u/Gothinadeathhawk

Hi, my mom was trying to show me the music video to the nena and Kim wilde version of Anyplace, Anywhere, Anytime, and we looked for hours and couldnt find it, the only thing that came up was a remix using clips from the music video and one live performance.

I call upon ye, please help me find the original music video or at the very least, the original audio that is NOT the remix.

Is there anyone who has a kawasaki EL 250 Fuel tank or other parts they'd be willing to sell? My friend came back with two barn finds and after asking to store them in my shed, offered me one, but the tank is in shit, its completely rusted and theres even calcium build up on the cap. Please message on details if you have one to sell or if you have any idea of how I could clean out the rust in the one we have that'd be great.

Side note: we put petrol into the tank just to see if she runs (she does), but we took the tank off afterwards and there was a crunching sound from all the rust. Thanks in advance

[Warning, brief mention and themes of suicide]

As the winds howl and rain infects and drowns down to the bone, under cloud and new moon, when even the strongest of will would be convinced their blind, fog dense and heavy, when even tortchlight is barely seen, when the leftovers of a warm summers day lingers in the dark as the moon haunts the landscape with dreams of what might be, as she gazes down upon my meer form, she must querie why any soul would be out so late... for €16.50 an hour apparently

Alot of eyes out at night.

Badgers, foxes, cats, dogs, bats at dusk and Dawn, hedgehogs, mice, rats... all watching as me and my coworker traverse the hills and tunnels housing the train tracks that have shaped this country. I could go on about the history of the tracks for hours but this memoir is not about something so pleasant.

I needed the money, I had three jobs and I was being mugged by the insurance for the motorbike, my pride and joy, my freedom.

Which meant that when I saw a night shift going at 16.50 an hour I was chomping at the bit, and sweaty as a pedo at a school during the interview. I even bought myself a nice key chain as celebrations when I was told to turn up on monday for training.

Ive been at this job for eleven months come the fourth. Ill be honest, I was terrified my first few nights out on the tracks, but you can get used to anything.

We were tasked with checking the tracks at night to ensure that everything was in order, any small maintenance was to be carried out by us there and then, anything that would be a problem later on, was to be reported and would be fixed the following night.

Mainly preventative work but not too bad considering I'd just finished being screamed at for not cleaning dishes fast enough by some French dickhead.

"They're getting more frequent" i swear every time I worked with Jackie his accent got stronger.

I usually tried to focus on anything other than the clumps of mince that the firefighters were painstakingly scraping off the tracks.

I glance around, trying not to look at it, in the process catching the eye of a young fox, even young it was smart enough not to toutch the meat, its times like those it almost feels as if there is no linguistic barrier between us and animals, because I knew she was telling me to run...

I always wondered how morticians deal with them, do they even try the world's worst jigsaw... or do they just nail the casket shut?

He was right, but then again you look at the news and you cant really blame them... at least thats what I thought.

Now it was getting freaky, almost every night we were walking upon the firefighters grim reaping. Some quit as a result, and gaurds were hired for the stations to prevent people getting onto the tracks.

If only things change that easily.

It sounds horrible, I know, but I was able to distract myself easily. Lack of sleep and a mechanical engineering course by day will make your head too full if you want it to, especially when your schedule at least once a week is eight hours of lectures, ride to the kitchen, clean rich pricks dished, then fix train tracks, then back in college in time for lectures, with any available second or lunch break spent studying. I needed the money, I needed my own house. I needed to escape.

I remember the silvery lure of a full moons kind gaze that night, Jackie walked a little behind, he wanted to make sure I didnt get grabbed from behind.

"Youngwans should be in bed, not paying for their sins out here now girl"

"How do you know if don't have sins to be paying for?"

"Your a lovely girl, you have nothing that need paying as long as god is good"

"Any news for me?"

"Ah sure well now, I was only out the other day with..."

I like when he'd babble on, like my own personal podcast, it was lovely that he forgets his hearing aids all the time, he just yaps and I get to nod along.

After a while i tuned back into the world, but as I did, a beautiful feint song filtered through to the boreen, I stopped, stood silent as the song steadily and slowly got louder.

"Eh?"

"Do you hear that Jax?

"Hear wha?"

"I think its teens on the tracks again, tryna be all edgy"

"Ah sure we'll see when we're up, come on"

As we continued,

I couldnt help but start to feel that I wasnt as tired.

It felt easy to move, like id just woken from a good lie in.

Like the pain in my marrow was sucked out,

I was walking faster,

I was seeing better, bigger, deeper, breaths of air, was this adrenaline?

