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afraidof-thedark · 5 years

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When my older sister turned 19, my parents started looking at me with the deepest pity and grief I have ever seen; like I was going to crumble and disappear at any moment.

I was 16 and listening to music in my bedroom when my mother came to me with a beautiful portrait in her hands. It was of my great-grandmother Eleanor.

“Pat, you know how Eleanor used to say that when she was 18, a she-devil offered her some kind of paradise if she agreed to die immediately, right?”

It was a weird question; whenever my mother had a little more to drink, she’d retell this tale over and over. She came from a long line of spiritual but pragmatic women, women who fought to study and to work in male-dominated fields. Women who also found a good man to marry, women who had everything.

But then tragedy struck in their lives and they would lose a daughter or a niece. Always.

“Yes, mom," I replied, and we recited together: “And she said fuck off, I have 7 siblings to help raising."

And Eleanor did. She worked her ass off to send her younger brothers and sisters to good schools, became a college teacher herself, and kept teaching every new generation of women to be strong and stand up for themselves.

My mother always loved her to bits, and did her best to raise her kids the way her grandmother had taught. Eleanor peacefully died of old age when I was a baby, and overall lived a great, accomplished, loving life.

But grief knocked on her door periodically, as she had to bury a daughter and a granddaughter, both at age 18. My aunt Cecelia died years before I was born, and that took a huge toll on my mother and on my other aunt, Christa.

Eleanor didn’t believe it was a tragic coincidence. No.

She thinks that the same she-devil who invited her to go live in a better place came to claim her descendants.

After Cecelia, there were no deaths.

My sister and my cousins have all crossed the line to 19, and none of them reported anything weird happening to them.

I’m the only female in my family who is still 18.

Despite the fact that I always admired Eleanor, I confess that I thought that she was being superstitious, or even mocking us—she was known for her savage sense of humor. So this conversation I had with my mother had been completely brushed from my mind.

Then today a gorgeous, magnificent woman approached me.

I am a part-timer at a frozen yogurt joint. As you might expect, the small store was empty. The little bell on the door rang, and I raised my eyes to meet a stunning, elegant woman who seemed to be on her early 30s.

She was wearing a simple and unassuming dress, but the fit was flattering. It was impossible to take your eyes off of her.

“Hello, Patricia." Her voice was velvety and melodious. “I see Eleanor’s granddaughter told you about me."

I forgot how to breathe for a while. She was just… God, I had considered myself straight up to this point, but then I had found a woman that I both wanted to be like and have for myself.

“Come on, get yourself some fro-yo on me. Mine will be salted caramel and strawberry, if you please."

I mechanically filled two little cups as she graciously sat.

I stared at her intently.

“When you see Christa, tell her to see a doctor about that persistent headache. Unpleasant surprise on the way,” she said very casually. “So tell me about you, Pat."

“D-don’t you know all about me already?” I asked. She smiled kindly, but the warmth never reached her violet eyes; it wasn’t like they were cold, but they were neutral. Neutral and incredibly sharp.

“I know everything there is to know about everyone on your little planet, darling. But I’d still like to hear your version."

“I’m not actually interesting, you know?” I sighed. “I am only okay at everything. My sister is brilliant and she’s pretty too, while I’m too average and not even sure what I want to major in."

She smiled so brightly I thought I was gonna go blind.

“Don’t you want to be part of something bigger and easier?” she asked. “I’ll offer you a great deal, the same one I offered your ancestor Eleanor, her daughter Bettina, and your aunt Cecelia. You know the results."

“I’m listening," I said. I don’t know the circumstances of their deaths, but I know that both Bettina and Cecelia took the offer.

“Well, take a look around the world you live in. You’re young, but old enough to know. Do you feel safe walking the streets? Isn’t this world rotten? Sure, you can say there are good people; people that mind their own business, at least. But the rotten apples always spoil the whole barrel. And lately you mortals have seen that happening a lot of people you used to deem good, huh?”

“I don’t… feel safe. Two of my friends have been assaulted. I admit sometimes I’m scared to leave my bed," I replied. “Still, I’d feel so bad about how my mother would miss me."

She smiled.

“You’re a good girl, Patricia. I’m Lilith, by the way," she grabbed my hands. “Let me tell you something, although I’m sure you already know this in your heart. All the women in your family are fit for this deal, but I have to choose only one. I chose you because you won’t be missed as much." I recoiled, feeling hurt, but I knew that Lilith wasn’t lying. There was a spark of compassion in her eyes too. “It’s not that you’re not loved, it’s just that your cousins and your sister…”

“Are so much better than me in every sense. I know. I panic easily, I don’t trust my own decisions, and I don’t have any special talent. Sometimes my life feels like such a waste."

“It’s not, dear. It’s not. Because you were born for something greater. Greater than these girls you deem better than yourself. They are fit for this world. You are fit for the Utopia."

“What’s the Utopia?”

“It’s everything there is out there, the only eternal life in the universe, offered to a select few. All the great people on Earth are nothing but a heartbeat. They will fade to nothing, like all the unassuming lives."

“So you mean there’s no heaven and hell? And what about God?”

