#Like being annoying isn’t a huge crime but showing such a complete lack of respect the way some people do is just. Embarrassing

[corset]

What is it that possesses (man looking at that word typed out is giving me a headache) some people on the internet to just start talking like a Complete Jackass when they’re trying to make a point

[rachelbethhines]

Tangled Salt Marathon - The Brothers Hook

It’s time to say goodbye to Hook Foot. He won’t be missed. 

Summary:  Rapunzel takes everyone to see Hook Hand in concert. However, this brings back bad memories in Hook Foot, as he was always overshadowed and looked down on by his elder brother. Hook Hand is revealed to be employed by the self-centered King Trevor who wants Hook Hand to play at the ceremony of the marriage between the Seal of Equis and his female mate. When Hook Foot sabotages his brother’s performance at the wedding he must face King Trevor in a dance off to save Hook hand’s career. 

The Episode Placement Is Indeed Wrong  

I talked about this last episode, but the ordering of episodes is confusing. 

The Brother’s Hook does come after Rapunzel: Day One in terms of production order and is placed after it on the Disney Plus, but it supposedly aired before Rapunzel: Day One originally and the events make more sense in that aired order. As they’re traveling on foot here because they lost the caravan, and they’re all stressed out and fighting in the first scene of this episode. Also it world explain Hook Foot’s absence in Rapunzel Day One. 

Yet why would they order things that way? Why hold off on resolving the Raps and Cass argument if you’re not going to even hint at it here? Why not place this earlier in the season so that you wouldn’t be dragging Hook Foot along in the Great Tree for no reason? 

It just goes to show how rushed and poorly planned out season two actually was. 

This is Another Pointless Parallel 

So Hook Foot is suppose to represent Cassandra here and Hook Hand is supposed to be Rapunzel in this scenario but like that doesn’t work for several reasons. 

For one, Rapunzel never discouraged Cassandra’s dreams. Cassandra herself just never opened up to tell her what those dreams were, and indeed even the audience don’t know what Cass’s dreams are now that she’s already achieved her goal of becoming a guard back in the first season. I don’t think even Cassandra knows what she wants. 

Second, Rapunzel and Cassandra’s conflict isn’t actually about ‘dreams’, it’s about control. Each wants to control the other, to be in charge, because they think themselves always right. Both equate ‘being right’ and a lack of criticism as validation and to them, and this show in general, validation is equated with ‘love and compassion’ and is the ultimate end all and be all goal for everyone. Even though that’s not how validation works and a it’s a very unhealthy mindset to promote. 

Third, no one owes you anything. Yeah, Hook Hand is a jerk here, but at the end of the day giving up on his dreams was Hook Foot’s choice. You are in charge of your own choices, and at some point you need to decide if you’re going to listen to rest of the world telling you no or have some self respect and do what you want because you want it. You don’t actually need anyone’s approval but your own. By making ‘validation’ the end all and be all of the narrative, it undermines characters agency and fails to teach people about self respect and accountability. 

Same goes for Cassandra, even more so in fact. She needs to be the one to get off her ass and try for what she wants. No one is going to hand it to her and Raps doesn’t owe her a damn thing. Cassandra is the only thing getting the way of Cassandra because time and time again the series gives her chances that she refuses to take for ill defined reasons. There’s nothing at stake for her to lose if she just left. 

Last off, no one learns anything from this. Cass gets nothing out of it despite being right there the whole time, and Rapunzel is too hypocritical and self centred to see that she is very bit the bully same as Hook Hand. Not because she crushes Cassandra’s dreams like the narrative wants you to think, but because she tries to insert herself and her views on to everyone. 

Bullshit

Once again, may I remind you that there is over twenty villians in this show and only four of them get redemptions. Four! And one of those four was Eugene’s doing not Rapunzel’s. 

The narrative does not support the ideas that it wants to push. If you want me to believe that Rapunzel does sincerely believe in second chances then you need to show her giving that chance to everybody equally. And no, not everyone has to take it, not everyone needs to be redeemed, but she needs to at least try. Especially if they’re a recurring baddie with a tragic backstory like Lady Caine’s.

Oh, and may I also remind you that currently a 15 year old orphan is rotting away in a jail cell because of the corrupt government and Rapunzel does not give a crap! 

The Song Is Sounds Good But It Adds Nothing

It doesn’t add anything to the overall narrative and it fails to add anything to the episode itself because it gives us no new information.  

This is extremely wasteful. Not only because Alan Menken and Glenn Slater are highly respected artists who are wasting their talents on crap like this, but also for pure budgetary reasons. Tangled has a limited budget for songs that is worked into the contract. Each season is suppose to get eight original songs and two reprises. (tho season three trades out one of those songs for an extra reprise) 

In an arc heavy series like this, with such a limited number of songs to convey information, then you need to choose where those songs go wisely. The writers did not choose wisely in this instance. 

Rapunzel You Are Not In A Position To Give Advice Here

This episode is foreshadowing for what season three would become. Which is a complete formula switch up that undermines the narrative’s goals. 

This is suppose to be a coming of age tale. That’s in its mission statement. It’s what the writers supposedly wanted to achieve according to interviews and the very pilot episode itself.

That requires Rapunzel learning and growing. She can’t be in the mentor role. She can’t be the one to give out sage advice if she is the one who is meant to grow the most. She not there yet. She’s not experienced enough to fulfill that place in the narrative.  

Season one may have been repetitive in it’s lessons but it at least tried to show Rapunzel owning up to mistakes and changing as a person, but here and in season three they toss that out the window and have Rapunzel teaching other people lessons instead. People who ultimately don’t matter to the overall narrative. 

Instead of showing her growing as a person and coming to fit in that role over time due to experience, it has the opposite effect of showing Rapunzel as being patronizing, selfish, and unworthy to rule. Because she has no grounds for having an opinion, no basis for her advice to go off of, no experience to back up what she says, and zero claims for being in charge except for being born in a classist feudal system. 

Had the narrative actually bothered to call out  this instead of just having Cass pitch a hissy fit over nothing, then we could have gotten a really complex character and unique moral to the show, but that’s not what actually happens. 

King Trevor Is the Saving Grace of This Episode

I don’t think the writers realize that Trevor isn’t the hateable douche that they believe him to be. 

Oh sure he’s not nice, he’s essentially the equivalent of an annoying ‘I want to speak to the manager!’ type customer. But there is a huge, huge difference between being a Karen and being a fascist dictator. One’s irritating and the other is actively malicious and a danger to people's lives. 

Frederic might be outwardly more pleasant but he’s still a person who abuses his power in order to harm poor people. Trevor is just a mother-of-bridezilla here and a perfectionist. Like big deal. 

 And to be honest Rapunzel isn’t that much better. 

Like you are a bully Raps. You’re every bit a pushy and demanding as Trevor is, particularly in season three. 

While she’s not actively malicious like Frederic, she’s still a danger to people because she refuses to acknowledge that the power she wields has an impact on others lives and that that impact can indeed be negative. 

There’s something called the banality of evil. That being simply mean to others isn’t how true evil spreads. It’s people refusing to challenge the system, and if you are a part of that system then you are a part of the evil it spreads no matter how nice you are outwardly. 

Rapunzel and the show at large, does not understand the difference between being nice and being kind. It introduces the concept of flawed government and systems but then does nothing to actually challenge it. It forgoes the actual work it takes to make change happen by focusing on easy outs and proformative progressivism. 

Trevor does more than either Frederic or Rapunzel here with this one line alone than they do in three full seasons. 

Eugene did indeed commit a violent crime, no matter how much the show tried to present such a crime as ‘funny’. Trevor is in his legal rights to prosecute the person who tried to kidnap his child/pet and assaulted his personage. 

