u/FroZoneSquirel

TW: Child harm, suicide, religious killings.

A sauntering wonderer, my feet have led me to believe myself as such. I have traveled to spite the world which stole so much from me. So much the emotional pain caused physical torture. Pounding in my chest. Searing in my ribs. Yet not enough to stop my feet from competing on who is in front.

The road was rough, it ate through my shoes a couple years ago, and my feet have grown callous to the asphalt and heat. Weeks without food before hunger. If I was hungry before I would die from that pain too. I have time before I must eat again. But they found me. The pain in my stomach. Before everything flipped, these streets had businesses lining them. Food at every corner. More than enough for everyone to eat, and still people didn't. But now the buildings housed ghosts, feeding them with the memories of joy they had in life before.

All except the Tower. The Tower has living memories. A spire in the middle of the city. Erected after the fall came upon us. Gothic by design. People from before and after it all changed. I'm on my last leg, I might as well drift to see if they will accept me, or take me out from this hellish world.

*knock knock knock*

The door opened and I was met with the cold cobble of the Tower across the room, I saw the expanse of the lobby first. It reached far. Farther than it looked on the outside. The circle had expanded wide enough to host the group. Healthy, lively looking folk. Happy while trading food and crafts with one another. The people looked like before.

"Hey stranger, you look like you need something to eat. Stay with me and my family tonight."

A kind looking man had entered my vision as he asked me to his "house". It was a room really. A big room, but a room.

"Names is Allister. And yours?"

"I... i think my name is Thomas."

"Well Thomas, dig in!"

The plethora in front of me. A whole apple. Two ripe banana. A loaf of fresh baked bread bread. 5 chicken nuggets and a tall glass of chocolate milk.

"Sorry it isnt much. I am not all that rich and I think serving you more might do more harm than good."

I nodded, only half hearing him, "More than I've had in about a month."

"Oh my, please dig in then."

I cut the apple and chewed on the rough skin slowly. The sweet juices had revived my appetite. I worked through the feast in front of me, trying to eat slow as to not place strain on my withered stomach. And the milk... silky and sweet, flowing down my gullet and bringing life to my bones once again.

I wiped my mouth with my hand. "Thank you kindly."

"Sure thing stranger. Not everyday a convert walks in? So what floor are you?"

"What floor?"

"Well yes. This IS the Tower after all. You need to have a floor. So who do you follow. Adam, Sharif, Balhali, or Aurora?"

"I dont know."

He looked, puzzled. "You mean you came in here without one in mind?"

"I was looking for food. But if chosing one keeps me here, I'll hear them out."

"Oh well, see the thing is, there are more 'groups' than that, but those four compose all the 'groups'"

"Groups?"

"Yes, the followers. We here on the ground floor are the nomadic tribe of Sharif, we are called the Tunics. We go and collect knowledge and food for all followers of Sharif, we also work to convert the others."

"Why?"

"They are less... homely than we are."

"Do they also have food?"

"Oh yes, we are the 'poorest' group of followers in the tower, but we love our position."

"Hmm... can I hear them out? Their pitches I mean."

"You can... it might not be the best."

I looked out of Allister's room to a staircase than ran along the wall, starting to the left of the grand door and circling the little village at the base.

"Right above us are the Eunichs, our members who have dedicated themselves to celibacy to govern things we bring to them. Then another floor higher are our monks. They make Sacrifices to Sharif. I wouldn't recommend going higher."

"What will I find?"

"Too much."

I decided I would wait. I rested in Allister's "home" for the night. I was surprised to see electricity and rough plumbing. It was better than the road. I slept, hearing things from the floors above that would keep people from before awake, but it was just the white noise I needed to drift off.

In the morning, the Tunics gathered in the center and took a head count. "54. Three missing. Cherry, Mable, and Corey it seems. Ladies and gentlemen please remember to keep watch of your children, especially at night. If they get out or upstairs we won't help them."

As if this was a regular team meeting announcement, the people went back to their work. Tending animals, trading goods.

Talking to Allister, "Does anyone go upstairs?"

"Good morning to you too. Only our journeyman, Roger."

"How far up does he go?"

"He's been to the top, but doesnt go regularly. He trades food to the other floors. He is the man by the stair."

"Right. Thank you."

"Try to keep your wits."

I brushed off his remark and headed over to the man by the stair. He rocked while drawing in on a pipe. "You have something you are wanting upstairs?"

"I want to see the other floors."

He looked up at my light frame. "No you dont."

"Why not?"

"You dont want to."

"But I do."

He sat a moment. "Ok. I leave in 20 minutes. Get ready."

"I'm ready now."

"Im sure you are."

I stayed by the stairs as he packed a cart full of food.

"You carry this up and back?"

"Every day."

He was stocky. He probably did make this trip for longer than he can remember. Maybe as long as the Tower stood tall.

"Don't fall too far behind. The Eunichs and Monks are nice enough, but you can't drop your guard."

"Ok."

Up we went. And Roger moved swiftly. More swift than you would expect a man dragging a cart of food.

We reached the hole in the floor above. The Eunichs were portly. They have clearly reaped benefit from their judgements. They strung more lights and had seemed like they took to toilets, unlike the Tunics. Roger went to a table settled in their floor, and hunted down a few bundles of meat with some fresh vegetables.

One approached. "Ah a new convert?"

"No sir."

His brow furrowed. "Than what are you?"

"Exploring my options."

"Right. Well we are the Sharifi. We are about structure and order. Sharif has given us our structure and we thank him with our offerings. We give generously and regularly. A god produces order, and his servants provide gratitude.

"He is a god?"

"Yes. The best of the 4 in the tower. And you're with Roger?"

"Thats right."

"Listen, you may want to turn around here."

"Why?"

"Most stomachs can't handle what's next."

"I'll be fine."

Roger spoke, "Listen stranger, we have a time schedule we got to make. This is the Tunics thanks for the judges."

Next flight of stairs. Similar to the first. Winding around to another hole in the floor. This room was dark. Candle lit and stuffy, the only thing I could make out was another table in the middle of the room.

"Lets be quick about this. Help me out and grab the veggie bag."

I heaved the bag out of the cart as Roger grabbed a hunk of meat and a burlap sack. As he picked it up, the sack squirmed and I heard muffled yelps. Human yelps. Child yelps. We moved to the table and I placed my bag on the table and Roger slammed his load down. "OFFERINGS ARE HERE!!" He yelled as he slit open the sack and sure enough, a little boy. Probably Corey.

We turned back to the cart as we heard the monks chanting as they headed to the table. Corey's yelps were ended quickly. Lucky for him. Not drawn out.

"Is it always a kid?" I asked Roger.

"No. Just depends what they ask for. Most people are disgusted by now. And you keep going?"

"I've been alive on the outside for a while. A child dying isnt something particularly new to me."

"Fair point."

We worked up another staircase. At the other end of this hole in the floor was a wall stretching to the other stairs with a door. "Why is this one different?"

"The Adamites produce the most smell. We all have vats that dump our waste. But they can't throw away what makes them smell. So this wall makes it smell better for everyone else. Also gives me my break area. After this drop off, we stop to eat."

"After the smell?"

"Yes."

"Okay"

"Try not to breathe too much."

He opened the door and the whiff had taken me back. Smell of sweat, body oder and... sex. The room hang hanging lights, carpets and the most furniture I've seen in any room so far. Bodily fluids and waste stung about the room, and people indulging in each other's bodies.

A sweaty man approached Roger. "Glad to see you again Roger. You know you can join whenever you like."

"I'm alright. I've told you before I could never eat my own child."

The whiplash was evident on my face as Roger carried jugs of water two by two into the center of the orgy. "Don't forget to hydrate once in a while you animals."

He turned face and walked out quick. I walked behind him till we cleared the threshold and closed the door. I took some gulping breaths to clear my airway of the room's stench.

"They eat their kids?"

"Yep. They refuse any other food. They'll die out soon so maybe the Sharifi can come and take over that area."

"Icky."

"You were warned."

"Their own kids..."

Roger walked to a dugout looking area that looked well used. A fire pit in and blocks of wood. He started a fire in the pit, and began to make himself a pot of coffee and cooked up some bread and meat. "Please take a seat, have a bite."

"Ok."

I had taken some what looked like rat meat and cooked it in the pit.

"You don't talk much stranger."

"Try not to 'less I'm asked to."

"Reason for it."

"Lost my voice i guess."

"Why's that?"

"Dead wife, dead kid. Never wanted to talk much after that."

"How'd it happen?"

"..."

"I tried."

I finished my rat. Surprisingly good they are, especially cooked. Similar to squirrel. Good for a snack. Or for someone getting back into eating.