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU PLAYING AT GIRL?"

Jackie, accompanied by the screeching roar of a speeding train he pulled me from the path of, all the aches returning and slipping back into place.

He kept on at me, giving out, i kinda zoned out if I'm being honest, until I assured him I wasnt going to kill myself, he kept a strong hold of my arm and lectured me on safety. Even after I assured him, he kept going.

"Thats it we are getting you home"

I opened my mouth to protest but I was more concerned with a question...

"Whered the train come from?"

"Eh?"

"All trains are out of service 10 to 5... its 2:46..."

Jackie's face was already pale, but at that he was even more adamant about getting to the nearest station, which was still 45 minutes walk away.

As we walked i started to notice a few things, Jackie guiding me, blind leading the blind as no reflective eyes appeared as per usual.

Now that I think of it, theres no sound.

I look to the skies, not even an owl in sight.

It took me a second to realise we stopped

I wish I didnt look down.

I saw... this... intestine flop out, writhing for his ankle as he stopped to check his phone. I pulled him away and before he could argue, he sees it too, but he saw what was behind it first, the amalgamation of scraps, cheap butchered imitation of movement. A stop motion nightmare.

We bolted, up the tracks like rats up drainpipes.

Until that fucking spare sleeper.

He didnt see it in the panic.

I turned around to help him up, but it was too late, I froze as I saw the servant of spares... digest him, morphing and blanketing him in an act that might have looked loving if the subject were solid, and its infection melted flesh and welded Jackie to the tracks as its master summoned another ghost train. As I turned I saw its master begin in hysterics, the silhouette elated with its achievement. I saw it demand me too.

I ran before I saw his end.

Before it got me.

I ran and ran and ran and ran until I was in the arms of a panicked security gaurd and out of the gaze of the meat puppets master.

No one believes me. Rightfully so, thats why as what might be my last act, I'm stealing one of the farmers rifles, and headed back...

I can't sleep...

I see its face...

I know its in my room...

I hear her singing to me...

Calling my name...

I need them dead.

[Authors note: feedback welcome and i hope its not too bad :)]

[Im open to advice and constructive criticism, thank you in advance for reading :]]

[I dedicate this work to my recently dead pet duck, im sorry I wasnt fast enough, I wish I had caught the fox and freed you, I saw in your eye how scared you were, I wish I had a gouge in my arm from the fox and you in the paddock where you belong than for you to have suffered your fate. I miss you and i love you.]

If you had asked me to go out with him when I met him, no amount of money could have convinced me, after a while he called me mossy. I think he grew on me. I think I grew on him... he kissed me after all so I must have.

A kiss turned to looks, to caring words, to sneaky hugs and cuddles. All hidden from those around us, we were never together but I think he loved me... I think I did to, but I dont know, I was young, the spoils of youth are without the wrinkles and scars of wisdom.

The cold shock of salt never gets better, no matter how many times you visit the Atlantic, but you learn to love it.

He started taking me with him sea swimming. I needed to get out of the house more, so why not?

Field, field, field of gorse, rocks, changing, jagged rocks, cold... how wonderful it was.

It was a normal evening, height of summer filled with the sweet sticky smell of fresh fruit and growth, the island a fertile greenhouse, where the possibilities were endless, and we felt eternal.

Out to the old heads and down , where fishermen lazed and gulls gawped, we had done it hundreds of times. Nothing new. Nothing different. The weight of the salt on my chest. Happyness in my heart.

The sudden silence and absence of the wildlife was the only sign something was wrong.

He resurfaced beside me, however it took me a few seconds to realise it was only his head.

I dont know Why I didnt scream.

Then again there was nothing to hear my pleas but the brambles.

That thing, its brilliant... eye?

Even now I dont know what to call or compare any of its parts to.

It wouldn't leave me.

The muscles clinging to the rocks gouged my flesh as I scrambled out of the water, up the jagged rock to our things, I glanced back, its thick scales mocked both rock and shell, an impenetrable fortress, I would have thought it rock had I not seen its tounge slither and taste the warm, adrenaline filled blood i discarded in my haste. Maybe it thought it was an offering.

Field of gorse, field, field, village, road, road, home.

Everyone saw me, called the gaurds when I ran through, bloodied, crying, terrified. They traced my footsteps back to the old heads, and found it, confused as to why I ran.

Playing the fool.

Wearing his face.

I got mandatory counselling. It took his place, his relationships, his jobs, his college place, his hobbies, his body, all but short of his mind.

No one believed me, not like I told many. All it ever did was earn myself more hours with Dr. Maloy.

