Lee Cronin, the director for the upcoming fifth entry in the classic Evil Dead franchise, Evil Dead Rise, has already secured his next film. According to The Hollywood Reporter, he will be reuniting with New Line Studios to direct their original horror thriller Thaw.
Cronin will also be responsible for rewriting the current draft of the script, originally written by Jeremy Passmore. The story follows a group of survivors searching for a new home in a future where the polar ice caps have melted. The group discovers an inhabitable town, only to find that a hidden danger lurks underneath the water.
Passmore originally wrote Thaw, selling it to Gunpowder & Sky, who produced the horror anthology series 50 States of Fright. Coincidentally, Cronin wrote an episode for the first season of the series. Passmore has also worked with New Line on Dwayne Johnson's San Andreas, as well as co-writing the 2012 remake of Red Dawn.

Who Is Lee Cronin?

Riding high from Evil Dead Rise's reception at this year's SXSW, Cronin's hiring for Thaw is a strong indicator of New Line's faith in the director's talent. Cronin started his film career with shorts including the supernatural thriller Ghost Train in 2013. The short would go on to win the Melies d'Argent for best European short film.
Cronin's feature debut came with 2019's The Hole In The Ground, which premiered at that year's Sundance Film Festival to critical acclaim. The film was released by A24 and earned Cronin a Saturn nomination for breakthrough director. Along with 50 Stages of Fright, his television credits include two episodes of the Irish comedy series The Masterplan.
Evil Dead Rise was intended for a release on HBO Max before positive reception at an early test screening, as well as a similar response to the film's trailer at CineEurope last year brought it on track for a theatrical release. Set to release April 21, the film currently sits with a score of 96 percent on Rotten Tomatoes. Check out the red band trailer for Evil Dead Rise below.

I seek a woman I like to make smile, loudly, who is my pleasure to please and make so happy that we will want to be exclusive. I'm patient to gain trust, to build a connection by communicating and seeing if there is potential attraction. I'm open to begin as platonic friends, hanging out, dating, growing to be lovers, even LTR, whatever we desire. I like spontaneity, creating chemistry highs with teasing to pleasing, almost anytime, anywhere, once we are sure of our attraction. I like sharing affections, cuddles to kisses, to earn my turn, to prove myself, giving massages to multiples and more. Offering this munch loving makes me seek someone special, perhaps a shy inexperienced woman curious to explore the best feelings possible or a woman with an insatiable libido, yearning for one man to keep her full/filled.
For us to pursue things, I want attraction for more than just lust, to feel butterflies looking in each other's eyes, loving simply holding hands and spending quality time together. I like anticipating, feeling a non-stop romantic hunger, a primal passion in my belly that brings out the lover-giver in me (tho I love receiving too). For me, a spark starts with pretty eyes and smile, combined with personality, poise, voice tone, and even an accent. The eye shapes I prefer can be described as upturned, almond or cat-eyes (and any color). I like skin tones from white to dark olive tan skin. I like natural curves, in the right places on a thin to thick-voluptuous hourglass shape, natural bigger lips on your mouth and on your kitty (my username checks out-ies ;)
I prefer longer labia, thicker, fleshy, meaty minora, because they're sextra arousing to see, admire, kiss, lick, nibble, suck on, play with, feel wrapping around, and spread with tongue or D during kitty lip n clit worship. Sometimes lovely longer lady-lips may be hidden by puffy labia majora, while some are "outies" protruding, some can dangle, spread like butterfly wings, like a fuller flower with big pretty petals blooming with nectar. You probably know if you're blessed with lips bigger than average. Speaking of which, I'm above average down below and cut. I also prefer labia that are darker pink to tan brown, as well as those colors of nipples and fuller areolas because they make me hungriest to kiss, suckle, breast-nipple worship, including dry or wet ANR, ABF. I can be open-minded in bed, with sexy roleplay, foreplay, edging, sweet gentle pillow princess, face-riding/queening, Gspot to cervix massage, to rougher play, both sub and dom dynamics, giving and receiving multiple Os, breaking pleasure records, within shorter and longer sexy sessions. I can get into erotica, writing, talking aloud, discussing fantasies, learning your kinks. I often get ideas to give my lover more and better pleasures including designs for toys/furniture, ways to keep her happily cumming and cuddling. This site has interesting info, useful to see diversity of women's labia, and many are the larger range I prefer. (NSFW) https://gynodiversity.com/panels
I'm cute, fit, fun/ny, 5'11", hygienic, healthy, white with blue eyes, brown hair, soft beard (for now), single with no kids. I enjoy reading, documentaries, podcasts, comedy, cooking, nature, hiking, exercising, science, arts. Keeping healthy is a passion of mine, including a whole-plant food diet, yet I may be open to 420/drinks during loving. While playing together, I like to listen to/make DJ mixes with styles including chillout, chillwave, deephouse, indiedance, nudisco, dubtechno, dreampop, downtempo, synthwave, ambient and open to other music. What are some of your favorite music genres/bands/songs? (No one ever answers this question :)
If you relate to what I wrote, we can use the Reddit live DM/PM to decide if we want to verify with voice, pics/live video, etc. I may be open to distance, but prefer Los Angeles losangeles LA L.A. SoCal, Ca

So based on the colors in Jen’s hair, I’m going off the assumption he has relations to people in stone in the wood. And with that I definitely think Rian is his father due to Rian also being framed like a chosen one.
Now who is his mom, my heart wants it to be Deet…. BADLY, but based on the fact Deet seems to be being absorbed by the darkening I’m not hopeful she’s an ancestor. But end game wise I really hope she is Jen’s mom and Rian is his dad.
Or dark crystal age of resistance is one of the many timelines Aughra hoped for, and maybe Rian will be the chosen one since Deet seems to have a vision of him putting the crystal back together.
Now with speculations of Jen, we must discuss Kira. Now I was a little surprised that the Maudra of the Grott was able to speak to animals and call the land strider…. Which instantly makes me question my favorite theory of Brea being Kira’s mom.
BUT the thing is, Aughra calls the animal speak “a gift,” not something taught. And I think since Kira also was raised by poddlings I doubt it was something she knew before being hidden in a tree.
So based on Deet’s vision the gelfling running with the baby to the tree is probably Brea, in my opinion. The gelfling woman has whitish hair and pale skin (looks more like Brea than Seladon)
BUT WHOSE THE DADDY???
Kylan or Rek’yr?
I love the idea of it being Kylan… but Brea and his interactions are just… so subtle idk doesn’t seem likely. Vs Rek’yr and Brea having very flirtatious banter, although I’d argue it felt one sided.
In the books that are sequel to the movie not the show, it’s speculated some of the gelfling pictured are Dousan, which makes me wonder if Brea x Rek’yr is the end game.
Timeline wise, Jen and Kira save thra 20 years after the Garthim wars… so maybe it’s unrealistic that any of these characters are their parents.
What are y’all’s theories?

Andy felt the hands on his thighs tighten, the throat around his cock constrict after he managed to push it far enough into the blond's throat causing her eyes to tear up.
The sound of her gagging echoing in the small college dorm. It added to the sounds of Andy's moans, to the churning of his balls and the rapid licking coming from the blue haired friend of the blond's digging her face between Andy's cheeks.
He had not expect this to be his Tuesday night when he ran into the trio from his college's cheerleader squad. They were the typical mean girls from the most cliche movies you could think of.
The two senior mean girls, decided the third one needed to be hazzed to be 100 percent accepted so they managed to convince her the only way to do so was by the freshman to spend an hour in someone's sack.
The blind leader heard about the new guy Andy and his appetite and decided to see it herself. The three went and knocked on his door, it didn't take much convincing to get him on board and in minutes he was sitting on his bed with a pair of legs slowly sliding inside the slit of his cock. His balls expanding to fit the wannabe mean girl cliche. Her modest chest and thin hips making a tight bulge on the underneath of Andy's cock leaving little to the imagination. The blind, Anna, could not stop watching as she felt her face heat up from the sight of his ravenous cock. Watching as inch by inch was claimed, the rest of her thighs sliding inside, followed by the calfs and then finally her feet. The girl inside felt the slit of Andy's cock slowly close around her toes, the last of the cold outside air she felt was replaced by the new familiar feeling of warm fleshy walls all layered with a thing layer of pre. The rest of her made its way into his sack wear the freshman curled up trying to get comfy in a pool of cum to wait out the 1 hour. "Anna, did you start the clock yet? I wanna get out as soon as the one hour hits, this place is so fucking gross!!!" She screamed from inside. Anna hardly noticed as she was too busy oogling the defined shape of the girl in Andy's sack.