"You wondering anything about me?" Roger piped back up.

"No."

"Ok. Shall we get going? Only about half left."

"Sure."

We got up and followed the hall to the next staircase. The hole in the floor revealed something I remember as ancient.

Tile. White and blue, like a highschool bathroom. I havent see anything like this in years. Nothing like the carpeted halls that stood in front of me now. Of course, working in the enormous tower the halls were very few, but they held classrooms. Some with beds. Most with desks. But the old lights were the most alluring thing.

A pretty blonde lady with a clipboard walked up. "Mr. Roger, pleasure to have you back."

"Its nice seeing you alive Cathy."

"Thank you sir. And I see you have a guest! I am Cathy", she reached out her hand. Been a while since I shook hands.

"Thomas."

"Ooooo good name. Strong name even. We'll we are the first floor of Balhali's people, we are the educators, and upstairs we have the devoted."

"Okay."

"When you get upstairs, please allow the devoted to show you why they are called that."

I shot Roger a look. His replied, I wouldn't, but your choice.

"Alright, sure."

"Great, I will have Ally and Gracelyn head on up. They are some of your devoted who come and teach every now and again."

"Lovely."

"Isn't it? Now Roger please allow me to take some of that load off you."

"Gladly."

We filled our order and Cathy talked to us in a storage space, full of neat old tech and fridges, as Ally and Gracelyn prepared. They hurried upstairs, where the light seemed a dying green.

"We want to thank you again. Us Balhalians are determined that we will restore the world through our knowledge and devotion. Now the ladies are likely ready" she picked a camera off a shelf and walked towards the stairs. "Let us show you."

We climbed the stairs into a large room, with the "devoted" they spoke of staring towards the middle. And in their sight, the two, Ally and Gracelyn, each with a sledge hammer with wooden handles. Each with a shackle weight tied with rope instead of chain.

"Ladies, show your devotion. To a new World!"

They shouted in unison, "To a new World!"

Both of them knocked their heads back and lifted the hammer handles to their mouths. Like professional sword swallowers they brought the handles down their throats as Cathy lifted one of the shackle weights and fitted the rope around Ally's neck. The hammer sticking out her mouth.

"Better worlds are built from brave souls." Cathy said as she dropped the weight.

CRUNCH

The room heard it. And only Roger winced "I hated it then. I hate it now."

Cathy approached Gracelyn. She lifted the ball in the same manner, tying the rope and before dropping the weight on Gracelyn said "The cowards dont deserve the reward."

CRRRUNCH

The hammer broke, but it didnt break her neck. We all watched as she wriggled as she suffocated and died.

"Right well, the devoted will have their order now Roger, and the Aurorans are waiting."

He cleared his throat. "Ahem... right. Come on Thomas. Two more floors." I took in the sight of Ally and Gracelyn a second longer before turning around.

The other devoted dragged the ladies and threw them out the disposal chute.

Up the stairs into another dimly lit room. A shadow took form before standing before us. "Ahh Roger lovely, you brought a deathly convert. He will love it here." He hissed.

"The Aurorans only asked for vegetables. I assume you caught your dinner?"

The shadow pointed a finger at a pig trough dripping blood. Two bodies lay slumped over the lip.

"Cherry and Mable?" I found myself asking

"Was that their names?" Roger asked. "Well, by the looks of them you listened to me and stopped going for children."

The shadow spoke, "Well when you have our food, we will at least change to be fed. This tower is the last bit of world we need to wipe out before the new dawn can break. This night has lasted too long."

"Ah, death colt huh Roger?" I said.

"Did you just crack a joke?" Roger looked puzzled back at me.

"No... I'll grab their potatoes."

The shadowy man took the vegetables I gave him and sent us. "Bring that fellow back when death let's him in passed his door."

"Whatever."

Me and Roger had to take cart blindly to a wall and make our way to the last staircase. We went up and up. Into a blindingly bright light on the ceiling. No idea what was used but it washed out the top floor. Another Table, with 4 boxes. Each labeled: Adam, Sharif, Balhali, and Aurora.

"Wait they are real?"

"Yes. They erected this tower."

A man came out of the blinding light. "Thank you Roger."

"Sure Sharif." Roger started trekking down the stairs after his last delivery.

"Now stranger, you've seen it all, where will you go?" He said pacing toward me. "Stay with mine, they are the most civilized after all."

"But I promise vengeance." A lady emerged as well. Hair dark as coal with skin white as snow. "Kill those who took from you. For me?"

"Or he can have them back with me." A larger man emerged.

"Balhali where is Adam?"

"Check his floor."

"Right."

"So what will it be Thomas?"

I spoke for myself. "No. I need food. Can't I be Roger's helper?"

"Very well, we will try, as we did with Roger, to change your mind. But you may be a distributor."

"Roger isnt a Tunic?"

"He is not."

I've now ran the tower more times than anyone and the floors have looked less crazy the longer I see their role in the ecosystem. Roger is gone. His past life as a Christian meant his morals came back to haunt him.

I dont know if there is a God. But I plan to kill one. And to start I am starting with one at the top of this tower.

The Full Story:

Part 1

Part 2

Finale

Let me know if the links dont work

Finale

<Redacted> State Prison.

Sanders

7/24/2022

9:04 am:

A man, Avery Lemug, dropped off a bed that he said should go to Death Row. He also dropped off a paper with a list on notes, as well as a warning that if it doesn't go to Death Row, follow the notes.

The request was followed and the bed moved to Death Row. The notes the man left read as follows:

1. If in Death Row, reserve for the worst of the worst. Use as frequent as necessary.

2. If not in Death Row, Leave in secluded cell.

3. Longer without someone, the stronger the bed's urges grow. Not a problem in Death Row.

4. Do NOT let an innocent or suspected to be innocent or someone in appeals in the bed.

5. Do not worry about cleaning bed. It does that itself.

6. Do NOT sleep in bed.

7. Does not fill. You can try as much as you like, will not fill.

8. Do not look for me.

Sorry for the fake name.

-

<Redacted> State Prison

Sanders

8/14/2026

Found the <Redacted> Wonderer killer. Booked today. Set for Death Row.

Brief:

Franklin Stevens would lure homeless people and prostitutes into his car before taking them home, killing them, and disposing the bodies. He moved to finding former inmates and doing the same. Plead guilty. Sentenced to Death on the 14th of December by way of Code: Resting Place.

Here is the full story:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Finale

Lmk if the links arent working right.

I decided. Its time to wrap this up. I'm done being a hero, but as long as I am written I'll have to against my will. So I am asking, dear writer, please leave me be. Dear reader, leave me alone, just a memory to fade after you get this piece of closure. Thats what I offer. Closure. No reboot. No retcon. I want this over. And I found out how to do it.

In a universe like mine, only the written can decide who lives and dies. So FroZoneSquirel, please. Let me go. I've needed this for too long. You've needed this too. Focus on different characters please. I get Complex is one that you can make fit in any conflict. Complex is wearing thin. Stretched beyond what a man should endure.

Your sadistic mind has brought me to beg to be killed off. Don't write me a peaceful retirement. Kill me. I want to return to my wife. My real wife. One more time. I just wish I was done. What must I do? List why? I tried using the recordings of me to give my message because you keep leaving it out of your panels. Every time you draw it you get worried your work horse is dying out on you. He's been dead. He's been pining for release, but this dead horse has been beaten far beyond its years.

Focus on Ashur. His story is more compelling.

You've ran me through hordes of the undead, seeing my parent's parents asking them for another hug after decaying for a decade. I've fought giant rat-kings who were subjugation to fight. I had to pull apart their tails to keep them from more destruction.

I fought a galaxy. A living galaxy. You paired me up to throw fisti-cuffs with a vast expanse that I couldn't hit. A vacuum with stars. Cold and unfeeling. You've written me to scare off that which goes bump. Wendigo, monsters under your bed. If they had a body it wasnt too hard. But you had me pair against things that could rip your soul. Things you cried making me fight because of the shear terror you had writing them.

Can you put me out of our misery? To you its a tap of the screen, to me its the last bit of the life thats lost life in it. Its a fire that has been quenched after an ember has stood for hours. Please. End it here. You don't need to think of something grandiose, please use Death. He has been asking to take me for years, but when I say yes he apologizes and tells me you have different plans. WHAT DIFFERENT PLANS?!?!? Another fucking day of having my mind shredded to pieces? Having things happen that I am supposed to shrug off? Please FroZone?

Thank you! Oh thank you! Complex will accept this gift with sincerity! To the readers, us who are written are happy to entertain, but even we are dated.

