I can’t quit thinking about her

2022.01.19 13:38 Large_Assistance_204 I can’t quit thinking about her

Almost Everyday I think about her and how much I miss her. She was my first love and I see her all the time at work. We had such a powerful relationship until I made some mistakes. I admit I hurt her and all I want to do is fix it. Because she is my only experience with sex and it made me feel so close to her and we both have a high sex drive so it happened daily. I frequently imagine things that happened between us and all the stuff we never got too. I want to forget her but I can’t
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2022.01.19 13:38 Mundane-Secretary-10 Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. No way all those kids are properly taken care of.

Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. No way all those kids are properly taken care of. submitted by Mundane-Secretary-10 to antinatalism [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 Hawanja Debunking Tucker Carlson's Racist Anti-Vaxx lies - Politics & Art stream

Debunking Tucker Carlson's Racist Anti-Vaxx lies - Politics & Art stream submitted by Hawanja to lefttube [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 DeadMan2556 Dragoon?

Is red-eyes dark dragoon not in the game? When I search for it, it doesn't come up
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2022.01.19 13:38 Tall-Conflict-4182 karma pls i'm new

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2022.01.19 13:38 Faction_Chief /r/news - https://abcnews.go.com/Business/wireStory/airlines-worldwide-rush-change-flights-us-5g-dispute-82343520

submitted by Faction_Chief to NoFilterNews [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 Kaeyll [V-3Archive] - Gympie (Part 1/4)