That made Andy giggle slightly "well I'll definitely let you out in an hour, probably not in one piece tho" he teased. The girls were slightly taken a back as the occupant of his nut screamed "WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT IN ONE PIECE?!?!".
"Oh yeah, my balls are super fast at churning up prey. Personally I'd give you... Like 5 minutes, you did feel good going down, bet you'll feel great coming back up" Andy said gently moving his hand up and down his cock which slowly shrunk to his normal size of 7 inches.
The freshman replied in a panic "Anna please make him let me out! I don't wanna be some gross guy's cum!". What she didn't know was how wet Anna had gotten from hearing all this, she was biting her lip, excited over the idea of watching the bulge in Andy's sack slowly transform into a sloshing load. She wanted it, she needed it, so she made up an excuse to watch the new recruit become nothing but ball batter.
"I uuuh nope, no can do. This is a durability test, what good are you if you can't survive being bored, we don't need to train you all our routines for you to just become some pred's ass fat! So you got to last the one hour... And some extra stimulation~" she added, getting a devilish idea.
Anna turned to her blue haired companion, Becky, who was not looking too thrilled by this situation but she was too scared to question or call out the leader of their little group. Even then Anna could see how Becky blushed and knew it would be too hard to get her to do what she wanted.
"Andy dear come over here please, we are gonna need you to stand" she said trying to not sound too demanding. Andy cocked his head confused by the inquiry. He went with it tho and as he stood up his sack hanged only an inch from the ground, the freshman could feel the solid floor leave as her confines began swinging back and forth from Andy walking.
Once he stood infront of Anna she put her hands on Becky's shoulder leading her behind him. She got her friend onto her knees staring at Andy's ass. "Now to make sure you're truly cheerleader material we will have to stimulate him and be sure you don't get churned up or you're out". With that she pushed Becky's face against Andy's ass till her face was nicely settled between Andy's cheeks. "Now be a good girl and rim Andy here".
With minor hesitation Becky stuck her tongue out, Andy was shocked and even he knew these rules Anna made up were bs but as he was about to call her out he felt the tip of Becky's tongue run over his asshole causing him to let out a slight grunt.
Anna pleased with watching Becky lick up Andy's ass turned her attention to the rock hard cock that gulped her teammate. She reached from the back wrapping her lithe fingers around his length "enjoy this" she whispered into his ear as she began to pump his cock. More cum was flowing into his balls causing his prey to struggle inside adding to his great amount of pleasure.
Anna knew the girl wouldnt last long and wanted a front row seat to it all, and possibly a taste test~.
Anna slowly walked around to the front of Andy with a confident smirk before getting to her knees with the hard cock in her face,

Fuck…
When I was 14
Well let’s go back to when I was 10, I guess.
I was a big fan of John Lennon and David Bowie and Elvis Presley.
But I had a condition..
Dexterity/motor skill problem.
I still have it to this day.
my hands are always shaking, And I exhibit the penmanship of a toddler to this day
I found an old guitar in my grandma‘s closet while we stayed with her in Los Banos before we moved to Reno Nevada From San Jose California.
My grandma and grandpa did not know how the guitar even got there in the first place, but they were old and maybe one of them bought it at one time and forgot.
I asked Grandma If could take the guitar.
I think the guitar was called “Aslin Dane. Ariel Pro III…”
This unique strat-style guitar seemed older than the redwoods my family had recently said goodbye to.
That was when I was 10….
We lived a normal life in Reno after that and we all loved the high dessert and mountain air.
I was 14 and now and we were assimilated in northern Nevada.
I had spent four years trying to even play a chord or a note on this mysterious guitar and ground my fingers away on it daily, but my hands were too shaky.
I couldn’t write a song.
I couldn’t do anything.
I prayed to God, even though it was a joke.
I didn’t believe in angels or God or the Bible.
My parents are both atheist my father is a man of science.
I grew up as an atheist I had no religious disposition at the time.
Subsequently, I got into heavy metal, dark hair, dark music and occult Ouija board shit. Not because I believed in anything really, but because I thought it was cool.
I was like: “there’s no god anyways so I might as well just be dark as I can be”.
it was a phase.
It was a fad.
So, arrogantly, I came home one day.
I still could not even pretend to play the guitar and I was angry because I thought I deserved talent.
So…. midnight one night, I decided to take every family album; every picture of myself that I could find in the house, my yearbooks throughout the years. I took these pictures and I drew pentagrams on my forehead and crossed out my eyes.
I then lit some candles and I said: “I know there’s no god, because if there was a god I would be able to play this guitar”
….I swore allegiance to the devil if he would come right now and show himself and make me able to play.
Maybe five minutes after I said this out loud and had lit the candles and did the séance…
Well, i should say that it must’ve been 2004 and there were zero electric vehicles at the time.
Though there weren’t electric vehicles in those days, I would describe what I heard and five minutes later; slowly prowling up to the front of my house, as an electric car.
It sounded like a heavy piece of metal moving with no engine.
Almost like how the Jetsons ship sounds.
And then I immediately started to sweat cold sweat.
The candles were still lit and I swear…across the wall in front of me, I saw an anthropomorphic face… A devilish face, cast a shadow that spread across my closet doors in front of me.
I was like “well at least the car stopped and they went somewhere else” because another five minutes later it was silent.
Just when I thought the coast was clear, I heard the rickety glass screen door being pulled open from our front door. It was an incredibly heavy and loud outer-door… But I didn’t hear the actual wooden front door, or anything like the locking mechanisms, nothing like that. So I thought it was just the wind blew this the heavy glass door wide open, so abruptly.
After five minutes or so, I heard heavy footsteps in the house, spaced between at least 30 or 40 seconds.
They were coming up the stairs to the second floor where my bedroom was.
I used to sneak out and smoke pot with my neighborhood friends, so I knew the spots on the staircase to avoid and it seemed like whatever was coming up there, purposely stepped on the loudest parts of it…like they knew the house as I did.
Another five minutes in silence, I just think that I’m imagining it all, but then….I start hearing footsteps 30 seconds apart.
Heavy footsteps, taunting me, by stepping on the loudest parts of the sub-floor underneath the carpet of the second landing.
I tried to convince myself it was a dream, but I was too alert and conscious of what I was trying to summon.
I could not have slept that night if you paid me $1 million dollars.
I was wide awake and terrified.
So…these footsteps came down through the hallway, to my door and they stopped loudly
I’m thinking to myself “why won’t my dad get up? I want my mom get up.
Nor did my brothers awake nor my sister…aren’t they terrified too?’
10 minutes passed. I didn’t hear anything.
Then just as I was saying “phew” and wiping the sweat from my forehead; I heard three loud knocks; “boom, boom, boom.”
I was like ‘this is not happening right now!’
I tried to get up to turn the candles off and shred the Satanic photos I made of myself, but I’ve never been so afraid and I was unable to move.
“Boom boom boom!’
it was always three knocks… each set louder and louder, until at least 6 or 7 AM.
The next day, of course, I was still awake and only opened the door when I heard my family having breakfast.
I went downstairs and I literally shoved my older brother while he was sitting having eggs and hashbrowns at the table and I accosted him and I said “what the hell man? Why were you banging on my door all night?
He genuinely had no idea what I was talking about.
My dad‘s room was only 5 feet across the hall from where I was, and my sisters room was literally a foot away from my door to the left.
Nobody heard anything and they looked at me like I was crazy.
I felt I was crazy.
I had just stayed up all night listening to this thing pounding like a fireman or policeman at my door and that was when I first genuinely Said a prayer to God.
Two or three weeks later I casually picked up the old creepy guitar that was still in my closet….And I could play.
I mean, oh, boy could I play.
But there was nothing inside of me that was cheerful about this new gift that I was given.
And I always knew from then on out that it was a curse.
Since then, I have become a protégés guitar, bass player and singer.
But every time I write a new song, there is a shadow of my soul standing over me.
I try to think that, since I didn’t open the door for Satan; that God has rewarded me with the gift to play, but I know that my gift is a curse and I may either already be in hell or I am going that way soon.

I have been so drained from trying to avoid stepping on a landmine with my sister that I don't even think i have energy to type out all of thr information that would support my suspicion about my sister. I hardly know where to begin.