It was in my room, waiting for me one night, my mother had let it in, and had told it to wait for me, it wanted to 'see how I was', the newly diagnosed schizophrenic, the meds to match.

I closed the door and it smiled.

"How are you doing?" It used his voice

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to see how my best friend is"

"Your not my friend, he was"

"Where is all this coming from?"

"I know your not him, no amount of drugs can make me forget what happened"

It smiled

It almost tore his lip

It didnt wear him well

It came closer.

"Don't!"

It didn't listen, I screamed, and screamed, but alone i stood against this thing as it lerched towards me. I raised my arm, defending, instinct taking the wheel. It bit my forearm, not enough to do more damage than a prick of every tooth.

When it recoiled I slammed my fist into its snout, to which it cursed me, as it deflated, flattening in his skin, and in a crawling slither, escaped through my window.

I hadn't seen it further than in passing in college. The wound it left has scabbed over, however it had a thick, deep green puss that oozed, periodically filling the gaps of the surrounding skin, pooling in my pores and sticking to my clothes.

I didn't know what to do, so I let it grow, I let the pustules grow and infect, one for every pierce its plaque covered teeth left.

I was scared, terrified, I just wanted to ignore it, i didnt want to deal with the wounds.

I didn't want to admit it happened.

I didn't want to earn more time in counciling.

I think the thing that fucked me up most was nobody noticed, nobody noticed his chance, nobody noticed my arm, nobody noticed

or maybe nobody cared.

The abcesses grew to golfballs when the foetuses started to become visible, the unwanted tadpoles. Over the next weeks the tennis ball sized, trancelucent wombs displayed Its sickening kin.

I think one of them had my nose,

its eyes.

When they began to stretch my skin is when I decided action. All sharp objects had been taken from me, so the wire of the coat hanger and basin was scalpel and medicine to my affliction.

I drained the bile and almost life from my arm, horific neon purple sluge mixed with the deeper red of my own soul, blending to create my next fortnights restless nightmares.

I sat freeing myself from shackles one link at a time, until all that was left was a pain in my wombs and postpartum.

It hung itself, in his parents garage, his father saw what was left and I think he understood me, the casket was closed, I knew he knew, it was closed because opening it would prove we were only burying a pelt, mourning a man who had been dead for many months.

It would prove me right.

It slithered to my window that night, I let it in, rubbed my triumph, the dead of its our kin in its face.

It wept over the basin and hissed at me, it spat a venom not unlike the prior at me.

This one however had a much worse effect.

I killed it soon after, it stalked and tried to impregnate its teeth in me again, until I did the same unto it, ripping out its equivalent to a throat, the cold ichor of its bile blood cascading as i tore iron scales using

Its own claws and similar teeth until i gouged out its hard, sharp, pump for its bile. leaving it for dead as slits grew to pain my neck and remind me its mark was still to be seen.

The changes became too much for me to hide, my behaviour ever scrutinised, my dosage reaching heights that made even the chemist gaze down at my evolving form in disgust.

My toes first welded together, then my fingers followed suit, as my thighs tried to do the same, while my skin peeled at an accelerating rate until I could feel it ready to slough off to reveal the sickening scales I could see waiting to be freed from under their wrapping.

It was late, dreams filled my parents head as I fled out the window.

Road, school, road, village, road, field, field, field of gorse.

The cold welcomed me as salt filled the new gashes in my neck, I have never breathed more clearly in my life.

I know what I have to do.

I swim, along the coast, I swim, past the rocks, past the beaches I had visited ever since I was a child, so many memories, slipping by the sands of my mind, resting in the settlement of my freezing, sharpening, hardening, heart. Even now as I try to navigate the events leading to this, my mind, my memories, too muddied to recall clearly.

All marine life silenced as I pass.

They know my path was a death march.

I swim past my college, taking a moment to remember my wasted potential, all I could have been if I had not led the creature on, all I could have been if I had killed it sooner, all I could have been if I had been better.

I swim to the isle of the naval base.

My final stand, perched on whatever was leftover of my feet, the sprouting fin slows, but does nothing to stop me,

as tortchlight shines,

and men from their posts shout

"HALT, THIS IS A MILITARY BASE, YOU ARE CURRENTLY TRESSPASSING, RETUN TO THE WATER OR YOUR BOAT NOW OR WE WILL SHOOT"

I think the kindest thing god ever did for me was give me the strength to keep marching, and the men the balls to pull the trigger.

Flair in the dark

This warmth in my chest, my heart

Is this what love was suppose to feel like?