The Survey
The sun was just beginning to set as I rounded the final bend down the dirt track I had been searching for, my nerves were becoming ever more apparent, for what I was about to do isn’t exactly legal, a victimless crime, mind you, but one nonetheless.
After having arrived at the town of Gympie a couple of hours prior, I stopped off to grab a bite to eat and some last supplies then continued on east of the town site to an area of back roads and private property. I knew exactly where I was going but just wanted to ensure the area was as vacant as I’d hoped, I planned my trip via google maps but rural areas are often left for years without an update, not exactly the most trustworthy resource for surveying.
After a few minutes I approached the end of the track to a large turnaround, opening up from the dense Australian bush into a clearing and as I’d hoped, all that remained on the property were two dilapidated sheds, some broken fencing and a burned out car. No recent tracks save for my own confirmed its abandoned state and my nerves gradually eased, I doubled back a short distance and found a tucked away clearing, unseen from the track just to be safe.
After parking in the most inconspicuous way I could manage, I gathered my things, my torch, a pocket knife, a warmer change of cloths, about a days worth of water and some snacks for the trip home. Shoving these into my backpack, I locked up and checked the charge on my phone, plotted my route and set out. My destination: the famed Gympie Pyramid.
. . .
Less of a pyramid and more akin to a ceremonial mound, the name conjures up fantastic imagery, but the reality appears far more mundane. All that remains is a square-based hill about thirty meters high with a series of six terraces running up one face, with other smaller walls and worked stones scattered around the site. It has been a curiosity of mine for many years, but strangely having always lived but a few hours away had never visited it.
Reportedly discovered in ‘75 by Rex Gilroy, fantastical claims were made including those of aliens, UFO landing sites and transportation vortices. This garnered the interest of many conspiracy theorists and revisionists while unfortunately discrediting the site in the eyes of contemporary archaeology.
An early study concluded it had been build by an Italian farmer that owned the property nearby in the late 1800s, and has remained the official story ever since. Despite this, many contradicting pieces of information have flooded the pseudo-scientific community. Local newspaper records from the 1930s mention complaints from farmers about their livestock wondering into and never coming out of an entrance at the base of the pyramid, which apparently spurred the Australian military into bulldozing the entryway and other features around the site. Around the same time, several other pyramids in the area were supposedly dismantled and used to fill a nearby creek, with the remainder dumped at sea. No official records of any of these events remain.
Fortunately, the most fascinating portion in this flurry of pseudoscience and hearsay is wholly verifiable. Artefacts from all over the world, from periods that make very little sense in our official timeline of history, have been found in and around the Gympie region. these include an ancient Indian statue of the Hindu goddess Lakshmi, a carved stone head thought to be South American, possibly Olmec in origin, a bronze Grecian urn, an ancient Chinese teapot or wine holder made of bronze and copper, and finally a carved statue known as “the Gympie ape” which was, unlike the rest of these out of place artefacts, found onsite at the base of the pyramid.
The final curiosity that stands out as truly bizarre, is the existence of a series of walls scattered around the region, a couple of which I saw for myself as I passed through town, part of the church and a low set wall in front of the school. What makes these stand out from the other examples of ancient masonry in the region is their distinct style. Pieced together with highly irregular shapes like a puzzle with sometimes unbelievable precision, the style known as cyclopean masonry has examples all over the world, largely concentrated around southern Europe.
Synonymous with the Mycenae civilisation and other ancient cultures around Italy and Sicily, it was known as the building style of the cyclops of Greek mythology, from where it got its name. With other examples in Lebanon, Japan, Egypt and Spain among others, none are more impressive then the flawless masterwork of the Incas, where as the previous examples are somewhat rough and manageable with conventional tools, some of the cyclopean megaliths of the Andes and other nearby regions are not only so perfectly shaped even a sheet of paper can’t fit between its seams, but contains pieces so large they are only surpassed by the likes of Baalbek and some of its stone blocks that exceed a thousand tonnes.
. . .
With such an assorted history of unreliable sources, conspiracies and truly bizarre artefacts, its hardly a surprise it remains the contentious enigma that it is. I poured over all of this in my head as I trudged through a muddy clearing where, on the far side, a low barbed wire fence came into view, marking the eastern border of the private property which I was about to intrude upon.
Checking my phone to ensure I hadn’t gone off track, I confirmed it to be a mere hundred meters directly in front of me. My excitement bubble up suddenly as I glanced up at the silhouetted hill, I was taken aback for a moment, the fiery yellow and orange glow of the sunset contrasted against the blackened treetops gave off an intimidating aura the likes of which I had never felt, for this aura wasn’t entirely metaphorical, a rippling, transparent energy lined the silhouette, blurring the hellish glow behind it. I would normally have cast it aside as a my overactive imagination or a simple trick of the eye as I did at the time, but since becoming privy to the horrific reality that lay below my feet, I’m not so sure.