Yet he’s actually granting mercy here. More than that, he’s inviting them to his child’s/pet’s wedding. He’s offering friendship when he could have had them killed. Because Tevor, for all his faults, recognizes the power the that he wields and then makes the conscious decision not to abuse that power. 

Moreover over he acknowledges the difference between what is a personal offense and not a an attack on his kingdom as a whole. What Eugene and Frederic did could have been considered an act of war and Trevor never even considered that an option. 

It’s sign of bad writing when the person we’re supposed to consider a jerk and a recurring antagonist is more compassionate than the main heroine herself. Even as he jeers and makes an arse of himself. 

This is the Point Where Rapunzel’s Characterization Buckles and Breaks 

At first glance this seems like growth. She’s now assertive and taking charge, and Hook Hand did indeed had this coming, but in context of the greater narrative and how Rapunzel’s character develops past this episode, this is the point where the wheels start to come off. 

Rapunzel is a hypocrite. We’ve established this as a fundamental part of her characterization back in season one and it’s the driving force behind all of the main conflicts with her in the first two seasons. But before now, her hypocrisy at least had consequences. It caused enough problems that if you were paying attention you could see it for the flaw that it was.

But here her hypocrisy is presented as being right. She looks over Hook Hand even as she tells him not to look down on others. She dictates to him how his relationship with his own brother should go, when she has zero context for said relationship. She’s heard only one side of the story and only a piece of it. She doesn’t know what actually went down between them while they were growing up nor does she honestly care why Hook Hand does what he does. Even as she asks him why. 

Yet she is rewarded for this behavior. She’s never called out as wrong. The narrative bends over backwards to accommodate her and reinforces her views. Without direct consequences a character’s flaws are rendered meaningless, and so the character will only frustrate the audience rather than endear themselves to us. 

That is the opposite of what you want to achieve in a story. You want to the audience to like you’re main characters, or at least find them entertaining in their awfulness. Making them right all of the time, even when they’re wrong sabotages this goal. 

Trevor’s Still the Better Person Here 

Like it may not have been Hook Hands fault, but at the end of the day he did screw up at his job and a paying customer has the right to be upset and refuse to work with you again or even demand their money back. That’s what being self-employed means. It’s part of the risk you take as being a contractor.  

Trevor’s not being unreasonable here just because he raised his voice and wants Hook Hand to leave the wedding premises. Yeah the insults are uncalled for, I’ll give you, but remember that Frederic locked a tailor in a stockade for accidently ripping a robe; that he has the ability to fix if he wasn’t locked up. 

And he resolves conflicts and personal insults with a dance off! 

What happened when someone called Frederic out for being a poor leader and endangering lives, oh yeah they wound up in jail! 

Also This Episode’s Big Climax is a Fucking Dance Off

Out of all the low stakes conflicts in this show this is the lowest. 

And it’s coming right off The Great Tree and the big Cassandra vs Rapunzel fight. This shouldn’t be here. It’s throws off the pacing the tone. 

Well I Guess Trevor Kept HIs Word, Which Is More Than What Frederic Would Do 

Like Trevor is defeated and he does indeed complain about losing, but everyone is apparently free to leave afterwards and Hook Hand still has a career so I guess Trevor kept his side of the bargain. Even though he has no reason to and no one to hold him to account for it. He just has a code of honor I guess. 

Meanwhile, Frederic throws a teenager in a dungeon after promising to help him and completely ignores his supposed friend Quirin being encased in amber.  

So What Was the Point In Bringing Hook Foot Along Again? 

What did Hook Foot add? What did he bring to the story that no other character out there could bring? What does writing him out of the story now achieve, and why couldn’t he have been left out of the narrative all together? 

If your answer to all of those question is ‘Nothing!’, then congratulations you have more sense than the showrunners. 

I have seen a few people get angry and suggest that Lance should have been the one to go because getting rid of Hook Foot meant getting rid of the shows main disabled rep, but that’s ignoring that getting rid of Lance would mean getting rid of the shows only real black representation as well. Because tokenism isn’t real representation.  

Yet for all of how poorly handled Lance’s character was, he still has more reason to be there than Hook Foot. He has a unique connection to one of the main characters that, once introduced, would be hard to ignore. There’s nothing connecting Hook Foot to the plot or the main characters, and that’s why he shouldn’t have been in the show at all. Regardless of how much you may have liked him. 

Destiny Isn’t a Goal!!!

How many times do I have to say this!? 

A goal needs to be specific. It needs to have logical motivation behind it. It needs a clear obstacle to be overcome for the character to achieve it. 

A vague ‘destiny’ has none of those things. 

Conclusion 

Meh. That’s the word that best describes this episode and the majority of season two. It’s not the worst thing ever if you just want to shut your brain off for 30 minutes, but it’s not actually good either, and if you stop to think about any of it for more than two seconds it falls apart.  

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/7/2020

I missed THE GOLDEN GLOVE at Fantastic Fest last year. It was one of my only regrets of the whole experience, but it was basically mandatory since the available screenings were opposite the much-hyped PARASITE. As annoying as that sounds, it was actually a major compliment, since what could possibly serve as a consolation prize for the most hotly anticipated movie of the year? Needless to say, I heard great things, but I could never have imagined what it was actually like. I'm still wrapping my mind around it.

Between 1970 and 1975, an exceptionally depraved serial killer named Fritz Honka murdered at least four prostitutes in Hamburg's red light district. Today, we tend to think of the archetypal serial killer in terms of ironic contradictions: The public is attracted by Ted Bundy's dashing looks and suave manner, and John Wayne Gayce's dual careers as politician and party clown. Lacking anything so remarkable, we associate psychopathy with Norman Bates' boy-next-door charm, and repeat "It's always the quiet ones" with a smirk whenever a new Jeffrey Dahmer or Dennis Nilsen is exposed to the public. The popular conception of a bloodthirsty maniac is not the fairytale monster of yore, but a wolf in sheep's clothing, whose hygienic appearance and lifestyle belie his twisted desires. In our post-everything world, the ironic surprise has become the rule. In this light, THE GOLDEN GLOVE represents a refreshing return to naked truth.

To say that writer-director Fatih Akin's version of the Fritz Honka story is shocking, repulsive, and utterly degenerated would be a gross understatement. We first meet the killer frantically trying to dispose of a corpse in his filthy flat, wallpapered with porno pinups, strewn with broken toys, and virtually projecting smell lines off of the screen. One's sense of embodiment is oppressive, even claustrophobic, as the petite Honka tries and fails to collapse the full dead weight of a human corpse into a garbage bag, before giving up and dismembering it, with nearly equal difficulty. The scene is appalling, utterly debased, and yet nothing is as shocking as the killer's visage. When he finally turns to look into the camera, it's hard to believe he's even human: the rolling glass eye, the smashed and inflated nose, the tombstone teeth and cratered skin, are almost too extreme to bear. Actually, suffering from a touch of facial blindness, I had to stare intently at Honka's face for nearly half the movie before I could fully convince myself that I was, in fact, looking at an elaborate prosthetic operation used to transform 23 year old boy band candidate Jonas Dassler into the disfigured 35 year old serial murderer.

Though West Germany remained on a steady economic upturn beginning in the 1950s and throughout the 1970s, you wouldn't know it from THE GOLDEN GLOVE. If Honka's outsides match his insides, they are further matched by his stomping grounds in the Reeperbahn, a dirty, violent, booze-soaked repository for the dregs of humanity. Though its denizens may come from different walks of life, one thing is certain: Whoever winds up there, belongs there. Honka was the child of a communist and grew up in a concentration camp, yet he swills vodka side by side with an ex-SS officer, among other societal rejects, in a crumbling dive called The Golden Glove. The scene is an excellent source of hopeless prostitutes at the end of their career, who are Honka's prime victims, as he is too frightful-looking to ensnare an attractive young girl. These pitiful women all display a peculiarly hypnotic willingness to go along with Honka, no matter how sadistic he becomes; this seems to have less to do with money, which rarely comes up, and more to do with their shared awareness that for them, and for Honka too, it's been all over, for a long time.

