#to those who were once wanderers. ⟹ verse; roadside.

[antisatiric]

sorry for more twain familyposting that is relevant to exclusively me, but i actually do in my brain have plot involvement set up between twain and his siblings following his own story.

i like to call my biggest and most prominent thought "the las vegas coincidence" and it's a very complicated plot involving the reunion of specifically ben, margaret, twain, and orion. ben and margaret do both live in las vegas but don't know the other does, twain and orion are both separately travelling there and they all get caught up in the same large-scale ability user related incident.

it's really cool and i'll probably never write it. one day i could do a plot summary though.

[gothicmagpie]

Vampire Hunter D: The Northern Castle, part 5

Author’s notes: This piece of fan fiction is written for @vampires-and-dhampirs‘s VHDweek celebration. One section will be posted each day, and the final work will be posted to AO3, if you prefer not to read it serially. Readers should be aware that this work contains violence and cursing, equivalent to a PG-13 film. This work is primarily based on the version of the VHD ‘verse as seen in Kikuchi’s novels. Part 1 can be found here: X

"Well, this one of your crazier ideas," a hoarse voice muttered at D's side as he cantered towards a well-hidden castle beneath technologically-enhanced rock. Anyone who knew his usual appearance as a rough, black-clad drifter would have hardly recognized him when he left the shack beside the waterwheel. Hair braided back revealed the inhumanity of his pale features in full-force, the ragged black coat had been swapped for a velvet one in a shade of blue so deep that it was only a hint brighter than the previous garment, and the rest of his faded garb had been replaced with silk that gleamed and reflected the traces of moonlight despite the numerous, well-constructed patches that demonstrated that these clothes had been worn by plenty of previous owners. Even his scuffed boots had been shined and what had once been a fine scarf had become decorative wraps, hiding the spurs under gauzy trails.

His sword still rested on his back, but his weapon belt was strapped to the saddle rather than his waist. He certainly didn't look like a Hunter at the moment. The sound of his mounts hoofbeats changed, and the traces of an old Noble road peered through centuries of dirt. 

He reined his horse in, slowing the pace to a pace that any normal cyborg horse still would have struggled to maintain for this long ride. He studied the passing trees and the occasional rusted ruin of some old roadside tech. The road slowly improved, until the full path was a visible expanse of the self-maintaining surface. He hadn't ridden on this long before there was a loud beep and D's horse shied. The Hunter was thrown against his mount's neck and seized a handful of mane as the horse pranced sideways, kicking out and shaking his head, hoofs clipping sharply against the hard plastic road. When D urged the horse forward again, it snorted and moved only a few steps.

D looked up and out into the woods, eyes blazing red this time as he searched for whatever had frightened the horse so much. This time he sensed something too, a tingling trace of some kind of electric field. One could only imagine how uncomfortable that must have been for the cyborg horse, as it travelled through all its metal circuitry and augmented organs. D bushed a finger across his blue pendent, re-activating it. It immediately lit up, spreading a soft blue glow over the scene. The horse relaxed and happily trotted forwards, resuming their journey.

D didn't spur it to a faster pace though, and if his eyes no longer blazed, they still held a gleam of unnatural light. Apparently he had decided to proceed more cautiously. 

There seemed to be good reason for that, as half an hour later an ornate gate suddenly loomed out of the darkness, blocking his path. He squinted at it, a hint of irritation creasing his elegant features. How had he not seen it as he approached? It had no apparent latch, yet even when he pressed it with his super-human strength, the door did not open. He spied a control panel on one side, corroded like the metal of the gate, yet the cracked screen still glowed with a faint light it would take a Noble's eyes to detect. Dismounting, D examined it. "Handprint activated, I think," he murmured. "Anything we can do about that?"

"Try your credentials first," suggested the face peering from his left palm. "If that fails, see if we can find an override. That'll attract attention though, and probably put a hole in your plan. You'll meet Vasmer as a know enemy."

D reached his right hand over the screen, and pressed it down firmly. "Reading. Please wait," said a calming female voice from the almost invisible speakers. "Welcome to the Northern Castle of Lord Vasmer. Please leave your transport in the garage to the right. It will be attended to. Upon entering, please proceed directly to the entrance hall. You will be greeted there." 

Whatever garage may have been in place once, it was no longer standing, so D waited until the door unlocked, and lead his horse inside behind him. There was an odd feeling as he crossed the threshold and the cyborg mount balked for a second. "What was that?" D asked in the softest possible whisper.

"A dimensional shift, I suspect. No wonder no human ever found this place; it isn't quite here. It was probably pushed even further into an alternate reality until he awoke. Nice escape planning on his part. I wonder if the tech is OSB?"

"I doubt we'll have a chance to examine it." D had tethered his horse to a stout tree, and now peered towards the castle that half-stood, slumped in the rock that formed its foundation. It had seen much better days, and some of the slag-like rock suggested that even if the humans hadn't been able to identify the exact location, high-powered explosives had done some damage. The other option, that the melting has been the work of the multi-dimensional beings the Nobility had warred with, was significantly less encouraging.

The castle had a high, worn flight of spiral stairs to the door, which was several stories up. As soon as D's boot touched the bottom step, there was a faint whir of machinery, the stairs lit with a faint luminescence, and D could feel that the gravity-reduction system had survived the centuries. With that aid, even a frail human could reach the door without being winded. 

