r/mesoscalepodcast

We were not even over the state line before I pulled out the jar, mischievous grin on my face like I was holding something sacred. I passed the jar over to my friend Jake in the backseat.

"Roll us up a fattie man, time to relax and feel the road." Sarah just rolled her eyes at us, after what she's been through, she prefers the clear headedness of sobriety, but hey she lets us have our fun.

"you got it shortyshizz" He laughed taking the jar and rolling one up. I felt his nickname was a little cringe, but I let him use it, I've covered his ass on second base enough times by now, were basically conjoined twins on the diamond. "Dude this shit is STANKY, what strain is this?" He asked licking the paper shut.

"What we have here, my good sir, is some fancy....Roadkill Skunk." I reply as he sparks it.

"Fitting." He says taking in the smoke and passing it over the seat to me. I let the sweet pungent smoke fill my lungs and then slow creeping goofyness come into my brain.

"Sure smells like a dead skunk!" Sarah complained holding her nose and swishing a bag of chips around trying to clear the smoke. We all started giggling at that and my mind wandered back to our younger years.

Jake and I may as well have been brothers, and our families joined into one, because that's how we were. My dad is best friends with his dad so they got their homes right next to each others, and my dad made sure I was on his best friends little league team. Makes sense, Jake's dad, Mark, was the best mechanic and the best baseball coach I've ever worked with or played for, well maybe next to our high school coach but that's not important. What was important was the pride I felt, for myself and Jake, earning our bachelor's degree basically on baseball talent alone. So I have a large amount of respect for his dad, hell Mark had even fixed up and sold me the Buick we were using for this post grad trip.

"Hey eyes on the road dopey, you missed our turn off" Sarah poked my arm. I sighed, took another ouff, and since we were the only people on this road today I guess, flipped around and took our proper turn off onto a gravel, two lane sized, small road.

"Yo this is intense stuff Scott, I'm getting mad munchies already." Jake chimed in. Sarah sighing in an over emphasized big sister manner, tossed him a bag of chips and some jerky. She always made sure she took care of us, our big sis.

"You know Jake, you'd think we're married with how much I have to take care of you out and about like this, honestly, if it wasn't for me and Scott you'd be a lost little puppy out here in the real world."

"True, but I bet I'd be a hella sweet one Sarah, you'd scratch my ears right?" He replied taking the snacks. She giggled and lightly grasped his hand as he took the junk food.

"Always, until you fell asleep in my lap. Then I'd boot you right off to go make sweet sweet love to Zach." We all burst out laughing again. No crazy love triangle ever existed within our group. We were two brother and a sister.

As I took another hit I pressed down on the accelerator, I wanted to test the new engine build. As we were hitting a high speed, I felt a small shock under my feet and the car gave a slight shudder.

"Scott, maybe three days into a multi state road trip in the summer isn't the best time to test your rally skills." Sarah said, always the voice of reason. I slowed down shooting Jake a wink in the rearview. He just chuckled and nodded, that knowing nod he always gave me when we knew we were making a double play. The same thing happened as I slowed down, but I decided I'd keep going, we were feeling invincible and I didn't want to let car problems ruin the mood.

The universe however, cared nothing for our mood as the car made a bigger shudder, jolting us in our seats and instantly died, sputtering white-hot steam as it overheating.

I slammed my hands on the wheel in frustration. "What gives Jake, I thought you told me Mark spent three weeks rebuilding this engine?" Jake instantly clenched his jaw and barked back at me.

"Are you questioning my dad's work? Scott you and I both know he would never sell a lemon, let alone let his best shortstop and second baseman drive anything unsafe, how dare you man." He growled, I instantly felt ashamed, I knew his family would never set us up to fail, I was just pissed that our perfect summer was beginning to sour.

"Calm down you two for fucks sake!" Sarah broke in. "Scott, you've been driving like you're trying to get a NASCAR sponsorship this whole time, and we have already driven through two states. This is a rebuild, and it's fucking hotter than a witch's titty out here, it would stand to reason that something like the thermostat would get stuck with your lead foot....no offense but you DO drive like you're in a race....no it's not Mark's fault either Jake, this is normal for a car of this age and use." She instantly cooled the air with her calm explanation.

"Well guess that's fair, thanks Sarah Scott and I would be lost without you." Jake said giving her shoulder an affectionate tap. "Well better assess the damage." Jake said opening his car door.

"I've got just enough battery and one bar of service, I'll see if there's a mechanic that can find us." Sarah said stepping out. I joined Jake and flipped open the hood. After the steam cleared and we took a look at everything, Sarah's explanation was correct, a stuck thermostat. Nothing more than a minor setback in our journey....provided we could get a mechanic and a tow.

As we finished our diagnosis, Sarah began jumping excitedly, proudly waving her phone in the air.

"Found one! And not only can he give us a tow, he's less than twenty minutes away! I'd have never found him if it wasn't for the offline map pin on his shop. He was super nice, and he's on his way, so you boys just cool off and let Sarah handle this." She skipped back to us, and I was re-lighting our joint.

"Well shit man, looks like we'll be back on the road before the cooler warms up, Sarah never fails." Jake said as I passed him the doobie, nodding. As we waited and finished our wacky tobaccy, I let my mind think of her. She had it harder than either of us.

Her parents were killed in a brutal car accident freshman year, her aunt and uncle were left to pick up the pieces, and Sarah, she changed. Before that she was just the girl in our group, the slight tomboy who wanted to be one of the guys. After she moved in with her aunt and uncle, she switched gears. She made sure we always told her where we were going, when we were leaving and getting back, and who we were with. I guess she decided that she would never allow herself to lose anyone again, and Jake and I, we loved her even more for the fierce yet quiet ways she protected the sanctity of our little ring.

As we were burning the last hit and stepping on the crutch, a grey unassuming tow truck came driving up to us. There were no letterings or decals, just some rust in a few places that let me know this guy rarely has to use this vehicle. An older man, going bald on top in grey coveralls that seemed two layers too thick, hopped out and greeted us.

"Hey kids, names Frank, Frank Johnson. Little lady on the phone told me you need a tow for a possible coolant issue? Well you're lucky you had signal, takes a miracle to find my services in a pinch....guess that's what I get for operating out where the secrets stay secret and the rumors never spread."

I thought that a bit unsettling but chalked it up to just an eccentric old country bumpkin who was just happy to have a paying customer.