She and I have had periodic arguments that erupt into episodes of her attacking me verbally, mostly via text/email. Each time I have had to block her from all contact because it's actually really hurtful and stress inducing, and I have my own mental health to look after (though she repeatedly accuses me of "flaunting my superior mental health"... she sees herself as "crazy" and a black sheep and thr only one in our family with problems. It's frustrating and makes me feel invalidated.
The fights start often with some comment I make without harm or animosity in mind, sometimes it is nothing to do with her.
Other times I feel I "start it" just by refusing to walk on eggshells, because our parents and I always walk on eggshells to avoid her rages. It's getting ridiculous and exhausting and often I will just say straightforwardly what I think needs saying. Not in a mean way, just using skills I have learned over the years (I'm 43, she is 38).
I have blocked her again after 2 days ago she spent an afternoon sending messages to our family chat in WhatsApp, just this total nonsense. We weren't doing anything, not talking about her, nothing to do with her. Out of the blue she starts sending these really nasty messages and they don't even make sense. Saying that we are all "bonding" over the fact that she is "miserable" and dysfunctional. This was out of nowhere. It went on and on and it was MEAN.
She is also an alcoholic. This last fight, I assumed she was just drunk and being crazy. I tried researching alcohol induced psychosis but it didn't sound like her.
Then I stumbled across PPD and everything clicked. I don't know how I can get her to look into this. I honestly can't have her drama right now. My dog died and I'm depressed and trying to keep up in a busy school program. No time to waste proving to her that her imaginings are untrue.
It isn't just the family stuff. Lots of things. A client asks her if she brought in a package and all my sister can talk about for days is that the client thinks she stole the package. A person in a parking lot asked if she is ok and her suspicions of and anger toward that person know no bounds.
It's all been frustrating and I have been angry, but if she actually has a mental illness in addition to her alcoholism, I want her to get help. But I emotionally can't handle the barrage of awful things she will say to me if I approach her. She never believes my intentions are good, which hurts, because I'm a kind person and an honest person. I don't have hidden meanings but she assigns them to everything I say.
It is EXHAUSTING trying to prove to someone that I'm telling the truth, when I am telling the truth. I can't even begin to describe how maddening that is.
I wanted to screenshot this bizarre confusing series of texts she sent yesterday and the reply I finally sent, which I put thought into and worded carefully, saying that I could tell she was in pain and I was confused as to why, because nobody in our family had been talking about her at all that day.
I asked her to please tell us what actually occurred to start this line of thought, and encourage her to be honest about her actual feelings instead of calling names, so we could all fix this together.
I was mad and hurt and I didn't feel she even deserved that much politeness after basically hate bombing our phones for hours, but if I really stick up for myself I will lose her, I'm afraid. I know it isn't fair and I know I don't deserve to be treated this way but she is my only sister. And still, she is still my favorite person underneath all the mess.
Her reply to my request that she clarify and be productive?
"Ya know what Jess? Fuck off."
I wanted to lose my temper. But I didn't because I'm too tired of the drama that will ensue. I just left the chat and then blocked her on my phone, whatsapp, Facebook and email.
I have no clue how to help her. I'm pretty much done trying. I'm not gonna go through this again. Her only chance with me is if she can get some help. Asking her to do so is useless for me because she thinks I'm an awful person who is out to ruin her. I don't know why. I'm not.
Does this sound like PPD? Is there anything I can even do to encourage her to get help? Any insight will be appreciated.

Currently 14, and yes. I'm not just trying to be edgy and deep when I say I've been depressed for half my life. I genuinely have been, and still am.
I've been diagnosed with mild depression or something in dec last year, I think. I think the reason they called it mild is because i don't want to kill myself or self-harm. But my depression has affected me in an extreme amount. I struggle to take care of myself. As a kid, I went 5 weeks without brushing my hair and having to deal with it when school started again, I was around eight and I had long hair, then again when I was around 11/12 I didn't care for my hair but I hid it, I wore a bun everyday, started dressing 'mature' to the point kids thought I was a teacher.
I struggled to brush my teeth, shower, and wash my hair when I got in the shower. I still struggle with that now, I have dyed my hair black, and I keep putting off dying my roots. It's been months. I've been putting off getting a haircut, too. My hair is reaching my shoulders by now. I've gotten to the point where I want to cut all my hair off, just buzz it all to get it done with. The last time I got a haircut, it was July.
I can't even go to a normal school anymore, I'm so tired of everything.
And I understand you're skeptical of a 14 Yr old claiming he's depressed and has been for 7 years. That's a completely normal assumption, and I don't blame you for it. :)

So I've started rewatching Fringe for the 3rd (?) Time ish, mind you it's been years in between. I think the first time I watched it I was 10 I'm 20 now. Anyway. . . I finished season 2 (hate the season 3 plotline of walternate and fake Olivia with a passion) and I realized that I'm still not sure how or when they traded places exactly. I know our Olivia took her other's place when she dyed her hair got Peter blah blah blah. But at some point they switch again and Idk if I've missed it each time or if it's not exactly explained. So does anyone know how fake Olivia switched with our Olivia?
Follow up question, how the fudge did fake Olivia know what our Olivia said to Peter to convince him to come back with her? Again just finished season 2 like 2 seconds ago and for the life of me I can't remember if either was explained.
ANYHOO. Lemme know if anyone else didn't like the whole fake Olivia thing. I feel like it's an unpopular opinion

I knew I shouldn't have accepted the dare. As I stood there, shivering from the biting cold of the Antarctic research facility, I tried to remember what had possessed me to agree to this in the first place.
My name is Alex, and I'm a soldier assigned to the remote South Pole research facility known as Ice Station Zebra. My team was responsible for providing security and support to the scientific researchers who were studying the effects of climate change on the Antarctic ice shelves. We had been stationed here for months, with little to do other than carry out our duties and try to stave off the boredom.
It was that boredom that had led me to accept the dare from my best friend and fellow soldier, Tom. He had heard rumors about the facility having a dark secret, and he dared me to explore the restricted area during the dead of night. The rumors were, of course, unfounded. Or so I thought.
As I made my way down the dimly lit corridor towards the restricted area, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched. The air seemed to grow colder with every step, and the oppressive silence only heightened my sense of unease.
The heavy metal door to the restricted area loomed before me, its surface cold to the touch. I hesitated for a moment before entering the access code and pushing the door open. As it swung wide, I was greeted by the stale, musty scent of a room that had been sealed off for a very long time.
I stepped inside, my breath fogging in the frigid air. The darkness was nearly absolute, broken only by the dim glow of a single emergency light in the far corner of the room. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, I began to make out the shapes of old equipment and storage containers, all of which were covered in a thick layer of frost.
As I moved deeper into the room, I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of dread. I tried to reassure myself that there was nothing to fear, that the rumors were just that – rumors. But the further I ventured, the more convinced I became that there was something very wrong with this place.
The air seemed to hum with an unseen energy, and I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The oppressive darkness seemed to close in around me, and I felt as though I were being smothered by the icy cold. I began to hear whispers, barely audible at first, but growing louder and more insistent with every step I took.
The whispers turned into voices, the voices into screams. The sound was unbearable, a cacophony of pain and terror that seemed to emanate from the very walls themselves. I felt as if I were losing my mind, as if the darkness and the cold were seeping into my very soul. I stumbled forward, desperate to escape the nightmare that was closing in around me.
And then, I saw it.
In the far corner of the room, shrouded in shadow, was a figure. It was tall and emaciated, with long, spindly limbs and fingers that ended in wickedly sharp claws. Its skin was a sickly, translucent white, stretched tight over its skeletal frame. Its eyes were empty, black voids that seemed to swallow the light around them.
I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. The creature regarded me with an expression of pure malevolence, and I knew without a doubt that this was the source of the terror that had gripped me since entering the room. It was the embodiment of the dark secret that Ice Station Zebra had been hiding.
As it moved towards me, the air around it seemed to grow colder, and the shadows lengthened and warped, as if trying to escape its presence. The whispers and screams that had tormented me now seemed to be emanating from the creature itself, a symphony of suffering that threatened to overwhelm me.
I wanted to run, to flee from this nightmare and never look back. But my legs refused to obey, rooted to the spot as if the cold had frozen them in place. The creature drew closer, its twisted form seeming to glide across the floor without making a sound. Its hollow eyes bored into mine, filling me with a despair that threatened to consume me.