I stared mystified for a moment as I continued stumbling forward, snapping back to reality when I realised I was approaching the fence line. Carefully navigating the barbed wire, I decided to rest and wait till nightfall proper, just to ensure I remained unseen by the occupants of two separate houses a short distance away to the north and south, one of which belongs to the current caretaker.
Finding a relatively dry spot to sit down proved harder than I anticipated but settled under a tree a little to right of where I entered the property. I slumped down, feeling mildly exhausted from the trudge, letting out a deep breath as I leaned back against the tree. My focus wondered mindlessly along the base of slope that edged its way up towards the summit, the little light left from the moon died off surprisingly quickly under the blanket of trees enveloping the hill.
My eyes fell back to the base in front of me, where I began examining the erosion from the recent downpours, this is when I spied a rock just barely jutting out of the dirt, my mind was blank for an extended moment before the sudden realisation.
“No... no way” I muttered under my breath as lent forward, crawling on all fours, quickly covering the short distance as I began wiping dirt and mud away from this inconspicuous looking rock, until I hit it, another rock to the right, my eyes lit up as I changed direction and clawed my way down until I hit yet another.
I continued this way for a couple of minutes until I had seemingly hit the base of the pile about a half meter down, while also uncovering about the same distance horizontally, exposing a sloped square of what was unmistakably the same terracing that remains on the south face of the hill. I fell back as the realisation hit me: that should not be there.
. . .
Just prior to my venture and after a great deal of searching, I was able to verify a few specifics that had previously eluded me. Every description of the pyramid mentions the infamous terracing and various low lying walls, but every one, even personal accounts via blogs failed to mention exactly where they are located.
Ironically enough, these surprisingly elusive details are found in a PDF of a recent survey, commissioned by the very institution that prompted the sudden resurgence in my interest on the subject. The Queensland main roads council has been fighting to revoke the cultural land rights of the local aboriginals in order to flatten the entire area and construct a new bypass. Fortunately, multiple groups and organisations are doing all they can to halt their progression and preserve the site. However, as they say, try as you might, nothing stands in the way of progress, as the government barely casts them a sideways glance. Because of this I decided that I had to see it for myself before it inevitably becomes yet another historical treasure lost to modern mans philosophy of convenience taking precedence over both nature and heritage.
I had been burrowing along the newly exposed terrace with my bare hands for about half an hour before I sat back and looked over the unmistakable corner section that I’d uncovered, the previously undiscovered north-eastern extremity of the site. Pulling out my phone, I opened the map and placed a marker at my location in an attempt to map the site or at least gain a better grasp on the layout.
I had garnered from the survey that the south-western corner of the lower terrace had already been uncovered, so after grabbing my bag I made my way around to the well known features on the other side. After a ten minute walk around the base, all the while ensuring to stay out of sight from the nearby houses, I was standing before the lower-most step at the opposite corner of the square-based hill. Marking that location allowed me to estimate the remaining corners, thus gaining an overview of the site as a whole.
From there I spent the next few hours fruitlessly digging around both predicted locations resulting in nothing but a few scattered stones and some very callused hands.
At this point I was exhausted and a little disheartened, but reminded myself I had already found far more then I expected to begin with. With that I relaxed and stepped down from amateur archaeologist to casual tourist and began wondering around taking in some of the more well documented features of the site, the ancient low walls that remain and the various worked stones that continue to be uncovered despite many going missing over the years. These stones in themselves are proof of foreign influence upon these grounds, for there is little record of Australian Aboriginals utilising the tools required to achieve the result observed.
. . .
It had been at least a half hour since I’d come across anything of interest, utilising the survey as my own personal tour guide, I had exhausted all the information it offered. I had one last stop in my rough, ill-conceived plan that I was yet to see for myself; the infamous summit. So I quickly checked my location, positioned directly due west of the peak, pocketed my phone and began a slow trudge up the hill.
As I ascended, I pondered over the folklore, both ancient and modern. The descendants of the local Gubbi, or Kabi people, are adamant their ancestors had nothing to do with the construction of any features in the area, but have always both revered and feared the mound as a sacred site, one they would do their utmost to avoid.
The only explanation offered is a fascinating tale passed down through countless generations, one of a brown skinned, blue eyed, blond haired people, wearing dolphin pendants coming forth from Orion on dragons to built many pyramids and temple sites, which were almost entirely consumed by a deluge some time later. It is said this highly sophisticated civilisation set up gold mining operations, hauling massive amounts of both gold and excavated soil back out to sea through channels that stretched inland to the pyramid and other sites. Then one day they packed up, set forth back to “Orion” and never returned.