“Oh, God exists. God created great things. Imperfect, inferior beings like you humans are just the collateral damage of his masterpieces; the residuum of the creation. He never even turned His face to you, or batted an eyelash when we told him our plan. Lucifer and I see potential in you. Well, some of you. Most are truly garbage”.

I was utterly amazed. “Why do you only take young women?”

She smiled again.

“That’s a great question. Lucifer likes to collect men in their 40s, so he can laugh at their moral dilemmas. How will my family live without me, the great provider?? What if Karen marries another man and Cody turns gay because he didn’t have a masculine figure?” She did a great impersonation of a generic middle-aged man. “But I take my girls while they are still beautiful and not completely tired of how unfair this world is to them. I don’t want the morons in your society to make you forget what Eleanor taught you. She knew there would be only nothingness out there after she died, but she opted to stay and take care of her loved ones. It was a bold, admirable choice, and I decided to reward her for it. She was the only one I ever approached to refuse."

“So you can’t both live a great life here and go to this place you call Utopia?” I asked.

“Oh, one usually can’t have it all, no. But I picked two or three of those. Like Marilyn and Cleo. They were almost 40 but still young at heart and completely unfazed by how the world tried to break them. You have to admire that."

“How is that Utopia? Will I like it?”

Lilith snapped her fingers. The walls and furniture around us, and even the street across the door started to fold and fold and fold, like the reality was only a 3D draft, until they became minuscule pieces of cardboard, and then they fell into the infinite under us.

We were now surrounded by a stunning, futuristic place. There was no sense of feeling cold or hungry, we could move by floating around as we pleased, and there were amazing buildings everywhere, decorated with statues of pure white marble and paintings so beautiful I wanted to cry.

I could see colors I never imagined possible, and the sky was always a warm shade of blue, but dotted with stars, and an immense full moon.

Everything was shiny, symmetrical and felt right; peaceful, but far from boring. A perfect, ordered chaos.

“This place is constantly expanding, so you’ll always find new things to do. You’ll never live another tedious day."

She snapped her fingers again, and everything unfolded and rose back into place.

“And if I accept your offer, which I will… can I choose the way I die and do something first?”

“Oh, you have a few days to deal with all your stuff. I’m not a monster, you know?” the she-devil smiled again.

“Great!” I said. “There’s only one thing I need to do before I go with you. I want to kill the man who raped by best friend."

Lilith agreed to allow me to do it, and we talked some more before she left.

And that’s all I can remember clearly. The rest of the day was a blur; knowing that I would die, I wanted to quit my dead-end job immediately, but I had no one to quit to, and I couldn’t leave the store unattended. So I stayed, surrounded by weird ice cream, thinking about what awaited for me.

The she-devil told me that I couldn’t tell anyone I was about to die, but I was allowed to discreetly say my goodbyes. My family was really nice and had taught me a lot, and I had valuable friends, but none of that was reason enough to refuse an eternal life of happiness where I could even be friends with Cleopatra and Marilyn Monroe.

I spent some quality time with my loved ones, then two days later, I took my mother’s handgun and headed to see the one who hurt and destroyed my beloved friend, both physically and mentally.

I won’t describe the details of the torture I put him through. I’ll just say that I only stopped when it seemed to me that he went through at least ten times what he made her endure.

And then I killed him.

“Oh, shit," was my only reaction as I realized that punishing this disgusting man felt even better and even more right than living in a perfect Utopia.

It feels like I finally found my purpose. If this world is all that there is, the only thing we can do is enjoy it.

And we’ll only be able to enjoy it if we cleanse it.

I decided to take this mission upon myself.

But there’s only a problem: I already agreed with dying tomorrow.

I signed the contract and now I'm terrified of what Lilith will do to me when I say I changed my mind.

-u/poloniumpoisoning

#reddit #reddit no sleep #nosleep #scary #story #scary story

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annaphoenix1994 · 3 years

Text

Horseshoe Overlook - Polite Society, Valentine Style

"You sure you'll be alright here by yourself?" Jameson asked Minnie as she helped him mount her horse.

"I know I will, nothin' is gonna happen while you're away," She assured. "Now, smoke you a pipe as Trace leads the way. He'll take care of you and knows when there's trouble," She explained. "Now, if he starts to get antsy, hang on!" She giggled. She could tell her father was intimidated by her horse who towered over anything close to him, but he knew that she was confident in her horse as he had been in her possession for a few years now. Trace was considered "broker than broke" as he was more used to gunfire and running than walking along a trail, which Minnie considered to be a good break for him as he toted her father along the way to the town of Valentine, which was a good hour-long ride at a walk.

"Be good, I'll see you when you get back tonight!" She cheered.

"You too," Her father replied.

"I was talkin' to Trace," Minnie teased.

"I see where I stand!" He joked.

She playfully scoffed, "Get outta here!"

She smiled and shook her head as she returned to her duties around the cabin. Sweeping the porch, making the beds, tidying the cabinets, and tending to the chickens while replacing the straw that lined their nesting boxes. She enjoyed being an outlaw, but something about the simple and honest life suited her. She guessed it was where her mother had always wanted to be. 'Momma would slap me blind if she knew how I made a livin',' Minnie said to herself as she wiped her hands on her apron, letting her thoughts wander to the loving memories of her mother, not paying any mind to the two pairs of eyes watching her from the treeline a few hundred yards away.