As his feet left the stairs, they dimmed and the doors opened automatically. Here was another sign of the castle's neglect, as they swung unevenly, the left door repeatedly sticking with an unhappy groan. The entrance hall was shabby; rotted traces of rugs over the dusty floor, wall hangings slumped, a broken table lay in a tangle of mutual annihilation with the vast painting that had apparently fallen onto it, and there was shattered glass everywhere from the lamps that had once lit the space. Now it was dim enough that even D squinted.

He stood in silence for only a moment before he heard a faint rattle that no human's ears would have detected. He turned to face one doorway just as the door swung open, emitting a ray of bright light and a handsome figure. Lord Vasmer was the picture of Nobility before their fall. His waist-length hair was caught back by glittering gems that matched the rings around his thin, pale fingers and the jewel-encrusted toes of his velvet shoes. His outfit was a blaze of red that matched the shine of his eyes and a deep black that nearly seemed to absorb that light, a spectacular display for his white-blond hair and paper-white skin. He spotted D and smiled, lips parting to reveal fangs that flashed across his currently-pale lips. "Ah! What an unexpected surprise to see you at my gate! I'd not thought my awaking enough to attract the attention of our most esteemed Ancestor. Please, be welcomed." He swept forward with a grace that only the true-born nobility could hope to match. "Ah, you carry his stamp so clearly. Not the usual bastard, are you?" His fingers trailed through D's dark locks. D stood like stone and did not answer the question. "Come with me, let us find somewhere more comfortable to sit, and you can tell me why you are here." 

"Are there areas less damaged?" D's voice was steely.

"Of course, I couldn't very well live here if it all looked like that. Good for keeping away the pests though. I'm very sad to see their bombs penetrated my shielding. Those turrets took decade to build, and melted rock is all but unusable. Eventually I'll track down those fools who did it. Then we'll see who grieves." A small, wicked flush rose in his cheeks as he spoke. 

"Do you even know when the damage was done? You slept for a long time. They and all their relations may be gone." D's quelling tone apparently ended the conversation. They rode the elevator car to Vasmer's dwelling place in silence.

The room the elevator opened to was lush and well-cared for by a robotic maid, which lurched forward to take Vasmer's cape. D declined to part with his coat, but Vasmer insisted that he give the robot his sword. D did so without argument, and wandered over to a vast panel of computers, half-hidden by a red and silver drape embroidered with flowers, which repeated throughout the decor. The screens appeared to show a vast network of surveillance machines across the Frontier sector, and a great deal of tech that was still active. D had only looked it over for a moment before the screens went suddenly dark. Vasmer had flipped a switch at one end, and was staring sternly at D. "I hope you aren't here merely to spy. If he wants to know what I do, then he will have to come himself. I won't tolerate insubordination from the likes of you, no matter how much alike you look."

"I'm not here to spy, I promise you that. But I do have questions about your actions recently. You have been preying on the travelers in this sector. Why? Surely in this mecca of technology, you have a blood synthesizer."

Lord Vasmer laughed. "That's why you were sent here? A poaching concern? My apologies, I never intended to hunt territory held by your family. I had noticed the mark on one of the men, but it was faint enough I had assumed it was no longer valid. Now that I meet you, it did carry a trace of your power. And I haven't seen any other Nobles on my scanners, although I suppose they are a bit antiquated now." He sat, beckoning D towards the seat across from him. "Let us sit down, have a drink, and we shall settle the new boundaries of this land. I've been out of this world for a while, and clearly if your family has need of this land, we can find a way to share."

"You've been out of the world for much longer than you think, Lord Vasmer. The world has changed in ways you can hardly comprehend." There was something melancholy in D's tone as he stared at the dark screens in front of him. 

"Then it is good I had a young, vital messenger bringing me that news, is it not? Come, tell me about these grim changes. If you continue to resist my hospitality, I am liable to take offense, and I hardly think that was the task your father sent you on."

"No, but his tasks and my responses have not always been in step." D turned away from the computers and made a circuit of the room, finally taking a single anemone bloom from the vase above the crackling fireplace and accepting the glass of red liquid Lord Vasmer held out.

Vasmer laughed again. "A bit of a rebel, eh? Well, I won't tell if you won't. So, tell me about these changes. The reasons you think I have an imperfect understanding of the local politics."

"How long have you slept, Lord Vasmer?" D didn't sit, but leaned against the table, staring down at the amused Noble.

"For a very long time. Centuries, at least. Perhaps a few millennia. The technology I had relied on was faulty. It failed to take into account the differences in time on either side of my dimensional barrier."

"Then you missed a rather important point; the fall of the Nobility happened while you slumbered."

Vasmer again laughed, but then stopped, eying D. "Sure you don't think me as gullible as that. Who are we supposed to have fallen to? The OSB were in retreat when last I heard from the Capital."

"Which was, as you pointed out, a long time ago. But no, the victors were the humans. They rule this earth once again."

"Impossible! They were our slaves, our playthings, far too weak to fight us, and too grateful for our protection to try."

"Can you truly not imagine how they felt? Why their fury might overthrow even so mighty a civilization?"

"They never would have succeeded."

"Perhaps not, if the Nobility were actually as prefect as many claimed. But the Nobility's power came with its own weaknesses too. Who can explain those? A genetic flaw? Or merely the universe's sense of humor."

"I don't believe you. You are one of his sons, that much is obvious, and I can't imagine he would allow that to happen, even with his weakness for certain aspects of humanity. Prove it to me."

