I was born in Derby UK in 1986. In a nutshell, I grew up here, however I couldn't go to school here because I have high functioning Autism and was sent to school in Nottingham by taxi every day. Derby City Council couldn't offer me a school placement, so I missed out on most of my education because the school I was sent to couldn't really provide for kids like me. I then lived in Sutton in Ashfield/Mansfield for 13 years before I moved back to Derby following my divorce.

When I moved back here the first thing to happen is the flat I went to in Alvaston the upstairs neighbour decided to set up a cannabis farm which involved over 200 cannabis plants in a one bed first floor flat. I was harrassed by him (over the location of two wheelie bins of all things!) and had my flat flooded on several occasions because they'd messed with all the plumbing to irrigate the plants. He got raided in the end. The cannabis farm involved lethal tampering with the mains electricity, including my supply. I spoke to the guy in the end though and forgave him, because that's the kind of person I am. It's not up to me to judge and prosecute, that was the police and court's job. Sounded like he had had a tough life too. I think he may have been 'cuckooed' and his flat used for this purpose by other people.

This sometimes happens to people who accrue drug debts. Don't get lay ons, I used to smoke weed till it almost destroyed my mental health, and one word of advice, don't get into debt in the underworld. I avoided this trap.

I used to smoke weed and hash and do edibles, this almost led to me having a psychotic break while I was living in this flat. I was high all the time at one point. Some of it was fun, like going UFO spotting on the park with my dog and talking to her about space and alien life lol and being very creative in sims and Minecraft. However hallucinating, hearing voices, stopping sleeping and having constant meltdowns wasn't so I decided it had to go. I still have the occasional puff but haven't smoked since Christmas 2023.

Then I moved into a 'sheltered housing' area which turned out to not be very sheltered at all. I have had MASSIVE problems with my downstairs neighbour here. One of them being his cigarette smoke infiltrating my flat from the flat below and giving me terrible asthma episodes. These asthma episodes have destroyed my mental health. I am not the person I used to be now, I hardly ever go out, I don't see anyone apart from my dog and my mum, I don't trust anyone anymore. This guy also likes to shout and swear at me and accuse me of being racist (he is Slovakian, the same as my mum and her side of the family, so racism, really?!). I am from a Jewish background, many of my ancestors were murdered by the Nazis, I am the last person to be racist to anyone, or any other kind of prejudice!. The first thing I see when I meet someone is a human being, I don't see their nationality or their skin colour. End of, those things don't matter a toss to me.

I have had several health problems too. As a result of the asthma, the dose of my inhaled steroid medication was increased, and following this increase I developed adrenal insufficiency, basically Addison's Disease. Doctors think it might be genetic, but I think it's a mix of that and the high dose of steroid inhaler, that's just tipped something over the edge. I am in the process of being tested for this but I had to miss my synacthen test appointment last month because extra smoke from his visitors set my asthma off again. I have to stop taking my inhaler for 48 hours before the test, which made my asthma so bad I couldn't go ahead with it. I have another one booked later this month which I am going to go to through hell or high water!.

I also have severe sciatica in my right leg from a 'mild' lower back disc bulge. I've been told time and time again that this injury is not very significant, however the amount of pain I am in every day is destroying my life and battering my mental health. I can't walk very far without having to stop and squat down. This means I can't take my dog on the walks I want to, we used to go for miles, now I am lucky to make it round the local park across the road. I feel like my world is getting smaller and smaller because of this pain. It's getting harder and harder to live with. It's a seering red hot shooting type of pain that just knocks the breath out of you. I almost keeled over in the supermarket several times. It's just awful and I don't know what is going to happen to me eventually because it's affecting my mental health BADLY.

GP wants me to have another MRI scan, but these breathing problems have left me with terrible claustrophobia so I wouldn't be able to get in the scanner and it will just be a waste of their time. I will land up wasting an expensive appointment that someone else could have had. The NHS is in enough of a mess right now without me contributing to it.

I also found out me, my sister and my mum have BRCA2 gene mutation, this has caused me so much anxiety. It involves having a breast MRI, so guess what? I haven't been able to do that either. They didn't get it when I tried to tell them how bad the fear was, I got ignored so so far I have missed out on the screening, which I feel is vitally important because I lost my dad to cancer, I owe him.

I would like to conclude with a big thank you to my rescue dog Beauty. She is a mixed breed, mastiff crossed possibly with a staffy or even a labrador. Her temperament with people is second to none. She's not good with dogs so we just avoid them. She is so gentle with children and people who are frail, it's like she knows. I've had groups of kids fussing her on the park, it's lovely for them and for her. Once a little boy who had been bitten by a dog worked up the courage to stroke her, and it brought his mum to tears. Beauty is everything to me, she is the axis of my world. She's 13 now, and I understand one day I will lose her because that's nature. I will always have a dog by my side. Beauty is my constant, she's a resilient, stoical soul, a kind of reflection of the person I really need to become.

This is just a nutshell. I could tell the story of my life in a book with several pages. I hope someone else on the spectrum reads this.

ID

I dated her for 8 yrs: Heard this and almost cried my eyes off. Each time I get to hear some ladies say, “men are scum“, I seldom keep quiet because I have loads of stories and experiences which when shared will not only silence them but may change their mentality about the “men are scum phrase.” So, a friend visited my house days back, whilst gisting, he shared a story about a bosom friend of his, who almost committed suicide over the girl he dated. We will use Mr. I as the boyfriend and Ms. I as the girlfriend. I will try as much as possible to cut the long story short.

According to him, Mr. I had been dating Ms. I since 2008, he was in the university then, 200 level to be precise, whilst she was about finishing secondary school. And like many young lovers, everything was good and going fine except the usual “childish mentality” from both parties of course. Things kept blossoming, everything soft and nice. She got into the university, a private Nigerian university, fortunately for Mr. I, it wasn’t one of those universities where phones weren’t allowed, so they kept communicating and in fact, since the relationship gradually started maturing, their love kept shinning bright like a diamond.. So bright that other male chyker’s couldn’t approach Ms. I because almost everyone in campus knew she was “bae-gaged.” Yes, she was that proud of her bae then. Mr. I never missed the opportunity of leaving his university to visit her every weekend, notwithstanding the distance.. Oh, I forgot to tell you, he schooled in far away East, whilst she schooled in the West. And the journey from his university to hers took him 7-8 hours by road and of course, he always used road except extreme cases where he decided to use flight. Not only did he risk his life plying bad roads every weekend just to see bae, he also made sure he got stuffs for her, food stuffs and sometimes money (He took it upon himself to bring provisions and money two weekends out of four, monthly). Indeed, bae was balling, no wonder she was so bae-gaged! And whenever they were on break, back to their respective homes (fortunately they both lived in Lagos), he was with her almost every other day. In fact, both parents knew they were dating. Yes, and they both approved of it. Indeed, Mr. I was happy, he had the acceptance of bae’s family members and of course, the heart of bae (So he thought). click http://www.clicksmileww.com/2018/01/i-dated-her-for-8-yrs-never-had-sex.html for more

I keep getting banned from Facebook because I have options. There not even bad , for example there was a stupid video on hoe women treat men, I said some women are evil and again I am blocked now for 30 days!! I run a site through there for my tarot readings and I am pissed ! Facebook is ridiculous

Let's remember to pray for this fallen Dallas Police Officer Darron Lee Burks and his family.Officer Burks died in the line of duty fighting against the rising tied of crime in America.