"why don't you kids climb into the cab and get situated? I'll have this old Buick hooked up shortly so just try and squeeze in best you can." We complied quietly, what choice did we have? I slipped in first, being the middle sized between us it just made sense. Sarah crept into the cab next, with Jake ending the awkward setup closing the door practically on himself. By the time we were buckled in, Frank had finished his work and squeezed his rigid form next to mine. His shoulder rubbed up on me with enough force that I felt....not a normal shoulder, it felt solid and hardened like steel or iron ...again I just shook that aside as some necessary medical procedure for a man with a lifetime spent working on machines far stronger then a human arm.

As we drove a minute, my shifting constantly against Frank's uncharacteristically rigid form, he quipped in with some strange bumpkin banter. He kept telling us things like: "It's lucky your phone had that last bar, no one finds my shop unless they need to find it," and "These trees seem to be getting thicker? These trees know which key needs to turn to get the engine back on the road."

It was cryptic for sure, but fuck it, I was just happy to know our little hiccup was just that....things changed when we arrived at the shop.

We pulled into the yard slowly, slow enough for us to see the twisted forms of cars long past their prime.

"Damn dude, it's like an iron graveyard out there." Jake whispered.

"Everything's been disassembled and ordered as needed, I'll find what makes the keys turn." Frank answered. The tone of his voice—flat, emotionless—sent us all into immediate panic, but we were stuck. We needed him to get us out of this predicament, so we stayed silent as we stepped out into the yard and shambled into the already open bay doors of the shop. A detail I'd wished I'd noticed right then.

We slowly split up exploring the shop as Frank set about getting the Buick set up in the workbay.

"You kids just make yourself at home, old Frankie will get these keys turning again rest assured!" The strange man spoke up, giving our tense group a little bit of ease. I began to explore the shop. It was just your normal single man show, grease rags tossed to a corner, tools strangely in immaculate order....and then my eyes caught sight of the keys...

In one corner, there was a pile of just....keys, all those old to modern fobs...just lying there. I looked up to the pegboard above, there were no current work orders posted...then, why all the keys? Jake poked my arm, and Sarah let out a worried gasp.

"Dude....what the fuck? I know shops, I know what racks hold what....what the fuck are these for?" Jake asked, strikingly sober. My attention turned to the wall on my left. It held cables, hydraulic lifts, and locks that looked....more for a person than anything coming out of the inside of a car.

"You sure don't get many folks getting stranded like this, do ya?" I nervously ask Frank, desperately holding on to hope that I'd get a normal, grounded answer. Again the universe said fuck that.

"Only those I need to, I'll find the ignition that fits the key..."

"Ok, no, fuck this. I'll get us a fucking Uber or something, I'm NOT staying here with this guy and his goddamn keys!" Jake started toward the door, but they quickly slid closed."Fuck you old key master!" Jake yelled, his anger was always his worst friend.Calmly, I looked to Sarah. She was white as a ghost and petrified in stillness. She had already checked. 

She whispered with a quiver,"It's locked from the outside....we're trapped guys."

"FUCK ALL OF THIS!" Jake and I screamed in unison, our baseball instincts taking over. We turned ready to fight, we never got the chance. Frank met our faces with a huge tire iron, knocking both of us out clean.

I woke to my head pounding, a small trickle of blood leaking down my face. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust, I realized I was strapped to one of those racks. Then I heard the screams.

Jake was screaming in both pain and fierce anger. I was instantly doing the same when I saw him. He had so much blood....he was strapped up like me, and cut open like he was having heart surgery, various wires hooked up into his body, and his legs were held in massive clamps, bending his legs at an impossible angle. What did Frank do? I had no time to process my best friend's situation however, as Sarah's cries snapped me back to the reality on my other side.

I looked back at Jake, his eyes were frantically passing from Sarah to me, he was raw and bleeding around his bonds from desperately trying to get off that rack and save his friends. I turned back to Sarah. I'll never forget her strapped there, a mass of blood and flesh.

She was screaming in pure agony, hearing that from her forced me into absolute rage mode. The sound of the saw cutting into her collarbone, the random wires, and car parts? Yes, car parts were shoved inside her like they were trying to make her a cyborg or something. That's when I noticed Frank, or what used to be a person named Frank. Whatever this was, this was not human.

With his coveralls around his waist, it made sense why he felt so solid. That shoulder was no longer a shoulder. In its place was a large piston, sewn into the tissue with copper wire. All over his body were car parts, swimming in a mass of his flesh. As he continued his morbid work he kept mumbling.

"I'll find the key that turns the ignition. Time to test the chassis."

Sarah was getting weaker, her screams coming out more like shocked gasps with the occasional raise in tone. Jake was looking at me, he had a hand tear free from his restraint. He was giving me the nod, I needed to distract Frank. I needed to cover second.

With everything I had, I took Jake's lead and pulled my glove hand free, mangled to hell, but free. Jake pointed his own wrecked hand to the service bench and the revolver Frank had left out. I prayed the chamber was loaded.

"Hey asshole, why don't you test this chassis, motherfucker!" Jake shot at the monster we called Frank. He looked up with dead, uninterested eyes, devoid of the color of life. He noticed we were getting free and sprang at a speed no man can match.

He smashed Jake's face so hard I thought he'd killed him, then, after restraining his hand, turned to me with a heavy, giant steel clamp. I gritted my teeth as he forced my hand into the vise and twisted. I howlowed in fury and pain, feeling the bones break. He suddenly stopped twisting and turned to Sarah, picking up one of those fucking keys.

I began slamming the clamp against the wall, doing more damage but it was loosening. Jake was manic at this point—how he was even alive was baffling, but that didn't matter. What mattered was he was still breathing, and he needed his base covered. I never let him down before and I wasn't about to now. I watched Frank as he pointed the key into Sarah's now open chest and exposed, beating heart. He tried to turn it and frowned.

"Engine's still cold, need to try a different chassis."Frank went back to dig through those awful keys, and Sarah, with the last of her strength, looked both of us in the eyes.

"Promise me guys....promise me you'll find a way out of...out of....."And that's all she could manage. The life left her instantly and her heart stopped beating.

"SARAH! SARAH FUCK! FUCK YOU FRANK!" Jake cried through his tears. Through my own, I gave her a silent swear that I would keep my promise, just as the clamp broke open.

Frank was turning his attention to Jake now, finishing the opening he needed for whatever it was those keys did. Jake's screams tore through me worse than any of the physical pain I felt, as I used his voice as fuel to dig my mangled hand against the prying lever of the restraints. It wasn't easy, but I managed to get off that rack and grab the gun.