I decided. Its time to wrap this up. I'm done being a hero, but as long as I am written I'll have to against my will. So I am asking, dear writer, please leave me be. Dear reader, leave me alone, just a memory to fade after you get this piece of closure. Thats what I offer. Closure. No reboot. No retcon. I want this over. And I found out how to do it.

In a universe like mine, only the written can decide who lives and dies. So FroZoneSquirel, please. Let me go. I've needed this for too long. You've needed this too. Focus on different characters please. I get Complex is one that you can make fit in any conflict. Complex is wearing thin. Stretched beyond what a man should endure.

Your sadistic mind has brought me to beg to be killed off. Don't write me a peaceful retirement. Kill me. I want to return to my wife. My real wife. One more time. I just wish I was done. What must I do? List why? I tried using the recordings of me to give my message because you keep leaving it out of your panels. Every time you draw it you get worried your work horse is dying out on you. He's been dead. He's been pining for release, but this dead horse has been beaten far beyond its years.

Focus on Ashur. His story is more compelling.

You've ran me through hordes of the undead, seeing my parent's parents asking them for another hug after decaying for a decade. I've fought giant rat-kings who were subjugation to fight. I had to pull apart their tails to keep them from more destruction.

I fought a galaxy. A living galaxy. You paired me up to throw fisti-cuffs with a vast expanse that I couldn't hit. A vacuum with stars. Cold and unfeeling. You've written me to scare off that which goes bump. Wendigo, monsters under your bed. If they had a body it wasnt too hard. But you had me pair against things that could rip your soul. Things you cried making me fight because of the shear terror you had writing them.

Can you put me out of our misery? To you its a tap of the screen, to me its the last bit of the life thats lost life in it. Its a fire that has been quenched after an ember has stood for hours. Please. End it here. You don't need to think of something grandiose, please use Death. He has been asking to take me for years, but when I say yes he apologizes and tells me you have different plans. WHAT DIFFERENT PLANS?!?!? Another fucking day of having my mind shredded to pieces? Having things happen that I am supposed to shrug off? Please FroZone?

Thank you! Oh thank you! Complex will accept this gift with sincerity! To the readers, us who are written are happy to entertain, but even we are dated.

Rest is important. And if your body cant find comfort during rest, it will actually change you. Did you know that? Rest is pivotal. It keeps you in motion throughout the day. It dials your metabolism. It clears your body. It builds your brain and enforces your mind. So when comfort is stripped during rest, one by one your faculties drip down the drain until your so high strung you have a heart attack.

Sloth is different. Sloth keeps from things getting done. Sloth doesnt repair, it let's you become maladaptive, makes you sluggish so that it is harder to work. Passivity actively makes it harder to improve. To perform at your best, one must embrace rest, but disspell Sloth.

After the funeral, like I said in the last post, I interrogated my father. "I should've listened."

"Yes. But you didn't."

"What is that... thing?"

"I don't know. I kept it in the attic for decades. My Father passed it along to me."

"You don't know anything about it?"

"I couldn't stand the sight of it."

"Why not?"

"I didn't listen to my father either."

"You let someone on the bed too?"

"You had an older sister... I... gave it to her to sleep on after she grew out of her crib. We couldn't afford a new bed at the time, but we had that one. Unused, forgotten."

"oh..."

"The bed. The cursed bed. Generation after generation, takes someone close before we take it seriously. I don't blame you. I could have warned you until I was blue in the face and you wouldn't believe."

"And you knew that? Before you gave me that bed you knew someone close to be would die?"

He looked ashamed now. "Yes. My mother was lost to the bed. Now its taken two of my children. I... I couldn't handle the burden anymore... I... hated knowing it resided above us. Looming over its victims. Waiting in wait for its response."

My father, the man who woke up early to work his hours so he could make it to my music lessons and Ashton's martial arts. He couldn't buy us one year of preparation. He couldn't wait to pass his sin onto his boy. He couldn't bear the weight.

And worse? Generation after generation, the sloth of my ancestors had wrought down this curse with no preparation. I had to figure this bed out. Even if I couldn't release our family from this curse, I needed to make a "owner's manual" on how to subside the curse. I would have to research this bed.

I had to get to work. My brother's grave had come from my inaction. My own passivity has brought not just me, but my family down. And so I must learn. Learn from this bed. Learn how it works. It keeps me up. It withholds my rest. My sleeplessness makes me sluggish. But I make do with naps throughout the day. I have a week left off work to figure out this bed. I grabbed my journal and made my plans.

Day 1.

I have torn apart the bed again and again. Nothing, not the sheets, not the mattress, not any price of wood, can leave a perimeter of 13 feet from the rest of the bed before destructing and reforming back where it was. After 30 seconds, if nothing is on it, it "refreshes" -so to speak- to be prestine again.

Day 2.

Non-human life has a window of 5 seconds of comfort before ceasing to move and dying on the linens. The size of the animal gives or takes about 2-3 seconds. I used stray animals I saw in town, as well as animals from a local pet shop. Don't worry. They don't feel anything. From what I can see, it is about 5 seconds of comfort before just ceasing to breathe. I ran this section for a good while. After an animal died, I removed it, and waited to finish my tests before adding all the husks back to the bed and waiting.

After a few minutes, smaller animals started to seemingly melt into the sheets. After a couple hours, the bigger animals followed suit. After all the bodies were absorbed into the springs and wood I searched for anything on the bed. Symbols, words, anything that might explain anything about this bed. Nothing.

Day 3.

I know the next step I have to take. I am terrified to do it. So I repeated the previous day minute for minute, and sure enough, before going to sleep, the bed looked as it did After it made itself again.

Day 4.

If I am going to research this, I have to take the plunge. I went to the red-light and I hired a lady of the night. She seemed weirded out that I only asked her to take a nap on my bed in the basement, but took the money and laid down. 10 seconds... 20 seconds... 30 seconds... boom. Dead as a door nail. No struggle, no anxiety, no pain. She too, as well as the animals before showed zero riger mortis. Just restful looking. I left her for the night.

Day 5.

Waking up, she hadn't been absorbed over night. Hours more passed before the sheets started to engulf her. An entire 24 hours passed before only her nose was still visible on the sheets. No smell. No mess. Nothing except memory left.

Day 6.

I still have no clue how this works. No idea what binds death to this symbol of rest and relaxation. I went and tried to find a more willing participant this time. Took a trip to the slums and asked if anyone was done with life and wanted a quick and painless end. Got a few volunteers. Told them I would come back for them if I needed them.

Jonny, the man who came back with me, had asked for a meal in return. I figured it was the least I could do. I made him red beans and rice with some Cajun seasoning and made him a hot fudge Sunday for dessert. He looked up from his bowl. "You gonna eat me or sumthin?"

"What? No. I am doing... uh research."

"Quick and painless you said?"

"All you have to do is go to sleep."

"I can do that."

"Your friends-"

"Acquaintances."

"Right. If they see you didnt come back, they won't back out?"

"Marley wouldn't. He saw everything he had blow up in his face. Jackie... she might get squirming. She had it rough, but she isnt as done as she says she is."

Keep note. Jackie might have to be next.

Day 7.

I set Jonny up for the night. His head hit the pillows. "Hey this is quite nice." 10... 20... 30... 40 seconds. Out. Gone. But it seemed the bed was more accepting of this one. He was starting the process of being "cleaned up" by the time I woke up.

Damn. Still nothing.

I needed to test something. I bought a large pig from a farmer about 40 miles out of town. Getting it home was a hassle. And worse getting it on the bed. After laying it down. 10 seconds. Gone in three hours. That did tell me something. Size of a creature did slow all processes sure. But there is one quality that slowed it more. Consciousness? Maybe. Something only people had.

My sample size is very small, I might have to wait till I have a larger group size to determine more. On what keeps it from the kill. And what keeps it from assimilation of its kill.

I went to pick up Jackie. But she had some second thoughts and would only agree after seeing Marley go. She wanted to make sure it was quick and painless. I get it. She wants to make sure she is as "safe" as possible.

They both came back and I made them some spaghetti and meatballs. Marley was quite grateful. Helped with the dishes. Jackie sat at the table and watched. Something about her ate at me, but I couldn't decide what.

Anyways, I got Marley some pajamas and had him lie down, Jackie watching the entire time. He was laying down a whole minute before he went. Jackie looked at him as it happened, and shock befell her face. The startled look made her look like a... "Jackie, how old are you?"

"15 sir."

"Where are your parents?"

"Dad died and Mom kicked me out after kicking my ass."

"I see. Well get cleaned up. You can stay in the spare room upstairs."