Not to reduce someone’s performance to their physical appearance, but ???

To call Dassler's portrayal of Honka "sympathetic" would be a bridge too far, but it is undeniably compelling. He supports the startling impact of his facial prostheses with a performance of rare intensity, a full-body transformation into a person in so much pain that a normal life will never become an option. His physical vocabulary reminded me of the stage version of The Elephant Man, in which the lead actor wears no makeup, but conveys John Merrick's deformities using his body alone. Although there is an abundance of makeup in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, Dassler's silhouette and agonized movements would be recognizable from a mile away. In spite of his near-constant screaming rage, the actor manages to craft a rich and convincing persona. During a chapter in which Honka experiments with sobriety, we find a stunning image of him hunched in the corner of his ordinarily chaotic flat, now deathly still, his eyes gazing at nothing as cigarette smoke seeps from his pores, having no idea what to do with himself when he isn't in a rolling alcoholic rampage. The moment is brief but haunting in its contrast to the rest of the film, having everything to do with Dassler's quietly vibrating anxiety.

Performances are roundly excellent here, not that least of which are from Honka's victims. The cast of middle-aged actresses looking their most disastrous is hugely responsible for the film's impact. These are the kinds of performances people call "brave", which is a euphemism for making audiences uncomfortable with an uncompromising presentation of one's own self, unvarnished by any masturbatory solicitation. Among these women is Margarete Tiesel, herself no stranger to difficult cinema: She was the star of 2012's PARADISE: LOVE, a harrowing drama about a woman who copes with her midlife crisis by pursuing sex tourism in Kenya. Her brilliant, instinctive performance as one of Honka's only survivors--though she nearly meets a fate worse than death--makes her the leading lady of a movie that was never meant to have one.

So, what does all this unpleasantness add up to, you might be asking? It's hard to say. THE GOLDEN GLOVE is a film of enormous power, but it can be difficult to explain what the point of it is, in a world where most people feel that the purpose of art is to produce some form of pleasure. This is the challenge faced by difficult movies throughout history, like THE GOLDEN GLOVE's obvious ancestors, HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, MANIAC and THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE. Describing unremitting cruelty with relentless realism is not considered a worthy endeavor by many, even if there is real artistry in your execution; some people will even mistake you for advocating and enjoying violence and despair, as we live in a world where huge amount of movie and TV production is devoted to aspirational subjects. (The fact that people won't turn away from the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies, no matter how monotonous and condescending they become, should tell you something) How do you justify to such people, that you want to make or see work that portrays ugliness and evil with as much commitment as other movies seek to portray love, beauty, and family values? Why isn't it enough to say that these things exist, and their existence alone makes them worth contemplation?

A rare, perhaps exclusive “beautiful image” in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, from Fritz Honka’s absurd fantasies.

You may detect that I have attempted to have this frustrating conversation with many people, strangers, enemies, and friends I love and respect. I find that for some, it is simply too hard to divorce themselves from the pleasure principle. I don't say this to demean them; some hold the philosophy that art be reserved for beauty, and others have a more literary feeling that it's ok to show characters in grim circumstances, as long as the ultimate goal is to uplift the human spirit. Even I draw the line somewhere; I appreciate the punk rebellion of Troma movies as a cultural force, but I do not enjoy watching them, because I dislike what I perceive as contempt for the audience and the aestheticization of laziness--making something shitty more or less on purpose. A step or three up from that, you land in Todd Solondz territory, where you find materially gorgeous movies whose explicit statement is that our collective reverence for a quality called "humanity" is based on nothing. I like some of those movies, and sometimes I even like them when I don't like them, because I'm entranced by Solondz's technical proficiency...and maybe, deep down, I'm not completely convinced about "humanity", either. However, I don't fight very hard in arguments about him; I understand the objections. Still, I've been surprised by peers who I think of as bright and tasteful, who absolutely hated movies I thought were unassailable, like OLDBOY and WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN. In both cases, the ultimate objection was that they accuse humans of being pretentious and self-deceptive, aspiring to heroism or bemoaning their victimhood while wallowing in their own cowardice and perversity. Ok, I get it...but, not really. Why isn't it ever wholly acceptable to discuss, honestly, what we do not like about ourselves?

The beguiling thing about THE GOLDEN GLOVE is that, although it is instantly horrifying, is it also an impeccable production. The director can't help showing you crime scene photos during the ending credits, and I can't really blame him, when his crew worked so hard to bring us a vision of Fritz Honka's world that approaches virtual reality. But it isn't just slavishly realistic; it is vivid, immersive, an experience of total sensory overload. Not a square inch of this movie has been left to chance, and the product of all this graceful control is totally spellbinding. I started to think to myself that, when you've achieved this level of artifice, what really differentiates a movie like THE GOLDEN GLOVE from something like THE RED SHOES? I mean, aside from their obvious narrative differences. Both films plunge the viewer into a world that is complete beyond imagination, crafted with a rigor and sincerity that is rarely paralleled. And, I will dare to say, both films penetrate to the depths of the human soul. What Fatih Akin finds there is not the same as what Powell and Pressburger found, of course, but I don't think that makes it any less real. Akin's film is adapted from a novel by Heinz Strunk, and apparently, some critics have accused Akin of leaving behind the depth and nuance of the book, to focus instead on all that is gruesome about it. This may be true, on some level; I wouldn't know. For now, I can only insist that on watching THE GOLDEN GLOVE, for all its grotesquerie, I still got the message.

[seyaryminamoto]

Hiiiiii - read your Iroh and Ursa metas, loved them. Might I ask if you've any equally Hot Takes on the fandom's favorite punching bags - The Great Divide and Avatar Day?

Uuuuh well.

If the hot take is expected to be “they’re GREAT episodes!”, I… I’m afraid I’ll disappoint :’D I dislike them both, but who knows? Maybe my reasons for disliking them are different than other people’s?

My problem with The Great Divide is a little personal: that was the first episode I ever watched of ATLA, and if only I’d caught another one, anything slightly more plot-relevant than that, I might have become a fan of the show much sooner. I watched it, found certain things entertaining, others not so much, and concluded ATLA was a “monster of the week” show masquerading as a show with a plot. Which… made it less interesting to me, by mere logic. I was also very much a teenager back then, and while I still had decent instincts as far as storytelling was concerned, they weren’t as polished as they are now. So I didn’t really see much of ATLA worth my while in The Great Divide, and so, from a personal point of view, it’s not at all amongst my favorite episodes.

Upon rewatching the show in full, I was more forgiving of the Great Divide, not only because I understood the show’s dynamics better, but because ATLA actually has other episodes that, while featuring occasional relevant information and characters, could also feature not-so-relevant developments later on. So it’s not just Avatar Day and the Great Divide: the Fortuneteller, while a pretty liked episode, is honestly about as lacking in plot-heavy developments as those two are. Yet most people like that one :’) why’s that? Shippy reasons? Weeeell…

The truth is, if you ask me, that the Great Divide and Avatar Day and the Fortuneteller are episodes that allow the plot to slow down. This wasn’t so good in the early stages of Book 1, where slowing the plot too much actually made you forget there was a plot altogether… but when you watch the show as a whole, those moments of less tension, featuring Aang resolving problems and saving lives of completely ordinary people, were actually pretty good for what they were. That, in particular, is something I missed in Book 3: Team Avatar minus Zuko certainly do their best to help common people here and there through the first half of Book 3, but Zuko never does (and then when Zuko joins them, they never really do that again). What would I give for an episode where Zuko actually had to reason with the harm the war has caused not only to the Earth Kingdom, but to his own people… frankly, that oversight from the writing department is still absolutely absurd to me.