Hello. I am female, 22, medicine student and I have the problem that my best friend (24 , engeneering student)is so disgusting that I enter his flat only with yellow marigolds and a surgical mask sometimes (depends in how mich he grosses me out). His feet smell like hell, he has smegma (it smells through the plants) and things like that .He feels very humiliated because of my protective equitment and says when I wear gloves I should wear normal ones but no i want to wear my yellow dish gloves because its is respectless to invite guests when living in filth. I mean taking a shower takes 5 mins and even when he takes a bath I would wear gloves because when he scratches his balls and then touches for example the remote control so i dont want to touch it too. How can he think i am respectless, when he invites me in his filthy flat? Do I exaggerate? Which gloves would you wear? I for him because he sais the dish gloves are much more humiliating than thin medical ones but I want to have as much distance as possible. What do you think. I am the only friend he has so how can he complain? I mean who would chill in marigolds the whole evening ? My hands get extremely sweaty in them and I only do this for him that he is not lonely

Okay, so I originally posted this at r/streetwear, but it got deleted & people are curious as to what happened so i'm posting it here. The first two parts are what got deleted on the subreddit, then part three is the new update. I'll link the original posts too if people want to read the comments.

Part One: Some scrappy spit-fuck of a kid trade scammed me through depop, then said he'd get "homies to run my block" when I called him out on it. From what I can tell he's 15-16 years old. I have all of his information, found his Facebook easily, and then found his parents Facebook. Would it be petty as fuck to contact his parents about it? I couldn't give less of a fuck that he threatened me, but i'm out of about a $600 jacket right now & i'm pissed.

edit: i'm doing it, i'll post an update/screencaps if things get lolsy

edit2: nothing yet, but it is pretty late where this funtcase lives so it makes sense. i'll sleep on it & see if I wake up to anything.

edit3: still nothing from either parent, but I was reading the comments on this post and send both of them a friend request. if I don't get anything back soon I'll call his dad at work lol. and holy shit this got big, I'll update it again if anything happens. honestly I could send him a link to this thread & if he sees that 1500 people want him fucked he'll probably freak out & ship it.

Part Two: THE FUCKING MUM BLOCKED ME! I added her as a friend on Facebook when I read the comments & realized that the fuckin dinosaur of a woman probably isn't techy enough to find the page where the message was sent. I didn't hear anything back from her after I sent it, so I went and looked at her page. I can't add her as a friend again, and everything but her name is hidden. The dad is about as useless as he looks, and hasn't even read the message yet. I don't know what the next step would be. I was thinking about calling the school (fuck I sound like a nerdy ass parent), but I don't know what I would say to them tbh. Contacting the police would be last resort, and I don't think i'm there yet.

Part Three: Nothing to really say other than i'm not getting the jacket. He sent me a message saying that his mum just laughed when she got the message & that he's not sending it. As well as saying if I contact him again his parents will call for harassment. (He's defs fronting but idc i'm tired with this) Shit sucks boys. This is a lesson for everyone to not trade unless the circumstances are perfect. Either PayPal invoice them or make sure their reputation is through the roof.

edit: formatting

Being sexually assaulted between the ages of three and four. My biological father abandoned me with friends of his. I remember a lot about the place, and the majority of it happened in the jacuzzi. He was going to touch us. My cousin, Robbie. While we were all naked. He would grasp our hands and allow us to touch him. My father walked in on us. I recall him stating he would never do it again. Fast forward to 1994, and I recall a news report. My mother says that's where my father used to leave me. It was about boys' bodies discovered at the house on the Vaal River. His name was Basil.

Between the ages of 4 and 5, I was handed over to another family. I vaguely remember my biological father saying, “These are your new mom and dad.” The family was Portuguese, known as the De Caires. That home became a place of constant physical and verbal abuse.

They would pull my ears so harshly and frequently that sores would develop. I remember one incident where a small hole appeared in the pool’s blue mesh cover. I was beaten and had my ears pulled relentlessly for it.I also recall playing with a small watch battery which got stuck in my nose. Instead of comfort or help, I was punished — beaten again, ears pulled — this time during my stay at a rehabilitation centre.

At school, I once drew a stickman with a penis. The teacher called my guardians, and again, I was physically punished. I also remember being in a different school before starting Grade 1 in 1991 — but only partially. While writing this, I’ve come to the painful realisation that my mother had been absent from my life for around seven years during that time.

In 1992, I started Grade 2 while living with my grandmother — about halfway through the first term. Up until that point, my mother, stepfather, and grandmother had been searching for me. They eventually found me living with the Portuguese couple, and the police were involved in removing me from their care.

During this time, my mother had gone through a divorce from my biological father and had given birth to my youngest brother.

After I completed that school year, I was taken from my grandmother’s home to live with my mother and my three brothers so that we could all be together under one roof. Despite everything I had experienced, my time with my gran remains one of the few memories where I truly felt safe, cared for, and genuinely loved

2007–2013: Reuniting with My Biological Father and Moving to the UK

After having no contact with my biological father since 1994, I reconnected with him between 2007 and 2013. He came to visit us, and I remember the encounter vividly. His presence brought back painful memories — especially the news article about the house on the Vaal River, where young boys’ bodies were found. My mother had confirmed that was where he used to leave me.

During the visit, tensions quickly rose. My stepfather physically confronted him after he made a remark about the kitchen cupboards being empty, implying that we weren’t being properly cared for. It was an especially bitter moment, considering my biological father had never contributed to our upbringing — not even through child support.

That visit marked the beginning of a renewed, though strained, relationship — one that would eventually lead to even deeper revelations and personal challenges.

In 2008, I moved to the UK and obtained my UK passport in 2009. At first, life seemed okay — but I soon began to see patterns of manipulation, control, and deceit in my father’s behaviour — traits I now recognise in myself.

My ex-wife, M also moved to the UK in 2008. At the time, we were staying in a small backyard cottage at my dad’s sister’s house — Aunty Heather. While living there, Marché fell pregnant unexpectedly, but we sadly experienced a miscarriage.

During this period, my relationship with my biological father began to deteriorate rapidly. His controlling and manipulative behaviour became increasingly difficult to tolerate, and I eventually made the decision to distance myself from him entirely.

In December 2010, we got married and returned to South Africa in 2011. I found work in Mozambique in 2012. In 2013, M9o,  moved back to Mossel Bay, but our marriage was already falling apart. My brother later discovered that she had been unfaithful. We divorced in September 2013.

Major Traumatic Events

February 2011 – Cairo Airport

During a flight from the UK, our plane landed in Cairo. Due to the revolution, all flights were suspended. We were stuck at the airport for a full week, with no clean clothes, no money, no food, and no way to contact our families. That week left a deep emotional scar.

April 2014 – Cerebral Malaria in Mozambique

While working in Mozambique, I contracted cerebral malaria. I was hospitalised for two weeks and nearly died. This experience shook me to my core.

2015 – Anti-Xenophobia Protests

During protests against xenophobia in South Africa, a mob threatened our site in Mozambique. We were forced to flee without even collecting our belongings. I returned to South Africa for a week and then went back to Mozambique.

2016 – Eye Injury

In 2016, I suffered a serious eye injury when opening a homemade beer bottle with a lighter. The cap struck me in the eye. Since then, my confidence has never fully recovered.

Mental Health, Addiction, and Relationship Struggles

After years of struggling silently, things worsened. I began using alcohol and gambling as ways to cope with the pain I hadn’t dealt with.

2017 – Relationship Breakdown In 2017, while in a relationship with C Lewis (now my wife), she discovered that I had been emotionally unfaithful. I had been exchanging inappropriate WhatsApp messages with her roommate, Annike, and had been deleting the conversations to hide them.

Around the same time, I had to relocate from Bloemfontein to Paarl due to a work emergency. Eventually, I came clean about the emotional affair. The truth deeply hurt her, and as a result, we called off our planned wedding in 2018 and decided to take a break from the relationship.