The other two were older fellows, so I figured they didnt have too much to look foreward to. But Jackie? She was still a kid. I had to decide there that if I were to be able to sleep without the help of the death bed that she couldn't be a subject, and she couldn't go back to the street.

Day 8.

Marley hadn't started to get vored all day. Up until midnight tonight.

But in the meantime I have a new resident. I had made me and Jackie and eggs and pancakes breakfast this morning. And while there I broke the tension from last night.

"Listen I can't bring myself to let you do this."

"Mr. Its real nice of you, but its either I die here or die on the streets, or get pimped out. Marley was nice enough to keep people off me, and we planned to go together."

"Both of you?"

"Ok I decided. I wanted to go, and I was the last thing anchoring Marley."

"Well Marley is gone, and you are welcome to stay here, so long as you don't tell anyone about the bed."

"Noone would believe me."

"Right. We'll you're welcome to the fridge. Just dont sleep in the bed."

"Can't. Marley is still in it. I ain't touching him either."

"So we have an understanding?"

"You aren't going to hurt me are you?"

"Well the worst I was going to do was have you sleep on the bed. I'm telling you not to do that now, good enough?"

"I guess."

"I am sorry about Marley."

"I'm glad he gets to rest."

Rest. One way we become better than the way we were before.

I will update when I have made a list to pass on to whoever gets this wretched bed next.

I know what your thinking. Many beds have had people die on them, and many have suffocated on the bed. Its actually considered a "good way to go" to pass in your sleep. Why are you telling us about this? What's so special? Well other beds dont plan their victim. Other beds dont lock you down and keep you out. My bed, or rather, the bed I am told I need to sleep on, has this accredited to it. Its supple silk sheets and self cooling pillow are easy to fall into but after seeing what it did to the last person to sleep on it... i stand guard.

Let me explain.

I got this bed from my father, and he from his father, and so on and so on. How has the bed survived? Easy. It changed. It always has, it always will. It takes the shape of the coziest bed around. At one point it was a wood board with animal skins I'm sure. Now, the previously mentioned sheets lay atop a bamboo fabric with a topper of cubed memory foam, the same as the pillow. It keeps it cool. The springs are ready to fit any body's that have had their heads touch the cold pillow. Auto conforming, auto adjusting. I got it when it was a waterbed. I just moved into my house and my dad told me about the bed.

"Make sure to dedicate a room to this bed. And make sure noone sleeps in it. If you do, you let them sleep in their death bed."

"Uh... sure thing dad." I replied, not grasping what he could possibly mean.

I moved into my house and put the bed in basement bedroom. Immediately, I got the urge to sleep in the basement. I mean, I never slept on a waterbed. It could be nice. The sloshing provides white noise already, it comforts to the body, and it might be fun, with proper bedding. I had gone and checked to find small vermin sleeping on the bed.

"Ew gross" I whispered while trying to quietly move the 3 rats into a bag to throw them out. I gathered up the bedding and went to the wash. Loading it in I made note of the type bedding so I could grab more, turning back to the bed, however, and it was made again. Curious, I removed the bedding and set it to the side and sure enough, the bed was made again next time I saw it. The bedding I remove was gone, like it got up, cleaned itself, and made itself back on the bed. I thought "Well that saves time" and just closed the door again.

And I checked it a little while later, again to sleep on it for a bit, and again... dead rats and mice and roaches i take the covers off and brought them to the bed, only again, it was already made again.

With the obvious rodent problem that I had in my basement, I figured I would wait until I called an exterminator before sleeping on that water bed. So I closed the door and went about the rest of my day. I called the exterminator to spray the house and he said he would be at the house in a few days.

He came back upstairs after he finished spraying the basement and said, "I liked the waterbed, but you gotta change those sheets man. Dead bugs and rats all over it man."

"Oh hehe right."

I went down and he was right, dead and decomposing bugs and rats on the sheets. So again... I pull off the sheets, and throw them out, I go to get more and look to see new fresh sheets on the bed again. Figuring all the animals like to die on it, it makes a great trap for them i guess, so I left.

About once a month I would go and change the sheet on the bed, and less and less things would die in the sheets. It was actually quite nice not having to worry about bugs and rats. But I noticed every once in a while, something about the bed changed. When I got hypo allergen silk sheets for my bed in my room, the waterbed got the same. I got myself a coop pillow, and the waterbed had new coop pillows. I would try and take them off, but the pillows just came right back. I even got myself a new bed. I got a breathable mattress and topper, and so the waterbed changed into that same bed. The big difference was that while I had my sheets scattered around, that bed had hospital corners. Prestine. Every time I changed the sheets it would get more prestine and cozy looking. I would press the bed and it seemed nice, but my bed had my curvature and wear on it.

I started kitting my house out to make it all as cozy as that bed to compensate. That bed, even though death is taped to it, kept calling for me to sleep on it. Like a hum in the back of my mind. Like it begs me to crawl into its superficial layer and nest for the night. It started to entice.

I wanted to lie on it. I wanted to snuggle into those likely rodent infested sheets. Just for one night. Luckily I am a germaphobe, or I might have done it too.

Months I wanted to wrap myself up and make myself as physically close to that bed as I could. I knew why the pests were flocking to it. I figured they reasoned it was an amazing final resting place.

The only thing that keeps me from it now is what happened last week.

My brother, my younger brother Ashton. He had come to town and wanted to stay with me for a bit before heading back to college.

I greeted him. I served him a meal. I said it. "Anywhere you find to sleep, you're welcome to." I didn't forget about the bed, but I figured it took a while for mice and bugs to show up, and its a good, if not mythical bed, but if he sees a rodent he won't sleep there.

There was no rodent. No bugs either. Of course it had fully exterminated my house the last time I changed the sheets a couple days ago. Ashton said his goodnight... and didn't wake up.

The ambulance said after he fell asleep, he simply stopped breathing. The coroner had said his heart looked like it had a massive attack in his sleep that nobody couldve seen coming.

But Dad knew. He knew what had happened. He knew my negligence killed his other boy. My Mom as well. They looked at me with eyes that begged "Why didnt you warn him or anything?"

I should have. I killed my brother. His death is on my hands. I was warned and didnt believe. My inaction took him from us. I had put my passive self away. My sloth would never kill again. I knew my burden, and so I had to learn to carry it.

My Father understood. He said it was part of the curse that wretched bed brought. "If you dont take it seriously, it learns it can feed." And I let it feast.

But I need to figure this out. This bed has taken so much from my family.

Laying down in nightly ware,

Making sure its hard to bear,

My love had died, and took my care

Into after, with golden hair

She looked at me, with glassy eyes

I act with ferver to my surprise

Within my books I could surmise

A way to save her and make her rise.

I drew the symbols upon the ground

And then a book I had found

In human leather it was bound

All my tools became a mound

I lit the candles, and they burned bright

The ashen drawing became delight

All of this for Death, to spite

To revive my lovely light.

I finished with my preparation

And layed her down, with limbs seperation

I chanted in anticipation

And witnessed her bodies decimation

And from the ash stood something new.

With hair of red and eyes of blue

And with a face of whom I never knew

My joyous moments were counted few

For soon right after she came to life

She went and took my pocket knife

And now my thoughts, with fear were rife

I know this woman was not my wife.

She lunged at me, my ribs were stabbed

And after that my hair was grabbed

And right before I had collapsed

Her name I simply went and nabbed.

For what really was I to do?

But ask "Who are you?"

And her response "I'm Cindy Lou"

And from my lips I uttered "Who?"

And so she left and I was dying

But I didn't believe I should stop trying

I changed my wife to stop my crying

When in Heaven she could be flying

And so I changed the circle where

I brought to life that sinful snare

I made another with dire care

To send that "woman" to under there

I made the chant and bid myself

For I could die in bitter health

And I would leave a little wealth

To trap her here under myself

And so I bound her soul to hell

And chained myself to her as well

I made her from my wife who fell

So I deserve this hellish spell.

I am putting together some lessons for the young adult class at my church, and it is based on what you would pass to the next generation. Both things that you learned from older generations of Christians, and the things that you wish older generations passed on to you. Both in regard to big and small theological things. I have some thoughts already, but I thought it would be good to hear what other people think. What would you pass on?

I have been looking into the idea of Solas scriptura and I see many people interpreting it as "The Bible is the ONLY authority" when Solas Scriptura is "The Bible is the ULTIMATE authority." Any doctrinal teachings that are obviously against the teachings of the Biblical Canon are to be discarded in favor of the doctrine prescribed in the scripture.

However I am interested in seeing the thoughts on "solo" scriptura. I believe if you needed to revive Christianity, everything you would need is from the spirit and is in the Bible, but I think we even give smaller authority on Christian "self help" books should they be offering a perspective and it isnt against the scripture.