Remembering how fast he moves, and knowing I had zero time, I quietly let him focus on his grisly task, sneaking right behind him. Being a shortstop my whole life has given me a fairly analytical mind, so it wasn't hard to figure out the best spot to point the barrel. I fired into Frank's own exposed, key-turned heart. He didn't fall. He stood limp, all movement and speech gone. Dead? Then I noticed the black mist rising from his chest. It swirled with a strange dark beauty that was hard to take my eyes off. I traced its flow along the garage to Jake, and I noticed it going into the hole in his chest. The key Frank planted began to turn.

I pleadingly looked at Jake, trembling. Like I said, I'm pretty perceptive; I figured out what was happening, but how could I stop it? Jake's eyes locked onto mine. Though they were fading into the same cold look of Frank, he was still enough of himself to give me the nod. I understood. Time for one last double play.

I raised the gun, closed my eyes......and I covered second one final time.

It was silent then, the loudest silence I've ever experienced. I turned from the monster, now hovering over the keys, and I ran. I ran and I cried until I don't know how long. I finally reached a paved road, and from exhaustion, injuries, and maddening grief, I collapsed.

"Explain it to me again, Scott, just so I can cover my bases."The detective said it looking at me with soft sorrow in his eyes—a man who had seen too many traffic deaths, it seemed. From my hospital bed, I recalled the details in the crafted lie I'd made up."We thought we hired a mechanic," I whispered, keeping my eyes fixed on the blank white curtain. "He gave us a tow, but to a backwoods chop shop. There were three of them. Jake tried to fight, so did I... that's how I got put in here with a shattered hand. They shot Jake, and Sarah was caught in the crossfire. I managed to kill the ringleader by struggling for his gun and turning it on him. The other two fled to God knows where. That's the same thing I've told you three times, Officer Dane. So make sure you keep your end of this bargain."

Of course, Scott," he said softly, nodding his head. "I wouldn't let any parent see that."

He shook my uninjured hand and left, letting my family—all of ours—into the room.

My parents came in first, both embracing me tightly and weeping openly. It was strange—I've never seen my dad cry, and seeing that, I broke down too. Then Sarah's aunt and uncle came in, both looking like they'd never have dry eyes again, followed by the one person in our group who, by deciding to keep the rings trip pure and bowing out, survived: Zach. Sarah's fiancé. He was holding his engagement ring and looked completely hollowed out. I couldn't take seeing them, but then Jake's mom entered, followed by a pale, trembling Mark sobbing. He let everyone greet me first, then sat on my bed and gave me a deep, warm hug.

"I'm so sorry kiddo, I'm so sorry!" he choked out, the proud Little League coach completely broken. "If I... if I hadn't sold you that car... you... my boy would be..."

He couldn finish, and I didn't need him to. Placing my bandaged hand on his shoulder, I squeezed gently.

"No, Mark, it's... it's not your fault. It was... just a bad road. Not your fault, coach."

We all sat and cried for a couple of hours after that.

As everyone was piling out, I asked Zach to stay behind. I knew if anyone could handle the truth and not go looking for that garage, it would be him. He was horrified, but he believed me, and he agreed that our parents can never know Sarah's last plea. They can never know just what it cost for their shortstop to cover his second baseman.

Mark's screen door still squeaks after all these years. I'd only just been here yesterday, but we have our little goodbye ritual like this every year. I walk in to see him sitting in his armchair, greying hair, looking smaller than last year. He's watching a pro game on mute.

"Headed home, kiddo? Thanks for stopping in to say goodbye, it's always great to see you," he said, starting to rise. I placed my crippled hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"No, Mark, it's okay, you don't need to get up. I just wanted to say goodbye and to tell you to take it easy on my old man next week. Softball's not the same, but he never played at our level. Just... don't let him twist a knee."

"I'll take care of your old man, rest assured he's in good hands. Make sure you be safe out on the road today, check your fluids and don't go redlining it." He gets somber now, and I can never look him in the face. "Take care of yourself, Scott. I love you."

Tears already forming, I reply meekly.

"I love you too, Mark." The pain building into a crescendo that I won't be able to hold back, I turn my back and head out the door. "I will."

I sit in my car for a while, windows up, no AC. And I let it out, I let it all out. I scream, I cry, and I grieve for them—for Jake and Mark, for my parents, for Sarah and her family. I cry for all of us who carry the weight of survival.

The drive up the little road into the cemetery is always peaceful. As my eyes begin to dry, I step out into the warm summer heat. There are no noisy saws or pumps here, no screams, no terror. Just the birds. I find the stones next to each other, the names I need to see every time I leave here:

Jacob Mark Vance and Sarah Lynn Evans.

I sat down between them, taking out a new white baseball, and a polished glass stone, the kind she liked to collect, and placed them next to the flowers everyone left the day before. I laugh a bit as I pull out the joint and light it.

"I'm back, guys, letting you know how everything is with me. The world's loud, it's fast, but I manage. I kept my promise, I made it out. I'm living for all of us now. Sarah, I always make sure I bring extra snacks and blankets and first aid, you don't need to worry. Jake.... I've got second on lock, man. Go make that double play."

Then I finish my smoke in the warm bask of my friends and until next year, we say goodbye. The drive back home is never a happy one, but it's important that our little ring stays together.

Tragedy usually has a way of dissolving its survivors in grief and guilt. That is why every year I pack my bags, lock the front door, and make this drive back home.

I have a promise to keep. So no...

...I don't take vacations anymore.

Icy air fills my lungs. It gives my body a sensation of the wasp's sting. I look at the others, studying their faces, all of them oozing with gluttonous dread. Men mutter to themselves in broken ramblings; others keep their eyes glued to the leaden sky. They look up there, staring at his anger. We tread upon his glacial abode—uninvited guests we are. Apologies may be thrown to him over and over, with the only response being the whistle of harsh wind.

We remain humble explorers who pushed toward the fruits of innovation. And to reach it, we must make immoral choices, even if we are to end up among the damned ourselves. The more faithful will recognize where we stand; they will see faces that are the monsters of what history offers. They speak in the tongue of silence. Eyes remain shuttered open in marble stares, eternally stuck in the punishment given to them eons ago.

Kindly take my word with no sense of pride, for our achievement is not one of glory or advancement. No, rather, it is of the most critical error. De glaciali inferno, we will endure his wrath till we shrivel to cowardice.