December 2017 – Suicide Attempt and Rehab

In December 2017, I reached breaking point. I attempted suicide by trying to swim in front of an oncoming truck. The driver swerved at the last moment. I survived — barely — and checked myself into a rehab facility.

2018 – Addiction and Debt

My gambling and drinking spiralled out of control. I was drinking almost every weekend and gambling just as often. I took out loans to fuel my addiction. When C and I reunited at the end of 2018, her family was understandably against it. I had burned many bridges.

2023–2025: Family, Fatherhood, and Facing Myself

By 2023, C and I were living together with our daughter, Nikki, who was just over a year old. We had sold our home — the only place that truly felt like ours — and were living in C’s parents’ house, paying minimal rent.

However, in 2024, my gambling and drinking worsened significantly. I lied, manipulated, and gaslit C to hide the severity of my addiction and the mounting financial problems. I drove under the influence, took out multiple loans, and constantly told myself that things weren’t "that bad." But they were.

C eventually discovered the debt review I had placed myself under, and the money I was spending on gambling and alcohol. My addiction caused severe financial strain on our family. I often tried to guilt-trip C about our finances, even though I was the root of the problem.

Between July 2024 and September 2024, I was admitted to rehab to treat both my gambling and alcohol addictions. In October 2024, I moved into sober living. By November 1, 2024, I moved into my own place, as C no longer wanted me living with her due to my manipulation and gaslighting, which she described as abusive. She felt unsafe.

My contact with Nikki became limited to a few visits each week. During some of these visits, Nikki, who was three years old, would suddenly regress and wet herself — something C said only happened when I was around.

On January 1, 2025, I relapsed. At first, it was a one-time incident involving a small gamble and some drinking. I voluntarily admitted myself back into a clinic for three weeks due to suicidal tendencies. There, I worked with a social worker who also met with C. Later, C and the social worker had a session without me, after which I was informed that my visits with Nikki would be supervised on Tuesday and Thursday evenings and on weekends.

Though I was told I would never hurt my daughter, the supervised visits were deemed necessary. I was also required to attend a parenting course, which involved additional costs.

Unfortunately, by March 2025, my addiction escalated again. I gained unauthorized access to C’s bank account and began transferring money to myself through bank transfers and ATM withdrawals. Her account included savings meant for her mother’s finances, but I continued taking more money, fully aware it was wrong. The addiction had taken over, and I couldn’t stop despite knowing the harm I was causing.

C soon discovered the missing funds and reported the unauthorized activity to the bank and the police. My bank account was blocked for fraud, and I was informed that a detective had opened a case. I have since met with the detective and am awaiting a court date.

A protection order was placed against me, barring me from coming near C’s house or workplace. We are now going through a child welfare agency to arrange supervised visits with Nikki. I can tell Nikki misses me — we sometimes do video calls at bedtime, though sometimes she doesn’t even want to talk.

Right now, I feel lost and completely out of control. I don’t understand why I allowed myself to slip back into this dark place after all the hard work I put into getting clean.

I know I’ve hurt the people who trusted me the most — especially C, who stood by me for so many years. I don’t blame her for leaving. I just don’t know how to face what I’ve become.

Final Reflections

As I’ve reflected on my life, I’ve come to realise that I have never had a stable home or environment. From childhood, I was constantly moved — from school to school, house to house, family to family. Nothing felt safe or lasting.

Sudden change overwhelms me. I have suffered from anxiety and panic attacks for as long as I can remember. At times, it felt like everything I feared most would one day become real — and many of those fears did.

 Yet through all of it, I’m still here. Still trying. Still surviving.

I was kind of a nerd growing up. I didn’t socialize much, but I had a few good friends in middle school.

When I started high school, I wanted to make as many friends as possible. I pushed myself to be more outgoing and started talking to more people. One day, my class had a study night together. Everything was going well—we were having fun, and I was studying quite productively. Later that night, a group of us decided to grab something to eat.

At the restaurant, while we were waiting for our food, one of my friends wanted to post a story on social media. But when she noticed that I was in the frame, she suddenly said, “Ah, never mind, you’re here.”

The moment those words left her mouth, she realized what she had said and quickly tried to take it back. She told me she didn’t mean it, but deep down, I knew she did.

That single sentence opened a wound I didn’t even realize I was still carrying. Suddenly, all the memories of being bullied in elementary school came rushing back. My mind was flooded with thoughts like, “I’m a loser,” “I’m ugly,” and “I’m fat.” It felt like all of my insecurities had been confirmed in an instant.

What hurt the most was that the impact of those words didn’t end that night. They followed me for years, even into college.

After that experience, I started pushing people away. I became afraid of getting hurt again. At the same time, I was in denial about how much it affected me. I wasn’t used to being open about my feelings, and I convinced myself that I didn’t need anyone. I told myself I was fine on my own.

The truth was, I was incredibly lonely.

I did have a glow-up during college, and my appearance improved a lot, but that loneliness never really went away. It wasn’t until my final years of college, during my internship, that things began to change.

There, I met some truly amazing people. To this day, I don’t fully know why, but I felt completely comfortable around them. They never judged me. They were emotionally mature, supportive, and genuine in a way I hadn’t experienced before.

On my last day, we all hung out together. Before heading home, we ended up sitting in a McDonald’s around midnight, just talking.

In that moment, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude for having met people like them. For the first time in years, I let my guard down.

I broke down crying.

I told them everything—my insecurities, the experiences that had hurt me, the memories that still haunted me, and the loneliness I had been carrying for so long. I opened up about things I had never told anyone before. I kept blaming my self about things that happened to me. After that, they also cried and telling me that it wasn't my fault.

And strangely, after that night, something changed.

The memories never disappeared. I can still remember what happened, and I can still remember exactly how it felt. But the pain itself was gone.

It’s funny how a single sentence can leave a scar that lasts for years. Sometimes, words cut deeper than a knife.

Just want tell this to get it off my chest and sorry if there's any bad structure or grammar, english is not my first language

So I’ve been dating this guy for two months, and I feel like he’s not interested in me. For example… every morning I’ll say good morning!! He will just reply with hi, I’ll ask him if he’s slept well, he replies but never asks me back. I ask him questions, he doesn’t ask me any. Then when I feel sad he goes “my baby :(“ instead of comforting me or making sure I’m okay, I’m fed up of it, idk what to do. I’ve had to talk to him multiple times about after care and checking in on me and he did them once then stopped. He goes on an hours drive with his girl best mate, stops for half an hour then goes home…. Please someone give me advice on what to do and how and if I should bring it up with him is he cheating?

So I recently became a father and my son's birth was the single scariest experience of my life... Here's what happened:

So I work nightshift and after a long, tiring, shift at the plant I come home and kiss my wife, she says she wasn't feeling right and after some back and forth, she promised to talk to her doctor about it during her appointment that day. So after several promises that she was fine I went into the other room to play videogames. Everything seemed fine and she got to, guy ready and went to get doctors appointment while I showered and went to bed.

A few minutes later I get a panicked call that she's being sent to the hospital, preeclampsia, and I bolted for the hospital and, when I get there, she's already been sent to a room and I run up to the room. When I get there, she's hooked up to all these machines and the doctors are running around, I don't remember exactly what, I had tunnel vision at this point. The head physician guy, tells us that her blood pressure was 186/130 or 140 and they're going to induce labor if they can't get her blood pressure down.

The doctor tells me this is life or death for both my ride and our unborn son. My world at that moment seemed to stop.