In that moment, I knew that I had to do something, anything, to escape this horror. I reached for the only weapon I had, a small pocketknife that I had brought with me as a last resort. My fingers fumbled with the blade, but I managed to open it just as the creature lunged at me.
I slashed wildly, my terror giving me strength I didn't know I possessed. The creature recoiled, an unearthly shriek tearing from its throat as my knife found its mark. Black, viscous fluid oozed from the wound, filling the air with a stench that threatened to overwhelm me.
But the creature didn't retreat. Instead, it seemed to grow angrier, its movements becoming more frenzied and desperate. It lunged at me again, and I barely managed to dodge its claws. I knew that I couldn't keep this up for much longer – I was growing weaker, and the cold was seeping into my bones.
Just as I felt myself beginning to succumb to the darkness, I remembered the radio in my pocket. With a surge of hope, I fumbled for it and managed to switch it on. I screamed into the microphone, begging for help, for anyone to come and save me from this monster.
The creature hesitated, as if it could sense that its time was running out. It let out another unearthly screech and launched itself at me, but this time I was ready. I braced myself and thrust the knife forward, catching the creature square in the chest. It screamed one last time before collapsing to the floor, the black fluid pooling around it as the life left its twisted form.
Moments later, the door to the restricted area burst open, and my fellow soldiers came rushing in. The room was bathed in the light from their flashlights, chasing away the darkness and the cold. They stared in horror at the creature lying at my feet, but there was no time to waste. They quickly helped me to my feet and led me out of the room, sealing the door behind us.
In the days that followed, I was debriefed and questioned by my superiors. They seemed to know more about the creature than they were willing to admit, but they were unwilling to share that information with me. All I knew was that Ice Station Zebra had been hiding a terrible secret, and I had been fortunate enough to escape with my life.
I decided to become a whistleblower, sharing my story with the world in the hopes of preventing any future encounters with these monstrous creatures. I knew that the powers-that-be would not be pleased with my decision, but I couldn't stand by and let this horror be hidden away once more.
I still wake up some nights, cold sweat beading on my brow, as the whispers and screams from that night haunt my dreams. The memory of the creature's hollow eyes will stay with me forever, a constant reminder of the darkness that exists in this world, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

The howling wind was the only sound that pierced the deafening silence that had enveloped the Airbnb deep within the Appalachian Mountains. My wife Emma and I had been looking forward to this getaway with our friends for months, eager to leave behind the stress of our mundane lives in the city. But as the minutes ticked by, the creeping sense of dread that had taken root in my stomach only seemed to grow stronger.
The rustic cabin we'd rented was charming, its wooden walls adorned with vintage trinkets and photographs that spoke of happier times. It was tucked away in a secluded corner of the forest, providing us with the perfect setting for a week of relaxation, laughter, and reconnecting with our closest friends. Little did we know that this idyllic retreat would soon turn into a waking nightmare.
Our friends, Jake and Lily, arrived the following day, their excitement palpable as we gathered around the fireplace to share stories and reminisce about our college days. The warmth of their company was a welcome distraction from the unease I'd been feeling, but the momentary reprieve was short-lived.
The first sign that something was amiss came from the shadows that danced across the living room walls, their twisted forms leaving me feeling as though I were being watched. I shook off the paranoia and attributed it to the flickering flames in the fireplace, but the sense of being observed remained, lurking in the back of my mind.
The next day, as we hiked along the wooded trails surrounding the cabin, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being followed. I could hear the crunch of leaves underfoot, the snap of twigs, and the soft rustle of the underbrush, but every time I turned around, there was nothing but the dense forest staring back at me.
That night, after a long day of exploring, we all settled into our respective rooms. As I lay in bed next to Emma, the darkness of our room seemed to grow thicker, more oppressive. I could hear her gentle breathing beside me, but it did little to soothe the panic that began to rise within me.
It was then that I heard it – a faint, almost inaudible tapping on the window. My heart raced as I forced myself to investigate, my legs trembling beneath me. I pulled back the curtains, expecting to find the source of the sound, but there was nothing there. Just the blackness of the forest, the trees swaying gently in the breeze.
The following morning, I shared my experiences with Jake and Lily, hoping to find some comfort in their disbelief. But as I spoke, I saw the color drain from their faces, their eyes wide with terror.
"We heard it too," Lily whispered, her voice quivering. "We thought it was just the wind, but... it sounded like someone was tapping on our window."
Jake nodded solemnly, his jaw clenched. "We didn't want to say anything, didn't want to scare you guys, but we've been feeling like we're being watched ever since we got here."
The four of us sat in stunned silence, our minds racing with the horrifying possibilities. It was then that Emma suggested we search the property, hoping to put our fears to rest. But as we scoured the grounds, we found something that only fueled our terror – a series of footprints leading from the edge of the forest to each of the cabin's windows.
The realization that we were not alone, that someone was stalking us from the shadows, sent a chill down my spine. We decided to leave as soon as possible, cutting our vacation short in the hopes of escaping the unseen menace that haunted our every step.
But the nightmare was far from over.
As we hastily packed our belongings, I noticed that the trinkets and photographs on the walls seemed to have shifted. The once-cheerful images now took on a sinister quality, their subjects staring at us with cold, unblinking eyes. The vintage trinkets that had charmed us upon arrival now appeared twisted and macabre, as though they were remnants of a dark past we couldn't quite comprehend.
Outside, the wind had picked up, and the once-tranquil forest seemed to come alive with a sinister energy. The trees creaked and groaned, their branches clawing at the sky like desperate hands. As we loaded our bags into the car, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched, that the unseen stalker was lurking just beyond the tree line, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
With every mile that passed as we drove away from the cabin, I felt the weight of our terrifying experience slowly lifting from my shoulders. But the relief was short-lived. As we wound our way through the mountains, the dense fog that had settled over the road made it increasingly difficult to see. It was as if the forest itself was trying to keep us from leaving, to trap us within its dark embrace.
When our car suddenly sputtered and died, leaving us stranded on the side of the road, the terror that had been lurking at the edges of our minds came crashing down upon us. We were trapped, alone and vulnerable in the heart of the wilderness, with no way of knowing where our stalker might be hiding.
As we huddled together in the cold, the wind howling around us like a mournful dirge, I felt a sense of despair unlike anything I'd ever experienced. It was then that I realized the true horror of our situation – we were mere playthings for a predator that could strike at any moment, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.
The hours passed, each minute stretching into an eternity as we waited for help that might never come. The darkness of the night enveloped us, leaving us blind to the dangers that might be lurking just beyond the beam of our flashlight.
It was in that suffocating darkness that we heard the first whispers of movement in the forest. The soft crunch of leaves, the snap of twigs, the rustle of underbrush – all the sounds that had haunted our days in the cabin were now closing in on us.
My heart pounded in my chest as the sounds grew closer, the fear of the unknown threatening to consume me. And then, suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows.
He was a tall, gaunt man with wild, unkempt hair and eyes that seemed to burn with a malevolent intensity. He moved toward us with a predatory grace, his long fingers clutching a rusted hunting knife that gleamed in the moonlight.
As he closed the distance between us, I knew that our fight for survival was only just beginning. We had to face the darkness that stalked us, to confront the nightmare that had been haunting us from the moment we'd set foot in the Appalachian Mountains.
And as the wind howled around us, drowning out our desperate cries for help, I could only hope that we would find the strength to survive the terror that had brought us to the edge of madness.
Emma, Jake, and Lily huddled together, their eyes wide with terror as the man approached us, his twisted grin revealing yellowed, jagged teeth. Instinct took over, and I lunged at him, desperate to protect the people I cared for most.
We fought, our struggle a chaotic dance of pain and fear, the knife glinting in the moonlight as it sliced through the air. The man was stronger than I'd anticipated, his grip like iron and his movements quick and nimble. But the adrenaline coursing through my veins lent me strength, and I managed to wrest the knife from his grasp.
With a guttural scream, I plunged the blade into the man's chest. He staggered back, his eyes wide with shock, before collapsing to the ground. As he lay there, gasping for breath, the once-menacing figure seemed to shrink, becoming nothing more than a sad, broken man.
We stood over him, our bodies trembling with a mixture of relief and horror at what we'd been forced to do. But our ordeal wasn't over yet. As we stared down at the man's lifeless body, the wind picked up, and the fog grew denser, as if the forest itself was mourning the death of one of its own.