Chapter 1:
 
I have lost count of how many months I have been awake for. Or has it been years? Our ship, The Nessie 14, was stocked up with at least five years worth of food, that was how I kept track of the passing time. This proved useful until we hit an asteroid field, its disembodied, rocky finger tips unintentionally unlatching two of the four food silos, and one of the three escape pods in the process. The Nessie still bears the accident's cracks and scars, like a wounded soldier.
 
My stretcher is stained a mustard yellow. My body's sweat and oil has seeped into the sheets. Cleaning it is no use, and it is too sticky to sleep on now, causing my back to break out into eczema and rashes. I have resorted to moving one of the medically designated metal tables and turning it into a makeshift bunk. Underneath is a thinner tray where Marcus would be able to sleep, but I haven't seen him get any rest for weeks.
 
When I first met Marcus, he was a cocky, fit party boy. He is somewhere in his forties, but with grey hair peppered in more than the usual man his age. He seemed like an unstoppable force of socialization with anybody he came in contact with, especially the number of men in the office who he had small, mutual, and charming infatuations with. I was plentiful shyer than Marcus, but I really did look up to him. I never told him. When we were back on Earth, I could never really get a word in edgewise anyway.
 
Nadia is our other crewmate. She's in her early 30's, somewhat young for this kind of mission, but makes up for it with how brilliantly smart she is. A little too smart if you ask me. I can't say much though, I am as thick as pig shit.
 
Once we made it into space, we went into what the movies call Cryosleep. Professionally the scientists at the office called it a Medically-Induced Hypo-Thermatic Coma. Before we left, the procedure was altered, improved. This allowed the coma, our "Cryosleep" to be elongated, far beyond the previous crews before us. There are rumors Walt Disney is hidden somewhere, sleeping through the same procedure. I call bull shit. If he felt anything like how I felt, especially in such an early attempt, he must have the mind and body of a puss ridden blob fish by now.
 
Our ship was called the Nessie 14 because, well, this is the 14th attempt. Twice the ships exploded before reaching orbit. Eight other times, we never heard from or saw the ships and crews again. And three times, the crews turned around, returning to Earth. That didn't matter though, they were ridiculed for abandoning the mission, an expensive mission at that. It had cost the companies hundreds of billions accumulated over decades of past attempts. The astronauts didn't care though. They had been in space for long enough that they now only ramble nonsense, forever changed from how the confinement of time twisted and hollowed their brains.
 
Our mission isn't one of necessity, but to everybody, especially at the companies, it is a need. The Gilling Telescope, the most advanced of its kind, picked up something from the farthest reaches we have ever found. It didn't just pick up something, it picked up nothing. No stars, no moons, no planets. Nothing. Human kind, after millions of years, has found what we believe to be the edge of space.
 
Chapter 2:
 
I woke up from my coma the first out of the crew. There were clocks on the ship, but no form of calendar. Command didn't want us to know how many years we had truly been asleep for. Even though they kept this from us, I knew, everyone I cared for or loved had most likely been dead for generations.
 
We were instructed not to wake our other crewmates up, as it would interrupt the rhythm of the procedure and could cause harm to the individual. I was isolated for a period that was unknown to me, my only company being the ship's terminal, which spurted out random notifications and warnings, as well as the amalgamation of strange galaxy clusters in view from the multilayered, thick windows. As I watched the clusters, they had the sway and movement akin to fish and whales, as if they were living beings.
That time isolated on my own were the loneliest 105 days of my life.
 
Marcus woke up to the overwhelming smell of body odour and old crushed food packs. His eyes, blurred with a clay thick glaze from the coma, scanned the room. As his eyes wet and adjusted to the light, I could be seen, curled in the dark corner. The vague hum and buzz of my discman could be heard through my cheap plastic headphones. A TOOL CD whirred around inside the small machine. I was ritualistically picking at the barcode sticker still adhered to the back of it. I didn't notice Marcus sleepily approach me. He dropped to a squat, laid an ice cold hand on my shoulder and cockily sputtered "You look a little worse for wear, bud". A relieved and friendly smile pushed up my cheeks. I slowly breathed out. "What took you so long".
 
It took another two weeks for Nadia to wake up. In those weeks, Marcus and I got to know each other better. We had an unmarked console onboard we could read, and write our personal logs on, though we mostly just used it for video games and karaoke. Due to the failure of previous missions, many brands no longer wanted to be seen in conjunction with the mission, so many of the useful items around the ship came in pastel and white unmarked casings. We had unbranded beers aboard, which originally seemed like a waste of space, something that could have been replaced with more useful cargo. We were exceptionally grateful for it in the end. They were all empty vessels of glass by the time Nadia came to.
 
I learnt multitudes about Marcus' life back on Earth. His personal life seems pretty much what it looked like from an outside perspective. Parties every weekend. Flatmates by choice so there were always others around to socialize with. The closer I looked at him, the more I noticed the scarred holes in his earlobes, and the flimsy and eroded septum from what looks like years of cocaine use.
 
We were alerted to Nadia's waking by hearing a guttural groan, and a thick, soupy liquid splatting against the floor. It was like the elevator scene from The Shining, but with much cloudier and beiger vomit instead. We spent most of that day cleaning sick from out of the needle thin panels in the floor, and adjusting Nadia to her surroundings. Seemed like her lengthier sleep as well as her smaller frame caused more side effects post coma.
 
Chapter 3:
 
The next three months were what we expected. Wake up. Eat breakfast. Check the scanners. Wait. Eat Lunch. Check the scanners. Do repairs. Eat Dinner. Check the scanners. Sleep. Repeat. It took Nadia longer to warm up to us. She was very dedicated to the job. Trying to prove her work ethic, only maintaining recreational small talk with us when either Marcus or I tried to include her in our bored antics. Eventually she started allowing breathing room in her busy brain to conjure up jokes. "What issue did the asteroid have with its bum... a hemorrh-oid". It was unexpected from her but extremely welcome. I don't know how the others feel, but I think we became pretty good friends.
 