"Is that her?" One of the stalkers asked the other, using his green scarf to wipe the beads of sweat on his temple.

"Oh, that's her," The other one replied, licking his lips.

"Should we go and get her?"

"No, we go back and tell Colm where she's at, then he'll give us the go," He explained. "The place is nice and quiet - good to lie low for a while. Colm's itchin' to get off of that mountain."

"Why is he sending us after this woman anyway?"

"He didn't tell you? That's Minnie Barlow - the most dangerous woman outlaw since Pearl Hart!"

"So he has some sort of crush?"

"I guess you can call it that. He met her in a saloon a while ago and she threatened his life. Reckon it embarrassed him since he expected to get along so well with another outlaw, but you know how Colm is. His pride gets the better of 'em. She also has a high bounty of a few thousand dollars. Enough to get us outta here for a while!"

He scoffed, "Shit, I say let's get her now and take the money and return it to Colm!"

"No, we do as he says. Let's hurry and get back. Reckon he'll want to make a move when her father gets back. You go to Valentine and scope things out and I'll get back to camp," He directed as the other man nodded. "Don't screw this up!"

───※ ·❆· ※───

𝓦𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓸𝓯𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓭𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓮𝓷𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓗𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓼. 𝓐𝓲𝓷'𝓽 𝓫𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓪𝓻 𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓲𝓷 𝓶𝓪𝓷𝔂 𝓪 𝔂𝓮𝓪𝓻. 𝓓𝓾𝓽𝓬𝓱 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓶𝓼 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻. 𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓴𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓮 𝓱𝓮'𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓬𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓻. 𝓘 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝔀𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓪 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓲𝓮𝓻. 𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓑𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓴𝔀𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓼...

Arthur closed his journal and put on his jacket, which was something he was eager to wear as it was lightweight, yet warm. Something to keep the morning chill off of his shoulders. He looked around the new camp as he placed his hat on his head, nodding at Hosea as he approached him with a hot cup of coffee.

"Arthur," Hosea nodded.

"Hosea," He greeted, taking the warm tin cup from the old man's hands.

"Quite a day!" Hosea smiled, his arms wide.

"Let's hope so," Arthur grunted, taking a sip of the coffee.

"There's a bunch of the boys already in Valentine. Bill, Charles, and Javier... I'm sure they're, uh, finding some way of relieving some stress, and Swanson found something down at the train station by the lake apparently. And Strauss came back with that creepy little smile on his face. I'm sure there's a whole list of unfortunates he's forced money upon," Hosea explained as he watched Arthur sip his coffee, yawning in between.

Arthur chuckled, "Thank you. And you?"

"I'm gonna read a book," Hosea replied hastily.

Arthur nodded with a chuckle, finding a comfort in talking to the old man as he will forever look up to him as a father figure - something he never had, or at least he never remembered.

He was eager to get out and explore the Heartlands, but he would also rather sit back and rest without having to use all of his energy to stay warm. He looked around as he walked to the pot to get a bowl of stew, scarfing it down before making his way to the sleeping older man sitting up against a wagon. The man went by the name 'Uncle,' which nobody knew his real name, nor did they want to know. All Arthur knew him as was the old man who was just another mouth to feed, but was much entertainment when the camp needed it. He at least had some stories, whether they were true or not.

He shook his head as he stormed over to the old man, waking him with a solid kick to the leg. "Careful not to work yourself to death there, Uncle," Arthur said.

"I was thinkin'," Uncle replied as he staggered to his feet, his white beard stained with tobacco just below his bottom lip.

"Does it pay well?"

"Eventually," Uncle grumbled as Arthur placed a palm on his shoulder.

"So, while the rest of us are busy stealin', killin', lyin', fighting to try to survive, you get to think all day," Arthur explained.

"It's a strange world we live in, Arthur Morgan," Uncle said.

"Do you wanna head into town, see if we can find anything out?" He proposed.

"Sure, I got some errands to run!"

"Great, go check the horses are ready," Arthur commanded as Uncle did as he was told with a grumble.

"If you're gonna take the old man into town, can you take us too?" Karen Jones asked as she eavesdropped into their conversation.

"Why, what you got planned?" Arthur asked, striking a match on the bottom of his boot, lighting a well-needed cigarette.

"Nothin'," Karen replied, waving her hand for Mary-Beth and Tilly Jackson to follow her, hoping to pressure Arthur into taking them into town. "We'll find somethin' for y'all to do, we always do!"

"We're bored out of our minds!" Mary-Beth added, her brown eyes begging Arthur for approval. "Karen's about ready to murder Grimshaw!" She giggled.

"Well, can Miss Grimshaw spare you?" Arthur asked, puffing his cigarette.

"Can't Miss Grimshaw spare you?" Karen repeated. "What's happened to you, Arthur? Three young healthy women want you to take 'em robbing and you're worried about house chores! Let's go!" Karen begged.

"Fair enough, you got me," Arthur chuckled, throwing away his cigarette as the women loaded themselves up onto the wagon.

The women cheered in excitement as they were about to see civilization, something completely opposite from Arthur's thoughts, of course, but he was eager to see other people aside from the ones he shared his life with. He could definitely use a drink, especially sharing a bench seat with Uncle.

───※ ·❆· ※───

"Howdy!" Jameson Barlow said as he entered the general store, making his presence known to the shopkeeper and his long-time friend, Graham.