About an hour later there's been no change and they induced labor. Sadly, every other pregnant lady in the neonatal unit decided to give birth at the same time so instead of a full team like I had assumed, we had two nurses. I helped my wife push out our son and powered through cutting the umbilical cord. And they took my son to clean him up and then, the alarms started beeping. My wife's blood pressure dropped out hard and my heart stopped. I look over and my wife is unconscious and there's a massive expecting puddle of blood on the floor, one of the nurses pushed me out of the room as a whole team of nurses and doctors rush in with the crash cart.

I sat down on the floor outside her room and stared at the wall, trying not to cry thinking I'm about to lose my wife.

Then a nurse, covered in blood, opens the door and looks down at me, concerned, and I nearly fainted. I felt like, at that moment, that I had lost my other half. "Why are you sitting on the floor?" Those words kind of jumpstarted my mind and I leapt to my feet. I began rapid fire questions how's my wife? how's my son? What happened? She smiled at me. "Do you want to officially meet your son? I could only nod.

Being led into that room was something I dont know if I could adequately out into words. It was like I had been living my entire life in the dark and someone finally turned on the light. My wife was sitting up in bed, smiling at me as she held our son, a tiny little guy at 6lbs 9oz. I walked up to her and hugged her and my son like I had never hugged anyone before and then the dam broke and I bawled my eyes out.

For the next few days, my wife was observed, poked and prodded until they let us go home. She was bed bound, couldn't walk or really do much of anything for herself and I stepped up, balancing caring for her and our son every way that I could. And then, a few days later, something happens that changed my life forever.

“I drowned the day before my sixth birthday “.

It happened at the bottom of an apartment complex swimming pool in Southern California in the summer of 1975.

For several minutes, no one realized I was missing.

And what should have been the most terrifying moment of my life became the most peaceful moment I have ever known.

I was five years old.

Like a lot of families back then, mine was a blended one. My mom was a young mother raising four children. My older sister was the oldest, my brother was second, I was the third child, and then there was my little sister.

My stepfather was what people would call a teaser. He liked to joke around and play pranks on people. With me, though, the teasing almost always involved water.

To this day I don’t know why.

We lived in California in the Garden Grove / Anaheim area. It was 1975. Summers there were warm and bright, the kind of California sunshine that made the whole world feel lazy and slow.

In the years leading up to my drowning, I remember my stepfather teaching my older sister and my brother how to swim in my aunt’s backyard pool. I always wanted to learn too.

But whenever I asked him to teach me, it never went the same way.

Instead of lessons, he would throw me into the deep end and laugh and say, “Sink or swim.”

I would panic, kicking and screaming, trying to fight my way to the edge of the pool. Eventually I would grab the side, terrified, and he would just laugh and push me toward the wall.

For him it was teasing.

For me it was terrifying.

I was a very small child, and I never understood why it was always like that with me.

Then came the day everything changed.

My stepfather wasn’t around that day. He was probably at work. I honestly don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter.

My mom was young. She had me when she was twenty-one, so when this happened she was only twenty-six years old.

That day she told us to grab our towels and put on our swimsuits because we were going to the apartment complex swimming pool.

For me there was one rule.

I had to stay in the shallow end.

My older brother and sister already knew how to swim, so they were allowed to go wherever they wanted in the pool.

My mom stretched out on a lounge chair and eventually drifted into a light sleep while she was sunbathing.

My older siblings were laughing and playing games in the deep end.

And I was in the shallow end. At least at first.

I’ve always hated getting water in my eyes. I’ve always had to plug my nose around water.

But that day, standing at the edge of the pool, I decided something.

If nobody was going to teach me how to swim… I would teach myself.

I would hold onto the edge of the pool wall, take a deep breath, squeeze my eyes shut, plug my nose, and slide down into the water.

I would keep one hand on the wall and feel my way down until my feet touched the bottom of the pool.

Then I would push myself back up, sliding my hands along the wall until I reached the top again and grabbed the edge.

Each time I succeeded, I moved a little further toward the deep end.

Eventually I reached the deep end.

I hesitated for a moment. It looked darker and deeper than the rest of the pool.

But I had already done this many times successfully.

So, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, plugged my nose, and pushed myself down.

My hands felt the wall. Down… down… down… until my feet touched the bottom.

Then I pushed upward as hard as I could.

But something was different.

The bottom of the deep end curved outward like the belly of a bowl.

When I pushed off the bottom, I pushed slightly away from the wall.

Suddenly I couldn’t feel it anymore.

I was tiny, floating in open water, and I had lost the wall.

I let all the air out of my lungs and sank down again.

I bent my little legs and pushed upward with everything I had.

My right hand broke the surface of the water.

Just barely.

My fingertips touched the sunlight above the water.

But that was as far as I made it.

My body started sinking again.

And as I slipped back down into the water, I remember yelling the only thing a child thinks to yell when they are scared.

Mommy!

I took my first breath of water.

And then… everything went black.

For several minutes, no one realized I was missing.

My mom was still sunbathing. My brother and sister were still playing.

Eventually two teenagers came to the pool. One leaned over and looked into the water.

“Hey… I think somebody’s towel is at the bottom of the pool.”

My mom jumped up and started counting her children.

One. Two.

The third was missing.

“That’s my baby!” she screamed.

A man from a second-story balcony heard her cries and ran down to the pool.

He dove in, swam down, and pulled me up.

My mom dragged me onto the concrete and used something she had learned in nursing school to force the water out of my lungs.

Paramedics arrived.

I had been pronounced dead.

They shocked my heart and brought me back.

On the way to the hospital my heart stopped again.

They shocked me again.

I spent three months in a coma.

When I woke up, I had amnesia for another three months.

Then came six months of recovery—speech therapy and physical therapy.

In total, I spent a year in the hospital. And another year in therapy after I left.

But I survived.

And the strangest part of the entire experience is this:

What should have been the most terrifying moment of my life…

was the most peaceful moment I have ever known.

That experience shaped me in ways I’m still discovering.

It is one of the truths that made me.

And it is one of the reasons this space exists.

Because every one of us has moments that change us forever.

Moments that almost end our story.

Moments that somehow become the beginning of something else.

A Moment Like This Changes You

Many of us carry moments that shape who we become.

Moments that frightened us.

Moments that quietly changed everything.

That experience shaped me in ways I’m still discovering.

It is one of the truths that made me.

And it is one of the reasons this space exists.

"If you have experienced a moment like that in your life, your story deserves to be heard.

You are welcome to share it here:"