One night we sat around having dinner together, and Nadia breached the topic of loved ones.
"Do you guys miss your family, I mean sorry for the sudden deep conversation, but I mean... I do". She twirled a curl into her wiry, dark hair. Marcus was the first to respond.
"I was on my own, so not really, didn't have friends and family, I'm a bit old for all that". I noticed a solemn glint in Marcus' eye. It was a noticeable juxtaposition to his strong willed demeanor. I always saw Marcus converse and playfully interact with people all the time back in the office. To think he never considered himself close to them tugged at me.
"Hey you aren't too old for that, you have me- you have us". I responded, my mouth talking faster than my thoughts. His expression shifted to smug and he chuckled.
"Haha ok big man, what about you, miss your family?". The sudden return to the question sunk me into deep consideration.
"I used to look after my father, he lived with me. He used to be quite demanding, even when he couldn't properly speak". I had a certain harsh tone on the word 'demanding'. Marcus' face indicated he picked up that I hid more in that word than what it seemed.
"Then he passed away and I lost my way a little, didn't really do or have anything else. So with what training I had before looking after Dad, it got me into this mission... and that's that". My voice trailed off and we all paused and breathed for a beat.
"Well thanks Nadia for that chipper topic!" Marcus' chuckle being so contagious the saddening tension all diffused and we continued onto lighter conversations. Those nights, with Marcus chuckling and Nadia's deep thoughts, were really special to me.
 
 
After three months, the accident happened. It was 11:45 pm. Nadia was asleep. Marcus was in the storage room, to which he sometimes disables the anti-gravity measures and floats around listening to music. I was reading a book called The Holy Innocents. It made me a little sick, but I had already read the majority of the books in the console over the previous months so I endured. The starboard side solar panels had been down for a week. Nadia and Marcus had been spending 12 hours a day, taking turns going for space walks with repair tools, attempting to fix the issue. I would keep myself occupied by the systems, communicating with them, and endlessly testing whether their endless attempts at patching finally succeeded. I heard the anti-gravity measures reactivate and Marcus, already cloaked in one of the three thick, bulky space suits, tiredly walked up to me.
"Ready to try this again?".
I sighed.
"Yessir".
 
I waved Marcus out through the abnormally thick glass pane in the airlock door. I watched as the pressure of space caused the interior panels to cling to the walls of the ship for their lives. Marcus, steadily hooked to the Nessie by a dense cable, routinely shimmied himself around the corner, out of my view.
I began walking to the heavy set, surgically designed terminal chair. I didn't make it though.
The entire ship jolted, rotating with great pace on a north-west axis. My body was launched, like a baby bird's premature first flight, directly into a hardened corner of the terminal chair. My head collided first. What I heard before going unconscious was a bone crushing crack.
 
Chapter 4:
 
I woke up. The pain, I wanted to scream. Scream so loud my stomach would slither up my throat, metallic blood fill my mouth, until it dribbled off my flaky lips. As much as I tried, all that came out was the muffled sounds of a dying mammal. My jaw was shattered, sharp shards of bone poked through my face muscles like gravel or stones in a bloody wound. It was locked shut, and started dripping dark, red fluid. I held it with my right palm, and helped myself onto both legs with the left. The ship had stopped rotating. Loose objects and panels were scattered across the floor. Few sparks fountained from worn cables.
 
I heard a groan. Nadia. Her silent, wet huffs crept from the bed bays. I hobbled towards her noises, the sounds of skin and nails clipping against the metal floors slowly coming into earshot.
 
Nadia laid in a pool of blood, thickening around the perimeter of her body. Her skin was pale, and eyes unfocused, the figure of a dying snow angel. A long handle had been snapped off during the accident, and as Nadia fell from her bed, the handle pierced the side of her waist, smoothly crawling through the meat of her body until it spurted out the other side. I slumped down to my knees, my lack of balance making it feel more like a fall. I sloppily trace my hands around her wound, trying to find the correct spot to apply pressure. I kept one hand held on her, and the other hand reaching for her bed shirt's sleeve. It was an old stained Freddy Krueger shirt, the soaking, red blood stains unintentionally fitting the faded design. I pulled hard with the one hand, slowly ripping off her sleeve. With each rip and tug, her torso would jolt, compressing her raw wound into the edges of the handle. She would gasp a hideous, wispy gurgle each time, guilt striking my heart like a crowbar.
 
Her harsh, pained exhales reminded me of the deer my father used to hunt. When I was in my early teens he would take me to a small island, about an hour boat ride from the beach near our house. I hated it, but for my father, it was a necessity. He was raised in a cabin in the forest with his father.
I never met my grandfather, he passed away in prison when I was a child a few months before he was to be released. I had only heard the few stories my father would grunt, with malice on his tongue. The way my father hunted was inhumane. He would find a deer, a large one, and lock his brain onto it, the rest of the world, a smoky fog. He would spend hours ritualistically sneaking through the trees, rifle in hand, a predator in a wooden city. I was just there to watch, a dedicated spectator for his sport. Once he had enough of his unnoticed taunting. He would fire the rifle. Hit somewhere that wouldn't kill the animal, just hurt it enough it would squirm and writhe on the ground. He would drop on one knee, always the right one, and stab from the belly to the neck, slowly, the deer vomiting its last breathes in perpetual terror. Nadia's eyes, her sputtering heartbeat, her slowing, sickening gasps... I couldn't let it happen again.
 
I wrapped the sleeve where I could around the wound, the jutting handle an obstacle for this act. She needed better medical attention. The only way this could happen is if I could get her to the medical bay. I looked down, guilt building even more.
"I'm sorry" I muttered to her, but the inability for any jaw motion caused it to be a wet, incomprehensible mess. As I did this flecks of my still dripping blood decorated her face.
I guided my hands under her back and under her knees, I then pulled up. I used all the strength I was able to muster in my state to pick Nadia up off of the ground. She screamed, no longer a raspy groan, but a needly, sharp scream of pure agony. The sound had no other emotion, her body, her mind, was only pain.
 
I am not exceptionally fit, but I had enough strength, especially in that situation, even in that state, to trip and stumble myself into the medical bay and drop Nadia's progressively more limp body onto the long metal table. A fountain of darker blood crawled out of her mouth as her body heaved onto the surface.
This is when her glassy eyed gaze started to come into focus. I was relieved, thinking she was at least cognoscente enough to leave her paralyzed state. Her eyes weren't focused on me though, they were focused on the other side of the room. I traced her gaze with my own, and realized I should have never felt any relief, I should have just felt pure fear.
 