"How're you, sir?" Graham replied.

"Eh, I'm gettin' on," Jameson replied. "I need some produce and canned foods. Runnin' low back at the cabin!" He chuckled.

"I understand. I just got these in this past Tuesday - nice and fresh! How's little Anna doin'?" Graham asked, referring to Minnie by her middle name as he knew she was well known around Valentine. He and Jameson have become close friends throughout the years as they once attended church together and he kept a close eye on the rumors he had heard, wanting to do his best to protect Jameson and Minnie as he held them dear to his heart.

"She's doin' well. She's actually stayin' with me for a few days I reckon. I don't like when she goes out on her own like that," Jameson frowned, referring to her "work" as an outlaw. If he could change one thing, it would to keep her a good, honest young lady instead of a thief, but nonetheless, he loved her.

Graham nodded, "I understand. I haven't seen her in a while. I miss seein' her little curly blonde hair on Sunday mornin' when she was little!" He chuckled. "Miss hearin' those church songs, too. She has the voice of an angel!"

"That she does. She didn't learn it from me! That's all her momma's doin'!" Jameson smiled. "I think I'll get me a couple of cigars and a bottle of whiskey. Can't leave out the whiskey!" The men shared a laugh as Graham gladly packed up Jameson's provisions, nodding at the new customers who had walked through the door. "Good day, gentlemen!" Graham greeted. Jameson turned to look at the men, one of them around his age, but with a coarser white beard and the other around Minnie's age, wearing a worn leather hat and light leather jacket. He took note of the bright blue shirt he had on underneath as it was one of his favorite colors.

New faces.

Jameson nodded at the new faces as he made his way out the door of the general store, taking a seat on the bench just outside, cracking open the new bottle of whiskey.

"I'm gonna run to the saloon real quick, Arthur," The old man addressed as they were now outside the general store as well. The younger man nodded as he walked towards Jameson, greeting him. "You mind if I rest here, bud?" He asked.

"Sure!" Jameson said as he scooted closer to the edge of the bench, giving the younger man plenty of room as he was broader than most young men he had seen in the area.

"Name's Jameson," He said after taking another sip of whiskey, offering his hand to the other man.

"Arthur," He nodded, shaking his hand.

"You from 'round here?"

"Not really," Arthur shook his head. "We've been travellin' for a while, tryin' to find somewhere to settle down. So far, we think this place looks good."

"You and your wife?" Jameson assumed.

Arthur chuckled, "Nah, I don't have a wife. Me and a few of my colleagues were laid off from our jobs at the oil plant. Guess we're livin' like a bunch of gypsies now, but that's all we have." He chuckled.

"I'm sorry, friend. Times is tough nowadays. You sound like my daughter. She's all the time travellin' and I get worried. Gangs and all that," Jameson explained. "She used to be a homebody, never wanting to leave home. I guess she grew out of that,"

"What's her name?" Arthur asked, getting a hint that he was talking about who he thought he was.

"Anna." Jameson replied after a brief pause.

Arthur chuckled, resting his suspicion, "You folk from around here?"

Jameson shrugged, "Somewhat. We moved here from Annesburg years ago, right before Min-Anna was born," He hastily corrected himself, hoping Arthur didn't take note, in which he did, but kept a calm demeanor when he was erratic inside. "We were real big into church for a few years. Anna sang in the choir and has the voice of an angel. I wish she'd sing more when she's home. Reminds me of her momma. She passed a couple of years ago," He frowned.

"I'm sorry to hear that, friend," Arthur assured. "I can tell you were sweet on her."

"I sure was," Jameson chuckled, remembering his lovely wife. "I don't know much about you, friend, but I can tell you have more heart than any other fool who sat and listened to my troubles. When you find that special person, you'll know. Once you do, don't ever let them go. Anything can happen and it's a hard feeling, but it's worth it in the end - to have all kinds of special memories with someone you hold dear to your heart. My daughter is the only thing I have left and I try so desperately to hang on to her, but when she leaves, I worry that she won't come back and that's what keeps me up at night." He explained.

Arthur's heart broke for the man, realizing that he had never had this type of feeling before. He actually wanted to listen to him and his stories. Not just because he put together the pieces that Minnie Barlow was his daughter, but Jameson had a heart that reminded him of himself. He cared deeply about those close to him, but a stranger would never know it.

"I hope things get better for you, friend," Arthur sighed. "What does she do, if you don't mind me askin'?"

Jameson sighed, not wanting to tell Arthur in fear of him being a bounty hunter, but something about Arthur told him that he could be trusted as he didn't seem the one to seek information so boldly. He at least cared to hear about her life story beforehand. "She's, uh, I guess you can say a traveller..."

He really wanted to get her secret off of his chest as he has kept it inside for almost ten years now.

But for her safety, he couldn't.

"She works here and there as a journalist. She's been back and forth to Saint Denis a many a time. I worry, but she has been takin' the train a lot, so I don't worry as much," He lied. Arthur took note of this, but he understood why. All he could do was nod as he listened.

"I'm sure she will be fine, sir," Arthur replied. "So, I see you got some bait here, you like to hunt?" He asked, changing the subject.