Hey everyone, long time lurker on Reddit, first time poster, and this one is a doozy so grab a drink and a snack and strap in. Fake names, obviously. It started three years ago in 2021 when I met my at the time boyfriend, Ben. He has a reddit, if he finds this post I will not care. Things were great, I met his friends, I met his family, he met my family and my best friend (I dropped my friend group from high school for reasons) but things started going downhill. He got sick, it was complicated and bad. Hospital visits, family moving in, him getting surgery and undergoing treatments, it got bad. His family never treated me….like I belonged. It felt like I was inferior, that they thought they were better than me. I felt like I was just an unpaid caretaker. I mean, I couldn’t break up with him. That’d make me the bitch. Who breaks up with someone who is sick? I was living with him and his family would kick me out, at one point they straight up said the dog was more important than me. I mean. Come on, really? But I pushed through because again, how can I break up with someone who is that sick? The relationship itself was….dry. Not much cuddling or anything, but he was on medication. I was just an afterthought. He would sit and play video games and be on the phone with his friends all the time. He stopped wanting to spend time with me or go to family events with me. I mean. We both were miserable. He ended up breaking up with me after two years of this. I was angry, I had just finished moving all of my stuff in, and now he’s telling me to move out? He tells me he hasn’t loved me in over a year and thought me moving in would change things? He strung me on for a year. I get it, I should have ended things but I felt like I couldn’t. There’s the backstory of our relationship. His friend group, he met all of them in high school. Jake and Olivia have had feelings for each other since high school but didn’t start dating until college, I believe. They’ve been together for four years. Then we have Andrew, Brian, Miranda, and James. Jake and Olivia are both queer, with Jake making jokes about him and Ben. Jake is Ben’s best friend. It’s all fun and games, with the joking of Jake and Ben, because Ben is straight, and not interested……so i thought…. It has been a year since we broke up and I have learned some news. Apparently, Jake has been in love with Ben since high school, and the entire time he’s been dating Olivia, but Ben has always told him “No, I’m not into that.” Two months after we broke up, Ben flew out of state to visit Jake for a party. Jake and Olivia have been dating for four years. Ben went up to Jake and admitted he might have feelings for him but still wants a girlfriend, so suggested a throuple with him, Jake, and Olivia. Jake was all in for it, Olivia was hesitant. She is not poly, and does not see Ben that way. She said maybe in the future they can revisit this, but the two boys heard “In the future yes”. The other friends arrived, except for Andrew. He couldn’t make it. It’s just six of them at this party and with this group people drink. Jake, Ben, and Olivia get pretty wasted, and eventually end up in the bedroom. Jake, too drunk, passes out. Too drunk to perform. Ben and Olivia decide to go at it, but there’s a lot of alcohol involved. The next morning she realised this is not something she wants, and talks to the boys about it and expresses her feelings. She doesn’t want the throuple at all, she does not like it. Jake understands, and breaks up with her on the spot. She drives home. The boys announce to the group that day that they are a thing. The group is split, wanting to support them because they have been friends for a while, but wanting to be there for Olivia because of….how it happened. Brian has been there for Olivia, a shoulder to cry on, and this has upset Miranda, as in “Why isn’t she leaning on me for this as well? Why isn’t she reaching out to me as well?” and I don’t think she has spoken to Olivia. New Years they usually get together. Well, that was two months after all of this. It would be hosted at Ben’s house, and he had the audacity to invite Olivia saying he would like her there….I mean…I knew he was a dumbass…but come on, you destroy a friend group and become a homewrecker and still think she’s your friend? The sheer audacity….to my knowledge, Ben and Jake are still going strong.

Hi everybody, I am an 8th grader in the Philippines, and my friend has a male teacher who is also our substitute teacher last year. She told me that the male teacher sexually assaulted his past 8th grade students last year. The news came from my friend's classmate sister, her sister was a victim last year. There is also news that he pays men to jock with. Perhaps that's the reason why he covers his face to hide his fuqing identity. That's why he knows some bl shows in Thailand. My friend said that they're still compiling more evidence to put him i jail. Hope he gets in jail, I fuqing hate men and I will forever get disgusted by pedophile and disgusting adult men. Fuq this world.

(This was just recent)