Marcus' motionless body lay pressed against the large window that adorns the wall of the medical bay. Heavy debris from the loose food silos, which had now been fully torn from the ship, covered him, forcing his body to be compressed into the glass. I could not see his face. His helmet was just a doorway into a confined space of only blood. A tear rolled down my cheek.
"Get... him..."
I looked down at Nadia. Her face was determined, but weak. She slinked her hands to her waist, putting pressure on her wound. I grumbled a saddened noise, and slowly traced backwards, keeping my eyes on Nadia until I turned the corner. Her determined look fading as I left.
 
I had never been in space. I was trained for it, but I was on the mission to monitor the scanners, sort out the technology and analyse from the inside. I was in my suit, head peaking out from the thick valve that I twisted my helmet into. I couldn't focus, the scraping of the helmet mechanically screwing into its latches picked its soundwaves at parts of my brain. I was stood in the airlock. I had to lock myself in there, and then venture out of the room all by myself. This was a procedure that needed two people, but there was only me. I flinched every time I felt the cold, damp fabric lining of my helmet, soaking in the blood from my jaw. I took a step. I had to do it. I had to save Marcus. I took another step. The entire ship shifted and I fell to the floor.
A smaller asteroid had collided with the ship. I thought it was over. Why couldn't it have been over. I couldn't do it. I couldn't go out there.
 
Chapter 5:
 
My bare toes felt the chill of the metal floors. My heel tapping repeatedly, at a continuous rate, like a machine in an oil rig. I sat back against the medical bay doors. A small red light spread its glare onto the top of my head, curling into oblivion off the split ends and the tip of my hairs. The medical bay doors were locked. I couldn't face what was in there. My brain was filing thoughts through a fog, an endless fractal that was sporadically being combed through. I sat there for an hour. Paralyzed albeit for my heel. Another hour passed. A tiny metal clang from behind the doors pulled me back to reality.
 
With swiftness I slam my fist against the door, spidering my fingers with haste until I found the lock, and disengaged it. The doors slid open, and an uncomfortable darkness thickened the air. My pupils darted in threes, until they could finally focus on Nadia's stationary body lying on the table. Arm strung off one side, caressed by a thin line and a needle which laid coldly on the floor. The line connected to her wound. She had stitched herself up.
At that time I hadn't even processed that the only sign Marcus had been crushed against the window, were the deep scratches of metal against glass looking out to empty space.
 
I rushed over to Nadia's side. I held my hand near her chapped lips. There was barely any breath pushing against my palm. I shuffled as fast as I could possibly go over to a nearby counter. I stumbled and crushed my organs against the hard edge, silently pleading for air as I winded myself. I spiraled my arms out like an octopus, pulling cabinets open, throwing piles over, trying to find an oxygen mask. My stress unfolded at such a rate I did not notice the slow, heavy footsteps behind me. I returned back to reality again at the sounds of metal squeaking against metal, and a pressurized puff of air. I turned around.
 
Marcus stood, still in his suit, hand clasped against an oxygen mask pressed onto Nadia's face. His helmet was missing, exposing his completely blood soaked face, a thick, deep, red wound across his temple. Chunks of blood coagulated inside his nostrils.
"What were you doing?" He tiredly demanded.
"I was trying... to help her" I unintelligibly spat out.
"I don't even know what you're saying, you know where this mask is kept! We all do!"
"I'm sorry" I said so quiet and full of guilt it was almost a hum.
Marcus, displaying a cowl of anger limped out of the room, pieces of fabric from the bulky suit fluttering to the floor.
 
Chapter 6:
 
The next three weeks rivaled the loneliness of my first 105 days awake on the Nessie. Although we have built back our comradery now, there was an undeniable and dark tension swimming through the air between us after the accident. Marcus wouldn't talk to me, unless it had to do with our mission, or making small repairs to the wounded ship. I sat in the corner again, listened to my discman, as Marcus tended to Nadia. It took her five days to wake up. Five days of silence again, not that I could talk anyway with my jaw.
 
One night, two weeks after the accident, Marcus left the med bay and made his way to the dust glazed corner I resided in.
"Can you talk now?"
I crack open my jaw, the bone hinge popping and cracking in place.
"Yes" I sounded different now, a sultry mix between a new accent and a speech impediment. The way my jaw was healing, I'd never talk the same.
He stood, looming over me. We no longer seemed like equals, people that were friends days ago. Now we were just a strong man, and the broken jawed monster in the dark. If Marcus heard me say this now, he would scoff. Nowadays it seems like he always knows what is going on in my pale head, and says just the right thing I want to hear to make me feel like I'm not a failure.
 
"You did nothing, you left her. Why?" He asked, his anger not quite masking his genuine questioning.
"To save you" I croaked.
"You didn't save me" His tone became demanding.
"I went to save you! I did".
"I could see very little through that window, but I could see you leave, leave Nadia, and then nothing. For the two hours I was stuck at that window, trying to pull myself in, watching her die".
My breath picked up in a defensive panic.
"She told me to leave, she told me to".
 
A voice shot through the room. A bullet of words pierced my heart. Nadia paced out of the medical bay.
"Take some god damn accountability you little... you little rat!" Her breath was heavy, this was the first time she had stood since the accident. She was in a fresh shirt now, allowing a new stain of blood to take another victim.
Marcus twisted around, worriedly shifting his feet in concern.
"No Nadia, you need to rest".
"I can't just let him shout excuses and excuses and EXCUSES!" She dropped to the floor, blood sneaking through her gritted teeth. She gasped. The same guttural gasp she made when I held her bloodied wound. Meat machinery clicked in my head. My eyes lost focus and I stared into the room as if it were space itself.
"He made me cut the deer..."
"What?" Marcus mutters in utter confusion.
"He made me...". I wasn't a spectator. Another excuse.
"I wish your jaw was still broken you horrible fucking man" Nadia continued. She mustered enough strength to determinedly guide her arm towards a nearby table. Her hand lied upon a metal cup, and without a beat, lunged it towards me. It hit my jaw. I cried out the loudest my throat could expel, like a wounded animal. I am not a wounded animal. My eyebrows furled and the oily skin on my forehead tightened.
 
Chapter 7:
 
Those three weeks of turbulence are finally over. The yelling, the arguments, the disappointments we were able to put them behind us. They were a temporary asteroid field that we repaired together and now have moved on. I slip off of the table and the soles of my feet spread across the metal floor. A hard dried substance clinging to the floor panels dig into my skin, but I pay no mind. I cheerfully careen my way through the ship. I need to shower, but it is not an urgent necessity as my body odour isn't a dominant smell these days anyway.
"Marcus I'm up!" My voice bounces and twirls through the empty hallways, which are thick with static and silence. In return I hear him talking from near the main terminal.
 