One can assume Orion refers to the Pacific to the east while the mention of dragons bring to mind Viking longboats with their immaculately designed hulls. This would make sense as the Vikings are theorised to have visited Australia long before any other European explorers. However, it is insisted these events took place an impossibly long time ago, shortly after the Dreamtime or The Dreaming, back during the time of Aboriginal legend, when the world was in its infancy, continuously moulded and ravaged by beings of inconceivable power, bringing forth both order and chaos, passing down knowledge and the law of man to the first people of the land.
This entire legend, however, is claimed by sceptics to be nothing but a fabrication by Rex himself for the purposes of further mystifying the whole conspiracy. White man making money off the heritage of indigenous people? A likely and unfortunate scenario, to be sure.
. . .
Roughly half way through the hundred foot ascent, I stopped for a moment to analyse more terracing, which, at this point had become quite steep, or rather the steps were shortening in length. Having heard tales of many people falling ill while scaling the hill, assumed to occur from ascending too rapidly, I ensured to take my time. However this fails to explain two other common occurrences; when Aboriginals, generally reluctantly, enter the site, they are often compelled by an unexplained urge to leave the area, complaints of illness and unease are common.
The other anomalous occurrence however, is also something I would be unable to test, for, every day around 2 pm, the majority of people, regardless of their heritage, regardless of their altitude and location around the site, whether they’re at the summit or at the base, get the same overwhelming need to leave that Indigenous individuals tend to experience, also accompanied by varying sickness, anxiety and discomfort, but all greatly amplified for a short time. It is truly curious, this phenomenon, one I want to test for myself one day, but this particular venture required utmost discretion so unfortunately would have to wait for a separate excursion, or so I thought at the time.
I rose to my feet and began the final stretch to the summit, taking my time as I went. The moonlight that had lit my way slowly faded as I climbed, from both the thickening canopy and the sky being fully enveloped by the encroaching storm that was forecast for the following day. Ever so gradually, my breaths were getting shorter and sharper, becoming aware of this I attempted to regulate my breathing the best I could, but this became fruitless as I glanced the final terrace just above me.
My impatience and excitement overwhelmed the exhaustion as I picked up pace, stumbling and almost falling flat on my face as I did. Resorting to crawling on all fours up the final ten feet, climbing up the surprisingly high final step, before finally sprawling out upon the plateaued peak to catch my breath.
. . .
The Summit
As I again attempted to regulate my breathing, I became aware of just how difficult it was considering the altitude. Yes it was somewhat of a hike, but I frequent the tablelands of northern Queensland which boast a far greater altitude, yet have never experienced air as thin as this, it felt as mountaineers would describe during an ascent at the roof of the world. It was a shock to system, but I slowly began to adjust, although the lightheadedness only seemed to get worse.
Laying there I envisioned the purported ceremonial site that once graced this ground; a large ring of ornately carved standing stones lining the extremities of the plateau, surrounding a large, circular “tabletop” of sorts containing a concave recess in the top face. Accompanied by a small shelter or building and a few ceremonial alters, it would have been a sight to behold in its prime.
Due to the terraces once being roughly a meter taller, the peak was accessible via a staircase which lead from an entryway at the base allowing access into the bowels of the complex, which, other then the tales of ill-fated livestock, has never been corroborated. The tabletop was said to be a landing pad for extra-terrestrial craft and the aforementioned energy vortex that rose out of the centre aided in launching these vessels. Though far more likely acted as a ceremonial vessel of sorts.
. . .
With my exhaustion finally beginning to fade, I sat upright and took in my surroundings; the once famed summit lay humble and bare, a far cry from what once was. Dotted with a few rocky outcrops and medium sized shrubbery, it was now entirely devoid of the elder trees that still blanketed the slopes.
Laying back down, I peered up at the gathering clouds through the void that opened up in the canopy around me, at a point during the ‘60s before its “official” discovery, someone had planned to build a house upon the summit. Though no official records exist, the main roads survey roughly correlates this time frame, having surmised the flora littering the summit was around thirty to forty years old.
Reportedly he destroyed the final two columns that remained on site before clearing away all flora and began exhuming the old stonework. It is said that at this point he was plagued by horrendous nightmares, fell violently ill and was haunted by ghostly apparitions both around his nearby home and the pyramid itself, he promptly left the area and the summit in its barren state.