"I sure do. I like goin' after deer and elk, but I'm not as young as I used to be." He chuckled.

"You sound just like my father," Arthur smirked, referring to Hosea.

"If you're ever free, I live north of Citadel Rock back in the woods. It's a little cabin that I named 'Six Point Cabin' after my wife..." He suggested.

"I'll give that some thought," Arthur nodded. "Why'd you name it that, if I may ask?"

"She killed a six-point buck before she passed and thought it was the greatest trophy in the world. She remembered that for a long time as it made her dearly happy as she never went huntin' much, especially for deer," Jameson smiled. "Like I was tellin' ya, when you love someone that much, you remember the things that make them more happy than yourself," He explained, pointing his finger. "I remember her every day looking at that trophy over my fireplace, remembering how happy it made her. And come to think of it, I remember her every day I see my daughter. I guess she's the last thing I have left of her and I worry every day about losin' her. I guess it's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all," He frowned. "Anyway, I won't keep ya much longer. I gotta get back," He continued as he slowly rose to his aching feet. "It was nice to meet you, Arthur."

Arthur nodded as he shook the old man's hand, watching him walk towards a tall buckskin Quarter Horse, putting his provisions in the saddlebags. Jameson turned to Arthur once more, "I gotta run to the hotel real quick and wash up, care to keep an eye on the horse for me? The old bastard will spook on my watch!" Jameson joked.

"Sure thing!" Arthur nodded as he looked at the horse once more, taking in how beautiful the animal was. 'He must've paid good money for that one,' Arthur thought. To pass the time, he pulled out his journal, noting a quick sketch of the horse for his memory before writing a brief passage:

𝓜𝓮𝓽 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓭 𝓙𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓷 𝓥𝓪𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓮. 𝓘'𝓶 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓲𝓷' 𝓽𝓸 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓶𝓪𝓷'𝓼 𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓭 𝓶𝓮. 𝓦𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓲𝓷' 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓸𝓽-𝓼𝓸-𝓯𝓪𝓿𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓼𝓾𝓫𝓳𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓼: 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮. 𝓘 𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭𝓼 𝓰𝓸 𝓲𝓷 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓱𝓪𝓭 𝓪 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽. 𝓢𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷' 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓮, 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓫𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓷 𝓽𝓸 𝓷𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓽 𝓪𝓵𝓵. 𝓘 𝓰𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓘'𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓻𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽. 𝓦𝓮 𝓪𝓵𝓼𝓸 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓲𝓷' 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓭𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓘 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓸𝔀. 𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓼𝓸 𝓸𝓭𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓘 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓲𝓷' 𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓷' 𝓼𝓸 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓼𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝔀 𝓭𝓪𝔂𝓼. 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓼 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝔂 𝓪𝓶 𝓘 𝓼𝓸 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓻?

He closed his journal, feeling better that his thoughts made it from his brain to paper. He leaned back in the bench, stretching out his legs and crossing them at his ankles as he crossed his arms over his chest, bowing his head to rest his eyes. He soon was joined by Uncle, hearing him through his muffled thoughts, going on about how he pictured himself to be married to an heiress by now instead of moving with a band of outlaws.

Small patters of shoes gently nudged him awake, seeing that Mary-Beth had some interesting information for the men. He sat up slowly, looking at the woman as she kept her voice hushed. He blinked the sleep from his eyes as he listened to her explain.

"Gentlemen, I think I got somethin' good!" Mary-Beth proposed, giggling at how rapidly Arthur blinked as he tried to keep his focus on her when his main focus was on napping.

"What?" Arthur slurred.

"I snuck into this fancy house - acted like a servant girl, usually works," She explained. "Someone was saying her sister was taking a trip from New York or someplace. Train full of rich tourists heading to Saint Denis and then cruising off to Brazil!"

"Okay," Arthur nodded, his attention fully on her.

"A train laden with baggage and passing through a bit of deserted country at night as to get to the docks in time for the tides in some place called Scarlett Meadows..."

"Yeah, I know it," Uncle nodded, his face plastered with a cheeky grin. "Yeah, yeah, it's right out near New Hanover. Right, it's real quiet out there,"

"Sounds good," Arthur nodded, scratching his growing beard. 'I really need to get a shave!' He thought. "Where's Tilly and Karen?" He asked.

Mary-Beth scoffed, "I think at the hotel, they were pickin' up some drunken fellers that they was going to rob-"

"Why?" Arthur asked, almost panicked.

"Seemed easy!" She argued. "They have been gone for quite a while..."

Arthur sighed, "I guess I'll go see if there's any trouble," He groaned as he stood to his tired feet, feeling Mary-Beth's hand graze his arm as he walked by, getting his attention.

"There's Tilly over there!" She pointed. "That does not look ideal..." She trailed off as she watched a tall colored man grabbing all over her, almost dragging her to the alleyway to the side of the hotel.

"Excuse me," Arthur growled as he quickly made his way to the scene, wasting no time in intervening.

"You thought I wouldn't find you, Tilly?" The colored man hissed as Arthur was coming closer to the pair.

"You can go kiss a damn snake for all I care! Get off me!" Tilly pleaded.

"Get your hands off her, friend," Arthur sneered, relieving his pistol from its holster.

"Who are you?" The colored man growled.

"A friend of mine!" Tilly replied.