I make my way up to the terminal. The hallways seeming more mazelike, and even natural. That was possibly just the mold and stains which relocated itself to bare surfaces, growing everyday like an infinite puzzle. I glide past the medical bay, the red locked light flickering in glitched, pulsating bursts. Without decelerating I glide my hand across the face of the doors. I can feel multiple dents from smaller fists that were punched through from the opposite side. I pressed in slightly, the doors staying idle as the lock refrains them from jostling in their place.
"You eaten yet Marcus?"
His monotone voice responds, as I can hear it passing through the hallway much easier as I draw nearer. I step into the doorway, facing the terminal, and see Marcus in his usual spot upon the terminal chair.
"Already at work I see" I chuckle to us both.
"Scanning... Scanning" Marcus responds, his robotic voice wheezing through the speakers. I pull up a chair, shrieking metal noise spouting out, as I scrape it in front of Marcus.
 
Marcus' corpse lay upright, strung up a distance from the terminal chair with cables and strings.
"How's the work going?" I ask, making tired morning small talk.
"Scanning... Scanning" Marcus responds again.
"Haha yeah I get you, work's work". I go to affirmatively pat him on the shoulder in jest. My mind contorts and clocks what I am doing. Do not touch him. Do not feel him. Keep the immersion.
 
Marcus' body is skinny and brittle. His stiff, sloppily positioned posture, strung about like clothes on a washing line, resembled that of a sapling, thin roots with even thinner branches. His eyes were a dark grey, both looking like they had receded into his skull, and like they were on the verge of toppling onto the floor. His handsome, grey, peppered hair was stringy and loose, no longer giving the aesthetic of a young spirited, charming man.
After a fluttering beat, my thoughts travel back to normalcy.
"I am going to go have a little break before I get into working ok"
"Scanning... Scanning"
"Ok yeah see you soon" I make my way to another room, and deactivate the antigravity measures.
 
"Scanning... Scanning... Warning"
 
Chapter 8
 
I let my limbs go limp, gracefully contorting in antigravity. I'm listening to my discman, floating in complete silence, letting all thoughts pour out of my skull, emptying my mind. I see out the window something unusual, well, it's what I don't see. I don't see anything. I see nothing. My eyes widen in complete satisfaction and amazement. Then, my skin tightens.
 
A sequence of crumbling and metal shrieks start echoing through the ship. A layer of the thick glass windows that line the ship start snaking thin almost unnoticeable cracks through their exterior. The ship starts vibrating at only the consistency of a small bumblebee, but noticeably increases within seconds. Pressure within my joints start popping like internal bubble wrap.
 
I grasp onto the wall and propel myself towards the exit. The red light disengages as my fingers, pivoting with an uncomfortable tightness, unlocks the door. I re-enter gravity as my body slinks heavily to the floor. I wind myself as my ribs collide with the stained panels. In a tornado of limbs I clumsily push myself forwards towards the terminal
"Warning... Warning".
"Marcus what is going on?" I shout towards his corpse.
"Warning... Warning"
"Piece of shit" I mumble under my breath, entertaining the idea that he could even hear me. I brush the cables that prop him upright aside, and type into the terminal. His face, frozen in shriveled, moldy, infinite sleep, watches over a short distance from my head. I type a string of messages, simplified to the question "What is happening". As the ship's metal groans the terminal spells out shrill audio from its speakers.
"Limited distance remaining, undocumented pressure damaging hull, repair or 98% human fatality hypothesised".
 
Sweat spirals off of my forehead as I fling my view back towards the window. The void of space started to gradient to a different colour, as we get closer a wall of murky light absorbs what was once darkness. Slowly, from a short distance, a lone piece of debris drifts from beyond the glass. I try focusing my eyes. There are thick letters dashed across the debris, almost unintelligible with how creased and compact it had become. My eyes expand with fear and awe as my brain pieces the words together.
"Nessie 7"
A sharp, unsatisfying crack pounds into my head as I watch an intricate web of thick white lines develop across the window in the storage room. Muffled whistles start pushing into the glass and I have only seconds to act. My toes press with force against the panels and I launch myself towards the lock. Shrieking sounds of glass and air becoming more overwhelming. Another push, propelling myself again. the web of glass expanding to the full size of the large window. My skin keeps getting tighter, shrink wrapping my bones and muscles in a fleshy package. With all my strained strength I launch myself one last time, a finger length away from the lock. Then with the cry of one thousand tiny glass shards, and the wind of a planet wide blizzard the window breaks. My hand reaches the lock as my legs and hips are sucked towards the murky abyss. Tears are vacuumed from my eyes as, with all the hope I have left, I activate the lock. The doors barrel towards each other and shut with a large crack and thud in the centre. I release a heart stopping scream and pull away.
 
Droplets dance along the floor beside me and I pull my gaze down. The bottom of the door's crease is painted red, and my left foot is missing three and a half toes. Red pulp and toothy bone protrude where the toes used to be attached. The Nessie moans and roars, twisting inwards on itself. The pressure, the pulling, the compressing, its overbearing. At the speed we are travelling towards the cloudy edge of space, we won't make it before we collapse inwards and transform into a crumpled piece of paper. I need more speed. I need to finish the mission.
 
There are two remaining escape pods that sit within a well at the bottom of the Nessie. Developed to protect us during an emergency, they launch outwards at a speed exceptionally faster than that which we are travelling now. That is my only way out. I hobble through the corridors, one wrong movement away from slipping on my own slinking trail of blood. One fall, one stop in momentum, and I could miss my window to escape, and become stuck, melded and bursting inside an imploded metal prison. I press on, past the red light of the medical bay doors, past our dingy, damp sleeping quarters, and to the few steps that remain to make my leave. With each hobble down these steps, I writhe in pain, gaining my breath before each drop as even the smallest bump shoots agony through my foot.
 