So, my problem with the Great Divide and Avatar Day isn’t that they weren’t plot relevant. My initial problem with the Great Divide, like I said earlier, was personal. But there’s also the feeling that not enough growth for the main characters takes place in these episodes: Aang resolved the Great Divide’s problem in the goofiest way he could. It was funny, creative and helpful, and kind of unexpected for your kind-hearted hero to lie to deal with a problem… though it also makes the situation more complex because of that, since he’s doing something ethically incorrect to establish peace between warring tribes. He did an objectively bad thing… for good purposes. So… it’s complicated, but it’s cool. It’s not half-bad as a concept that the show could explore. 

Nonetheless, you can’t feel a HUGE, PALPABLE CHANGE in the relationship between Sokka and Katara after this episode. You really don’t. They spend the bulk of the episode at odds with each other, and they set aside their problems later… but everything they do, post-Great Divide, really doesn’t look like they learned a lot from their clashing, such as how to see things from each other’s POV or being more fair with each other… I, at least, don’t feel much of a change. No idea if other people see it differently, but they continue to clash pretty wildly later on, particularly in Book 3. So, did they learn something at all? If not… then the episode does end up feeling rather pointless because it doesn’t feel like the characters really are impacted by what happened in it, right?

And that, beyond anything else, is what makes these sorts of episodes feel like filler content: The Ember Island Players WAS filler content, absolutely, but you have scenes such as Zuko talking to Toph about Iroh, or Aang and Katara’s catastrophic rejected kiss, and it feels like SOMETHING happened in the episode even if in general it didn’t do anything plot-heavy. But aside from these small scenes that offer characters a chance to make at least a little progress (whether forward or backwards…), you even get a chance to see how the Fire Nation views the war, how they see themselves, how they see their Fire Lord. Even there, the show is giving you information that helps in the worldbuilding of the show. This is absent in The Great Divide, where the two warring tribes are never seen or heard of again, and they’re not exactly relevant because of that. Do they add some diversity to what we ought to perceive of the Earth Kingdom? Yes. Is it useful for anyone other than the rare fic writer who decides to use these characters for something? (never really seen it but I bet it has happened) Honestly, no.

Now, Avatar Day is annoying to me for another personal reason, even if it connects with some of what I said above: I HATE the way Sokka is characterized in this episode. I have more than enough qualms with how he’s characterized for many episodes in Book 2, but this one takes the cake.

Sokka is usually sharper than everyone else, helpful, resourceful, even when no one is really acknowledging it. Often he’s the voice of reason, the one who figures out what’s going on (such as in the Cave of Two Lovers, where he realizes the tunnels are changing, just to name one thing), but Avatar Day decided to feature him obsessing with acting as an investigator, and he kept stopping Katara from making the big reveals because HE had to do it, and she just rolled her eyes at him all along (from the get-go too, since she goads him into investigating by spurring his ego and yet she still is shown visibly annoyed when he starts raving about how he figured out the seal jerky thing back in the Water Tribe). All of this is to make Sokka a punchline of the “Katara is the smart one” joke that doesn’t even work when you take the rest of the show into account :’) so… this particular thing will ALWAYS rub me the wrong way with Avatar Day.

From this episode, I do like that Aang has to deal with people who hate him because he’s the Avatar. I always complained about how LOK basically had everyone swooning and adoring Korra even if they hated her, everyone constantly in awe of her prowess and talent, and those who DIDN’T like her were constantly shown as unreasonable jerks, such as the kid who throws that snowball at her, and we’re supposed to feel bad when she calls Korra the worst Avatar ever :’) we are REALLY expected to feel bad and to dislike the kid… when we literally watched Aang dealing with a mob that sentenced him to boil in oil for his past life’s crimes, and who burned effigies in his image. Right. A spiteful little kid is so very harmful, so heartbreaking, so jarring. Wow.

What I like about Avatars dealing with people disliking them, be it for solid reasons or for stupid ones, is that it feels REAL. Because it makes sense that people wouldn’t have an unanymous opinion of the Avatar as the savior of all the world, it makes sense that there’d be people who are jerks because they don’t like him on principle (or lack thereof). It’s normal, natural, completely common in human beings to just see something popular and go “MEEEEH I’VE SEEN BETTER”. And that’s what Avatar Day gave me, as far as worldbuilding is concerned.

As for more worldbuilding, Avatar Day certainly offered more insight on Kyoshi, but while most people found that fascinating and the insight in question absolutely wonderful because oh woooow she bends LAVA, I found it damning instead. If you need to know why… feel free to read this post (seeing as you like my controversial opinions you might even enjoy the whole thing x’D). While there’s some new novels now about Kyoshi that shed more light on who she was and how she did the things she did, I have certain gripes with some of the ideas I’ve heard those novels bring up. All in all, though, they shouldn’t change what canon brings forward with Kyoshi’s behavior with Chin: just in case you didn’t read that ask, I’ll say that my problem isn’t that she killed Chin, if anything, my problem is that she only killed him when he only had two places left to conquer. 

She wouldn’t sit passively while he took her home. Because, uh, that’s the only place the almighty Avatar had to defend, I suppose. 

Basically, Chin pulled a Kuvira with no opposition because the Avatar apparently didn’t care to involve herself in this particular problem until he was knocking on her door. Seriously? Best Avatar ever? Oookay then…

So, my favorite Gaang member, turned into a bad joke and unable to tell he’s been turned into a joke + the birth of a fandom-wide circlejerk around a character because she bent lava, nevermind the implications of her disregard for a tyrant’s conquest until it reached her doorstep + the worst point of Zuko’s theft spree = I don’t like this episode :’)

Avatar Day’s only redeeming quality for me, like I said, is Chin Village’s Avatar-hating ways, but ONLY as a concept. Even so, I wish they’d tackled that particular matter far more seriously than they did, because sure, Chin Village’s villagers were damn stupid, but hating the Avatar because she killed someone they idolized wasn’t exactly a far-fetched motivation. Where you’d think this could even serve as a sort of parallel between Zuko and Aang, where they both find themselves as the new heirs of their respective, long legacies, legacies full of people who did good and bad things, and the ones being held accountable for those bad things are THEM, however unfair it might be…? The show just turned the whole damn thing into a joke. And that’s just a real waste of screentime. I’m not against ATLA’s comedic episodes at all, not as a concept, and I really like the show’s humor in general… but this episode absolutely could have used less of it, especially when offering an opportunity for Aang to actually find out that his past lives aren’t at all as idealistic and righteous as he might have thought they were, or, at the very least, he could have reflected on the fact that they didn’t necessarily share his principles and beliefs. But nope. Missed opportunity, right there.

In short… I suppose people dislike Avatar Day because of similar reasons why I do, I can’t say for sure. I assume people dislike the Great Divide for its filler-nature and general irrelevance to the show, and that’s pretty reasonable? But in my opinion, the problem with so-called filler content is that it ought to be used to expand on characters, to further develop them, they should be a chance to slow down and offer introspection during a brief chance that opens up when heavy plots give the viewers, and the characters, a chance to pause and breathe for a while. Both Avatar Day and the Great Divide fail at this particular wishful standard I impose on fillers, though. And that, along with my personal reasons, is why they’d be part of my personal “least liked episodes of ATLA” list, if I were to make one. It isn’t to say there aren’t a few redeeming qualities in both episodes, I hope I made that clear… but that’s not enough to offset the negatives in this case.