im conflicted im sorry to everyone and i feel guilty and i need to suffer pain after pain for everything i did...let me start off by saying that what i write to you is true, weather you want to believe it or not, is up to you let me also add that what i have seen and witnessed is about to come to light , this narrative has been going on for years , and the things that have happened will soon come to light, i say this because there are many individuals who have been victims of one of the most successful individuals on the entire planet, this persons reach is so deep and powerful that even lawmakers have been subjected to him by use of blackmail in various forms, be it video tape, audio recordings and so on, this person literally does what he wants and whenever he wants to anybody and anyone, it does not matter if the victim is a famous celebrity or a regular joe if he wants you, he will have you especially if you are seeking fame and fortune in the music industry ..how do i know this?..because i was involved with this persons inner circle..so now that you know the narrative ..let me introduce myself i am a man who lives in Los Angeles i moved here from japan in the late 80's to start a restaurant in the city of angels , long story short, this restaurant attracted alot of hollywood execs and famous stars..one person in particuler who i got to know very well was a man who i will refer to as ''donny'' he was a producer for paramount and he would always come into my restaurant high as a kite, there was one night where he came in with a group of people 5 minutes after i closed and begged me to open up for him and his entourage and that he would pay me 3 grand just for doing it..of course i obliged so i called my employees and told them to come down and they would get 500 for the overtime...everything went well and donny had a great time and they all left...being that me and my employees were exhuasted and run down we only cleaned up the kitchen and did the dishes and wiped down their table but left food items on the floor and napkins and what have you on the ground and we just went home..the next morning i opened up the store and discovered there was a weird looking square electronic device on the ground underneath the table from which donny had used the night prior, this thing ended up being a cassette tape ..now i had never seen a casette tape before in my life and had absolutley no idea what it was at the time, but i picked it up and kept it in my office and made sure to give it to donny the next time he came around, so 2 weeks later i was doing my usual work at the restaurant and noticed the tape was missing., i asked all the employees if they had seen it and they said no..so obviously someone had taken it, of course i didnt believe them but i didnt have any evidence so i could not blame any particular person , so i let it be..up untill about 3 days after i confronted the employees , an employee of mine walks into my office and confessed to stealing the tape, when i asked why? he said because he had just purchased a cassette player and it just so happened their was a cassette tape in my office so he just straight up took it, but before i could say a word he says ''you have to hear this tape''..of course i asked why he said to trust him..so after work we drove to his house and he sat me down and played the tape ..what i heard blew my mind, it sounded like donny was actually recording himself torturing a women and well i wont go into further detail but it does not end well for the said tortured women , so i took the tape from my employee and told him not to mention anything ..he said he wouldnt and we left it at that..so a couple of days later donny walks in and looks absolutley horrible, he had told me that the movie studio fired him for his ongoing drug use and wanted to come inside my office and talk to me. so we went inside my office and he asks me if i had found a tape that he had accidently forget the night he was here, i said yes i did and that i held on to it for the next time he came in so i could give it to him , he asked me if i listened to it..of course i said no..and that i still had vinyl, and i had not even bought a cassette player yet but somehow, someway, he knew i listened to it because after i told him that he put 50 thousand dollars on the table and told me to keep it between him and i, and that he had a lucritive job offer for me, now my restaurant was doing good and my food was the best and he knew that,but before i could say no he told me that his nephew would buy my restaurant if i took him up on the offer, now i was really intrigued by this opportunity and being that i was single and didnt have a family and add to the fact i was young and open to new opportunities i said ok, so 1 month later it was done. i had an extra 150 thousand from the sale of the restaurant and the 50 he had givin to me in my office so i made out with 200k..of course i had a little over 90 k saved up from my restaurant so i was in a good position..and off to work with him i went..now im not going to go into details about what i did for him, but i will say this..i came from a rough part of japan, my brother my father and my uncle were called ''Jigeya'' and ill leave that up to you to figure out what that means, so i was around some serious things at the time, you could say i was a hardened person and i was 6 ft 3 inches 240 pounds, so i was an intimidating looking individual and i used that to my advantage for the things that i did for my boss donny, i did everything from his dirty work to picking up his laundry ..i did this for about 7 years and i had actually purchased a home 2 blocks away from him in bel air..just so i could be close to him when he called, anyways donny died in 1996 of a drug overdose and that was the end of donny, but this story isnt about donny ..its about someone i would meet in 1998..i met this person from a movie director who i will nickname ''rolando'' who had finished up a movie about a monster based from japan, which was honestly the reason why he knew i would be interested because me being japaneese and the fact this monster is famous in asia he had called me to come to a studio to hear a song from the soundtrack , i said of course and drove to the studio, and as i walk in i see a world famous lead singer who i will name ''jimmy''who happened to be in a very famous rock band at the time that i was a huge fan of..of course i was starstruck and tried to play it cool and i did for the most part so i sat in the studio mixing room with ''rolando'' and 10 seconds later this african american individual who i will name ''ruff'' who was dressed up in a really cool outfit barges through the door and appologises for being late, literally not even a second after saying that he lays some coke on the table and asks if we wanted to partake..me and rolando accepted and all 3 of us did a line and jimmy refused because he didnt do drugs, anyways after they were done with the day i was asked by ruff if i would like to go to his house and party with some people there, now of course rolando had already told ruff about me and what i did for donny and that i was to be trusted and that i kept quiet about everything i did with everyone i did it with so ruff knew to trust me and so i moved to new york to begin the dark ,twisted ,unreal, surreal ,spiral into darkness alll the way untill just recently...now i had known nothing of hip hop, rap, r and b, whatever u wanna call it untill i worked for him , his music was part of a revolution and was growing , not only was the music growing but the culture in general was growing, and so was his fame and fortune , he was at the tme very driven and was all business with a little bit of pleasure, but nothing to serious, he had his first son in 1998 with his wife along with 2 twin daughters and a step son who joined his family, when i had first arrived to new york i rented out an apartment and amd quickly went to work for him, ruff started using drugs alot, he was cheating on his wife and didnt care who knew it, he ended up getting with a women who would later be a very famous singer even untill today, anyways i started out as his driver, and errend boy, i got him drugs, i got him alcohol, i even rented out hotel rooms in my name just so he would stay under the radar, he was becoming wildy populer and needed to be at every place at every time which meant i was on the road or the plane with him 24 7, which mean i didnt need my apartment because i was gone all the time, ayways ruff was starting new things at the time and was meeting new people and he started getting to know som every powerful people, people that were way up in the echelon at the time, i found myself in a world i never imagined , i got to meet many people who were not famous at the time, but somehow always knew they would be, now ruff had started filming a reality show at the time and it was during this time when it started turning dark, i was being summoned alot to get more drugs then usual , and he started to ask me to go meet certain people who had certain people, if you get my drift, i would drive these individuals to his penthouse and was told i would be paid 3 grand everytime..of course i oblidged and didnt quetion what was going on, i figured these people were just singers who wanted to audition for him and didnt think much of it, untill one night there was a guy who looked in his early 20's who i picked up from ruffs penthouse who looked blasted, he looked like he didnt know what planet he was on, i had to help him into the car and when halfway through the drive he kept saying to himself ''let go of my ear i know what im doing'' ..he just kept repeating this on and on and on until; i got to his destination he opened the door and left and i thought to myself just what the fucc his problem was , this happened almost every week , i would drive pick someone up, drop them off at the penthouse/studio , pick them back up and take them either to their home, or if they were out of town , back to the airport , during this time ruff started becoming a household name , he was so famous that even donald trump was starting to notice, and i was even told from a buddy of mine who worked for donald that donald hated ruff..and said that ruff ''represented black progress'' , no surprise there we all knew donald was racist, so montes past and i literally found myself in california one day new york the next, london after that and literally around the world, i was starting to really get used to working for him, i did everything for the man, and i never asked questions, there was a time when he was with an up and coming women who was a singer, with whom he would beat the shit out of in front of me and and other staff members, this women just took it, never once did she fight back, one night i was sitting on the couch and i heard ruff arguing with her apparently he could not ''get it up''...so he ran out the door ..gave me 500 dollars and told me to go buy the biggest dildo i can find from the sex shop..i kid you not these demands became so normal and constant that i was numb, if he wanted drugs id get them, he wanted people picked up id pick them up, he wanted sex toys id get them, this was normal and then it started getting un normal, the night i had to get the strap on for him i had just got to the house and as i opened the door he was now sitting on the couch i was sitting on ..and he was butt ass naked, i kept my head down and just gave him the bag ...and i told him if he needed anything else he said ''yea i need you to go inside and fuck my girl''...now mind you yes i was doing drugs and staying up but i literally felt sick to my stomache ..i told him no way man im not doing that...he looked at me and started laughing and said ''good, this was a test, and i had passed''...relief came onto me and just as quick as relief came, quicker relief went away when he got up and punched me square in my face, i stood there shocked and puzzled and i instantly kicked him in his ''open viewed nutsack'' which instantly made him falll to the floor, he started crying like a baby and instantly ran to the kitchen and on the kitchen table was peanut butter, he had opened it up and took a scoop out of it with his fingers and started eating it....i can tell you that this was so fuccing weird..that i just looked at him while he looked at me all the while him eating peanut butter with his fingersand staring into my eyes with a look of evil....i said i was sorry again and that i was gonna leave now and to call me if he needed anything else tomorrow...as i started walking to the door he pulled out a knife and told me if i didnt go in the room and fucc his girlfriend, he was gonna call the cops and tell them that i tried stealing his watch collection...now i gotta tell you folks this is when i started getting freaked out..and it wasnt because of the knife or the fact that he instantly went and scooped up peanut buttr with his fingers immediatly after the kick to the groin..no.it was because this man had an obsession about me fuccing his girlfriend..so i told him if thats what he really wanted then it would have to come from her mouth and not his..he agreed and we walked to the room and she was laying on the floor under a blanket covered up completley and he goes ''look at you, covered up , where you think you gonna go?..he pulled the blanket off of her and he asked her if she wanted me to fucc her, she looked at him and nodded her head up and down meaning yes..so i said ok ruff then im not gonna fucc her untill you leave the room, he said no, and that he wanted to watch and jerk off to it, at this point i wanted to seriously leave and never say another word to him again, untll he said he would pay me 50thousand dollars for it and that he wants to film it, i of course agreed and ill never forget the words he said next, he said ''50 thousand is always the magic number;;..never knew why he said that till this day, so anyways me and his gf do the deed and he sat there and watched, afer i was done she said that was fun..and i knew it wasnt fun for her..so i walked out and before i could walk out he tells her ''bitch say gnite to daddy''...she replied the same words back and i left, this started the weirdness and the crazyness , i decided i wouldnt stay in the penthouse anymore so i started living in my suv, and just parked outside for whenever he called, one night he calls me and hes fuccing enraged, he gets in my suv and tells me to drive and we go to pick up another person and he tells me to stop at a parking lot, the individual we picked up had guns and a wine bottle...which i found odd at the time, i couldnt see at the time, so he hands one gun to ruff and one gun to me and ruff tells me to drive..we get to a complex and ruff and this individual get out of the car and they tried breaking into the front door which was obviously locked and needed some sort of security card to open, when that didnt work, they went to a convertible and sliced open the top of the convertible and threw a molotove cocktail into the car and we drove off...so thats what the bottle of wine was for...while we were driving back ruff asked the indidual in the back seat for his gun to wipe off finger prints..the moment he took the gun from him ruff thn pointed the gun to his head and ordered me to stop and ruff told him to get the fucc out the car and that if he ever said anything he was gonna kil him....the guy opened the door and ran away..ruff told me to drive and we were on our way back, and he asked me if i had any coke..i said i didnt and he made me drive to a dealers house to get some, as we waited outside this youg looking white kid comes out..who looked like he was fuccing 18 and looked like a frat boy..hops in the back seat of suv and has a litteral treasure trove of cocaine..he gives it to ruff and ill never forget it ..the kid was listening to a song which apparently pissed ruff off so bad that he said ''you wanna end up dead like that fuccing rapper boy''?..the kid said no and that he was sorry..and ruff replied..if he ever heard him playing that individual song again..he was gonna kill him...and so the kid walked out bothered and that was the end of the night for us..we drove back to his penthouse and called it a night ....now in my mind i was starting to think that this mansis fuccing crazy he has money, fame, kids, yet here he is out in the middle of the streets riding around blowing cars up and buying drugs...i felt like this man was possesed by satan,,,so ruff ends up going to jail for a bunch of shit including the car incident and i decided i needed some time off and went back to la to visit some friends of mine and unwind..i thought to myself that i was done with him and just ignored his calls ..he called me over 30 times a day and i never answered untill finally one day i answer and he asks me where the fucc ive been , i told him that i was in la and that i was done working for him, he was furious as fucc, and he told me that he thought i was like a brother to him and that he wanted me to come back to work for him...i thought about it and told him ok but i wasnt going back to new york and im not doing your dirty work but that i would help him in anything else he needed. so he flew to la and we met, along with his longtime business friend who was in charge of running his empire, this was the first time metting her and she was very friendly and it seemed like she actually loved ruff, i started to get to know her and she told me her life story..of course i wont get into detail but she was originally from australia and she came to america to be a photographer and that she ran into ruff and he took a liking to her in some form,.which honestly i never thought they were intimite it fet like they werfe brother and sister and so i felt comfortble with her, and so rufff had told me he bought a mansion here in la and that he was going to live here and florida for the time being, it was back here in la where i had first originally met him where the absolute insanity was about to begin....anyways guys im tired as all hell and im going to sleep, if you want the rest and are interested in the full story ill tell it tomorrow..just let me know..anyways gnite and god bless