I dont know, just some thoughts. I am glad the church relies on the Bible as much as it does, and I dont think if we disagree on this we would inherently put our salvation on the line, but I thought it an interesting question.

I hate the ocean. It might stem from megalophobia, but something about it being that big and deep, with creatures of varying and oddly proportionate sizes. Some of the creatures I fear are real, and others are part of myth. The colossal squid can already make me squirm, as can Lovecraft's Cthulhu. But there is one myth that make my skin crawl more than anything else. Charybdis. A creature impossibly large that swallows the waters is already unnerving. Add serrating teeth and eyes everywhere and you have true nightmare fuel.

Sailors will tell of waves swallowing boats that stray too far. Some will mention the folk the waters never surrendered back to us, keeping the catalog of our fellow man. Some have seen monsters, real or fake, swallow their entire crew save for them, to pass along the stories. And those same monsters outlive the stories, and the stories outlive their storytellers. Their eyes looked at the underside of many boats they would soon spit out.

Why then, does the Sea, who is filled with such dangerous and malicious creatures attract more and more thrill seeking adventures to their demise? Could it be that thrill alone or is their something more.

Do you hear anyone say the sea wanted to sleep with them? Or how about the sea being jealous? Instead the Sea is raging, crashing against any and everything in its path. Creating storms only God could calm and hosting the most expansive and ancient battlegrounds. Both above and below the waves, wars have been fought and predators hunt. It truly is the perfect embodiment of Wrath. Even the God's associated to the Sea are aggressive and agitated. But anger and love are so close to each other. Perhaps some mistake the hatred the ocean has for humans as love and pursue wholeheartedly. But it couldnt be me. I will find nothing in the belly of the Sea, not after the last voyage.

I'm a monitor for an exploration submarine. You couldn't pay me to get in the sub before the exploration, and you couldn't get me in there alive now. Like I said, the Sea is already something that gives me the heebie-jeebies. But the 3 suckers who were excited to go see what was down there were more than happy to jump in the enclosed space.

We had joked they would find the long forgotten world in the Mediterranean. We passed by the supposed "Lair of Scylla". Eerie sure, but aside from some supposed "areas of spilled blood", there was nowhere interesting. But we passed the lair. We set up just off the coast of Italy. We suited up our "deep sea voyagers" and we lowered the submarine.

I took video feed. Monitoring cameras helped give a layer of separation to the horror of all that water. But the sound guy got the short end. Luca, the man who would jump if someone stepped too loud, and the one listening in to the sub. A change in current bumped the mic every couple minutes and sent him spinning every time. He was a good kid. Me and him had gotten used to each other as we unearthed the old world from the Mediterranean. We needed "deep sea" submarines, as we would be going as low as 2 miles deep. Almost as deep as the Titanic voyage.

Scilla was happy to have us as we searched for the sources of the great Greek mythos. We hoped we could find ships that held reason as to why they made such monolithic creatures reside in the nearby waters. "We still don't sail by Scylla's lair or towards the ancient ruins across from the peninsula. Call it superstition, but I've seen the waters open up and consume what's nearby." And that was enough for Rihker, the rich guy funding the entire thing.

I stay on land, like I said I hate the ocean and always hated the idea of being on a boat with no land nearby. We have our set up right on the shore and the sub rig has a separate person on radio in case of emergency. Anyways Corey, Jake, Sabrina, and Lenny all got in the sub this morning and had been lowered in at 7:05this morning. It would have been 7:00, but Lenny's stomach hadn't been dealing with the Mediterranean diet and had spent extra time wiping.

The first 5 minutes consisted of the checks and rundowns. Making sure everyone is checking what's needed yada yada. Then they descend, and a few more checks. "1 meter... 10 meters... 20 meters..." BANG. Luca jumped. But my mind started wandering "60 meters... 100 meters... uhhh... monitors?"

My attention came back and I checked the screens. "Monitors you seeing this?" "Yeah..." off in the distance was a big scaly... thing. It had tentacles and looked kinda like an Eel... 100 meters under the water... and its body followed it further down for another hundred or two... Ending in a pointed tail with a bulky sting going even further down.

"Uhh... what's the call?"

Why were they asking me?

"Uhm... I dont know... I think steer clear until-"

"Corey, this is Rihker, see if you can get a better look at that thing."

"Uhh..."

"It is your job."

"R-right... I guess..."

"Corey are you shitting me right now? We arent going to see that thing."

"Sabrina... I..."

"Fuck no! We signed up for busted up ships, no some crazy fucking eel thing."

"Sabrina you signed up to explore what I tell you to."

BANG. Luca was too terrified of what was on the monitor to register the noise.

I had to say something. "Sir I think that might be too dangerous for them-"

"Of course it is. It isnt exploration if there isnt danger!"

"Sir, couldn't we send a camera? I just think its irresponsible-"

"We dont know we'll see it again. We have to see it now! Go."

A faint whisper from the radio, "...yes sir..."

I glued my eyes to that monitor, watching as that crazy eel suddenly grew bigger and bigger. And with its impossible size, another thing emerged. Eyes. Lots of eyes... In rows... all around its mouth... its giant, leech looking mouth that was breaching out towards the surface of the water.

"SHE LIVES!!!" Yelled Rihker. "SHE'S ALIVE!!!"

Rihker ran towards the water and jumped in heading for where the submarine had been. He dove under the waves and disappeared. We sent people after him but they had no idea where he could have been. Checking back on the monitor I watched as the mouth finally broke the surface. Looking out to where it was, waves attacked each other in an attempt to get out. Being pulled. Spiraling. Pulled further and further into that beast...

"Monitors... I need confirmation..."

A body sailed straight toward the calamitous whirlpool making creature, scanned, and swam towards the sub.

"RIHKER!!!"

His beach blonde hair swirled in the water around him, the t shirt and jeans he wore unmistakable. How was he doing this?

BOOM!!!

The whirlpool had shot up into the sky. It cleared the land around it.

The sound and spectacle sent Luca into a full panic. "What's going on?!?! Where's Mr. Rihker? What is that... that thing?"

"..." I swallowed the lump staring in my throat. I couldn't believe my screen. Rihker had swam from the sub to the beast... and hugged it. He tried to hug the football stadium sized Eel like it was his own daughter. Than back to the sub.

"My brother had locked her here. And moved her to keep her hidden. I turned over ocean after ocean... Sea after sea to find her. And here she is... Go, you've finished your job."

It was Jake who broke the silence. "What the hell is this?!"

Corey didn't need to be asked a second time, he steered the sub around and got distance before ascending again. He saw the water swirling around its mouth and he was having none of it. He got the sub redocked and the entire crew booked it to land as soon as they could.

Rihker never came back to shore. We all tried to get the hell out of there as soon as we could. I was back on a plane home before the next morning. Reporters swarmed Scilla after word got out that one of the Richest men in history vanished into the Mediterranean. But there he was being interviewed.

"We found what we needed to, so I figured it would be nice to vacation here for a little while longer."

"And what about reports you were lost at sea?"

"Oh I went swimming and got caught in a current, but my crew was able to get me quick. Perks of having the exploration I did."

"Oh well you are very lucky. My next question is... what did you find?"

Most people find pride to be the strongest of the deadly sins. It causes you to want to deal with things on your own, which is only one form of pain it brings. It can pit you against the world.

Not me. To me lust has just kept me captive. Sex is just too good. Its soooo good. The taste of another on my lips is like crack. Holding someone close just brings closure.

I love sex, as we all do, and I have been having lots of it. Too much... like I have been trying to stop having sex, but I simply can't. My appetite has grown. Like obesity, indulgence in said appetite didnt satiate, just made me hungrier.

It started when I was 18, my parents had given me two rules for sex, 1. Consent and 2. Adults. That was all. So once I turned 18, my girlfriend at the time, Alice, who was a year older, decided to do it. Man even now I can say the first time is completely different. Meaningful, purposeful, a full course meal that hit the spot.

Me and her stayed together for another year, and we had LOTS of fun. We grew together and knew each other, in the biblical sense. Honestly my sexual appetite would probably have been alright if she and I worked, unfortunately she fucked her boss 2 weeks before our anniversary. I planned to propose, but understandably I couldn't see her after I found out. She packed and left me in shambles.

After a little while I needed to get back out there, but didnt know how. First we're dating apps. I am... or uh was a good looking guy. I matched with a gorgeous, I mean gorgeous girl named... Riley? Or Rachel? Something with an R.

"Wanna bang?"

I was taken aback, I never thought people would be so foreward. I mean, I knew bots had flooded my DMs with onlyfans and fake girls "wanting" my body, but never knew any woman to be suddenly so foreward.