D leaned forwards, extending the flower he had plucked from the vase. In one smooth motion, he tucked it into Vasmer's pocket, curled a finger under his cuff to touch a hidden trigger, and a blade sprung from hiding at his wrist, sinking into Vasmer's throat.

With a choking cry, Vasmer shoving himself backward, tipping his chair and thrusting a jeweled fist at D. D blocked the blow, letting Vasmer pull himself free of the knife, then dove for him again. Vasmer twisted, attempting to get to his feet before D could strike, but failed. D's second blow was to his chest, puncturing a lung, but missing the heart. Vasmer's throat had healed enough for him to scream, and his long, claw-like nails raked at D's face, drawing blood as they grappled. D dodged wildly snapping fangs and flailing fists, diverting them just enough to avoid real injury until he thrust his knife into the base of Vasmer's skull. 

His opponent dropped, spinal cord severed. It wouldn't be a fatal blow for a Noble of his strength, but he also couldn't heal it until the blade was removed. Without a need to breathe, Vasmer could survive in this state for quite a while.

D lifted the near-corpse to the chair, righted with a swift kick. He crouched in front of the immobile Noble and stared into his face with eyes that glowed as brightly as the full vampire before him. "You tortured and killed humans, not only for your sustenance, but for sport. The last man you slowly slaughtered was a friend of mine. By rights, I should return the favor."

If it was possible for that bloodless face to grow paler, it did. There was a moment of rasping, choking noises before Vasmer gagged out a intelligible reply, fighting use the few muscles he still had control over. "Please, I already told you. I didn't know he was yours."

"But he wasn't mine. Not in the way you mean. Those ways are obsolete, and those who follow them will join them in the dust of the past." D's eyes darkened, as he let his bloodlust fade. "It is the current rule of the earth."

"You won't dare," Vasmer spat. "Do it, and that precious village will be ended, half-breed. Don't you think I have enough wits to prevent an uprising?"

"How?" D's voice was cold as ice, and his stare was just as cold.

Vasmer only smirked, a horrible expression as severed muscles spasmed, trying to obey his will. D's expression didn't change, but he gripped the vampire's forehead with his left hand. The Noble's eyes dimmed, and his eyelids drooped before he suddenly screamed, trying futilely to struggle. "I won't tell you! Ah!" Another shriek. "You never found the other victims, let that be a hint! Stop!" 

D did, lifting his hand away. He stared at the pathetic man before him for a moment, before approaching the robot, claiming his sword, and removing Vasmer's head in a single, swift stroke. He plucked it up, and threw it into the fireplace, which would soon render it harmless ash.

Then, with a look of uncharacteristic rage, D plunged the knife that been freed by the decapitation into Vasmer's torso, slicing several swift, vicious cuts and seizing the still faintly-twitching heart from his chest. "D, I think that's enough." The hoarse voice from his left hand sounded a bit worried. "You're taking this too far. We need to go and deal with the other victims."

D dropped the organ, stooped, and thrust the knife into its center, pinning it to the floor. "I know," he said, voice soft as if he was speaking to someone else than his usual companion. He  stripped off the dark velvet coat, now ripped by Vasmer's struggles and soaked with both their blood, and dropped it as he made his way back to the elevator.

Part 6 is here: X

[dailybiblelessons]

Saturday: Preparation for the Twenty-ninth Sunday in Ordinary Time

Roman Catholic Proper 29 Revised Common Lectionary Proper 24

Complementary Hebrew Scripture from the Torah: Genesis 32:3-21

Jacob sent messengers before him to his brother Esau in the land of Seir, the country of Edom, instructing them, “Thus you shall say to my lord Esau: Thus says your servant Jacob, ‘I have lived with Laban as an alien, and stayed until now; and I have oxen, donkeys, flocks, male and female slaves; and I have sent to tell my lord, in order that I may find favor in your sight.’”

The messengers returned to Jacob, saying, “We came to your brother Esau, and he is coming to meet you, and four hundred men are with him.” Then Jacob was greatly afraid and distressed; and he divided the people that were with him, and the flocks and herds and camels, into two companies, thinking, “If Esau comes to the one company and destroys it, then the company that is left will escape.”

And Jacob said, “O God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, O Lord who said to me, ‘Return to your country and to your kindred, and I will do you good,’ I am not worthy of the least of all the steadfast love and all the faithfulness that you have shown to your servant, for with only my staff I crossed this Jordan; and now I have become two companies. Deliver me, please, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esau, for I am afraid of him; he may come and kill us all, the mothers with the children. Yet you have said, ‘I will surely do you good, and make your offspring as the sand of the sea, which cannot be counted because of their number.¹’”

So he spent that night there, and from what he had with him he took a present for his brother Esau, two hundred female goats and twenty male goats, two hundred ewes and twenty rams, thirty milch camels and their colts, forty cows and ten bulls, twenty female donkeys and ten male donkeys. These he delivered into the hand of his servants, every drove by itself, and said to his servants, “Pass on ahead of me, and put a space between drove and drove.” He instructed the foremost, “When Esau my brother meets you, and asks you, ‘To whom do you belong? Where are you going? And whose are these ahead of you?’ then you shall say, ‘They belong to your servant Jacob; they are a present sent to my lord Esau; and moreover he is behind us.’” He likewise instructed the second and the third and all who followed the droves, “You shall say the same thing to Esau when you meet him, and you shall say, ‘Moreover your servant Jacob is behind us.’” For he thought, “I may appease him with the present that goes ahead of me, and afterwards I shall see his face; perhaps he will accept me.” So the present passed on ahead of him; and he himself spent that night in the camp.