This is far from the only account of spectral happenings around the pyramid, over the decades dozens of mediums, psychics and dowsers swarmed from all around Australia and the world to witness what is apparently a somewhat common occurrence, spectral entities often dressed in medieval attire, men clad in steel armour and women in white garbs said to act as guardians of the site, often stopping people with some inconceivable force part way up the pyramid before granting access if their cause is deemed noble. Though these are most commonly reported occurrences, accounts vary so wildly that it would take more time than practical to list here, but are often equally as dubious.
I can most certainly confirm I had no such experience during my ascent, the pure exhaustion and lightheadedness was enough to deal with, though I had started to consider the two might have some correlation. It was at this moment that I was shocked out of my daydream, a large droplet of rain struck me in the eye, I reeled for a moment before laughing off the shock, then the reality dawned as a second and third preceded a light shower.
“Crap!” I muttered under my breath, this rain hadn’t been forecast until the next morning. Hoisting myself up, I looked around more thoroughly, spying a pile of rocks to my left, through the darkness something about it caught my eye, much like the several other piles scattered about the area, it consisted if a loose yet settled stack, but the base of this one seemed far too neat. Getting closer I saw it, the perfectly cut and fitted stones of a surviving section of cyclopean wall! Excited, I picked up my pace to a jog then fell to my knees before the unsuspecting pile, carefully moving the stones around it one by one. It seemed as though during the clearing process this section had been tipped over, unbroken, before being partially buried and forgotten beneath the moderately large stack atop it.
I continued carefully excavating the rubble, fully exposing what remained of this short section. It was a true piece of masterwork, in contrast to the imperfect surviving examples nearby, it remained flawless despite its clear ancient origin, a perfect puzzle with no space between blocks visible to the naked eye. This was monumental, for very rarely has been a sample of this quality been observed outside of Peru and the few scattered examples around Greece and Mesopotamia.
Though a little weathered, it was surprisingly well preserved, there was but a single anomaly on its otherwise perfectly smooth surface; a single stone stuck out vertically a short distance from the rest of the wall, I frowned for a moment, before carefully examining it. I quickly assumed an unmovable object beneath it had forced the stone out of place when it was initially laid down flat by some heavy force. Standing up, I grabbed the meter long section of wall, braced myself and hoisted it as carefully as I could. I realise now there are a million ways it could have been disturbed in such a manner, but something about it probed my compulsive nature. Lifting the wall from one side to an almost ninety degree angle, I searched for the source of the disturbance to confirm my suspicions and for a moment failed to identify the culprit, but as my eyes adjusted I saw it, half sunken into the mud and barely visible, sat a small, severely worn wooden box.
I stood there for a moment, mouth slightly agape before snapping back to reality, leaning the wall against my hip for support, I reached out with one hand, swiping away the rapidly softening mud in an attempt to loosen its grip on my prize. It came free without to much hassle, exposing a dry patch of dirt and a dozen earthworms in the process. Placing the box to the side, I gently eased the wall back into its original prone position.
Crouching down, I quickly grabbed my old torch from my bag, flicked it on and shone the yellow light over this mysterious cache that had me in a state of simultaneous shock and elation. Still encrusted with mud, it truly was entirely ordinary, about the size of a tissue box, formed through moderately skilled craftsmanship, a thin top bound to the base by two rusted hinges on one length and a pin latch on the opposite. I placed the torch on a rock to the side, directing the light towards the ground the best I could before picking up this truly mysterious yet mundane oddity.
Immediately I felt it, a shifting weight followed by a light impact on the inside surface, my brow furrowed as I cleaned away the remaining soil while still being as cautious as possible. I examined the seam and found it was somewhat loosened, attempting the pry the small pin from the latch proved fruitless as it had long rusted shut, at that moment frustration suddenly overcame me as I attempted forcing the latch one last time only to hear a small crack emanate from the back of the box, I winced as, slowly, I turned it to reveal one the hinges had been torn from the wooden base. Staring at it, eyes wide, I drowned in inner turmoil, with an angel of preservation on one shoulder screaming at me to cease, while the devil of curiosity urged me on to claim the mystery that lay within.
Ultimately my morbid curiosity prevailed. I reached into my bag and retrieved my pocket knife as it dawned on me that the light shower was steadily increasing, I barely gave it a second thought as I pulled out the blade and slid it carefully between the hinge and wood.
“Sorry” I apologised under my breath, then with one clean motion, twisted the knife and heard that familiar crack as the lid sprung open slightly. I swallowed nervously before grasping the lid, wrenching the locking mechanism loose in one last defilement of this poor antique, but any guilty conscience was entirely whisked away, for what lay within the box all but drew from me what little breath I had.