Also, I brought up the Fortuneteller too as an example for a filler episode that actually doesn’t achieve much, same as these two don’t. I actually enjoy this episode quite a bit? The animation is really good and smooth here. But that’s neither here nor there :’) 

The Fortuneteller certainly emphasized Aang’s crush on Katara, it also expanded on Katara’s character by showing how she’s so quick to believe fortunetelling, as opposed to Sokka, who absolutely doesn’t believe any of it. This generated a ridiculous but fun dynamic between the three characters through the episode, and it added Meng to the mix as well by featuring her as the girl Sokka misunderstands Aang is pining over. There’s a lot of silly comedy, but it’s in a much nicer way (in my opinion) than the one presented by Avatar Day, especially as it emphasizes elements of the character’s personalities: Sokka’s unwillingness to believe in spiritual nonsense, DESPITE he has already been caught up in Spirit World shenanigans, Aang’s hopeless pining over Katara and Aunt Wu’s encouragement for him to find his own destiny instead of being trapped by whatever she told him, and Katara’s obsession with asking Aunt Wu about EVERYTHING in her life up until the point where she finds herself considering that the super powerful bender she’ll marry could be Aang.

In general, this episode does handle its filler qualities as best as possible. But, and this is a problem I’ve seen brought up by other people before, it’s also an episode that features Katara pondering maybe Aang could be her one true love… only for the next episode to absolutely forsake that plotline and go for a wholly different subject. Which is, of course, fine… the problem is, we could’ve had Katara treating Aang slightly differently if she found herself thinking of him in a new light. That she didn’t treat him visibly differently, if anything, makes it look like right after her “He really is a powerful bender…” reveal, she just went “NAAAAAH, no way it would be him” and just decided to push aside all romantic possibilities with Aang until the Cave of Two Lovers. Which, considering Kataang is the endgame couple, is honestly another fumble by the writing department, as following up on this development would have easily silenced all those detractors of the ship who have interpreted the whole show under the tried and tired guise of “but she’s just mothering hiiiiiim!”.

One great thing about romance is watching it grow steadily, gradually… and when you have such big moments you ought to follow up on them, to a fault. It didn’t even have to be acknowledged in any massive ways, but it could have been acknowledged by featuring Katara wearing the necklace Aang weaved for her during later episodes, or something like that. But… there’s nothing palpable. Nothing serious. And this isn’t to say Kataang is lesser for it, but it would have been greater if the next episode had addressed the pending elephant in the room instead of going around it and pretending it didn’t exist at all.

So, while the filler in ATLA in general is better than the frequent fillers from anime, for instance, or than fillers in certain liveaction TV shows… it’s not quite perfect, let alone is it always top-tier writing that, while slowing down the plot, allows proper character introspection and growth. I really do like the Fortuneteller, as usual Aang’s work to help of those who need him is probably my favorite thing about his character and it shows in spades in this episode. The comedy is really great here, and I love the way Sokka is portrayed here… as opposed to how he’s portrayed in the Great Divide and Avatar Day, where not only does it feel like he didn’t grow at all, it also feels like he’s reduced to slapstick comedy with zero respect for his character. So… yeah. I don’t really like those two episodes, not out of any genuine disliking of fillers for what they can be, but because, as far as chances to slow down plot and developments go, both Avatar Day and The Great Divide really didn’t do it the way I would’ve wanted them to.

[jackfollmanwriter-blog]

The Phantom

No one knew more about the West Texas Phantom than grizzlymane415.

I exhausted all of the available information online - the Wikipedia page, the citations on the Wikipedia page, the weird blogspots, wordpresses and even a couple of Angelfires back in the day, the annoying slideshows which promised shocking revelations, but delivered none and just crashed my browser - they had all been laid to waste. My last bastion for any good information about the Phantom was an unsolved murder subreddit populated by other lonely weirdos who were probably collecting unemployment checks and ignoring the creepy messages on their numerous online dating profiles.

The group was great for the passionate discussions about the Phantom I could only have with complete, anonymous strangers who didn't assume I was some kind of sociopathic serial killer myself when I wanted to talk about my fascination with the still free killer of more than 20 people who stalked the plains and oil fields of West Texas in the late-80s. The group was also well-stocked with fascinating theories, like how the Phantom may have been a railroad conductor, or how he was a well-known high school football coach named Butch whose crimes were covered up to protect his legacy.

I also relished when some "newb" would wander into the group and start spouting out information we all had already dissected down to the finest molecule. It got to the point where I put a sticky on top of the page which focused on the six principle pieces of information which defined the Phantom and led to  my gang's particular fascination with him. Unless someone had NEW information about any of these principles, any posts about them would be promptly deleted.

The Phantom took all of his victims in broad daylight (whether or not they were killed during the day was up for debate)

All of the Phantom's victims were regular women, not the common prostitute victims most serial killers claimed

He used an 1894 Marlin Model rifle. An incredibly rare and valuable weapon.

It is likely he had a regular, white collar job as his killing sprees tended to take place just once a year in two-week spans.

It is possible he used railroads for transportation as nearly all of his killings took place near rail stops.

Tracks from a 1959 Chevrolet Apache truck were found leaving a few of the scenes.

However, none of this fully-satisfied my appetite for discovery. The only person who was able to do that was grizzlymane415.

It all started when grizzlymane415 posted viciously gruesome autopsy photos of one of the Phantom's first victims. The images were so horrifying I felt I should have put that white powder they use in autopsy rooms in cop shows/movies underneath my nostrils so I didn't vomit all over my keyboard. Full disclosure, about 90 percent of what I know about crime comes directly from TV and movies.

RachWhov: How did you get that?

I couldn't have typed the question fast enough. I never got an answer.

That would be far from the last juicy nuggets grizzlymane415 would post. Within days, he posted a copy of a letter to a news reporter at the Lubbock Avalanche-Journal. The letter took credit for the first three murders which had been attributed to the Phantom and another I had never heard of which had never been connected to the Phantom.

RachWhov: Where did you get that?

I would get an answer this time from grizzlymane415, but not necessarily to that exact question.

(Note, for some reason, grizzlymane415 always typed in all caps. Sorry, I know)

grizzlymane415: THE PHANTOM LEFT CLUES EVERYWHERE. HE WAS ACTUALLY ONE OF THE SLOPPIEST SERIAL KILLERS TO NEVER GET CAUGHT. SOMETIMES I THINK HE DID IT ON PURPOSE. DID YOU KNOW HE USED TO TAKE MONEY FROM THE WALLETS OF EACH VICTIM AND THEIR JEWELRY TO RAISE AT LEAST SOME DOUBT IN THE COPS' MINDS THAT MAYBE HIS VICTIMS WERE SIMPLE VICTIMS OF ROBBERY?

RachWhov: I never heard that.

grizzlymane415: IT'S TRUE. CHECK ALL THE CASES. DO A LITTLE MORE GOOGLE SEARCHING. YOU WILL SEE SOME OF THE THEORIES.

grizzlymane415 was right. Everything I could find online suggest The Phantom had stolen money from each victim and their jewelry. Reports never seemed to focus on that too much, but it was occasionally mentioned. While it was never really mentioned in the stories, online threads and comment threads on stories frequently pointed it out, sometimes with foolish dissenters chiming in that he was just a random thief or many of his killings were just random robberies in the area which were attributed to him.

grizzlymane415: DON'T BELIEVE THE FOOLS THAT SAY IT WASN'T HIM EITHER. THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT. THE COPS KEPT TABS ON ALL THE PAWN SHOPS AND GOLD BUYERS IN TEXAS AND NONE OF THAT JEWELRY EVER WAS SOLD AGAIN. SO IT WAS NOT SOMEONE KILLING FOR A QUICK BUCK.