We knew we had to keep moving. With the car dead and our phones unable to get a signal, we had no choice but to press on, hoping against hope that we would find our way to safety. We walked in silence, the weight of our actions heavy on our shoulders, the fear of what might still be lurking in the woods gnawing at our minds.
The darkness seemed to stretch on for an eternity, each step we took through the wilderness bringing us no closer to salvation. But as the first rays of sunlight broke through the canopy of trees, we finally stumbled upon a dirt road that led us to a small, remote town.
Exhausted, bloodied, and forever changed by our harrowing experience, we shared our story with the townspeople, who listened with a mixture of disbelief and pity. They told us tales of other visitors who had ventured into the forest, never to return, and of a local legend about a vengeful spirit that stalked the woods, seeking revenge for some long-forgotten crime.
As we left the town, grateful to be alive but haunted by the horrors we'd endured, I couldn't help but wonder if our tormentor had been a man driven to madness or something far more sinister. The truth, it seemed, would remain forever hidden within the shadows of the Appalachian Mountains.
In the years that followed, we tried our best to put the experience behind us. We rarely spoke of it, and when we did, it was in hushed whispers, as if speaking too loudly might somehow summon the darkness that had nearly claimed our lives.
But even as we tried to move on, the terror we'd faced in the Appalachian Mountains continued to cast a shadow over our lives. We could never truly escape the fear, the sense of being watched, the knowledge that somewhere out there, a malevolent force was waiting for us to return.
And so we remained, forever on the edge of our seats, haunted by the nightmare that had brought us to the brink of madness and left us with a lasting impression of horror that would never fade.

Rows and rows of corn rustled in the early autumn breeze, eleven year old me danced around the farm. Glancing down at my hands, my eleven year old hands had replaced mine. The brief escape from my masters wouldn’t last long, dogs barked in the distance. Smoothing out my white sweater, my dark denim skirt fluttered in the breeze. Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I still needed more time. Sprinting into the corn, stalks smacked my face. Horror rounded my eyes, heavy paws crashed behind me. Skidding to a stop, my faceless master held me down, allowing the dogs to bite me. Tortured screams burst from my lips, their teeth sinking into my legs and arms.
“I’ll teach you not to run, Swallow!” His deep voice barked ferociously, the heel of his boot pushing my face into the dirt. “You belong to us! Boys, let’s go home. You have to walk home to get bites stitched up. See you if you make it.” Ditching me to bleed out, the sunshine changed to moonlight. Dirt covered up my hands, my body protesting as I struggled to my feet. Limping out of the field, an eleven year old boy with ruby eyes popped up in front of me. Running his hand through his onyx hair, he adjusted his top hat. Taking my hand, my eyes couldn’t leave his pinstripe suit.
“You won’t remember this but we will meet in the future. Hold on for a bit longer.” He promised lovingly, kissing my forehead. “I am going to heal you and you will keep marching forward. I am going to leave you with this.” Kissing my lips passionately, a bright light healed my wounds. The light died down, the boy was gone. I could run but where would I go? Home wasn’t an option, my hands crossing. Sinking to my knees, my fingers traced the layers of bruises and cuts on my skin. Pain was all I knew, the harsh whip of harmful words tearing me down by the day. Wiping away my tears, storm clouds brewed over my head. Time passed, the corn dying and growing in speed motion. Glancing down at them, my regular hands had returned. Eleven year old me walked out of the cornfield, her arms folded across her chest.
“Wake up and stop wallowing in the past!” She spat at me, her bare feet marching up to me. “Don’t be such a pathetic loser.” Inky blackness dyed her eyes, her form shifting to a glitching shadow. Clawed hands reached out to me, my clammy fingers playing with the hem of my blouse. Snapping his fingers, a force woke me up.
Jerking awake, the field of corn swayed in front of me. Patting my body, my usual outfit covered my body. My chest tightened, every breath shortening. Pale moonlight bathed the endless sea of corn, involuntary tears slid down my cheeks. Demy, I needed Demy. Struggling to stand, barking in the distance sent me ten feet in the air. Cupping my ears, a happy mutt ran up to me. His shaggy brown fur was matted with mud, a tag shining in the moonlight. Taking deep breaths, my heart rate settled down. Crouching down to his level, an address greeting me. Shifting through my magic boots, soft leather grazed my fingers. Pulling it out, the dog sat still while I struggled toclick it on. Walking him onto the street, storm clouds brewed over my head. A familiar energy sent chills up my spine, his tail wagging at an unassuming house. The canary colonial loomed over me, one light flickered in the window. The dog went berserk, his barks echoing in the night. Pointing the nose to the shadowy treeline, the glitching shadow figure stepped out of the shadows. Undoing the leash, a pat on his butt sent him back into the house.
“Let’s take this somewhere else. You called me and kidnapped a dog to get me to you.” I growled through a wall of tears, fighting the impending anxiety attack. “I want to fight you away from people. No deserves the chaos you can bring.” A sly grin danced across his lips, wicked laughter rumbling in his throat. Snapping his fingers, the home faded to the torched remains of the training facilities. The memory of me burning it down when I was eleven haunted my mind, the screams of the dying people broke me down in seconds. Collapsing to my knees, vomit flew up my throat. Circling me, his slow claps sank me deeper into my guilt.
“I was born here because of your sins. I am the combination of all the souls you killed that day. We want you dead. You don’t deserve happiness.” He barked bitterly, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. “You have to pay for your sins. There is no way you can have the fruit of a good life after what you did.” It had been an accident, my foot knocking down a candle on flammable chemicals the moment I fell in. Shaking my head, my body rocked back and forth.
“It was an accident!” I blurted out desperately, ripping his arms off of me. “I accidentally knocked over a candle and the flames landed into a vat of chemicals. I tried to warn everybody and you didn’t listen. You thought I was lying. It was your boss who said to let it all burn. Yell at him.” Ripping my head back, his mouth opened up. Ashes flowed into my throat, a coughing fit taking over. The dry material tasted horrendous, nausea wracking my body.
“Do you mind leaving my little Swallow alone?” Demy called out from the shadows, his gun aimed for the shadows head. “Hell of a trick you played there, buddy. Pulling somebody through their dreams. What do you have to say about yourself?” Cocking his brow, fury seethed in his eyes. The shadow refused to let me go, my past literally holding me back. Coughing up the rest of the ash, a stinger extended from his wrists. Pressing it into my neck, my vision blurred. Every cell in me wanted to die, the guilt eating away at my soul. So many screams rang in my ear, the crackling of a fire stealing me away from my current reality. Tears welled up in my eyes, my composure slipping away.
“Our only pathway to Heaven is to kill her so we can move on.” He hissed evilly, pushing it through my neck. “Your little swallow will soon be dead.” Ripping it out, blood poured down my neck. A cry from Demy snapped me back to reality, his bullet whizzing by my head. Mouthing a healing spell, the wound sealed shut. Jumping to my feet, the shadow popped up behind me. Jamming my elbow into his chest, he cried out. Clapping my hands, the three of us stood in the cornfield. The bad part is that we were separated, Demy’s voice calling out to me. Panic gripped me at the silence around me, knowing the next victim.
“Be quiet or he will find you!” I shouted over hooting owls, an idea coming to mind. Digging around with my boot, my fingers curled around my staff. Fire seemed out of the option, my mind moving to air. Slamming the tip of my staff on the loose dirt, a blast of air shot me closer to the moon. Scanning the field for Demy, the shadow and him were battling. Aiming my feet for the space in between them, a cloud of dirt obscured my clumsy landing. Confidence faded to horror, the shadow bursting into flames. Shoving Demy out of the way, his flaming hand grasped my arm. The smell of burning flesh nauseated me, the tip of my scythe slammed into his guts. Loosening his grip, his arm touched a stalk of corn. A steady stream of curse words flowed freely from my lips, the flames spreading with an alarming speed. The heat warmed up my cheeks, my angry burn screaming in protest.