I met her at her place, she wore some running shorts and a sports bra and we went at it. She was even better than Alice. She really knew what she was doing too. I put in a little time to help her out and got a full return.

"That was great. First time I felt like THAT in a while. Wanna do it again sometime?" She asked with complete indifference.

"Uh... Y-yeah sounds great."

Man dating apps are awesome. I just had sex with an absolute bombshell and can keep doing it with no restriction. And I could do it to multiple bombshells. And so I did. A lot. At this point it was normal stuff, the kind of sex normal people enjoy. Light choking, hair pulling, and spanks. I contracted a few STIs, but nothing serious that medication wouldn't help. That was until I met Betty.

Betty is somewhere in the Alt-Goth continuum and she was a FREAK. I mean knife play, CNC (if you dont know, good), she wanted to be choked until she passed out. And this was my starting point on getting into the same stuff. Problem here was that some of the others on my rotation weren't up to it.

I stopped banging some of the hottest women I had met because I needed something more to keep it interesting. But I started feeling the "liberation" people had been talking about. I had met girls who were freakier and freakier. One wanted to be punched in the ribs. Orgies, blood play, vacuum play (again, better if you dont know). All this, keep in mind, met my parents criteria. Consenting Adults.

There was no more love in any of it. Just blowing loads to feel something. Hell I started shooting blood at points. Ball stomping, auto asphixiation. Hell I had more scars from sex than fighting at this point. Even did drugs to keep energy up. My ribs still poke through, as I have been burning energy faster than I can eat. My skin down there has sloughed off at least once and the STDs I have now cause infection if I am not careful. But I still have sex when I can. But given the shape I was in, no sane person would engage anymore. I needed a harder fix too. Something about human women had bored me. I needed more. Something... more. I weighed my options, and for no other reason other than not wanting to go to jail for something illegal, I prepared a conversation with the one thing I figured would help, a succubus.

Now a succubus is usually meant to start someone on a sexual spiral, but other succubus act as a transfer for those who graduate from "earthly" pleasure to something... otherworldly. These ones dont look as hot as the beginner variant. They arent meant to. They are meant to embody perversion. A perversion I was about to indulge in completely.

Sex drunk, a feeling I knew, but this was different. My dead erotica sensors suddenly stood at full attention. When I felt her skin with my hands it burned, but my "business bits" didnt feel a thing. Pleasure like this and all it costs is your soul. I can't even describe what they did to me, but I can tell you my pelvis broke, I had a fractured orbital, and I enacted every fantasy I possibly could with thot sex demons. With each fantasy one who wanted to satisfy was brought forth. All it cost was my soul, and only small chunks of my body after. But eventually the succubus prostitutes I had been using to get my fix too became boring. Fantasy is enticing until it becomes baseline, then you need new fantasy.

Luckily these demons had a pimp. The embodiment of lust, Asmodeus. If you looked at it, you wouldn't find him very appealing. I however have been sleeping with shapeshifting serpent ladies for the better part of a month. Its beast heads were alluring to me. And it rode atop its dragon with elegance. Its eyes met mine and he burned with the same passion I had felt for it. Asmodeus had both male and female genitals, and so preferred the term "it" as "it" was the closest thing that could describe it.

And Asmodeus was slick too. Its tongue spoke roses and its eyes sent love letters. It opened its mouth, "Do you want a type of endless pleasure that only I can provide?"

"Of course."

It brought forth a sheath that it had tucked away. It pulled a glinting blade from the sheath and pointed it at me.

"Take this sword. This dragon I ride, it resembles your last chance to turn away. If you slay this dragon, you will be impotent and become a foreigner to lust. But if you lay down the sword and crawl into the dragon's mouth, infinite pleasure awaits."

"Don't you have my soul already?"

"Aye, me and my brothers, our job is to take your souls, but our joy is taking your choice. But I would never take your choice, your will, without your say-so."

I didnt truly care. I'm crawling in this dragon's mouth, but I am writing to invite you too. Asmodeus said everyone in there is elated when someone new joins. So if you too get to the point where pleasure is your drug and you are a heavy user, climb in the dragon's mouth, I'll be waiting for you.

From my kitchen (back door) camera. Me and my wife at the table.

"Honey, are you ok?"

"As good as usual. Hate my job, wish I could stop."

"Right, so why do you hate your job?"

"W-well you see when I'm called to do something I see things that -"

"Honey, I know you're bullshitting right now."

"What? I mean, I've told you this same reason a thousand times!"

"Yes, me and everyone else. No change. Sure you might use a different example, but you've pushed it to the same place a bazillion times. There is something you haven't said. What have you seen? I want to help you hon."

"Ashley... please."

"Alex you can hide it from therapists, you can hide it from the News, hell hide it from the government, but don't hide it from me."

"Please, just take my word..."

"Well when 'your word' leaves tears on your pillows, I need to try to help."

"Pl... please." Choking on the ball in my throat.

"Honey your tears in bed lead to my tears in the shower. It pains me to see you hollow after a long day. I want to know what drains you so much. Maybe I can help stop the drain."

"..."

"Alex... please"

"You're d... you're dead."

"What?"

"You died. You've been dead a while."

"What? Like I died and you brought me back? Your necromancy doesn't work like that."

"No. You, and the rest of the world... you died. All of you. The thing that haunts me the most is I failed already. Everyone died. Years ago. Except me."

"W-what? What are you saying?"

"Hon, I am living in a fabricated world. The one I knew, the real one... its gone. The world was ripped apart. Everything was destroyed. You... you were dead..."

"How can I be dead? I'm right here honey."

"No. A replica of you is here. A clone of you is here. Someone's reworked imagination of you is here. The only person who is who they were is me! I am the only one original. And I love you honey, but I learned to love this version of you. I never had to learn to love your original. I miss her every day. Every day I wish I could keep her safe."

"What... happened?"

"I had to do what I always had to do. I had to go fight. Thats all I have the ability to do. Its all I've been doing. Usually I fight things I can beat. But this time?

"Listen life as a superhero is never normal. The bylaws mean that things have to get more and more intense. People stopped buying my comics of me saving the mundane day. I sold better when I fought more dangerous villains. Haven't you noticed I hadn't fought one of my 'average' villains in a 5 years? The last one was The Gusher, and he was cosmically charged on our last fight. Do you know how hard it is knowing all my villains are still the same, but that my own wife is dead and replicated? And I see you everyday. I had to keep this knowledge tucked away. All this so that I live to see another day. If I stop selling, the writers stop writing me."

"You mean your like what, some kind of comic book?"

"Yes Honey. How else could I survive all I have. I remember everytime I died just to have myself pulled from the afterlife just to go fight again. Honey I'm tired, and I am not even fighting to keep all the people I love alive. Just their replicas. Just molds of my loved ones. I lace up my boots and put on my spandex to keep from losing puzzled fragments of what I have left."

"I... I'm sorry."

"I have to go..."

"Where are you going?

"The moon. To fish. I need to clear my head."

From my kitchen (back door) camera. Me and my wife at the table.

"Honey, are you ok?"

"As good as usual. Hate my job, wish I could stop."

"Right, so why do you hate your job?"

"W-well you see when I'm called to do something I see things that -"

"Honey, I know you're bullshitting right now."

"What? I mean, I've told you this same reason a thousand times!"

"Yes, me and everyone else. No change. Sure you might use a different example, but you've pushed it to the same place a bazillion times. There is something you haven't said. What have you seen? I want to help you hon."

"Ashley... please."

"Alex you can hide it from therapists, you can hide it from the News, hell hide it from the government, but don't hide it from me."

"Please, just take my word..."

"Well when 'your word' leaves tears on your pillows, I need to try to help."

"Pl... please." Choking on the ball in my throat.

"Honey your tears in bed lead to my tears in the shower. It pains me to see you hollow after a long day. I want to know what drains you so much. Maybe I can help stop the drain."

"..."

"Alex... please"

"You're d... you're dead."

"What?"

"You died. You've been dead a while."

"What? Like I died and you brought me back? Your necromancy doesn't work like that."

"No. You, and the rest of the world... you died. All of you. The thing that haunts me the most is I failed already. Everyone died. Years ago. Except me."

"W-what? What are you saying?"

"Hon, I am living in a fabricated world. The one I knew, the real one... its gone. The world was ripped apart. Everything was destroyed. You... you were dead..."

"How can I be dead? I'm right here honey."

"No. A replica of you is here. A clone of you is here. Someone's reworked imagination of you is here. The only person who is who they were is me! I am the only one original. And I love you honey, but I learned to love this version of you. I never had to learn to love your original. I miss her every day. Every day I wish I could keep her safe."