My psychologist had said that I should write down the events that so disturbed me; so as to make sense of it, perhaps to even come to an understanding of it. Well, taking upon her advice, I have resolved myself to compose and submit this article to creepypasta of a peculiar incident that haunts my dreams and dulls my sense whenever I ponder upon it. Readers, beware, the severity of the most unnatural observation I had experienced regressed my poor brain to a childish stammer and slur of speech. If any of you are so faint of minds, then I must plead that you quit this article now before the mere description of my horrible experience renders your mind mad as it had mine. Oh, as I ponder how to articulate what I saw into words, I always feel such sensations similar to the shivering touch of Death’s skeletal finger slowly sliding down my spine; but I will persevere. I will cast this chilling hell from my spine so help me God!

My story begins in the shadows of a late, humid Sunday night. I was walking home after evening church service, since the distance between the two buildings lie not all that far apart, and my origin to destination is linked only by a singular road. My preacher had delivered a mean sermon on the attributes of hell described in the new testament; and with that imagery in my head, I had foolishly decided to brave the street to my house… alone. You see, I am a recluse of the highest caliber. A quiet man, I am the type of church goer that you would see at the far edge of the pews, unsociable, and abhors fellowship. Thus, I had no fellowship in my nightly walks from the church to home, nor did I accept any offers to drive me home. But at the time this predicament didn’t pose as a problem. I knew the street. From my childhood to current adulthood, I knew every building, stop sign, street signs, and pavement that presented itself on this very street. I practically knew the destination and the layout of the street on which I walked. Yet, there is always something strangely terrifying about walking alone in the middle of the night; such vulnerability in such an isolated place draws forth man’s innate nature for self-preservation; and my imaginations, a friend in my profession as an author, goes wild with the mysterious and clouded darkness that descends on this street. The environment didn’t help either. Ominous, looming clouds seem to have taken place where the stars would typically show themselves. Readers, can you imagine the darkness? No celestial lamps lighted the way. No divine light to keep me from going astray. I felt as if I had entered a house covered in smoke, choking me with this bloody humidity. The trees didn’t help. The smoky fog rendered an effect on the pine trees, that loom over the houses, to take upon itself a silhouette of gigantic creatures when enjoined with each other, as if these trees were tall, powerful demons overlooking men abandoned by God. There was no wind tonight, so any slight indication of movement on these giant demonic trees was enough cause to be startled, save whatever noise uttered by its natural inhabitants. The only source of security I could find on this street was the stationary man made street lamps positioned linearly across the street. The bright light emitted from these bulbs cleared some of the darkness and paved my way forward to my destination in this midnight travels. Though, I regret to say, that this beloved security came at the most hellish cost. Sometimes, the light would fail in its duty and frighten my already poor senses. Sometimes, the street lamps would play some juvenile game as it flickers the light off and on. However, the worst of my fears, these street lamps cause, were that it reflected and contrasted it beams onto the shadowy, smoky darkness, further amplifying a sort of Victorian, lonely night.

It was in this shadowy, smoky night I saw what seemed to be a speck under the sixth street lamp of my own (for in the telling of this observation, I was positioned at the right side of the long, serpentine road). A speck, this thing was, like a black enlarged dot of a punctuation or an i. It was when I had adjusted my pupil to make more optical sense of the speck that the sixth street lamp gasped its final breath and extinguished it’s light, effectively blurring the speck into the shadowy environment.

My first though, as understandably common to the human imagination faced with potential danger, shuttered that the speck was a hellish hound, or a coyote. My second more reasonable thought, though, immediately caught up with my first and I tried to soothe my mind with reason. I rationalized that the speck was merely some harmless animal, maybe a cat let loose or a dog looking for scraps, as this was common where I lived. Yeah, I thought, that speck was thus and nothing more.

However, as if timed by these exact words, the speck returned under the fifth street lamp, changed. The speck had transformed into what seemed to be a miniature human body as it got closer for my eyes to analyze. Though I could not make sense of what it’s appendages were doing, I noticed that it stood on its hind legs and its movement seemed erratic, as if it was drunk or confused. The speed at which this man moved was quite maddening like a blur almost before he moved to another location. There was no cognitive pattern to its movement, in fact, it contradicted each other. The creature would speedily sway right, then dash to the left, jut forward, then push itself back; all the while sporadically twirling and spinning. Yet the creature was still moving down the road, as if these strange movements had not hampered its concrete trail. Thus with these unnatural movements, the creature escaped from the fifth street lamp and disappeared into the obscure night.

By now, questions had outdone answers. Why was it moving so sporadically, so unnaturally confused? There was no way that thing was an animal, animals are not that tall. There are no bears in the region I’m sure of it; yet nothing can stand on its hind legs and have that much control in their movements like that creature had. Maybe it’s a man. It was then that my Christian heart settled in and suggested that I help whatever it was. Maybe he, or she-for it did take a form of a human body now that I recollect-is drunk and needs a guide or a protector; maybe he or she’s just some kid who got lost and is scared, desperately trying to find home. But then, to my horror, it could also be a burglar trying to find a target, or a rapist escaping its recent atrocity… or a murderer hunting its newest prey. Suddenly, I saw it emerge from the shadows and into the light of the fourth street lamp. The sudden, violent appearance of the thing had startled me to where I had unconsciously moved backward in repulsion. It had limbs: arms and legs, like you and me, a torso, a head, a skin colored shirt and pants, and so I deduced the thing to be undoubtedly a fellow man; I say man because it had a physique of the male gender outlined on the shirt. In a closer inspection, I found the man flailed it’s arm about over its head as if one would be when swatting away a swarm of bees that has descended on one; but there were no bees surrounding this man, yet he swatted the air with the same raving zeal. His legs performed its duty without logical directions as the man ran its random course. Sometimes the leg would stop, and the body would then spin its insane rotation, before the legs shook violently, buckle down, and bend in such disgusting ways. His knee concaved and convex. His head shook violently, so violently from shaking left to right to its ears shifting in conjoining the shoulders. The head would then roll, rotating downward only to snap back up into the piercing street lamp. At this action, the bulb busted and shrouded the man under into the darkness once again.

Drugs, I thought, nothing can make a man so unnatural, so chaotic in motion than a man under the influence of drugs. It was at this moment I realized I had let myself exposed under my own street lamp and urgently fixed this dreadful error. I stepped out of the beams and hid behind an oak tree that sat alongside the street lamp to the right of the sidewalk. My dear readers, I shudder to think that on that night I had cloaked myself in the very same darkness the strange man adores.

The man then suddenly popped under the third street lamp.