RachWhov: I believe that, it wouldn't make a whole lotta sense.

grizzlymane415: AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE CRAZY PART YET. THE JEWELRY SHOWED UP AGAIN, BUT IT WASN'T SOLD.

RachWhov: What?

grizzlymane415: CORRECT. THE JEWELRY STARTED SHOWING UP ON STATUES AROUND CHURCHES IN TEXAS. ANY VIRGIN MARY STATUES THAT HAD FINGERS WHICH COULD FIT THE RINGS OR NECKS FOR NECKLACES.

grizzlymane415 attached a few pictures of virgin Mary statues with rings and necklaces on them in what looked like Texas settings. The hair on my arms stood at attention. It was enough for me to put the brakes on the forum, and grizzlymane415, for a little while. I slunk back to my other favorite haunts of the Internet – Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, OKCupid – for a little while to stay safe and warm.

But I had to go back to the forum. At first I thought I would just ignore grizzlymane415, check out other cases, chat with my other super non-creepy, anonymous Internet friends, but I just couldn't do it. Here was my dream. Someone who could help me solve the crime which had engrossed and haunted me for years and I was going to run away because I was a scared, little girl? Plus, what's the worst that could happen? It was an anonymous board.

I cracked.

RachWhov: Where did you get those pictures.

grizzlymane415: THINGS ARE OUT THERE. HAVE YOU READ ABOUT THE JUDY PARCH AND PETRA HOLLIVER MURDERS?

RachWhov: Nope.

Tip – don't ever Google the Judy Parch and Petra Holliver murders. It is one of those cases which cues up first-page results of gruesome photos which will cling to your brain like an old stick of gum burned onto the sidewalk of a city street. My search pulled up a black and white photo of two women who I assumed were Judy and Petra clinging to each other in the backseat of a car, a blood-drenched blanket just not quite covering the damage of their faces.

To me, it wasn't even the gore of the photo which struck me so hard. It was the image of these two women who were clinging together like the last thing they wanted to do in the world was let each other know they loved one another before they suffered the world's great insult. They didn't even get the respect of having their final moments filled out with color. Nor, did they get the closure of having their case solved. Which brings me to one of the first major curiosities of grizzlymane415.

The murders of Judy Parch and Petra Holliver had never been connected to The Phantom in any way that I could find. Plus, they were murdered more than 1,000 miles away from The Phantom's stomping grounds of West Texas in Yucaipa, California, 50 miles or so outside of Los Angeles.

Overall there wasn't much information about the murder of Judy and Petra, other than a few archived articles from 1990 in the The Press-Enterprise in Riverside, California and some brief cold case pages. Not even a Wikipedia page frustratingly lacking of hyperlinks to other stories to engross yourself in. Their murder was just a little footnote in the murder history of the Inland Empire of California.

RachWhov: There is nothing at all on the Internet which connects The Phantom to the murder of Judy and Petra. Where are you getting this?

grizzlymane415: CHECK THE RECORDS ON THE CASE. OTHER THAN THE LOCATION, IT ALL POINTS TO THE PHANTOM. REMEMBER YOUR OWN PRINCIPLES ON THE TOP OF THIS PAGE.

I did live in California, but hours away from Yucaipa, so driving out there to check their public records search wasn't in the cards. However, my fascination with The Phantom runs deep, and I was able to get in touch with an old high school classmate who lived in Yucaipa who I Paypalled cash in return for wasting a Saturday morning and afternoon going through old murder records for me.

grizzlymane415 was correct, the Yucaipa muders covered all of the bases of my principles except the sixth.

The bodies of Judy and Petra were found just before sunset on a February day, meaning they were murdered sometime during the day.

Both women worked for the school district and were married, with children. They were in no way prostitutes or people who operated in "risky" behavior.

Ballistics showed the women were shot with an 1894 Marlin rifle.

The women's murder occurred in middle of the two-week stretch of The Phantom's last killing spree.

The bodies were found less than a mile from train tracks.

RachWhov: You were right. Everything adds up to Judy and Petra being victims of The Phantom. Why is this not out there anywhere? Couldn't that bring a huge break in the case?

grizzlymane415:

RachWhov: I get it, cops suck, but this isn't right. Have you told the police there?

I didn't get an answer. A week went by.

RachWhov: ???

Another week.

grizzlymane415: I THOUGHT YOU WERE CAPABLE OF NOT NEEDING HAND HOLDING ON THIS, BUT JUDY WAS THE WIFE OF THE POLICE CHIEF IN YUCAIPA. YOU THINK HE WAS VERY INTERESTED IN KEEPING THE DETAILS OF HIS WIFE GETTING MURDERED IN THE BACKSEAT OF A CAR, HALF NAKED WITH ANOTHER WOMAN IN THE PUBLIC EYE? YOU DO THE MATH.

Another curiosity. I couldn't find anywhere, or in anything my friend from Yucaipa sent me where it said Judy and Petra were "half naked" when they were shot. A self-taught expert on my murder myself, I knew this reeked of a detail cops would deliberately leave out of public record to filter out false confessions. Something only the actual killer would know about the murder.

My house grew cold in the middle of an 80-degree day even though I didn't have air conditioning. It's entirely possible grizzlymane415 was completely making this detail up, or it was something he had heard through word of mouth, but those goosebumps upon my arms also knew another thing most self-taught murder experts learn in their 101 class. Murderers love to brag about their work, even though they know it almost always leads to them being caught.

I went over to the front door of my house and checked the lock.

I cut off all communication with grizzlymane415. He probably wasn't really The Phantom, but at best, he was an asshole who was trying to get underneath my skin. I didn't need that. I already had three online dating profiles adept at connecting me with sociopathic beta males who get off on messing with your head.

I remained on the board. I couldn't pass the monotony of semi-employed life and single woman living in a town of just 16,000 without the comfort of faceless online companionship which revolves around the cold murders of human souls.

Things were fine for quite a while, probably a few weeks, before I received another message out of the blue from grizzlymane415.

grizzlymane415:

grizzlymane415: KNOW WHAT THAT IS?

I didn't have to even look it up. I just assumed it was an 1894 Marlin rifle.

He was probably some dumb fuck 15-year-old boy fucking with me who pulled the image off of Google or a gun message board or something, but I can't act like I wasn't totally scared shitless by the thing.

My response came in the form of deleting my account. It may have been the hardest thing I have ever done in my life, but it was all I could do to keep my sanity. It wasn't worth it. Sorry Reddit.

*

Tyler came back in the heat of summer. I flinched when I heard the familiar rumble of his old motorcycle pull into the gravel of my driveway. Tears welled into the corner of my eyes when I walked out onto my rickety porch to see him pulling his helmet off of his shaggy brown hair.

Tyler and I were engaged, technically maybe still engaged. We never officially broke it off.

We met just after college, when both of us were fighting off the adult world by being full-time snowboard bums in Tahoe. We moved in with each other in just a couple of months out of financial convenience, but somehow dated just casually for a few years before we turned up the heat.

Tyler finally proposed about a year before this. That's when things started to get weird between us. I don't think either of us could take the pressure. Engagement meant we were creeping towards adulthood – getting real jobs, paying taxes, moving off the mountain. We decided we would start working on getting "real jobs" in Reno - maybe even Sacramento. We got a rustic rental house in Truckee, California to stay in an earthy little town, but still get a little bit away from Tahoe and try to figure out our lives.