"What... happened?"

"I had to do what I always had to do. I had to go fight. Thats all I have the ability to do. Its all I've been doing. Usually I fight things I can beat. But this time?

"Listen life as a superhero is never normal. The bylaws mean that things have to get more and more intense. People stopped buying my comics of me saving the mundane day. I sold better when I fought more dangerous villains. Haven't you noticed I hadn't fought one of my 'average' villains in a 5 years? The last one was The Gusher, and he was cosmically charged on our last fight. Do you know how hard it is knowing all my villains are still the same, but that my own wife is dead and replicated? And I see you everyday. I had to keep this knowledge tucked away. All this so that I live to see another day. If I stop selling, the writers stop writing me."

"You mean your like what, some kind of comic book?"

"Yes Honey. How else could I survive all I have. I remember everytime I died just to have myself pulled from the afterlife just to go fight again. Honey I'm tired, and I am not even fighting to keep all the people I love alive. Just their replicas. Just molds of my loved ones. I lace up my boots and put on my spandex to keep from losing puzzled fragments of what I have left."

"I... I'm sorry."

"I have to go..."

"Where are you going?

"The moon. To fish. I need to clear my head."

A televised interview with a reporter. Taken March 2020

"Is it a bird, is it a plane? No! Its Complex! A new face that has been flying around town... Literally. And he joins me today for a special interview here on Channel 22.

"So, Mr. Complex, is there a Mrs. Complex?"

"Oh please Complex is fine. And no, no there isnt Kathleen." I was a little flirtatious here, sorry that doesnt translate over a typed format.

"Well we'll see how this interview goes. So Complex, where did the name come from?"

"Well you see its kinda Complex..."

"*Hehehe*"

"Right, so I had gotten tired of trying to think of names, nothing was sticking. One day I go and work as a supe and an office complex was starting to fall. Well I held it up to help people escape, and the paper ran with the name, and it stuck."

"So the next one is a two parter."

"Alright hit me."

"Well I won't try doing that, but my questions are 'What abilities do you have?' And 'How did you get them?'"

"Oh... right Well I can fly, as you mentioned. And I can lift heavy things. Like the really heavy things."

"Like an office complex."

"Yes, like an office complex. I am fast. I can bring dead people back, almost completely and only for about 40 seconds, but still. And I have been known to break the fourth wall here and there (whispered) FrozoneS likes to retcon my abilities. Any ways how I got my powers..."

____

A lab recording, September 7th 2018

"Hey Alex, can you hand me the sample?"

"Sure Doctor Brantly. Here are the sample vials."

"Thank you."

Doctor Brantly was working on using Cobalt-60 on blood platelets to see if he could find a way to use the cancer pathology to hold similar effect of Stem Cells. I dont believe he had any real basis for this hypothesis, but he needed something to experiment so he could recieve grant money.

He had taken blood samples from all the lab attendants and centrifuge them to concentrate the platelets, then we blasted then with radiation and then centrifuge again before letting them set. At least that was the plan.

"Alex flip the switch will ya?"

"Yes sir."

The platelets grew.

"Oh now this is strange."

"What is Doctor Brantly?"

"Some of these cancerous cells look like they are growing... teeth? Why would they grow teeth?"

The samples grew and grew. Too fast. The vial ruptured on Dr. Brantly. And the sample spread over him. It devoured him in seconds. But in those seconds as the radioactive cancer tumor ate him, he knocked me over our safety line and crashed into the dials to fire the radiation.

I was blasted to hell with the beam. But the cells had entered my mouth and restarted my heart. I hated knowing the thing that killed Brantly had made me who I am. But the result could only be good.

_____

"Uh, radiation and a centrifuge."

"Riiiiiiight. So what has been your favorite part of being a hero?"

"Putting my abilities to good use. Nothing quite like knowing you have the ability to help someone. Having the abilites to save the day is truly a rewarding feeling."

"Oh I bet. And what about the least favorite?"

"..."

"Complex?"

"..."

"We can skip this question"

"No no... its alright. I uh... I dont know if I should say."

"Well if we can't air it we will ask your second least favorite and keep going until we find something we can use."

"Alright.

"The thing I hate the most is the increase of the bizarre after I became Complex. I have seen things that even our seasoned police officers were made queezy by. I have seen a man with his skin torn off. Not skinned, I had to replay his death to find out what happened. Someone had used their fingers under his skin by his collarbone and ripped up until the blood vessels in the mans face had caused him to bleed out.

"I saw a police officer who gained the ability make his stomach acid even more acidic. The problem was his lining couldn't take it and his acid ate him alive before he learned he had the ability.

"Or the many times I have been called JUST too late to save someone, man woman or child. I see their mangled bodies and I am the first to see so many things.

"I cry every night for the weirdness the world is in. I have to sit and accept that I cant save everyone. Some people I only learn need help after they die. Thats my least favorite part."

"..."

"..."

"We uh... we are going to edit that for TV."

"Ok."

"Thank you Complex, I will rest easy knowing you're out there."

"Right. Thank you."

A televised interview with a reporter. Taken March 2020

"Is it a bird, is it a plane? No! Its Complex! A new face that has been flying around town... Literally. And he joins me today for a special interview here on Channel 22.

"So, Mr. Complex, is there a Mrs. Complex?"

"Oh please Complex is fine. And no, no there isnt Kathleen." I was a little flirtatious here, sorry that doesnt translate over a typed format.

"Well we'll see how this interview goes. So Complex, where did the name come from?"

"Well you see its kinda Complex..."

"*Hehehe*"

"Right, so I had gotten tired of trying to think of names, nothing was sticking. One day I go and work as a supe and an office complex was starting to fall. Well I held it up to help people escape, and the paper ran with the name, and it stuck."

"So the next one is a two parter."

"Alright hit me."

"Well I won't try doing that, but my questions are 'What abilities do you have?' And 'How did you get them?'"

"Oh... right Well I can fly, as you mentioned. And I can lift heavy things. Like the really heavy things."

"Like an office complex."

"Yes, like an office complex. I am fast. I can bring dead people back, almost completely and only for about 40 seconds, but still. And I have been known to break the fourth wall here and there (whispered) FrozoneS likes to retcon my abilities. Any ways how I got my powers..."

____

A lab recording, September 7th 2018

"Hey Alex, can you hand me the sample?"

"Sure Doctor Brantly. Here are the sample vials."

"Thank you."

Doctor Brantly was working on using Cobalt-60 on blood platelets to see if he could find a way to use the cancer pathology to hold similar effect of Stem Cells. I dont believe he had any real basis for this hypothesis, but he needed something to experiment so he could recieve grant money.

He had taken blood samples from all the lab attendants and centrifuge them to concentrate the platelets, then we blasted then with radiation and then centrifuge again before letting them set. At least that was the plan.

"Alex flip the switch will ya?"

"Yes sir."

The platelets grew.

"Oh now this is strange."

"What is Doctor Brantly?"

"Some of these cancerous cells look like they are growing... teeth? Why would they grow teeth?"

The samples grew and grew. Too fast. The vial ruptured on Dr. Brantly. And the sample spread over him. It devoured him in seconds. But in those seconds as the radioactive cancer tumor ate him, he knocked me over our safety line and crashed into the dials to fire the radiation.

I was blasted to hell with the beam. But the cells had entered my mouth and restarted my heart. I hated knowing the thing that killed Brantly had made me who I am. But the result could only be good.

_____

"Uh, radiation and a centrifuge."

"Riiiiiiight. So what has been your favorite part of being a hero?"

"Putting my abilities to good use. Nothing quite like knowing you have the ability to help someone. Having the abilites to save the day is truly a rewarding feeling."

"Oh I bet. And what about the least favorite?"

"..."

"Complex?"

"..."

"We can skip this question"

"No no... its alright. I uh... I dont know if I should say."

"Well if we can't air it we will ask your second least favorite and keep going until we find something we can use."

"Alright.

"The thing I hate the most is the increase of the bizarre after I became Complex. I have seen things that even our seasoned police officers were made queezy by. I have seen a man with his skin torn off. Not skinned, I had to replay his death to find out what happened. Someone had used their fingers under his skin by his collarbone and ripped up until the blood vessels in the mans face had caused him to bleed out.

"I saw a police officer who gained the ability make his stomach acid even more acidic. The problem was his lining couldn't take it and his acid ate him alive before he learned he had the ability.

"Or the many times I have been called JUST too late to save someone, man woman or child. I see their mangled bodies and I am the first to see so many things.

"I cry every night for the weirdness the world is in. I have to sit and accept that I cant save everyone. Some people I only learn need help after they die. Thats my least favorite part."