¹This verse is recounted in Hebrews 11:12, part of a passage about Abraham's faith (Hebrews 11:8-19).

Semi-continuous Hebrew Scripture from the Latter Prophets: Jeremiah 31:15-26

Thus says the Lord:  A voice is heard in Ramah,  lamentation and bitter weeping.  Rachel is weeping for her children;  she refuses to be comforted for her children,  because they are no more. Thus says the Lord: Keep your voice from weeping,  and your eyes from tears, for there is a reward for your work,    says the Lord:  they shall come back from the land of the enemy; there is hope for your future.    says the Lord:  your children shall come back to their own country.

Indeed I heard Ephraim pleading:  “You disciplined me, and I took the discipline;  I was like a calf untrained.  Bring me back, let me come back,  for you are the Lord my God.

For after I had turned away I repented;  and after I was discovered, I struck my thigh;  I was ashamed, and I was dismayed  because I bore the disgrace of my youth.” Is Ephraim my dear son?  Is he the child I delight in?  As often as I speak against him,  I still remember him.  Therefore I am deeply moved for him;  I will surely have mercy on him,    says the Lord.

Set up road markers for yourself,  make yourself guideposts;  consider well the highway,  the road by which you went.  Return, O virgin Israel,  return to these your cities.  How long will you waver,  O faithless daughter?  For the Lord has created a new thing on the earth:  a woman encompasses a man.

Thus says the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel: Once more they shall use these words in the land of Judah and in its towns when I restore their fortunes:

“The Lord bless you, O abode of righteousness,  O holy hill!”

And Judah and all its towns shall live there together, and the farmers  and those who wander with their flocks.

I will satisfy the weary,  and all who are faint I will replenish.

Thereupon I awoke and looked, and my sleep was pleasant to me.

Complementary Psalm 121

I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord,  who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;  he who keeps you will not slumber. He who keeps Israel  will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord is your keeper;  the Lord is your shade at your right hand. The sun shall not strike you by day,  nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all evil;  he will keep your life. The Lord will keep  your going out and your coming in  from this time on and forevermore.

Semi-continuous Psalm 119:97-104

Oh, how I love your law!  It is my meditation all day long. Your commandment makes me wiser than my enemies,  for it is always with me. I have more understanding than all my teachers,  for your decrees are my meditation. I understand more than the aged,  for I keep your precepts. I hold back my feet from every evil way,  in order to keep your word. I do not turn away from your ordinances,  for you have taught me. How sweet are your words to my taste,  sweeter than honey to my mouth! Through your precepts I get understanding;  therefore I hate every false way.

New Testament Gospel Lesson: Mark 10:46-52

There are parallel passages at Matthew 20:29-34 and Luke 18:35-43.

They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” Jesus stood still and said, “Call him here.” And they called the blind man, saying to him, “Take heart; get up, he is calling you.” So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man said to him, “My teacher, let me see again.” Jesus said to him, “Go; your faith has made you well.” Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

Year C Ordinary 29, Catholic Proper 29, RCL Proper 24: Saturday

Selections are from Revised Common Lectionary Daily Readings copyright © 1995 by the Consultation on Common Texts. Unless otherwise indicated, Bible text is from New Revised Standard Version Bible (NRSV) copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved. Image Credit: Healing of the Blind Man by Carl Bloch [public domain] via Wikimedia Commons.

[its-lifestyle]

In the lunar calendar, the seventh month (Aug 1-29 this year) is often known as the Hungry Ghost Month.

During this time, some Chinese people are extra careful to avoid engaging in “dangerous” activities, such as staying out too late or going to “watery” places, such as lakes and waterfalls.

To protect themselves, some families appease wandering spirits by conducting roadside prayers at night and presenting food offerings to them.

At this time of the year, too, ghost stories abound.

The forbidden room

Fifteen years ago, Mark Kwan (not his real name) went back to his hometown for a vacation.

His aunt decided to drop by the family’s rented home.

The property in George Town, Penang, was used as a house, a shop and a storeroom by four generations of his family. Eventually, it was abandoned as it was dilapidated.

Kwan, an events manager in his 40s, said: “My mother told me that there was a room which was kept locked up and even had a grill to prevent people from going in. It was my late great-grandmother’s room. But there was something in the room, even before my great-grandmother’s time. One could hear noises of things being dragged around the room.

“I have been to the house a few times. Once, the ceiling board fell on me.”

But nothing could prepare him for the day when he bolted out of the room.

He said: “We were visiting the old house which was eventually used as a storeroom. My aunt sent me to that dark room, lit only by a light bulb, to retrieve some old coins from a dresser.

“When I opened the drawer, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I immediately looked into the dresser mirror but saw nothing. I thought what I felt was a figment of my imagination.”

As he continued searching for the coins, he felt another tap on his shoulder. He turned around and, from the corner of his eye, he saw a hand. He quickly emptied out the contents of the drawer into a plastic bag.

As he got ready to leave the room, he felt the third tap – and fled for dear life!

Kwan said: “My aunt was aware of the ghost in the room so my mum was astounded that she didn’t tell me about it but had sent me into the room.

“I wasn’t actually scared but just had a feeling that I needed to leave quickly. Thankfully, I still had the sense to take everything before leaving. I got a treasure trove of coins and trinkets from that visit!”