It was a carved head of a snake, to put it simply, but there are no words in any tongue that could ever hope to do its awe-inspiring beauty proper justice. With the box progressively filling with rain, I cupped the ornament in both hands, lifting it closer to the light. I began wiping away the layer of dust and soil but the now pouring rain did the majority of the job for me, adding a glossy sheen to what was already an impossibly smooth surface. It was incredible, if the flawless cyclopean masonry could be described as a masterwork of human hands, then this must truly be the work of the gods. It was too perfect, too pristine, without a single scratch nor blemish, I struggled to imagine how any ancient culture could have achieved such a quality. The material it was composed of was just as fascinating, reminiscent of opal; a deep black interspaced by radiant, shifting colours.
Examining its elegant form, I found it somewhat resembled a water python, a local species that I’ve had numerous encounters with. Long and rounded, tapering in towards the nose, but where as pythons and their other similarly shaped kin have a flat, streamline muzzle, the carving was almost as tall as it was wide. My focus fell onto the serpents entrancing, relatively oversized eyes, which despite being inanimate, portrayed and strong yet complex expression, one of composure and benevolence accompanied by something else I couldn’t quite discern, or perhaps I was reading too far into it.
Out of nowhere an grand bolt of lightning lit up the entire sky, my eyes subconsciously widened as I fell to my knees, for as the light struck the carving, the colours lit up orders of magnitude more so then previously, shifting and pulsating, overcoming any darkened patches with every colour of the visible spectrum and others I still cant quite comprehend. The surface, previously not visibly translucent, now appearing as a light bulb housing this brilliant cacophony of colour.
A moment later an almighty boom rang out overhead as the downpour of rain became a veritable deluge, all the while still transfixed on this serpentine anomaly. Rotating it around in my hands, I noticed an imperfection at the base of the neck, examining it in my daze I found a circular ridge with several askew faces where it appeared to have snapped from a larger piece, the surface was equally as unblemished as the rest but the lightly curved ridges juxtaposed heavily against the flawless curves of the remainder.
The colours continued dancing and flowing, all the while slowing fading away long after the lightning had passed. As the dark patches began to resurface, slowly embracing it in its entirety, the light show was relegated back to a dormant state, the sparkling slivers being all that remained.
Finally able to haul myself out of my trance, I placed it down and attempted to wipe my now drenched hair out of my face, collecting myself, I used all the strength I could muster to stand back up. Soaked from head to toe, legs encrusted with mud and a look of stunned bewilderment on my face, I was struggling to come to terms with what I'd just witnessed and in an odd moment, let out a weak, staggered laugh. But I was abruptly cut off, when in an earth shattering instant, a forked lighting bolt, as if from Thor himself cast itself across the sky directly above me in a display so grand it seemed to stretch from one horizon to the other. Instantaneously, an almighty, crackling boom to equal its counterpart echoed throughout the heavens.
I was embraced by a tempest of tranquil pandemonium. As the light yet again faded away, I held my face to the sky as the rain pelted down around me, squinting my eyes beneath its weight, it felt as though my own exhaustion was entirely whisked away, feeling almost weightless amongst the anarchic maelstrom. It was a feeling of pure, chaotic serenity, the closest this hardened atheist has ever had to a spiritual experience. Unfortunately, that ecstasy would be cut abruptly short, for at that moment, over the wind, rain and my own tinnitus remnant from the explosive thunder, I heard but a single word that made my blood run cold.
I flung around to my left, attempting to trace the voice to a source.
“What the hell are ya doin’!?” He screamed again, seeming not at all pleased to be chasing away trespassers in the middle of the night, let alone during a violent storm.
I spotted him, there, half way up northern face of the pyramid and closing in surprisingly fast, was a gruff-looking man in his fifties or sixties whom I assumed was the occupier of house at the northern base, which I had entirely forgotten about being previously caught up with the caretakers house to the south. It suddenly struck me that he had a clear view straight up the hill beneath the canopy, while the lightning betrayed all to clearly my silhouetted form.
I immediately snapped myself into survival mode, not missing a beat. Closing the box with the carving, I shoved it, along with my torch and pocket knife into my backpack, flinging it over my shoulder and darting for the eastern face, towards the fence line from which I’d entered the property. Running at full stride down the slope, covering surprising distance due to the incline, the wind whistling in my ears and rain whipping past my face, I leaped down a terracing, which surprisingly seemed far taller on the way down, landing awkwardly but continuing forwards.
“Get back here!” I heard in the distance, I didn’t dare look back as I darted right, avoiding a tree but almost neglecting the next terrace in the process, leaping at the last possible moment before hitting the ground, falling to one knee to brace myself before springing up and stumbling onwards. I was roughly half way down as I approached the next terrace, eyeing off my launch point as I adjusted my steps perfectly so as to hit my mark. Landing on my left, I began to shift my weight to my right, preparing to leap, when, at the worst possible moment, my foot slid out and dug into the mud before stopping dead.