“Rain from Hell, Shower us with the gift of water.” I chanted confidently, storm clouds thundering to life. Heavy raindrops crashed to the top of my head, a defiant grin spreading across my determined face. The flames died out before they hit the nearest home, black stalks smoking into the sky. The shadow stumbled back, my swift kicks knocking them to the ground. Pinning him down with my heel, the tip of my staff pressed into his neck. Extending his stinger, a shrill scream matched the next rumble of thunder as he jammed it into my leg. Unable to move my heel, ravens cawed behind me. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, Demy’s massive blade of his scythe stabbing us both. The shadow creature seized, his body decaying to dust. Copper poisoned my taste buds, inky blood staining my teeth. Wheezing, he ripped out from my stomach. Blood painted my blouse, his scythe swinging towards my neck. Blocking his attack with my staff, tears stained my cheeks. The wound refused to heal, my tone growing shakier by the second.
“Demy! Stop it!” I pleaded desperately, his scythe smashing into my staff. “Remember when you visited me when I was eleven! I know you lied about watching me a year ago. You have been watching me my whole life. You know everything about me and you chose to keep that a secret. I am not even freaked out by it. I need you to come back so I can marry you.” His hard expression softened, my staff splashing in the mud. Lowering his scythe, black smoke curled off of my palms. Helping him tuck it into his hat, the ravens flew back into his top hat. Our hair clung to his face, his shattered expression falling on my wound. Shivering in the rain, he guided my head to his neck.
“I am so sorry that I hurt!” He sobbed into my ear, my fangs extending over my lips. “Drink what you need to heal.” Sinking my teeth into his neck, his arms held me like his life depended on it. Drinking my fill, his eyes refused to meet mine. The rain hid his tears, my trembling hands placing his hat on head. A bright light sealed my wound shut, a wave of relief washing over me. Sobs shook our bodies, the two of us shivering. Cupping his face, my lips kissed him feverishly.
“Now it is my turn.” I wept softly with a quiet smile, his shame filled eyes not leaving my loving gaze. “I may have forgotten that day but your words kept me going. You didn’t do anything wrong, you simply lost control. Weapons can devour you if you aren’t careful. I can heal. Wounds end, my heart would break if you weren’t by my side. Please stay by my side.” Pressing his forehead against mine, his slender hand cupped my cheek. Taking a couple of deep breaths, a slight fear still haunted his eyes. The crunching of my calf bone fusing back together stole the moment, a fit of laughter bursting from our lips.
“I don’t really have a choice.” He teased blithely, his crooked grin melting my heart. “Je t’aime plus que le monde.” Understanding French, my heart fluttered. Scooping up my staff, it shrank back down. Tucking it into my boot, my hand took his. Dragging him out of the destroyed cornfield, the rain slowed to a stop. Tugging him along, his arm kept the branches from his scratching his face. Taking a couple of turns, his breath hitched at the sea of red and oranges spreading underneath the steely gray cliff. Sitting down on the edge, my head rested against his shoulder.
“This is where I always hid from them to get away from my masters before I burned the building down. I always had a place to go.” I commented serenely, his hand cupping mine. “I accidentally set the fire that day. The guilt eats at me everyday. What can I say?” Leaves rustled behind me, the hollow steps of my fellow co-workers boots weren’t that far behind. Pushing him off the cliff, my finger ripped out my staff. Gears whirred, the staff bending at a forty-five degree angle. A mix of golden and scarlet feathers burst from the metal frame, a metal bar coming down. Gripping the metal bar, I pulled myself up. Demy hung on for dear life, my slender fingers stealing his gun. Ripping it from his pocket, the gun hissed upon my touch. Crossing my legs, the scope helped me get a line of three them. Alarm widened my eyes, a helicopter floating up behind me. Leaning back, my aim quivered on the engine that I built. Undoing the safety, a quick yank of the trigger sent a bullet towards the gas tank. Flying up close to the open door, simple white masked assassins greeted me. Perfect, they were ranked lower than me. Evil laughter rumbled in my throat, a quick round leaving steaming bullet holes in the center of their forehead. Stealing their guns, the pilot shot a few rounds into my chest. The bullets made their way up my throat, the pilot soon realizing their mistake. Flicking a bullet in his direction, his body collapsed into a heap. The other assassins leapt off the cliff, metallic wings keeping them from falling to their death. Tucking Demy’s gun back into his pocket, only a few more seconds remained before the helicopter explosion would kill us both. Laying all the way back, my body was verticle to the ground. Counting the seconds, it would take one bullet to kill my enemies in one action. Lining the bullets into my fingers, my hand curled into the ready position. Three, two, one! Flicking my wrist, the velocity of my strength put a bit of heat on the bullets. Swinging myself underneath, Demy helped me steer us away from the impending explosion. A thunderous boom released a wild wind, the orange flames lighting up the sky. Control slipped away from us, the device crashing into a bed of branches. Blood and guts rained down with metal pieces, a blast of ice from my trembling palm putting out the flaming pieces before they touched the dry trees. Smiling warmly to myself, my staff clicked back to normal. Examining her for damage, nothing could be seen.
“That was a close one.” Demy laughed softly, kissing the top of my head. “Let’s find an open circle to draw us a way home.” Lowering ourselves down, our feet touched the packed down dirt. Pausing for a moment, it felt like a car had hit me. The emotional strife had caught up to me, a mental break down was sure to hit me later. Right now, we had to get home. Scrunching my nose up in disgust, blood and rain had soaked me to my bones. Another set of clothes was ruined, my thoughts beginning to run insanely in my mind. The motion of him placing me on his back stole me from my random train of thoughts.
“Let me take care of the rest while you get some rest. You did do most of the work after all.” He assured me with a playful wink, my head resting against his back. Branches crunched underneath his boots, his lips brushing against the tops of my hands. His clothing was just as torn as mine, my fingers tracing every shred. A shiver ran up his spine the moment I kissed the back of his neck. The moon traded shifts with the early morning sun, his endless hike resulting in an empty circle bathed in the orange rays of dawn. Setting me down the center, his hand danced in circles. The usual symbols stared back up at me, his knife guiding across my palm. Squeezing my hand until a shining pool of blood reflected our filthy faces, he guided my hand around. Dropping a pile piece of his ledger book from home, flames devoured the paper. A rush of air circled us, the woods of New Hampshire faded away to our bedroom. Still cupping my palm, his hungry eyes couldn’t stray from the fresh blood. Offering him my palm, his fangs sank into the tender flesh. Old Man Dallas poked his head in, his hand covering up his nose.
“I will have dinner ready in an hour. Get cleaned up and make yourselves presentable.” He twanged with his rich accent, smoothing out his staple white suit. “We have a job prospect coming tonight and she pays well. I will lend you one of my wife’s dresses from the fifties. You will probably just poof yourself a suit. Chop chop, my little beignets. We have a business to grow.” Setting a couple of dresses on the bed, Demy motioned for me to get cleaned up. Sprinting into the bathroom, the quick shower invigorated me. Drying myself off, a black and white polka dot swing dress hung on the door. Pulling it over my head, Demy poked his head in. Zipping it up for me, his slender fingers styled my hair into an intricate bun. Spinning me around, he kissed my forehead. Dusting off his clean suit, he adjusted my collar. One should feel shame but pride swelled in my eyes. Pulling a liquid liner out of his pocket, one simple flick on either side gave me a perfect cat’s eye. Clutching me close to his chest, he offered me my boots. Sliding my feet into them, his arm hooked around my elbow. Guiding me downstairs, his body stiffened at an elderly lady sitting to the left of Old Man Dallas. Her fucshia pink silk dress hugged her petite body, her wrinkles telling a twisted tale. Cloudy eyes followed my every move, her silvery blue hair rested in a perfect bun.
“I am Madame Seshunio, your next client and forever client if you do well.” She introduced herself with her nose up in the air, sliding over a card. “I came to drop off the order. As for my place to stay for the entirety of the job, Old Man Dallas offered me a room. In fact, I would like your room. I heard it is the second biggest. Perhaps you can sleep up in the attic.” My brows furrowed, Old Man Dallas’ stern gaze shut down my initial reaction. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tame Demy.
“I am not sleeping where they tortured those poor souls, Madame Sesheunio.” He snapped hotly, pulling out a chair for me. “We will sleep in the living room. Do not touch any of my things or I will place a curse on you. Do you understand.” Helping me sit down, an anxious maid brought out plates of steak and potatoes. Her gnarly hands cupped mine, mixed emotions flashing on her face. Tears stained her cheeks, a look of rage poisoning the softness of the sadness. Falling back, a look of horror plastered itself into my brain.