The faceless ghost

Eleven years ago, accountant Matthew Chen (not his real name) went on a tour with his girlfriend, now wife, to Vietnam. They had booked a room in a budget hotel in Ho Chi Minh City.

Nothing creepy happened when they checked in. They stayed the night before travelling to Hanoi for a few days.

“On the return trip, we had the misfortune of staying in a haunted room,” said Chen, 44.

“The room looked ordinary. There were two beds. Next to the door, there was a small round coffee table with two chairs. Facing the main door was the toilet and the windows where you could see the neon signs outside.”

Usually, Chen would leave the toilet light on at night. But this time, he did not, as the room was bright enough with the neon lights outside.

That night, he slept on the bed further away from the main door and closer to the windows, while his girlfriend occupied the other bed.

“I placed my spectacles on the bedside table and went to sleep.

“Later that night, I felt something pulling at me. I struggled hard to wake up but I could not open my eyes or move,” he recounted.

“I felt a ghost pressing down on me. I began to scold, curse, swear, and invoke the names of God and Buddha. Finally, I manage to wake up,” he said.

“I felt cold, and my hairs were standing on ends. My sixth sense felt a presence in the room.”

Chen could just make out “something” seated on the chair closest to the main door.

“It was a woman in a light green Vietnamese traditional dress (ao dai). She had long black hair and sat facing my direction. Without my spectacles, I was unsure if she was looking at me or out the window. The woman had no face!”

Chen kept staring at her while using his right hand to search for his spectacles.

“When I couldn’t find it, I turned around to look for it. When I put my spectacles on and turned to look at the chair, the woman had vanished.”

Somewhat dazed, he wondered if it was just a dream.

He said: “I thought of waking my girlfriend up but she was asleep.”

Chen then got up and switched on the toilet light and the television.

“Then my girlfriend woke up and told me she had had a nightmare.”

Fortunately, it was their last night in the city before the tour group flew out the next morning.

At the airport, he told the tour guide his room was haunted. Another traveller in the group concurred as she had stayed in the same room on the first day the group was in Vietnam but had not dared to bring it up.

“I admonished her for not telling the tour guide so that none of us in the group would get that room on the return journey,” he said.

Well, the creepy encounter did not just end there. The following day, Chen had a fever which lasted a few days.

After he recovered, his uncle brought him to see a medium. He was advised to do a cleansing ritual.

He said: “The medium gave me some yellow papers to burn at home. I had to walk all around the smoke, then go to the nearest crossroads near my house to burn another pile of yellow papers and walk encircling the smoke.

His uncle also bought him a Tibetan dzi bead for him for protection. He brings it along with him whenever he travels.

She wanted a ride

The incident that occurred 33 years ago is still vivid in his mind. It was around 5am when charcoal supplier Choo Long Meng, then 28, met a ghost.

Very early that morning, he had left his Desa Aman flat in Cheras, Kuala Lumpur, to meet up with his parents in Pudu for Qingming (Chinese All Souls Day) prayers.

Soon after he had left the car park and made a U-turn, he could see that the road was clear. Then suddenly, after 50m, a woman appeared in front of him and gestured to him to stop.

“I wound down my window. The woman asked in Cantonese, ‘Where are you going?’ She wanted to go to Taman Connaught in Cheras but I told her that I was not heading there,” he recounted. She shook her head and moved away.

The woman seemed normal. But what freaked him out was that she had long hair, was dressed in a long white dress, and was carrying a baby wrapped in white cloth. She had blood oozing from her mouth.

Soon after, he had the jitters and quickly wound up the car window.

Choo said: “I blasted music from my cassette player and drove off. I kept looking to the back seat to make sure she was not hitching a ride in my car!”

He was shaking and stuttering when he related the incident to his parents; they were speechless.

After Qingming prayers at Sg Besi, Kuala Lumpur, he told a neighbour in her 50s about his encounter.

“I told her I was going to die,” he said.

The neighbour comforted him saying, “No, you’re not.” She told him not to be afraid and that she could help appease the ghost so that she would never attack him.

He paid her about RM30 for joss sticks and incense papers.

“That night, my neighbour performed the prayers and asked me to stay indoors,” he said.

He was relieved that the ghost never returned to haunt him and that he is still alive.

Sinister cloud

Three years ago, marketing consultant Kareno Zainal Abidin, had an unusual encounter of the ghostly kind.

It took place in his apartment in Gombak, Selangor. He had lived there with his family for 14 years and nothing strange had happened until that day.

That fateful night, Kareno, 44, had returned home after midnight.

The air in his room was hot and humid. “I walked to the window and opened it. Then I sat on my bed, and I saw a strange cloud of smoke entering through the window. It had a pair of eyes like those of red saga seeds. I was paralysed by fear at this unusual sight,” he said.

His bedroom light was not switched on. As he had left the door ajar, the bedroom was partially lit by the light from the kitchen.

Instinctively, Kareno started reciting verses from the Quran, and felt his strength returning.

“Instinctively, I used my hands to push the smoke cloud away. Strangely, the cloud felt like a mass and not thin air. I then took a deep breath and exhaled, using my breath to try and blow the cloud away at the same time.”

As soon as the cloud was out of the window, Kareno quickly closed it.

After the harrowing experience, he went to wash his face. He sat down in the hall to relax and read the Quran for peace of mind before returning to bed.

Kareno said: “I did not wake my wife as she was fast asleep in the room.”