Time dilated to a crawl in an instant of stunned panic, realising my foot had clipped a previously buried fragment of terracing, having become exposed from the rain. But it was unfortunately a moment too late, for, before I knew it, I was already mid flight in an awkwardly glorious arc of flailing limbs. In this extended moment of weightless helplessness, another lightning bolt protruded from the clouds, illuminating the entire area around me beneath the canopy, revealing a large bush directly in my path.
Before I had even realised it, a long ingrained instinct had taken charge, from a childhood spent climbing to, and jumping from high places, to my teenage years bodyboarding dangerously shallow banks and reefs, I programmed my body with the indispensable muscle memory of the humble ‘tuck and roll’, shifting ones weight in a rounded motion to avoid blunt impact, the curving of momentum from vertical to horizontal in a beautiful display of physics in action. Eyeing the ground, leaning into the momentum and shifting my weight to time my forward rotation, before crashing down on my right shoulder while bracing myself with my forearms, then completing the forward tumble and digging my heels in the dirt the deepest I could manage.
The flow of time returned to normal, then beyond to a point of over compensation as the wind and rain rushed by, sliding down the muddy incline, kicking up dirt and debris as I went, narrowly missing a tree to my left but rapidly approaching the large bush. To my horror I realised I was not slowing down and in a last-ditch effort of self preservation, curled up as tight as I could in the fetal position, turning my back to the encroaching bush at the last possible moment before ploughing, back-first into it at full speed.
Nought but a green blur was all that encompassed my vision as I slid over the muddy surface, cracking my way through the branches of the thick bush, slicing away at any exposed skin on the way past. This friction thankfully significantly eased my momentum, when, entirely unexpectedly, the ground dropped out from under me. Another terrace. I was caught completely off guard, failing to brace myself in any way, I landed hard on my hip and proceeded to tumble sideways, trying in vain to cover my face from the assaulting branches, before suddenly and painfully introducing my spine to the thin, yet surprisingly solid trunk in the centre of the bush. Attempting to gather myself, I reeled in pain for a moment, stretching out my back, but before even having a chance to contemplate my injuries, I heard the heavy thuds of boots racing down hill from where I just came. I froze solid, not daring even breathe.
The sound of my pounding heart seemed to drown out all else around me as I held my face sideways to the ground, eyes focused beneath the shrubbery as I caught sight of my pursuers’ boots coming into view. I heard him mumble something under his breath as he turned to face the fence line with hands on his hips.
It was then that I heard something curious, glancing up, I could barely make out a small stream of water leading down the rocky face of the terrace that had built up in the rain. It weaved its way down to the base before seemingly disappearing entirely, but even over my heartbeat and the maelstrom outside, I could hear a heavy trickling, not emanating from the face but from below where it should be pooling. This caught my attention simply for the fact it did not make sense, so ever so slowly, I crawled the few feet back up towards the step, all the while with eyes glued to the boots now slowly making there way around to the other side.
As my eyes adjusted slightly, I focused back on the stream as I reached the wall, tracing it to its destination: a cavity dug out by the entangled root system of the tree, having dislodged a number of pieces within the terrace itself, the stream disappeared into the dark cavity. Leaning in, I heard it clearly, the dripping, trickling sound appeared to have a faint echo, as if contacting stone in a large, open space. I frowned as it hit me.
“What the hell?” I thought to myself.
Glancing back towards the man, he had started back towards the peak as I let out a sigh of relief, focusing my attention on this curious hole, I retrieved a stick and probed around but found nothing solid beneath, I let go and it fell into the darkness. Still not entirely convinced it wasn’t some form of burrow, I grabbed a handful of small stones and poured them down the hole, then held my ear close and a second later heard the unmistakable clattering of stone-on-stone.
That did it, I was entirely fixated. Immediately I set about clearing some space, I pushed my back up against the canopy to create a void within the foliage then proceeded to break away a few branches to allow enough room to sit upright. Retrieving my torch, I leaned over and shone it into the hole, my heartbeat quickened as I saw it disperse out into a larger cavity. I set the torch down and begun clawing away, widening the hole and clearing away the foliage. I broke off a couple of roots that appeared to have been the catalyst for this path of erosion while continuing to dig further, finally widening the hole enough to see, I scooped up the torch and again shone it straight down. It reflected on a small pool of water a few metres below, but still kept the area around it shrouded in darkness.
I was so enamoured with my new discovery I barely heard the light, shifting sound directly beneath me, but before it could register, a second, louder shifting sound accompanied by the ground beneath suddenly sinking a few inches, in a sickening, jerking motion. I reached out to pull my self away but it was too late, an almighty ‘crack’ sounded out from under me, echoing through the cavity, before a five foot wide section of earth, with me at the centre, entirely gave way, swallowing up myself and everything around me in a shower of debris and foliage.
. . . submitted by Kaeyll to LovecraftianWriting [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 Elegant_Whole3277 Dungeons & Dragons: Daggerdale