"Get off her," Arthur said in a low tone, hinting that his next move would be fatal if he didn't follow direction.

"Or what exactly?" He taunted.

"You wanna find out?" Arthur questioned, pulling back the hammer slowly.

The colored man backed off slowly, pointing his finger at Tilly, "You're makin' a big mistake, Tilly Jackson," He warned.

"Just get lost!" She hissed before turning and walking towards Arthur, seeking his protection.

"I ain't doin' this with you right now!" He mumbled.

"Go wait with Uncle and Mary-Beth, they're across the street," Arthur directed.

"Okay, thanks Arthur," She smiled. He nodded as he gently pats her shoulder, "Uncle! Look after her! I'm gonna go see about Karen in the hotel!"

He steadily made his way into the hotel of Valentine, politely asking the receptionist about the woman's whereabouts, informing him that she was in her mid-twenties and had blonde hair and was last seen with a man. The receptionist nodded as he said a woman fitting her description made her way upstairs not too long ago.

"A-Are you a friend of his?" He dared to ask.

"A friend of hers," Arthur grit. "Where is she?"

"Uh, 2B! Please, no trouble!"

"Just a word," Arthur assured as he ascended the stairs, cracking his knuckles as he knew this wasn't going to be pretty.

"Get off of me!" He heard Karen plead. His pace became faster as he tried to pinpoint the exact location of 2B. He gripped the knob firmly, growing agitated that it was locked. Instead, he stepped back and got enough momentum to kick open the door, seeing a man in his underwear putting his hands all over Karen. Sure, Arthur could be a bad man and easily kill a man, but something about a man putting his hands all over a woman made his blood boil.

"Hey!" Arthur shouted.

"Who are you?" The stranger questioned, obvious that he was drunk. Arthur quickly scanned the room, growing more aggravated that he saw Karen's lip bleeding.

"A friend of hers," Arthur growled.

"Get outta here, buddy, I paid!" The stranger slurred.

"Ain't paid to hit her, you goddamn animal!" He said as he balled his fists, lunging at the man before he had a chance to lunge at him. Arthur was upset that it was a brief fight, but was glad it was over with.

"What the hell were you doin' here?" He questioned her.

"Tryin' to play him... Not very well," She explained.

"You okay?" He asked, looking her over.

"Fine..." She said, waving her hand and gripping her wrist as Arthur ushered for her to walk in front of him just in case the stranger got another wild streak to come after her again.

"You sure?" He continued to question as they were now walking down the hallway.

"Yeah, nothing... Nothing to worry about... Just men, but, stupid bastard - the stupid bastard was boasting about the bank..." She explained.

"The bank?"

"Sure, I know small-town banks are usually a waste of time, but this is a livestock town, there's lots of cash sometimes," Karen explained as they descended the stairs.

"Okay," Arthur said as he scratched his beard. "Keep investigating,"

"I will," Karen breathed. He nodded at the receptionist as he ushered Karen outside, motioning for her to meet the others at the general store. He looked both ways before crossing the muddy street, taking note of the buckskin Quarter Horse still hitched next to the general store.

"Thank you, Arthur," Karen said, holding her cheek. "I don't much like bein' saved, but when I have to be,"

"I understand," Arthur assured her as they met up with the others, Mary-Beth and Tilly quickly tending to Karen's injuries.

"You okay?"

"Sure, he only punched me!" Karen replied. Arthur chuckled as he pat her shoulder in assurance, knowing that she secretly wanted it. "Arthur punched him a lot harder."

"Yeah, alright then," He replied, furrowing his brows as he looked at Mary-Beth, seeing the concern in her eyes.

"Hey, who's that guy over there looking at us?" She whispered.

"Weren't you in Blackwater a few weeks back?" A well-tailored stranger questioned.

"Me? No, sir. Ain't from there," Arthur replied sternly.

"Oh, you were. Well, I definitely saw you. With a bunch of fellers!" He accused from the back of his horse.

"Me? No," Arthur shook his head. "Impossible. Listen, buddy, come here for a minute," He coaxed.

"I saw you!" He spat, spooking his horse. "Come on, get!" He encouraged.

"I don't like this..." Uncle said as Arthur turned to the others.

"Me neither," He groaned, rushing to the buckskin horse, hoping he won't regret his decision. "Go get the girls home! I'm gonna go have a word with our friend," He explained as he mounted the tall horse.

"Be careful, Arthur!" Tilly said.

"Just a word!" He replied as he encouraged the horse into a gallop, amazed at the animal's agility and speed. 'Jesus Christ, what an animal!' He thought to himself as the horse made it seem easy to stay caught up with the stranger.

"Hey! That's my horse!" He heard Jameson yell from the hotel as it was now clear that Jameson was done with his chore.

"Just borrowing it!" Arthur yelled in response, hating himself for feeling like he stole an old man's reliable horse for his own selfish need. The horse had no trouble in catching up to the stranger, almost stopping on a dime when Arthur asked him to slow down to dismount as the stranger had now fallen off, hanging dearly to the cliffside.

"Why are you tellin' lies about me?" Arthur questioned.

"No, no! I-I-I got it wrong, partner... I got it very wrong, now please, help me up!" He begged.

"I ain't never been in Blackwater," Arthur growled.

"Then why are you chasing me?"