"..."

"..."

"We uh... we are going to edit that for TV."

"Ok."

"Thank you Complex, I will rest easy knowing you're out there."

"Right. Thank you."

Christianity loves its angels. Michael, Gabriel, the cherubim. Angels hold an air of reverence and are respected by the faith. But there is an element to Angels that we often convince ourselves isnt real.

Have you ever met someone who is truly kind despite the world? Not someone who was hidden from the world and is kind, or someone who copes with the world by putting on a kind face, but someone who sees the world, the wicked and the pain, and chooses to shine anyways. Regardless of the pressure or the evil around them, they glow. Not by avoiding the evil, but by going into it and dragging others out with them. These folk too may be Angels.

Or someone you meet one time. Someone that everyone else around you also hasn't met before, appears briefly, addresses a would you have, and then leaves never to be seen again. You wonder where they might be, and you hope they are doing well. Something about every moment you were with them brought with it a mystical feel that left with them. These folk too may be Angels.

And the Christians are grateful to these angels too.

But we know wicked folk too. People who hurt others. Who hurt themselves. People who drag you by the nose into the shit they roll in every day. The ones who get near and every red alert fires. Are these folk demons?

Or the people who steal your joy, your innocence, your chastity. They rob you of every ounce of good will you had and once they have it, they throw it away. They spit on it and throw it to the swines. Surely these folk are demons, right?

Or how about that man, High of his mind on crack, standing across the street from the gas station you left with your friend or your parents. The same guy who says he is Hitler's son, Jesus Christ, and will kill whoever your with. Ok he has to be at least possessed by a demon, right?

I regret relaying this to you kindred souls. You who wish it were as simple as rebuking the demon and driving them out of the building, the people, or yourselves. The brutal reality is, many of these folk are simply human. And on the rare instance a demon is involved, you likely arent able to drive it out. And do you know why? You dont pray, and you dont fast. You couldnt possibly drive out a demon as you can't just say the right montra, cast the right prayer, or whisper the right spell. Salt? Cute. "Holy water"? Adorable.

But either way, a lot of you slither because you know the most evil among us can't be demons, or should Epstein not be held to account as he "was a demon" or "was possessed" and so had no free will in the world. See he had to traffic all those people, as he was compelled by the supernatural restriction imposed on him by a demon.

No, you know that is simply not the case. He is responsible for every bit of what he did. He must be, if he is to have any moral accountability and agency.

So no, again I hate to break it to you, but humans can envelope the acts of demons. Hell, perhaps even overtake them.

Aristotle used a city to showcase the moral system of the individual. Should you be any more wise than he to understand what I am saying? Something holds you back, call it God or your own "moral ethic". But you know people in your own personal life who have shown you what you yourself would look like if you stopped. They showed you the abyss of what you could be. And you saw that what you would become was so terrible you had to try and pin it on us demons. Shame on you. We took our titles for our actions, why should you hide from your title and sully it with our powerful status.

An entry from my Journal

January 26, 2023

I havent been able to sleep. My body hasn't recovered either. I just need a break. I... I need like a month, or a week. Hell I would take a day. I barely have time to do this journal for therapy. I'm glad that with some of the bigger problems arising some folks have taken to street patrol. Keeps me from worrying about things. Me and Plank are the only ones with the power to help against the upcoming... thing. Luckily Sliquify agreed to hold down my sector. He does a great job keeping the town in check. Helps being a lawyer and a crime fighter, he can ensure his people go where they need to. But even with all that, I am still being run into the ground.

This next thing... I... I really dont want to do it. I had to battle an intergalactic behemoth today, something that is usually quite easy, but he had something on him. A signaler. I have Plank looking at it, he is the fastest and smartest person I know. We were able to find where the signal is reaching, but if something that big was able to jump between time and space that easily, that means he was a scout. And a scout means something bigger is coming. And he was already huge. And he was already strong. But scouts arent known for strength. They are known for Intel gathering. And he signaled to his group that this planet is not only worth taking, but that they can. Fuck I got a war ahead of me and all I can do about it is write in this stupid book.

Plank just called, I'll come back with more info when I get back.

_____

FUCK!!! Of course. Of course this happens. What species uses a behemoth as a scout? Leviathans of course. Colossal beasts are heading here now. What's better is that they can survive in space. How do we know that? Well we found their location and we saw what we thought was a fleet. FUCK FUCK FUCK! My Family reunion was supposed to be this weekend but now I'm stuck fighting leviathans trying to... I dont even know. Either inhabit the earth or destroy it. Its always one of the two. Either way the same people that always go online saying how much they hate supes going and saving the day are going to need saving again. Plank is making an arsenal that should make this fight easier, as well as trying yo figure something to I guess figure out what exactly they want. Whatever, I'm already tired of this.

____

Next journal entry

____

January 28, 2023

Finally done. After all that... FUCKING BULLSHIT... God if I have to fight another Alien race of Leviathans who target is to exterminate life for some cult god, I'm destroying the World myself. What was that bullshit? I mean since when did the writer let creatures that big use magic? Hey Frozone... what the hell dude? Give me a magic being or giant ass creatures. Why THE FUCK were they both. And can you stop sending Eldrich beings too? Or like give me an upgrade. Can I have magic, even warp reality a little bit? Like anything dude.

I mean what the Hell, why is basically a cosmic being spamming BULLSHIT my way.

Oh and the best part? They woke their god. Thats right, their god, who is served by intergalactic space Leviathans saw Plank and I were killing their servants so showed up to the fight. He was some bull too I swear. An infinite cosmic void emitting a gas that Plank sampled and the flesh sloughed off his hand. Why is a void giving of sulphuric gas? Beats me I am so sick of this.

____

Next Journal entry.

____

January 29, 2023

Thanks Frozone for the upgrade. Thats it.

An entry from my Journal

January 26, 2023

I havent been able to sleep. My body hasn't recovered either. I just need a break. I... I need like a month, or a week. Hell I would take a day. I barely have time to do this journal for therapy. I'm glad that with some of the bigger problems arising some folks have taken to street patrol. Keeps me from worrying about things. Me and Plank are the only ones with the power to help against the upcoming... thing. Luckily Sliquify agreed to hold down my sector. He does a great job keeping the town in check. Helps being a lawyer and a crime fighter, he can ensure his people go where they need to. But even with all that, I am still being run into the ground.

This next thing... I... I really dont want to do it. I had to battle an intergalactic behemoth today, something that is usually quite easy, but he had something on him. A signaler. I have Plank looking at it, he is the fastest and smartest person I know. We were able to find where the signal is reaching, but if something that big was able to jump between time and space that easily, that means he was a scout. And a scout means something bigger is coming. And he was already huge. And he was already strong. But scouts arent known for strength. They are known for Intel gathering. And he signaled to his group that this planet is not only worth taking, but that they can. Fuck I got a war ahead of me and all I can do about it is write in this stupid book.

Plank just called, I'll come back with more info when I get back.

_____

FUCK!!! Of course. Of course this happens. What species uses a behemoth as a scout? Leviathans of course. Colossal beasts are heading here now. What's better is that they can survive in space. How do we know that? Well we found their location and we saw what we thought was a fleet. FUCK FUCK FUCK! My Family reunion was supposed to be this weekend but now I'm stuck fighting leviathans trying to... I dont even know. Either inhabit the earth or destroy it. Its always one of the two. Either way the same people that always go online saying how much they hate supes going and saving the day are going to need saving again. Plank is making an arsenal that should make this fight easier, as well as trying yo figure something to I guess figure out what exactly they want. Whatever, I'm already tired of this.

____

Next journal entry

____

January 28, 2023

Finally done. After all that... FUCKING BULLSHIT... God if I have to fight another Alien race of Leviathans who target is to exterminate life for some cult god, I'm destroying the World myself. What was that bullshit? I mean since when did the writer let creatures that big use magic? Hey Frozone... what the hell dude? Give me a magic being or giant ass creatures. Why THE FUCK were they both. And can you stop sending Eldrich beings too? Or like give me an upgrade. Can I have magic, even warp reality a little bit? Like anything dude.

I mean what the Hell, why is basically a cosmic being spamming BULLSHIT my way.

Oh and the best part? They woke their god. Thats right, their god, who is served by intergalactic space Leviathans saw Plank and I were killing their servants so showed up to the fight. He was some bull too I swear. An infinite cosmic void emitting a gas that Plank sampled and the flesh sloughed off his hand. Why is a void giving of sulphuric gas? Beats me I am so sick of this.

____

Next Journal entry.

____

January 29, 2023

Thanks Frozone for the upgrade. Thats it.