Dungeons & Dragons: Daggerdale submitted by Elegant_Whole3277 to REPACKLAB2 [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 JulesDeathwish This is our word now.

This is our word now. submitted by JulesDeathwish to antiwork [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 TypicLA Moxie Rosin - I've yet to try any Rosin. Is this worth picking up?

Moxie Rosin - I've yet to try any Rosin. Is this worth picking up? submitted by TypicLA to PaMedicalMarijuana [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 PowerForce2021 Horizon Forbidden West | Story Trailer

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2022.01.19 13:38 Alive-Ad-4164 What weeknd album does this image remind you of

What weeknd album does this image remind you of submitted by Alive-Ad-4164 to TheWeeknd [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 AlgorithmAli watch4watch

watch the video and like and I'll do the same for you. :)
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2022.01.19 13:38 beardedGraffiti Whats a good university where i can get in for genetics or biotechnology, I have a BBB in my A-levels

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2022.01.19 13:38 AffectionateBobcat76 UCP hiking personal income tax by $286M in 2022

UCP hiking personal income tax by $286M in 2022 submitted by AffectionateBobcat76 to GrandePrairie [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 BolsonaroIsACunt Does anyone know of reliable channels to help the people of Tonga following the recent volcanic eruption/tsunami?

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2022.01.19 13:38 HackerMarul I get this ad everytime I go to YouTube lol

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2022.01.19 13:38 Faction_Chief /r/news - https://www.dailysabah.com/turkey/man-charged-with-stealing-bridge-in-turkish-capital-ankara/news/amp

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2022.01.19 13:38 xMystifyy [PS5] H: Crimson Flux, Caps // W: All Flavor Nuka Colas

I'm interested in most flavors (any & all amounts)

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2022.01.19 13:38 Dependent_Method_446 Bobby Phelps

Bobby Phelps submitted by Dependent_Method_446 to HBOmaxLegendary [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 borntodies Are the tennis courts and basketball courts next to the PAVION apartments in Nyack available for everyone? Or just residents of the village???

Good morning!, Firstly I hope y’all are having a great day so far♥️ I asked my mom this question but she gave me a very unsure answer. Are the tennis courts and that basketball court open for everyone next to the Pavion apartments (on the same street as the nyack community garden)?? I am not a resident (I live just outside in nanuet lol) and I usually skate at the skate park but I need somewhere more I guess private to work on my twirls and not be bothered if you catch my drift… my usual pecks pond outdoor rink is covered in snow rn😰. Thanks to whoever gives me the info/ y’all’s feedback! And have a good rest of your day🤗
submitted by borntodies to hudsonvalley [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 PowerForce2021 Horizon Forbidden West | Story Trailer

Horizon Forbidden West | Story Trailer submitted by PowerForce2021 to YouTubeViewsSubs [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 SparaxisDragon Why Small Shops along Broadway Are Getting Fried (article on land values)

Why Small Shops along Broadway Are Getting Fried (article on land values) submitted by SparaxisDragon to vancouver [link] [comments]

2022.01.19 13:38 bucket--bot together

watching them
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2022.01.19 13:38 TooManyUrkels_ Base Size Reference

Posting this in the competitive sub-reddit b/c I feel it's probably more relevant to competitive play than casual.
I'm re-upping a Necron army after having been out of the 40k loop since 4th edition (please don't remind me of the sorry state of Necrons right now... I'm well aware). Here's my question:
Is there an official and oft-updated compendium of *official* base sizes for models? I'm seeing some very different things on different platforms online for what base sizes are supposed to go with what models. I usually use Waha for most references, but I'm noticing a discrepancy between what they say vs. what some other sites say. Who do I trust?? I also didn't see any references to correct base sizes for units in the current Necron codex so... I could use some insight here.
For example, I see on Waha that Overlords are supposed to have a 40mm base but other sites say otherwise. What am I to believe??
submitted by TooManyUrkels_ to WarhammerCompetitive [link] [comments]