"I've got an unfortunate face!"

"Yes, yes... Me too... Now please, pull me up, please!" The stranger cried.

"Alright... Come on," Arthur sighed as he easily pulled the stranger to safety. "You okay, partner?" He asked.

"No... No, I am not," The stranger groaned as he staggered to his feet. "I'm a mess," He panted, looking at his now dirty clothes.

"Well, you ain't dead," Arthur reminded.

"There is that," He breathed, bracing his palms against his knees before standing up straight, offering his hand to shake. "Jimmy Brooks."

"I think it's best for both of us if we pretend this never happened," Arthur explained.

"Oh, I agree," Jimmy Brooks nodded. "You saved my life. You're a good man and I, err... Here, you want a pen? It's one of those steel ones!" He bargained, pulling the pen from his pocket.

Arthur nodded, amazed at the new stationery before him, "Oh, that's very kind of you, but I'm not a good man, Jimmy Brooks, not usually," He said before stepping closer to him. "You see, I was in Blackwater. I kill people. And maybe I should've killed you. Should I have killed you, Jimmy Brooks?" He intimidated, keeping eye contact with the man.

His lip quivered as he searched for a response, "Me?... I n-never saw you... Not-not now, not-not never... I think we have an understanding?"

"Of course we do," Arthur replied. "Jimmy Brooks - I will remember that. I've got a good memory," He smirked.

"I haven't! Not one lick in this old mind!" Jimmy pleaded as he made his way to his horse. Arthur shook his head as he approached the horse he had borrowed, admiring how the horse was patiently waiting on him to mount back up. A brief thought crossed his mind that if he didn't know the man who owned the horse, he would keep it as his own, but he knew the horse had to return to its rightful owner: Jameson.

The horse loped slowly along the trail until he arrived back in town, meeting Jameson halfway as he was happy to see the horse's return. "My horse! Thank you!" He smiled as Arthur dismounted.

"I told ya I was just borrowin' him!" Arthur chuckled.

"Well, my daughter would've had my hide if I let somethin' happen to her horse!" He joked. "His name is Trace," Jameson added.

"Well, Trace is a very nice animal. You're lucky, sir," Arthur said. "I had a horse like him once. Big mare who I called Boadicea," He explained.

"That's an interesting name..." Jameson replied, stroking Trace's muzzle.

Arthur chuckled, "My father named her that after a queen," He explained, his cheeks flushed as he was embarrassed.

"Ain't nothin' to be shy about, my friend. Thank you for bringing him back. Saves my daughter the heartache and me the headache!" He joked, winning a laugh from Arthur.

"I'd say so, sir," He smirked. He held out his hand to him as they have now earned each other's respect and trust. "Arthur Morgan,"

"Jameson Barlow,"

His suspicion was now confirmed: he had borrowed Minnie Barlow's horse and had a deep conversation with her father.

'And now she may kill me for ridin' her horse...'

#arthurmorgan #arthur morgan #reddeadredemption2

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abujaihs-blog · 5 years

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How Berlin’s Housing Crisis Leaves Women Vulnerable to Sexual Predators

Berlin, like other major German cities, is in the midst of a housing crisis, with people struggling to find accommodation. Sexual predators are taking advantage of this situation, reports Sarah Wilson. When expat Laura Rosell, 34, turned up for a flat viewing in Berlin in late 2016, everything seemed normal at first. The flat was being rented out by a middle-aged man, and, although it was very small, “it was cheap, he seemed pleasant enough, and I was desperate – as is everyone – so I was considering it,” she tells The Local. It didn’t take long, however, for Rosell to realize that something wasn’t right. While chatting about the washing machine, “he explained that he'd prefer if we put our clothes together into some sort of mixed laundry load,” Rosell says. It's a request she found a little strange but not a red flag, until he added '..and I prefer to do that alone'. At this point, says Rosell, a dread came over her as she realized “this guy had some kind of women's clothing fetish". "I should also mention that the apartment layout was so narrow that I realized I'd feel unsafe about having no 'escape' space around him if he stood in the middle of any of those places," she adds. After hastily turning down his offer for the flat, “the man invited me to spend more time with him," she says. "I'm pretty sure I didn't reply, and I certainly didn't say yes." Unfortunately, her experience is no anomaly among women in Berlin today. For several years now, Berlin – alongside other major German cities – has been facing a growing housing crisis. An explosion in population (growing by about 50,000 a year over the past five years) has led to major housing shortages, decreased availability of social housing and rental prices up across the capital by 46% since 2009. Mention flat-hunting to anyone who’s tried it in Berlin and in return you’ll hear countless tales of viewings with hundreds of hopefuls lining the stairs, elaborate scams and endless WG “castings” that rarely end in success. It’s a situation that leaves many frustrated. But for women in particular, the consequences can be even more sinister – and sometimes downright dangerous. 'Sexual harassment' However progressive some may deem Germany to be, the country still has undeniable problems with sexual harassment and assault. Half of the women in Germany have experienced sexual harassment. Today, in the capital's tough rental market, predators have found new ways to exploit women – taking advantage of the fact that many are new to the city and desperate for a place to live. It’s a situation that Rosell, a freelancer originally from the US, knows all too well. Not long after her unsettling experience in 2016, she received another offer from a man who claimed that "he wanted a roommate who would also be his (intimate) partner and become a disciple of his spiritual wellness system as well as help him with administrative things in his business". Across Germany, the custom of living in WGs (shared accomodation) ordinarily leaves the selection of new tenants up to the existing or main tenant(s), an arrangement that can create a power imbalance. Indeed, Karen*, an expat also from the US said that during her search for an apartment, she saw a lot of ads online from middle-aged men looking for young female roommates. "Several of them contacted me through WG-Gesucht, but I never met them," she says. "A part of me felt guilty for not giving them a chance, but something about the situation always felt wrong. Why would a man 20 years older than me want to be my roommate?” Official and unofficial channels Currently, “official” flat-finding channels like WG-Gesucht and Immobilienscout have options available for reporting scam ads, but little information on what to do in cases of inappropriate behaviour. Representatives from WG Gesucht told The Local that they are quick to “delete accounts with offensive ads and messages, admonish the users and block the accounts". "In case of a continued inappropriate use of our service, we also reserve the right to take legal action against those users," the company added. They also claim that ads of an inappropriate nature are “very rare". By and large, however, the ad sites like WG Gesucht pertain to legal sublets, where the local authorities will be aware who is living in the flat. Higher authorities like the Hausverwaltung (house administration) or the landlord/lady can be approached with any problems. The issue for many foreigners, however, is that renting through these official channels often requires a mountain of paperwork that most don’t have - or even know about - immediately upon arrival. Consequently, many are forced to look through “unofficial” channels like Facebook and Craigslist, where advertised sublets are frequently illegal - lending more power to the sublessor and leaving the lessee more open to exploitation.