That night, he was sure that he had encountered an entity for the first time in his life! Fortunately, the scary episode did not occur again.

30-day haunting

It was the eve of National Day, 15 years ago. Traditional Indian dancer Sri Ganesan, in his 50s, went to see a young businessman one night for sponsorship for his upcoming dance show.

Two days later, he heard about his death and attended his funeral.

He heard that the businessman, who was 12 years his junior, had been attacked by a group of gangsters.

“He had gone to a pub on the first floor of a shoplot for drinks. He invited me but I did not join him,” he said.

It seemed someone called to meet him downstairs. When he went down, he was attacked by his assailants sometime past midnight,” said Sri Ganesan.

After returning from the funeral, Sri Ganesan felt as if an entity had followed him home. He could feel his body turning icy cold, now and then, as if a presence was nearby, whether in the day or at night. He was scared out of his wits. He believed the businessman was haunting him.

“Sometimes, I felt someone was in the front passenger seat as I drove home,” said Sri Ganesan. “There were times when I looked at the rear mirror and thought I saw a fleeting shadow on the back seat. Was it my imagination or was it the ghost of the businessman?”

At home, he could feel the chills when he saw the dead man’s face in one of his dance photographs. When he looked again, it vanished.

“I also felt someone sleeping next to me or sitting by my bed,” he said.

The only time he did not feel a ghostly presence was when he was taking a bath or in the toilet.

“The black thread from the temple which I wore for protection did not keep the ghost away,” he said.

After 10 days of ghostly encounters, Sri Ganesan confided in a friend who also knew the late businessman. The friend then informed him that the family of the dead businessman decided to hold a 30-day prayer ritual for him.

The Indians believe that the prayer ritual is to appease the soul of the dead which still lingers on earth even after burial or cremation. It is only after the ritual that the soul would find peace and leave this earth.

“Strangely, exactly after 30 days, I did not feel afraid anymore,” he related. “I did not feel any presence around me. It was a big relief.”

from Family – Star2.com https://ift.tt/31vQE3m

[antisatiric]

"drink. eat. it will help." - mark^2 @junkrocker if u want!!

"I know, I know."

Twain groans; he's being difficult on purpose, though the idea of consuming literally anything right now actually does make him want to be sick for real. There's a damn good reason he'd quit drinking back in his Guild days. Granted, it hadn't had much to do with the hangovers, but looking back he thinks it definitely should have.

It's been over four years since he'd even touched the stuff last. Once upon a time, there might have been people who cared he was breaking that streak, but ...

"Lemme just---shit!" Trying to sit up properly has Twain clutching at his head. He definitely hadn't missed this part of it. But he's had worse pain in his life, so he shoulders through it after a second. "Sorry. Haven't drank like that in a good while. I'll just go make some cereal or some shit."

ordinary monsters. / accepting ( @junkrocker ) .

[antisatiric]

@jfouler / starter call!

"Jamie?"

It's probably a good thing Twain's gotten a lot better at catching his thoughts before they come out of his mouth, because what he'd actually been about to exclaim in surprise was something along the lines of 'the goddamn boring vice principal guy', and that would have just been plain rude. Not that Twain's exactly been nice to Jamie under most definitions of the word nice, but he hasn't really been rude either. The right word would probably be 'annoying'.

In any case, Twain's probably been around Jamie more consistently than he's been around most other people in this place. The world has a funny way of dropping him right into situations with people he wants to bother.

Which is why Twain honestly expected the person holding the gun to have been literally anyone else.

"What the fuck? That's badass!" Seemingly unperturbed by the extremely recent peril he'd been in (he wasn't ever really in danger, not when he had a hand on one of the books in his bag and a lot of blind confidence), Twain pushes himself up from the ground, expression bright. "I have so many fuckin' questions. Is being super antisocial like, a cover-up? Or are you just like that? Oh, thanks for that, by the way. Does savin' my life mean I'm like a little bit in your good graces now? Like, I've graduated from bein' the guy who pops in at inconvenient times to annoy you and now we're chill?"

[antisatiric]

i want to make something very extremely clear. by default, twain's "roadside" verse is very much a bad end verse. it's a return to everything he thought he was safe to leave behind when he joined the guild.

traveling is a very real and important part of twain's story and narrative in every single verse, but the thing that he doesn't have in his roadside verse is the necessary stability of either a person or a place that's consistent for him in his life. it's twain back at the lowest point in his life, except now with even more experience with people he cares about dying or leaving him to do better things and even less of a reason to keep waking up every day.

he's still outwardly very much a silly guy, but more than ever the active choice to be positive and do fun things is just a distraction from the actual situation. his inheritor of the archives verse isn't great for him either, but i will stand by my statement that there's nothing that could possibly be worse for him than returning to wandering the world aimlessly with nobody in his life that STAYS there.

[antisatiric]

@littledippered / continued.

Right, so that answers the follow-up question of whether it's always like this in here. It's not the worst place Twain's ever had to stop, really, but it's far from the best.

"Eh, well. Sucks for them, I guess." He leans against the nearest wall, rummaging into his bag. Pulling a discarded pen out of an unzipped pocket, he scrapes what he can of the beans off the bottom of his shoe; better not to track that over the floor, even if it is already dirty. "You wouldn't believe the sorta stuff I've stepped in. Floor burrito ain't even close to the top five."

That's an exaggeration, but Dipper's a lucky part of the 99% of people who don't need to know that kind of thing.