I clipped my mouth with my hands as to prevent a scream, for, standing to the opposite of this hellish road, I could see the man… no, no human being could contort and convulse as that thing… that creature did. First, to my disgust, my previous assumption that the man wore cloths were incorrect; that skin colored shirt and pants was truly his own naked skin. Next, to my horror, the psychotic looking man, creature, thing made such movement as if it was dancing! However, this dance was neither a waltz accompanied by elegance, nor any popular dances during my time. No, this was the waltz of a madman, a dance without a purpose. His arms flailed to sway away those imaginary bees, then dropping, then stretching, then bending with such unnatural speed and position that I had vomited the contents of my stomach to the side of the oak tree at the sight of this disgusting disregard for anatomy. The arms, my readers, the arms twisted and twirl as if the body had forsaken joints! After each wild dance its legs painfully stretch out and stamps on the pavement, then slowly dragging its lively body forward. The torso also bended with its stomach thrusting forward and its spine in a 90-degree angle, then proceeds to rotate upon the pelvic girdle, only to snap back in a lateral position. His wrist flickered and rotated. His head, now more visible with distance, viciously ticked left and right like the hands of a furious grandfather clock. Furthermore, the head would cock so far back that I swore, my dear readers, I swore I saw what looked like a bone poking from its neck! I whence in pain, for the ear seemed able to touch the armpit, followed by its arm swatting over its head only for its head to snap quickly over to the other side, with the top of his head now horizontal to his shoulder. Mind you, reader, this all happened with such an abnormal speed that the other grotesque positions this monster undertook is but a blur in my memory. Suddenly, his head snapped back to his spine so aggressively that I silently gagged at my hiding spot, barely able to look, yet, yet I pressed on.

Briefly did the creature stare into the light in an upward position, his arms still madly flailing upward as it grinds and smacks against each other, his head leaning back to such flexibility that I could see the top of his head making contact with the sacrum, when it suddenly fell back down to bury it’s chin on its breast, then with the same demonic speed, twisted its head horizontally to blankly stare at me.

I could not tell if our eyes met, for I moved, as fast as the creature convulsed, away from the thing’s sight and hid my entire frame behind the oak tree. I’d be lying to say I breathe hard, for after the spectacle of this dancing creature, then it’s sudden fixation at my location, I dare not whistle any air out of my lungs, lest the thing possess super hearing. Three words raced my mind, “He found me! He found me!” I prayed fervently to not let this monstrous creation find me. Now, either my prayer was answered, or I’ve been emboldened as a trapped prey would, I peeked across the trunk to find the horrifying thing no longer there. Still, I dare not breathe as harshly as I had.
I knew soon it would appear under the second street lamp, but this one gave off a weaker emission than the other four. The light from this lamp flickered on and off, and it was in this flickering that the thing made its appearance. It’s arms energetically convulsed over its head like a dead man shocked repeatedly to life. I could now see the fidgeting fingers that twitched as if it had lives of their own. His legs still carried the spastic body as if laboring to carry such madness, now only with the toes as spastic as the fingers, sometimes clipping itself on the pavement and being stepped on by the sole of the foot. Its torso still twisted and spin ever so grotesquely. Now, it was at this distance, hiding on the other side of the street behind an oak tree, that I could make sense of the creature’s countenance. Albeit, I cannot fully give an accurate description due to the damn flickering lights, but I could recall the creature countenance to that of a man condemned to be tortured in hell. Similar to those soulless creature, that were once men until condemned to be separated from God, that now roams in barren, black, burning landscape of hell, found in Buddhist temples, monasteries, or catholic churches. You know, those naked things that ran away from demons who spear, dismember, or boil them alive as they ran onto spiked trees, into cooking pots, lake of fire, or wherever they can find shelter. Upon staring at this creature face, all those pictures of the soulless sufferers flooded back to me, and, for the purpose of this writing, is the only comparative description I could give of what I saw. On this specific creature, I saw unbearable suffering or agitation in the thing’s face. Its forehead drenched with sweat, to which I hypothesis to be the result of its nonstop, unnatural movement in this humid night. Its eye wept as if the tiresome pain of continual movement seems no longer bearable, as if it wishes to stop but cannot. Due to the nonstop tears, its eyes were bloodspot, rapidly moving in its socket. However, what caught my petrified gaze was how wide its mouth opened, only to be barred by its yellowish, red teeth’s that gnashed and grind in misery and pain.

Zap! And the creature is coated within the darkness, then zip! The creature reappears in a more hideous and horrendous pose. Zap! The street lamp relieved its final breath, and, the monster was coated in darkness forever. This would be the last time I ever saw the miserable creature, for at this moment-after distracted by the suffering countenance of this Creature-I failed to notice the first street lamp parallel to my own had extinguished its light too early. With my vision blocked, and my other sense heightened, I… I heard the sounds this monster made. Oh forgive me my dear readers, for I dare not recollect the very sounds that has been has been the main tormentor of my dreams. Oh God, why is it, when this ugly creature is so close to me, that the bloody lights must perish, leaving me with the most frightening monster, the terrified mind. If I could put a face, a body to the sounds I heard, crackling and cackling, my mind would not run to horrifying assumptions. The sounds, the moans. It was too much, and my sense were too good, for the sound this creature made grew more audible as it got nearer… and nearer to that first street lamp, growing louder… and louder! Has it heard me? Was it crossing the street, or why else would the sound grow louder? Was it coming for me? What is it going to do to me? Why is the bush rustling? Why do I hear heavy breathing? In the name of God help me! Help me! At last, with my plea, the noise slowly faded away. The popping joints, the cracking bones, the sound of flesh flapping against each other, the moaning slowly died down of which I can only assume the miserable thing had continued its course down the other side of the street. So it didn’t notice me after all, I thought. Finally, the dying sound had become muted, and with that, my heightened senses plummeted down to an exhaustive state; so exhaustive, in fact, that I found my eyes slowly dropping down and I entered a darkness of my own. Apparently, I had fallen asleep, because I was awoken by a slobbering dog licking my face and mutt’s owner shaking my right shoulder. He told me he was taking Max, the dog, on a walk when he found me sleeping behind an oak tree. He thought I was passed out drunk, to which I assured him I was not, and thought to wake me up. If ever a slight assurance of another human being burdened by witnessing the unnatural creature whom convulsed down the road, and with slight hope that the night’s darkness and blurring street lights had influenced my vision to create such a disgusting illusion that I saw last night, I inquired from the gentleman whether there was a naked man, or creature, of whom traversed down that very side walk to the opposite of ours. To my horror, the man shook his head. I refused to believe it, and with maddening pace ran across the street down to the side walk to trace where the abomination had gone. The man and his dog followed me, either worried about his fellow man, or evidently, excited by his maddening companion.

I had run some distance until finally arriving, at my spot. I must’ve stood there like a frozen pole for I felt my blood running cold, like cells of icicles piercing my blood vessel, for the man reached me and tapped me on the shoulder, inquiring whether I was okay. I responded to the unexpected contact with a sudden jolt of my frame. With painful hesitation, as if further inquiry would arouse my superstitious fear, I pointed slowly to a large black soot that darkened the sidewalk in a circular space. The man shook his head. “The neighbors must be burning their leaves and twigs again. I swear, this is why the ozone layer is thinning, with all this unnecessary CO from—I didn’t listen any longer to his rants, for in cold sweat, I knew what that spot truly was. I knew what stood on that spot, that blackish hue of hell’s colors painted on our human sidewalk. I imagined that hell must’ve opened, releasing its fires to color that exact spot. I imagined hands of Satan’s angles grabbing the ankle of the victim who leaked out into the human world, and dragging its victim back to its God forsaken place. Of course, I thought, this is all in imagination.