We were in no way ready and took it out on each other. I shocked myself when I discovered I was in no way interested in an office or professional job after a few interviews where I felt I wanted to rip the business casual outfit off of my body and run out into the snow to do what I truly wanted to do with life.

Even more shockingly, Tyler went in the other direction. A quick taste of an internship at a law firm stoked the fire of opportunity which apparently burned inside of him once you got past the haze of weed smoke, shaggy hair and dirty beard.

Tyler came home late from work one night, told me about his plan to move us to the Bay Area where he had a full-time job opportunity lined up and we slowly but surely slipped into a fight which led to him driving off on his motorcycle to go to "San Francisco."

It would be more than six months before he would come back.

I couldn't believe it was him when I saw Tyler walk up the porch, but he didn't let me get a word out before he grabbed me sternly on the back of the head and pulled me in for a kiss. We went inside the house without a word spoken and headed to the bedroom.

We would exchange a few words for the next hour or so, but it would be dark before we had a real conversation.

"How was San Francisco?" I broke the numbing sound of our breathing as we laid in bed.

Tyler just gave a dismissive laugh.

"Not good?"

"No. I was just only there for like three weeks, sleeping on Mike's couch. Couldn't get a job, couldn't afford to live there."

I could tell Tyler was embarrassed when he responded. He knew what question was coming next. He tried to distract me by grabbing the modest engagement ring he gave me months before out of the pocket of his jeans which were sprawled next to us on the bed. He slid the ring onto my ring finger.

"Did you go to your parents?"

"Yeah," Tyler almost whispered his answer before he kissed me behind my ear lobe.

I figured Tyler ran back to the comfort of his parents' five-bedroom house on the coast in Orange County once he said San Francisco didn't work out. I would have done the same, but swap out Orange for Marin.

"What...

Tyler pushed his index finger upon my lips.

"Let's not ruin the moment. Talk about that stuff now. We're just going to get into a fight about it."

"Okay," I agreed, upping the pitch on the second half of the phrase.

"How the fuck is it so hot in here?" Tyler broke the silence and jump up out of the bed naked.

Tyler shuffled over to the large bay window doors of the master bedroom of the house, unlatched them and pushed them out onto the little deck which housed a few pots filled with neglected plants about 10 feet up off of the ground below. I admired Tyler as he stood in the pale moonlight the open doorway let in, his back to me, his arms outstretched. I slipped the ring off of my finger and placed it in a little crystal bowl I kept by the side of my bed.

Tyler yawned when he turned back to me and crawled into bed. He pulled another item out of his jean pocket before I could ask another question.

"You still?" Tyler sheepishly offered up a pipe.

"Yeah, yeah," I took the pipe right after Tyler filled it.

I lied. I hadn't smoked since Tyler left. Too poor. Too depressed and honestly too lazy to go out and get weed myself.

I took a heavy, heavy hit and deflated back down onto the bed. It felt divine.

I watched Tyler take a stiff hit himself. Turned down his second offer.

The hit kicked the malaise and fatigue which was pumping through my veins into overdrive. It wasn't long before I was struggling to keep my eyes open. I could tell I was going to fall asleep before 10 and that was fine for me. I let it come, a cool, gentle breeze drifted through the open bay window doors and gave me a kiss goodnight.

*

I woke up with a calm in my blood I had not felt in quite some time. The comfort of no longer sleeping alone seemed to put my soul at ease. The fresh morning sun of Summer was shining bright through the open door, melting away the refreshing cold of morning. It was just about a damn perfect morning. The kind you would see in a commercial for coffee.

I yawned and looked over to Tyler asleep on his back next to me, the pipe comically rested on his shoulder like the parrot of a pirate. I moved a little bit closer to him but hoped to not wake him at the same time.

My attempt to keep Tyler awake didn't work. He weaved his hand into mine as soon as I slipped over to his side of the bed.

"What happened to the ring?" Tyler said with a froggy, morning throat.

"Oh, uh. I took it off. My fingers swell up in my sleep sometimes, so I don't sleep with rings on. But I can put it back on."

I stretched my body back over across my side of the bed and blindly dropped my hand down into the little bowl. The ring wasn't there. I furiously scanned my hand around the dish a number of times.

"What the hell?"

"What?"

"The ring is gone?"

"You sure you didn't just put it somewhere else?"

"Yes."

I got up out of bed and stood over my nightstand. The ring was not in the bowl or anywhere near it. I dropped hard down to the floor and combed the slick hardwood, looked underneath the bed and behind the nightstand. It was nowhere to be found.

Crawling on all fours, I turned my attention to the floor which led to the open deck door. Quickly stopped dead in my tracks.

Ever-so-faintly pressed into the dust of the floor were boot tracks – the tread of the boots looking like cookie cutter stamps of dog kibble upon the floor.

"Shit."

I traced the tracks to the open door of the deck.

"We didn't just lose a thousand dollars, did we?" Tyler asked from behind.

"That's the last thing I am worried about right now," I shot back. "I think someone came in here and took the ring last night."

It took Tyler a few seconds to reply, but when he did, his voice carried the tenor or building fright.

"Are you serious?"

I turned to see Tyler looking down at me.

"You're joking, right?" He added.

I looked down at the boot tracks one more time.

"Unless you walked around here with boots last night and lost the ring, I'm not."

My mind instantly went to grizzlymane415. I hadn't communicated with him for a while, but he was the last creepy thing taking up residence inside the dark recesses of my brain.

But how the hell could he have tracked me down?

I never shared any personal information with grizzlymane415. There was no information on my profile. I was unsearchable on Facebook and pretty much everything else and he didn't even have my real name. Even RachWhov didn't have a direct connection to me. Rach was short for my middle name and Whov was a play on my last name of Hoover, but the combination of those two would lead nowhere.

Oh shit. Nevermind.

The thought building in my brain shut down every single sense of my body for a moment.

Instagram. Fuck.

My username on the Instagram account I hadn't updated in nearly a year was RachWhov and it was a  picture journal of my life for the past few years, including a fine documentation where I visually bragged about our killer little house in Truckee.

"You think someone climbed up onto our deck in the middle of the night, snuck in here, grabbed just the ring, nothing else, and left without us waking up?" Tyler asked from over by the deck.

"Uh huh. We, were, high."

"Well that's comforting," Tyler snipped before turning back around to me. "Who the hell could have done that?"

"No idea."

I lied. I was not yet ready to tell anyone else about my online life and I myself was far from convinced grizzlymane415 was the one who took the ring. It was a pretty outrageous thought that he found my Instagram and was able to find exactly where I lived and snuck into my bedroom and stole the ring.

I logged into my Reddit account to see if I had received any new messages from grizzlymane415.  

grizzlymane415: WHERE DID YOU GO?

grizzlymane415: SORRY IF I WAS A DICK. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS SHIT?!?!?!?

What followed was a link to an article detailing a string of three murders which had taken place across the Southwest over the past couple of weeks – one in West Texas, one in New Mexico, one outside of Las Vegas. All three had the calling cards of The Phantom, including taking place in a two-week cluster. Worse yet, they occurred in the order which suggested The Phantom was moving in a Northwest pattern, right towards Northern California.

grizzlymane: HE'S BACK.............

I typed up: Where do you live?

Was about to hit Enter...

"Hey," Tyler's voice shot up from behind me in the living room.

I jumped up out of my seat, scrambled to close my browser.

"You looking at porn?" Tyler quipped from behind me.

"No."

Tyler let out a deep exhale.

"I found something weird in the mailbox."

Tyler pushed a bullet into my face. I don't think I had ever actually seen one in-person so it would have been a jarring vision even if he hadn't explained it was resting in our mailbox.

"It was just sitting in there. There weren't letters or anything else."

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

"What?"

"This just has me totally freaked out."