"So, this place the height of luxury in Gravity Falls?"

[antisatiric]

" how are we not there yet?! My feet are killing me . . . " | for runaway verse

"Well, Tsukasa, let me tell you a funny thing about distance. When two places aren't all that close to eachother..."

He trails off into a chuckle, shaking his head. Twain's better, generally, at ignoring the aching in his feet and the soreness of his legs on longer trips; he doesn't know more than he's been told about Tsukasa's circumstances before his goddamn trap of a job, but he'd bet any amount of money there wasn't much long-distance walking in his past.

Twain remembers when he wasn't used to it either; he had the river to take him places right after he'd left home, but his stint with hitchhiking after that only worked some of the time. Long, grueling hours shaped his immunity to the fatigue that accompanies walking on uneven ground for what feels like forever.

Not for the first time, he wonders if inviting Tsukasa along with him was really the best option.

"At least we're gettin' into town!" He tries for reassuring, but Twain's just the slightest bit winded himself. He probably wants to be able to lay down in a proper bed just as much as Tsukasa does; recent completion of a job has at least made that much possible. "Not long now, then. Ain't too big a place, at least, and you'll know it when you see it."

It's not a nice place by any means, but it beats squatting in abandoned houses and empty buildings with nothing but a bedroll and the cold, hard floor.

bg3. / accepting.

[antisatiric]

“ say what you want, but say it like you mean it. “

"I've been lyin' to you, okay?"

He doesn't mean to say it. Or, he does, but he doesn't mean to say it like that; stress boiling over is no excuse when he promised himself he'd never snap at Tsukasa.

It's just been harder than he ever thought it would be to keep up the charade of being a good person. Twain had never imagined how little he'd want to let Tsukasa down when they first started travelling together. By his age, Twain had already made more than his first kill, done more than his first shady dealing. But he can still remember a time when he was an optimistic teenager on the road who thought he might be able to make it in life through some kind of straight path.

It probably makes him a little spineless that the only reason he feels any sort of remorse about what he's done is because he was found out.

"I lied to you about where my money's comin' from 'cause I knew you'd freak out about it. Because of course you would! The hell was I s'posed to do, though, let you keep workin' for people who were gonna make sure you were indebted to them for the rest 'a your life? Let you starve? I'm not an asshole, okay? Fuck!"

Tense and high-strung, he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, getting caught on a tangle that only serves to wind him up further. He stops looking at Tsukasa, too, feeling bile in the back of his throat. "I wanted to help you. You wouldn't have come with me at all if I'd been honest about it from the beginning, would you? I mean, shit---I just..."

He sighs, worn and ragged.

"... Doesn't matter anymore, does it? If you're gonna fuck off to someone else who's not keepin' you fed with blood money, then fuck off. But get off my case about it. And at least have some good, long second thoughts about the shithole you'd still be in right now before turnin' me over to someone. If you feel that strongly about it."

preacher's daughter. / accepting.

[antisatiric]

" you said we could watch a movie . . . " | in tsukasa's runaway verse teehee

"Right! I guess I did."

It's a little disorienting, sometimes, to get back from a job and face Tsukasa like this, but he adapts easily enough, misery and tension shoved to the side to make way for the bright-and-sunny demeanor that's almost exclusively reserved for talking to Tsukasa, these days. It almost reminds him of the Guild, when he'd just started bringing new people into his division ...

Well, but that's all in the past. And anyway, he'd never squatted in buildings like this with nothing but backpacks full of belongings and a cheap, plastic wall projector.

"You got one picked out?" he asks, pulling his phone up, prepared to go to whatever site he needs in order to find whatever the hell Tsukasa feels like watching. "'Cause I can totally pick, but you might not like it. Got a weird arsenal of faves up in my brain. Like, from Bambi to Die Hard."

challengers. / accepting.

[antisatiric]

" some days i don't miss my family. some days i do. " | in the verse where Tsukasa's a runaway </3

He hates to be the person having these conversations. Twain's never been much good at comforting people, let alone helping them talk through their issues, but Tsukasa's are always the worst to hear. Mostly it's because he gets them just a little too much. A lot of the time, his own family is a little speck in his memory. But sometimes they aren't. Sometimes he remembers the feeling of loving them even though he can barely remember their faces.

He'll remember Orion and Henry buying him snacks from the store. Ben helping him study sometimes when Pleasant couldn't do it. Bickering with Pamela about who was going to feed the stray cat that had settled into their house. Wanting to do whatever he could for Margaret, because she didn't deserve all that shit to be pushed onto her like the rest of his siblings pushed it on him.

Sometimes, he even remembers going hunting with his Pa. A quiet, solemn occasion. He hadn't ever been allowed to touch the guns, but he'd enjoyed being noticed and not hurt by that attention.

He always has to remind himself that they were all terrible, and it still hurts even then. So he can't imagine how much worse it is for Tsukasa, who had a family that seemed like they must have loved him.

"Yeah," he says, voice surprisingly hoarse and throat surprisingly dry. "That's, uh... That's how it is. I don't exactly have any sage advice to stop that from feelin' the way it does."

In moments like these, he wishes he were the kind of person who could tell Tsukasa something that would help him. Or even talk to him like an adult's meant to talk to someone who needs the kind of help he does. He gives himself some credit for being able to say anything at all, even though he knows it's not the right thing to say, and it probably isn't enough.