“You shouldn’t be alive.” She stuttered nervously, her shaking hands unable to pick up her fork. “So much tragedy courses through your veins, your mental state sure to bring you down. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, the Mad Hatter will marry the Swallow. Many children are dancing around you, their laughter filling the air.” A warm smile sweetened her features, Demy nudging my shoulders.
“I like you, Swallow.” She admitted freely, her eyes falling on Demy. “You tamed the Mad Hatter with a collar around your neck. You really must be something.” Cutting his steak, Demy’s words nearly made me choke on my spit.
“You did live here as a young lady when I showed up. You seem to be doing well yourself. How are the grandchildren?” He asked sincerely, bowing in her direction. “You did get me in trouble. You were like the sister I never had. How could I forget about the times we nearly gave him a heart attack?” Scanning the card, my eyes bulged at the reward for completing the job. My face fell at the job and its magnitude. Clearing out a sea of demons was the last thing I wanted to do, a long sigh escaping my lips. Why couldn’t I ever get a fucking break?

Hi guys,
I have some eyebrow hair that goes underneath the eye, weird I know. Like cheekbone ish upper cheekbone area.
It’s only a bit of hairs but ideally id want to get it removed.
Is it safe to laser this area with goggles or is it too close to retina?
I have black hair and light skin for those wondering.
Thanks, Rick

Memories of last night made me blush, the tension had been released. Demy leaning on his elbow as I tugged on my boots, his sly grin showing his pride from our fiery night of passion. Adjusting the ruffles on my blouse, his strong arms yanked me back onto the bed. The tension had faded between us, our satisfaction matching eotherach .
“Let’s play today.” He pleaded with big puppy dog eyes, a light smile dawning on my lips. “I had so much fun last night.” A golden envelope slid under the door, Demy’s fingers snapping. The envelope landed in his palm, a long exhale escaped his lips. The sounds of New Orleans came to life, jazz music filled the air. My weekend with my uncle had been lovely, but the noise and chaos of New Orleans felt like home or did Demy feel like home? Sinking deeper into my train of thought, a hungry kiss brought me back. Time stopped, my heart skipping a beat. Climbing on top of my lap, his hand plopping his hat on top of my head. What brought this on?
“We have a local job today.” He announced with unfiltered joy, lifting my chin up with his finger. “How about a date after?” A black ball of light blinded us, hairy legs grabbing me. Crying out for help, the monster whisked me away to another dimension. Throwing me on a giant web, chills shot up my spine. My face paled, horror widening my eyes. Struggling against sticky white silk, the silk vibrated. A shrill scream burst from my trembling lips the moment tiny spiders crawled over me, a man with six hairy legs trailing behind his tall slender body sauntered across the ceiling. His large abdomen bounced up and down, clammy sweat drenching my skin. A vibrant green suit hugged his seven foot seven frame, inky black eyes glistened underneath a fluff of neon green hair. His violet lips curled into a wicked grin, a long piece of silk glistened in the flickering light. Lowering his body, his face was centimeters from mine. Long fangs hung over his lips, a bright green venom dripped down the fangs. Clicking them together, his tongue licked his lips as they retracted into a row of clean teeth. Cupping my chin, his cold hand moved my face.
“How ugly!” He scoffed haughtily, licking my cheek. “You will make a most delectable meal.” Focusing on his ash gray skin, a stinger extended from his wrists. The venom dripped down the tip, the foul liquid burning my cheek. Healing up as fast as it burned me, frustration raged in his eyes. A defiant grin danced across my determined face, my tongue spitting out the spiders attempting to get into my mouth. Cringing at the sensation of tiny legs tickling my tongue, he snapped my head to face him.
“Poison doesn’t affect me.” I bragged jovially, my confidence coming back. “Nice try. I guess you will just have to eat me.” Low hisses slithered out of his mouth, his legs spinning a web around my squirming body. My eyebrow twitched irritably, my fingers snapping quietly. My staff floated into my palm, my enemy not noticing. Shoving it up my sleeve, a quiet groan escaped my lips at the fact my shirt was going to be destroyed. Allowing him to wrap me in a cocoon, the goal was to get him to relax his damn security. The sticky silk clung to my skin, his pets crawling up my leg. Couldn’t he just leave already! Gross, this fucking sucked. Shaking off my nerves, scarlet flames torched his webs, a rush of heat blowing his webs around. Glancing around, several cocoons surrounded me. Panic gripped my mind, the flames second from reaching them. Switching elements, golden ice crept up the web. Black smoke curled out of the small hole above me, a familiar energy perking up my spirits. Demy shot the web, his bullet smashing our enemy’s complicated design. Crashing to the cold neon green floor, dummies rained down around us. The wood smashed to bits, screams echoing down the hall. An icy breeze nipped my shoulder, my eyes falling on my tattered shirt. Black lace peeked out, Demy shooting a quick glance. Rolling my eyes, my shaft shifted to dual scythes. A drop of his venom hovered over his head, my body smashing into his. My skin hissed for a moment, my clothes melting away. Stifling a scream of venomous rage, Demy placed his coat over my shoulders. Embarrassment colored my cheeks, a nervous smile twitched on my lips.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He teased playfully, helping me up. “We need to cut out his fangs or remove them somehow.” An idea rang out in my head, my hands cupping his. The screams shattered the touching moment, a rock flipping in my stomach. Dread poisoned my mind, his lips kissed me hungrily. Guiding his fangs to my neck, his fangs sank into my skin. Enough blood would make him immune to the venom, my free hand fending off his legs with my scythe. Sparks drifted aimlessly, his exoskeleton proving to be tougher than I thought. Leaning his head back, he stole his hat back. Reaching into his hat, the energy shifted. My blood prevented him from going fully insane, a sly grin curling on his lips. Black energy swirled around him, his ravens cawing behind him.
“Poison, you are going to die today. Nobody kidnaps my swallow.” He threatened darkly, spinning his scythe over her head. “Are you ready to play?” Tossing me his hat, he mouthed the order to rescue the people. Placing it on my head, it was time to listen to his orders. Sprinting down the tunnel, my scythes sliced through the webs with ease. People dropped to the cold rock, families embracing each other. A low humming noise echoed in my ears, a black gem floated in a ball of pale green energy. Demy ran down the tunnels, his scythe hanging limply by his side. Sweat drenched his skin, inky streaks stained his cheeks. Poison crawled along the ceiling, an electrical shock at one touch knocked me back.
“He keeps regenerating.” He huffed, leaning on his knees. “We need a new plan.” Catching his breath, the corner of his lip curled into a crooked smirk. Swinging the tip of his scythe into the ball, he knocked me to the icy rock. Energy built up, a wave knocked Poison back into the tunnel. Frightened eyes quivered in the shadows, panic gripping my mind. The black gem whizzed over my head, Demy catching it. Tossing it back to me, flames roared to life on my palm. The glistening surface cracked, shrill shrieks threatened to burst my eardrums. Poison charged at us, cracks lining his smooth skin. A devilish grin lit up my face, the gem shattering into pieces with a single squeeze of my palm. The dimension quaked violently, a sharp bang sent blood and guts raining over us. Groaning bitterly, neither of us were pleased to be wearing guts. The dimensions faded to the cemetery, the families all resting in confusion. Tossing him his head back, Demy spun it in his palm. Demy tossed his hat up in the air, his scythe and pets all flying back in. Dumping out a steaming pile of guts, an agitated snarl twitched on his lips. Snapping his fingers, the poor families disappeared. Confusion dawned on my face, so many questions rested on the tip of my tongue.
“Where did they all go?” I stammered nervously, sweeping a couple of organs off of my shoulder. “Are they going to be safe?” Crouching down to my level, he attempted to wipe the blood off of my cheek. Kissing my forehead, his strong arms pulled me in for a desperate embrace.
“They were sent back to their beds. What they experienced will simply seem like a nightmare.” He explained calmly, his trembling body showing how scared he was for me. “I thought I lost you. Thank goodness you are okay.” A sharp clear of a throat captured our attention, Riot sauntering up to us. A simple wave of his hand knocked Demy into the wall of the nearby mausoleum. His other hand reached for me, my hand slapping it away. Demy lay limply at the base of the wall, the wet grass tickling his face.