"Well let's go down and talk to the cops."

Tyler had a good idea for the first time in a really long time.

"I gotta take my motorcycle down to Devin's shop anyways."

He followed it up with a really bad one.

"Just take my car with me. We should go together."

"Devin just texted me. If I don't get it down there in like twenty minutes, I won't be able to get it looked at till Monday and I might need it this weekend. I'll just meet you at the station."

I didn't even want to know why Tyler might need his motorcycle for the weekend.

"Fine."

"Alright," Tyler grabbed his motorcycle helmet before he had even finished the word.

"Wait," I pleaded.

Tyler was already out the door.

"Motherfucker."

I could still see the dust lingering from the tires of Tyler's motorcyle when I walked out into our dirt driveway. I fought the urge to call him. He wouldn't answer anyway.

The morning glow which made the start of the day so glorious was long gone. A hazy sky of moist gray hung above, threatening rain and a cold wind whipped around the side of the house.

I jumped into my battered Ford Focus. Shook my head to myself about Tyler's ridiculous selfishness, wondered if I should just say fuck it and drive straight to my parents' house in Marin, but I couldn't do it. It was only about a 10 minute drive down the highway to the station and I was pretty sure the cops would be able to at least bring me some soul relief for a little while.                             

The road from our house to the main highway was probably the last road I wanted to be on at the moment. It was a glorified gravel road, lined with trees and tree-surrounded little shacks and shanties next to the river. Once upon the road, my eyes lingered on something sticking out of the tall grass next to the road - Tyler's motorcycle, propped up halfway between the road and the woods.

I took my foot off the gas, slowly pushed on the brake, felt the world outside my car window come back into regular speed.

Then I felt something hit my bumper.

What the?

I shot a hurried look into my rear-view mirror to see a black truck stuck onto the bumper of my car. The afternoon haze and the brevity of my glance didn't allow me to see the face of the driver behind the wheel, but I took in the outline of a dark hat and dark gloves draped upon the steering wheel.

Another thud hit hard upon my bumper, pushing me off to the side of the road. I tried to correct, but couldn't pull it off, my car went off the embankment of the country road and rumbled into the tall grass field which flanked it.

It now felt as if I was on some kind of rocky road amusement park type ride. My car bounced up and down, roughly and wildly, everything inside the cab, myself included, thrashed about violently. The seatbelt was the only thing saving me from smashing up against the windshield or the steering wheel.

I had much more sinister fears at the moment than smashing my head against the wheel and there was no way a seatbelt could save me from them. Another look out my rear view mirror while airborne allowed me to see more of the truck which had slammed into me from behind and I recognized it all too well. I knew nothing about trucks, but I could pick out a 1959 Chevrolet Apache in any lineup.

My car finally started to slow as I approached the line of trees which led into the woods. The entire world around me got darker when the front of my car smashed into the light shrubs at the edge of the tree line and started plowing over some of the younger trees. It came to a stop just under the cover of the tall firs.

I wasted no time in ripping off my seatbelt, going for the handle of my car door, but it wouldn't budge. The door appeared to be wedged up hard against the thick trunk of a tree.

I climbed over to the passenger-side door. My eyes threw a glance out the back window of my car and saw the black Apache parked on the side of the road.

"Ah, shit!" I screamed when the passenger-side door wouldn't open either.

I shot another look out of the back window – didn't see any movement, but heard the familiar sound of a truck door closing. I didn't wait to see if anyone was walking out of the truck, dove into the backseat and tried one of the back doors.

The highest I have ever felt in my entire life was when I felt that back door give and open out into the darkened forest. I piled out of it before I even got the thing all the way open.

I dragged my field of vision across the grass between the Apache and the back of my car when I climbed out of the car. The driver of the truck was out of his vehicle, his black cowboy hat obscured his pale face just enough to where I couldn't make it out. He took tall strides around the front of the truck in a long, black trench coat.

I wasted no more moments in observation, turned into the woods and fled, pissed at myself for leaving my cell phone in the center console. It didn't matter now, my only hope was running deeper into the woods, finding a house, the river or something, basically just losing the approaching stranger behind me.

For a second, I thought I heard the rumble of the river coming in front of me, but the sound quickly took a familiar form. It was Tyler's motorcycle. I slowed my sprint, shot a look over my shoulder. At the edge of the trees was Tyler on his motorcycle, he reared back on the cycle, tried to maneuver his way through the brush which served as the doormat for the thicker forest.

"Tyler," I screamed through the trees. "Call the cops. Call the cops."

But he couldn't hear me over the sound of his motorcycle. I came to a complete stop and watched him make his way into the forest where he would have a little bit more space to snake his motorcycle around trees. I tried to also look out behind him, where the truck was parked up near the roadway, but couldn't see that far.

Tyler put the motorcycle into a skid just before he reached me. He killed the engine and jumped off, was  greeted by me screaming out at him over the sounds of his dying engine.

"Where is he?"

Tyler whipped around, looked back through the woods.

"The guy in the truck. He ran me off the road."

Tyler lifted up the belly of his shirt to show a horrible road rash sprayed across his stomach.

"I hid in the woods for a while. I tried to call you, but you didn't answer."

"He ran me off the road too," I screamed in Tyler's face. "Where is he?"

Tyler kept his eyes off through the woods.

"He peeled out and drove off when I got back on my motorcycle. He's gone."

I followed Tyler's eyes through the darkening woods and had to agree. There were no signs of the driver, or his truck.

*

The cops had a really tough time not just believing what I told them happened, but even understanding it. I had to pull up Reddit on one of the officer's computers to show them all what it was and how it worked.

Honestly, it seemed like they all thought we were concocting some kind of elaborate alibi to cover up a domestic squabble and/or drunk driving accident. They basically did the least amount of work they could to document it and stopped returning our calls after a couple of weeks. I told them all of the details about The Phantom of West Texas. They didn't care in the least. I may have well just said The Phantom of the Opera.

Making it a little harder to believe my story, I deleted my account and apparently so did grizzlymane415. There was no record of our conversations, all of our comments within the board said they were posted by [deleted].

I found the generic form email for the FBI and a couple of police departments in West Texas, but I never even heard back from them. Maybe the only people who still cared about The Phantom were me and my weirdo Internet friends. Maybe it was a sign that I should just forget about that kind of stuff. At least that was Tyler's opinion.

We left Truckee that day, took the important stuff out of our house and never came back. We moved to Marin County where Tyler was able to get an entry level job with my dad's company and I could find a real job in the office of the local hospital with some of the friends I grew up with.  

Speaking of growing up, it was officially time to. I left the Internet serial killer groupie community behind me and focused on my job and trying to re-plan a real wedding with Tyler.

The months went by and I had almost completely forgotten about that old life and that horrible cloudy day, or at least I tried to, but I could not fully run away. My blood ran cold when I received a voicemail on my phone after getting a missed call from my former landlord, Dale, back in Truckee.

I initially thought the message would be a scolding for the state we left the house in or bailing on the last five months of our lease, but Dale actually seemed to have a softer tone than he usually used. He wanted to get in touch with me because someone had left what seemed like an important piece of mail for us in the mailbox. He just needed our new address so he could send it to us.

I chewed my nails down to the tender skin the next few days, feveriously anticipating receiving our unopened mail. Dale was polite in insisting he would absolutely not open our mail for us, even if we wanted him to (which I did).

I tore into the little forwarded envelope as fast as humanly possible when it showed up.

I recognized exactly what was in the envelope as soon as I opened it up. It was my engagement ring, the tiny little diamond perched upon the top of it glittering back at me.

A note fell out of the envelope.

It was just a cursive signature written in black ink.

It read: The Phantom.

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.