Tsukasa will probably laugh it off in a second, or put on a smile and push forward. And Twain will let him. Something like that---it probably makes him a terrible, selfish person. It'd be so easy to talk to him, and yet...

On the verge of saying something more, Twain exhales a quiet sigh instead. No sound comes out.

the mountain goats. / accepting.

[antisatiric]

"i hear prison is cushy." / from mark #2 @junkrocker

"We're not goin' to prison!" he insists, a healthy mix of frantic and extremely entertained. The sirens are loud in their approach, but all they really do is serve as a boost of speed for Twain to make it to the car quicker, wrenching the drivers' side door open and hopping in one one fell swoop.

He has to wait for a second for Mark to do the same on the other side of the car---Twain had fucked him over a little by getting there just slightly faster---but the moment they're both in, he steps on the gas quicker than he thinks he's ever done so in his life.

He's only driven this car once or twice, and doesn't have a much better track record with most other cars he's ever driven, so it's a rocky start, but he manages to keep them on the road, at least, zipping down the streets that have been all but abandoned this late at night. There's at least one siren on their tail, but he doesn't seem to care much, letting out a loud laugh as soon as he feels they're far enough away from the scene of the crime.

The adrenaline from the punch he'd thrown to get them into this mess in the first place hasn't worn off just yet.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, that was so dumb. Why the hell'd I do that? Oh my god. Jesus. Well, we're definitely not goin' to prison." He takes a long glance at the rearview mirror. There, in the distance, there are still flashing lights. "They usually give up when you cross state lines, right? That's how I remember it. How far are we? Dude, I don't even know where the hell we're goin' right now."

nerdy prudes must die. / eagerly accepting.

[antisatiric]

"i ought to punch you in the nose." / he angy

"You're not gonna though, right?"

He instinctively takes a step back, not wanting the inconvenience of being punched in the nose by someone undeniably physically stronger than him on his already-high stack of inconveniences. It was just bad luck that Jamie caught Twain following him in the first place, and while he knew perfectly well he'd be safe, Jamie was treating the situation with all the concern of someone who genuinely thought his tag-along was completely defenseless.

"Right? I mean, that'd be mean, and I'm already here so you might as well save the nose-punching for after this whole thing 'cause believe me I've been punched in the nose by people about as strong as you before and I can take it." Spouting out way too many assurances for someone who's not actually afraid, Twain holds his hands up in a half-surrender half-shrug. "I'll be so sad if you punch me though. So still don't."

It doesn't really matter how powerful I am; it'd still hurt like a motherfucker.

Glancing around---playing up the part of a skittish animal---Twain chuckles nervously. "Look, I'm a super valuable asset. I've got survival skills. And I'm great comedic relief. Y'know, when somethin' fucked up happens I can make a joke about it, and you can get annoyed and it'll be a really good fun time. Also, I really wanna see this. Please. You can punch me in another body part if you want!"

night at the museum. / accepting.

[antisatiric]

"i didn't know you were capable of that."

"Listen, Jamie. There's a lotta things you don't know about me." Twain laughs, quickly easing the serious tone with which he'd said that line, though it hadn't actually been false. "I know exactly how to keep my mouth shut when it matters. I just happen to also like talkin'."

It's said with a strange note of fondness---the sort of tone one might express towards a friend. Only, Twain's not usually the type for fondness, and the direction of it seems more like he's saying 'I enjoy bothering you' with that strange sense of sincerity.

Beneath that, though, Twain feels a private sense of easiness. It's been present, he thinks, ever since he found out Jamie's little monster-hunting secret; he likes playing the role of the comparatively ordinary person a little too much. It's nice to bother Jamie, because Jamie thinks he leads a more dangerous life by miles. At best, he might be a few feet ahead, but...

I sorta missed being the 'normal' one from back then.

"And anyway, I'd like to think we're friends, aren't we? Well, you're my friend, Jamie, 'cause you're the most entertaining guy to talk to in town. And I mean that! I'll literally die before I give away somethin' a friend told me not to tell." That really, historically, hasn't been true either---Twain's eyes shift away to the side for a second, a miniscule tell, but he really is trying to be a more honest person when it comes to this kind of thing. "Well, okay, maybe not die. I like bein' alive. But I'd get seriously hurt. But not too seriously 'cause ow. But I can take a secret pretty damn far."

i didn't know you could do that. / accepting!

[antisatiric]

‘that house is haunted.’

"Is it really?"

He asks the question with genuine, gleeful interest---for all his experience with extraordinary people, he's never quite delved as much into the supernatural. Sure, he's brought a ghost through with his abilities once or twice, but they're not real ghosts. They're a mirage of a mirage.

Not 'real'.

Twain hasn't ever seen a ghost in this world. Nor, for that matter, any kind of demon or specter or whatever else there might be. The thought of it---of something he hasn't seen before---is genuinely exciting. More to the point, it might end up making for a good story to bring to 44's archives, later.

"Can we go in?" he asks, fully expecting a negative response. Before Jamie can actually get a word in, he responds, "I mean, I've never seen a real ghost before. Obviously. We thought our house was haunted as a kid but I'm pretty sure it was just my brother Orion sneakin' around---he's good at that. And I've been to plenty haunted places... But, well, y'know. 'Haunted' places. Anyone can make the lights flicker or spin the chandelier if they hide the mechanisms well enough. Anyway, I'm a curious guy, so I'll just go see the ghost without'cha if you say no."

the bird eater. / accepting.