“What are the odds that your great grandmother was my worst enemy?” He mused playfully, the ground cracking underneath his iridescent snake boots. “Apparently, I messed with the wrong broad “ Jumping to my feet, my staff shrank back to its original form. My power flickered out, wicked laughter rumbled in his throat. His fist swung towards my face, my palm catching the punch. Silent tears stained my cheeks, my hand shattering. Kicking his chest, a tree crashed down upon his impact. His strength tripled mine, the chances of survival dwindling. His body smashed into mine, most of my bones creaking with protest. Kicking him off of me, he flew up into the sky. The bones in my hand clicked back into place, my fist slamming into his jaw. Sending him back into the air, the heel of his boot shattered my jaw. Curling my fingers around his ankle, the ground splitting the moment I threw him down. Clicking my jaw back into place, Demy stirred awake. A swift yank ripped down to his level, the back of his arm clutching the small of my waist. Fright widened my eyes, my porcelain skin beginning to decay. Immense pain jolted my body, ungodly screams escaping my lips.
“I see my daughter’s strength is impeccable but you can still decay away like the rest of us.” He taunted cruelly, my tears soaking his light green velvet suit. “Prepare for your fin-” A bullet whizzed by our heads, a fuming Demy peeled me off of him. Kicking him in the face repeatedly, he held me close to his hips. Bending over, he picked him up by his collar.
“What’s your fucking problem!” He roared thunderously, my father poking his finger together. “What kind of a father beats his daughter! She came back into your life and you want to kill her. Are you sure you didn’t just want to kill her mother? Now that I can understand.” An apologetic smile dimmed his features, glowing symbols lined every inch of his skin.
“I am under a curse for a few murders I committed in the real world in the middle ages. Unfortunately, my master refuses to let me go. Yes, I am the king of the demons or his demons but seriously I am over this.” He spewed faster than I could register all of his words, my mind racing through the myriad of options. “I need the blood of my first born to alleviate the rest of my damn curse. I used to have more symbols on my skin. I will admit to letting that banshee possess your mother. Let’s just say she was a waste of space.” Squirming out of Demy’s arms, I offered my arm to him.
“Shut up and bite it.” I urged kindly, Demy taking a step back. “Then I want you to take on my curse so you can’t kill me. All I have to do is drink yours and the curse I bestow upon you what can’t be undone. Are you willing to take that on? Are you willing to atone upon your sins and kill your boss, the true king of demons?” Defiance burned in his eyes, my other hand cupping his arm.
“I, Scarlet Everton the Sparrow, curse you to a life of servitude.” I chanted confidently, hovering my fangs over his arm. “Now take a bite if you agree to take it on and live a life of freedom! Freedom will be yours if you kill him for me. The terms aren’t that difficult. Hell, I will even make you a king of sorts.” Malice glinted in my eyes, his fangs hovering over my arm.
“Wait a minute!” He barked bitterly, ripping his arm away. “I am fine as I a-” Pinning him down, he struggled under my swelling strength. Banging his head against the ground repeatedly, fury boiled in my veins. Blood soaked his hair, his claws dug into my arm. What the hell was he fucking doing?
“You aren’t fine!” I reprimanded him venomously, letting his head crash back down. “I am offering you a path into the light and a chance to have a relationship with me. What could go wrong?” Flashing him a bright grin, his claws retracted. Pulling my arm close to his fangs, his arm hovered in front of my fangs. Sinking our fangs into each other’s arms, the symbols burned away. The rotten taste of his blood poisoned my taste buds, both of us struggling to swallow our gulps. A swallow flew onto his neck, the inky image settling on his shoulder. Releasing each other from our bites, the union had been formed. Animals stopped singing their nightly ballads, the stillness frightening us all. Our faces paled, a cloaked figure emerged from the shadows. The onyx version of my staff rested in his palm, the silver bat glistening in the moonlight. Tiny bats fluttered around him, ruby eyes glowed underneath his torn hood. Storm clouds thundered to life, lightning bathing the scene in a bright white light. Heavy raindrops crashed to the tops of our head, my hair soon sticking to the sides of my face. A golden glow bathed my staff, the ominous figure marching towards us. His ash gray robes fluttered in the breeze, my death glare falling on my quivering father.
“Riot, it’s time to repay your debt.” A deep voice thundered, a row of blood stained fangs greeting me. “You must be the wee little swallow I keep hearing about. You could join my team and take over the world. However, swallows always tend to want to fly free.” Riot stirred underneath me, his pleading eyes begging for me to stop as I leapt to my feet. Raising my staff in the attack position, my silver waves blew behind me.
“I can’t have you hurting my father. He may be a dick but I think we can fix things.” I proclaimed proudly, wicked laughter bursting from my lips. “Family is something to be cherished. There is one clear difference between us. The swallow gets to see the sun while you must hide in the shadows. Tell me how it feels to not have anything to live for.” Circling him, his fingers curled around the center of his staff. A metallic clang matched the next bolt of lighting, two straight silver blades glinted menacingly. A flurry of feathers swirled around me, my shaft shifting into dual scythes. Charging at me, our blades clashed violently. Leaping into the air, his blade catching my foot. Demy cried out, another simple wave sending him back. Using the angle to my advantage, my wrists flicked the scythes in the other direction. Pushing off of his back, a single swing sliced off his arms. Jumping off the mausoleum, dismay dimmed my eyes at the sight of his arms growing back. A bolt of lightning captured my attention, both of his swords whistled in my direction. A strangled gasp tumbled from my lips, one of his blades quivered in my stomach. A steady stream of curse words rang out, my trembling hands ripping it out. The damn blade burnt the surface of my palm, the black smoke curling into the sky. Tossing it to the side, my body crashed into a tight ball. An inky pool spread underneath me, copper poisoned my taste buds. Coughing up an unnatural amount of blood, my quivering fingers gripped my scythes’ handles. Struggling to my feet, tears stained my cheeks. Wiping them away, warm intestines struggled to stay in place. Dropping my scythe’s, both of my hands held it all in. Damn it! This hurt like hell. The corner of my lips curled into a snarl, a river of inky blackness cascaded through my fingers. Crawling over to a black iron nail resting in the ground, Demy stirred awake. Tossing it up into the air, Riot skidded past us. Kicking the nail into the sea of grass, a blast of energy shot me up in the air as the hooded figure snapped his fingers. Holding in my innards, every part of my body ached with every roll down the hill. Rolling into the nearest head stone, panic gripped my face. Demy rushed over, his voice fading in and out.
“Little swallow, you need to hang on.” He begged through a wall of tears, my old man shoving him out of the way. Cutting his palm, his blood poured into my wound. Taking a deep breath, his lips moved a mile a minute. The wound sealed shut, only a faint scar remaining. Shock rounded his eyes at my warm embrace, his arms hanging limply by his side. Shock changed to confusion, his mind seeming to be officially broken.
“I tried to kill you, yet you still stand up for me?” He stammered nervously, shoving me off. “I have been nothing but a dick to you. I murdered your mother and I still don’t care.” Shrugging my shoulders, a bright smile spread cheek to cheek. Struggling to find the words, he needed to have his second chance at life.
“Look at it from my perspective. I have a parent again. We can work out all of the kinks. I have to believe you can’t be that bad. You did just save me after all.” I assured him calmly, his nerves fraying further. “I am going to repeat this to you. I love you. So let’s cause a riot together.” Strands of his hair fell in front of his face, his clawed hand reaching for me. Cupping his hand, Demy rolled his eyes.
“You want to cause a riot with me?” He asked with a nervous grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have never heard anyone say that to me. You do know that I murdered a shit ton of people, right? I was a knight to a corrupt king, and killed without any remorse. I kept telling myself it was just an order. So many people died because of me.” Grasping his shoulder, my sins rolled off of my tongue.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned. I was an assassin before this and a damn good one. I think I was a little too good at it.” I admitted sheepishly, his expression softening. “I killed thousands of men but never the women and children. I set them up with my salary. Apparently you didn’t do the same but you can start saving people. I will have to smooth things over with the ghosts. Perhaps I can burn their favorite scents to please them or put on a show that they like. Their taste is something else.” Demy rolled his eyes, my old man hugging me awkwardly. Scarlet colored his cheeks, the embarrassment was simply adorable. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, a small smile twitched on his lips.
“Don’t break yourself by trying to smile. We can work up to that too.” I teased lightly, letting him go. “Let’s go home.” Jumping to my feet, my hand hovered in front of his face. Accepting it cautiously, one yank brought him to his feet. Hooking my elbow in his, Demy tossed me my staff. Blowing him a kiss, Demy winked back at me. Smiling gently to myself, a new part of my journey was about to begin.