energizing. Moreover, jokes provide great material for teaching vocabulary, grammar, idioms, and phrasal verbs. Last, jokes are delightful at bringing intonation and culture. Jokes only deliver their multiple benefits if students understand them. Riddles, jokes, and puns are all things that can motivate students to learn and translate their favorite jokes into English. Sometimes I have a class that I just declare “Joke Day.” Students are given the homework to create a joke or find a joke or translate a joke. Then on Friday, everyone brings in some kind of candy. Students tell the jokes and then vote on everyone’s jokes. The ...

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Teacher VS student funny jokes. animation funny short vines. animation funny short. funny short.#YoutubeShort.#Short. About Press Copyright Contact us Creators Advertise Developers Terms Privacy Policy & Safety How YouTube works Test new features Press Copyright Contact us Creators ... Joke student vs teacher classroom part 4 short animation funny video Mjo tools About this video Best top funny comedy video Classroom teacher and student cla... Jokes in English-Easy English A level humour - Easy English Lesson * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I am a teacher of English at a highly appreciated school... English Stories For Kids by PeriwinkleHello Friends,In this video, we bring you funny English Stories.0:07 Mr. Boon & Mr. Goon2:33 Sheikh Chilli Stories9:49 ... Teacher vs student best short animated video full comedy video RR entertainment video Private car - Teacher and student jokes.Subscribe to Bengali celebrity Shorts#funny #viral #fun-fun-fun #kajal #act #Trending#LetsShorts After working in Accenture for 10 years Sanjay Manaktala does some Jokes on working in the IT Industry. New Blog Post about tech:https: ...

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My first personal incident with racism that still bothers me today.

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