Who is responsible for removing dubious offers? The Berliner Mieterverein – the Berlin Tenant’s Association – suggested to The Local that in the case of dubious offers “the platform operator should be notified immediately so that the sender of the ad is blocked”. When 26-year-old Rita Macedo tried to report inappropriate behaviour to WG Gesucht, however, she noted that there was no function for doing so. A man she spoke to on the platform escalated their conversation to “him saying that if I were to live with him, he would like to take semi or total naked pictures of me in 'our' house". She adds: "He proceeded to send me pictures of half naked girls he supposedly photographed and even though I said I was not interested in that he just kept on pushing”. Yet without a report function on the website, Macedo was horrified to see that “months after I noticed that the guy was still posting offers, same name, same address, same pictures.” Though the Berliner Mieterverein admits that the Berlin housing market is "very tense" and finding a place to live can become a "real problem”, they suggest that “women should not engage in dubious deals” and should “stay away from housing offers” from the outset. In some cases, however, the approach comes from landlords or lessors themselves. Photo-enabled harassment Rosell believes that the custom of exchanging photographs and/or social media profiles with lessors, a practice also common on German resumes, allows predatory men to target women specifically on house-hunting platforms. “The whole personal appearance-based component to house-hunting here makes it a little unsettling right off the bat, in a way that it shouldn't need to be”, she tells The Local. As an illustration of how this access can be exploited, Rosell explains how she received a “semi-notorious” email during her flat-hunt from a man who “offers to be your slave in a very detailed email”. It struck her after talking with other women, that she isn't the only woman who has received it and that he must have been picking and choosing who he was sending it to. Harassment from a roommate It’s not just during the search that women find themselves in danger either. About a month after moving into a WG, Karen’s flatmate started to behave inappropriately towards her, “stand too close to me in the kitchen”, touching her as he passed by and staring at her body. At one point, says Karen, he told her 'I won't have any contact with a woman unless sex is an option' before looking her up and down and adding 'that includes you. You're a very beautiful woman'. His behaviour made Karen feel extremely frightened and uncomfortable, but she felt trapped in the flat: “I lived like this for a few more months because I was terrified of going back to the apartment search," she says. Eventually, Karen managed to move out, though not without difficulty. “I lied and told him I was moving in with my boyfriend, and he seemed to take this as rejection," she says. In the end, she was forced to get legal counsel to disentangle herself from him, and was still forced to pay an extra month of rent.

Later, she went to the police, fearing another woman might go through what she had. After 10 months, she was forwarded an apology letter from the perpetrator. She said the police told her the only reason her case went that far is because the man had touched her. "If he hadn’t...nothing would have been done," she says. Meanwhile, Rosell believes that these problems of harassment and exploitation won’t be resolved until the housing market itself is fixed: “The housing market wouldn't be so rife with predators if that market itself didn't lend itself so easily to economic exploitation,” she says. 'If the police can't protect you, who can?' In spite of strict subletting laws in Berlin, enforcement is rare and illegal sublets still rife. The police and the law, too, are lagging behind rapid changes to the housing market and the problems it’s engendering, leaving women unsure of who to turn to when they find themselves in these situations, or indeed whether it’s worth reporting at all. “This city's police might need to consider updating the way they handle cases ," Rosell says. "We're powerless; 'your Hausverwaltung holds the power' sounds a bit ridiculous," she adds. "I mean, if the police can't protect you or de-escalate a situation like that, who can? And how?” By Sarah Wilson Read the full article

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abujaihs-blog · 5 years

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How Berlin’s Housing Crisis Leaves Women Vulnerable to Sexual Predators

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