I now stand at the escape pods. Two undamaged circular orifices with a view to a compact metal char and a baron console. This is it, this will bring me past the edge of space. The ship roars and sparks, glass shattering and panels crumpling. I have no time to breathe and with my one healthy foot I push myself into the pod. The door speeds to a robotic close and decompresses with an industrial exhale. I don't even think about sitting in the chair, I set the velocity to max, ignoring the warning. Disengage the launch countdown and... The roar of the engine pulsates as I shoot out into space. I don't look out the front window. I look back. The walls of the ship are an obstacle to my view, but I know I'm in the eyeline of Marcus. Guilt wells up as tears thicken against my tight eyelids. My crew once trusted me. Considered me their friend, and what did I do to them. String Marcus' corpse up. Lock Nadia in a room to starve. I made that choice for them. I am the one leaving their bodies behind as I get to run away and see the outcome of our shared work.
The Nessie crumbles inwards slowly as I look away, my brain slowly focusing on the quick collapse of the escape pod. Alarms whirr and bounce their sounds through the deteriorating structure. I just need more time. One of my lungs tighten as the other one expands full of liquid. My face tightens on one side and sags on the other. The pressure is too much for my body. My ears trickle blood profusely, until it slips across my lips and into my mouth. The alarms are almost silent as my ears are blocked and muffled. The murky wall becomes brighter as I propel closer. I am almost there. The mystery uncovered and the mission almost complete. What is beyond the edge of space? Galaxy clusters shoot past and swirl around me, becoming strands and trails of light at the speed I am travelling. My knees swell, filled with fluid and my eyelids puff up until my vision is as though I am looking through two straws. I shut what remains of my vision, my body contorting and the escape pod ripping into strings of material and metal as I break through the barrier.
 
Space breaks into an exploding splash. Voids of stars and darkness spray and clump like a blast of water from a whales blowhole. I open my eyes, glazed over with blood and crust. I see a bright void, a sky above the space below. Static clusters of galaxies and stars resemble vast islands, and the dark pit that we know as space, just an ocean. I am but the size of an ant, in whatever this world is. It's beautiful, it's horrifying, it can't truly exist, can it? A large collection of space and galaxy reaches out with an elongated form, a limb, and swats me and the debris downwards. My head crumbles from the impact, my body just a collection of mush and bones gracefully twisting through a plateau of inconceivable life. My vision goes dark.
 
I lay on humongous interstellar grains. A beach of stars. What resembles the remains of my body decays purple, and frost claws and grasps at the edges of my skin. I do not remain anymore, just the mind and body of a puss ridden blob fish. The black, bleeding orbs that contain the last resemblance of my eyes drift upwards, and everything fades to black.

I’m looking for someone who is a experienced writer or a author to proofread each chapter of my novella as I write it.

my way of writing stories is weird so I hope you guys do not mind me making this post.

every two weeks or so unless I’m on break I’ll send you the latest chapter’s rough draft and ask for some feedback.

Update: new episode is officially out!

Hey everybodyyyyyyy!! I promise a new episode will be out today! Due to some technical difficulties our upload is delayed! We will keep you updated!!

Thank you for your patience!
-AL & CW

To Lady Agatha, 

I must confess my sins, those that crawl under my flesh, for I have done deeds no sane man could possibly begin to dream of. I let go of inhibitions, gave in to the taste of societal filth, and indulged in the act of companionship with other men, seeking the forbidden. I craved that thrilling feel of shared passion—or perhaps, shared delusion.

I've done things for which any man would face the ultimate judgment. I have witnessed the heavy cost of my actions; I have seen the life depart from another by my own hand. Yet, I felt no sense of remorse; no feeling of woe overcame me. No, I only felt one thing once the deed was done: fear.

Fear, its maw gaping wide, is ready to swallow my immoral soul. I know the life I extinguished was there to show me the uneasy truth—a truth I refused to acknowledge existed, the truth that I entombed within the back of my iniquitous mind. This is the verity of whom I truly am: a man one trembling step from beast.

***

The transgressions of mine extend further than those of my wicked hands. My dear Sibyl, I apologize for my venomous words of spite. You were so young, full of youth, yet in the moment of seeing your performance fall far from bravado, all I could do was speak what echoed in my mind. I spat out a stronger poison than any umber vial could hold.

Those who worked under me were tainted by my cruel world views. I influenced those around me toward lives of ruinous vice and dependency; under the pressure of my presence, they gave in to substances that clouded their minds, transforming from persons of sense and logic to those of the shambling undeath.

***

I now sit here in my decrepit manor, once full of servants and the powerful, now a mere mocking husk. The sounds of constant activity are now reduced to a distant floorboard groaning ever so often. Once-polished decor is now covered in a thick layer of powdered earth, taking flight if disturbed. Empty is my abode, just as I am, silence being my only true companion now—one that lingers everywhere, its presence suffocating. Forevermore, may my name not be remembered as charming and flowing with grace? For the name of Dorian Scott Gray will be remembered as a monster masquerading in the skin of a man.

My own frozen gaze stares back at me. The once-perfect likeness of me that was plastered on the canvas is but now an ancient, decayed wraith. The pristine oil paint is now reduced to mere messy smears, like those of a playful child; my figure is warped and contorted to a monstrous spectre.

I confess my wickedness in one final attempt at salvation, for I, Dorian Gray, will accept what I sowed. The hour is late, and I feel I must finally face the beckoning hands of Caina, for the devil does not enjoy absence.

I want to thank everyone who’s read my work and helped me become a better writer. You all gave me the confidence to write a full novella, crazy I know!

in the past whenever I try something I wear myself out thinking im not good enough, but when I started writing something clicked, I found my people!

So thank you all again, couldn’t have gotten here without you guys!

Hi Meso Squad!! 💗 AL here!
I just wanted to pop in and give you all a little update! The past couple of weeks have been abnormally crazy busy for CW, so I promise he isn’t ignoring anyone! 😭 We both work long day jobs, and lately they have been completely wiping us out.
We truly cannot thank you all enough for the incredible amount of love and support you’ve shown us. It means more to us than you know! 🥹💗
We promise we are still working hard behind the scenes and will continue getting podcasts out to you guys!

We also wanted to let you know that if we haven’t been as active in the Reddit community lately, it’s nothing personal. We’ve just had a lot of personal stuff going on, and sometimes life gets a little crazy! 😂
We are SO grateful for every single one of you and absolutely cannot wait to show you what we have in store! 👀💗

PS: You are still more than welcome to message CW! His DMs may just be a little slower right now because of his other job and those long blue-collar hours.(literally living off of 3 hrs a night if that🥺) You can also always message us through this account! CW and AL both check these messages frequently. 😊

Thank you all so much for your patience, understanding, and continued support. We just wanted to reassure you that we are NOT ignoring you! We love our Meso Squad and appreciate you all so much! 🥹💗
If you have any questions, feel free to comment or send us a message!
💗 — AL & CW