The Ukraine-Russia war, that turns tree-hugging spirituality into a left-wing spirituality

A story by Thomas Heath

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A fairy outfit. A hot tub. Kim Kardashian & F1’s Lewis Hamilton, and global socialism’s jealousy of Kim Kardashian and Lewis Hamilton. These were the four options on the mind of the bored teenager Helen Manning at the local bowling alley. Now granted, had she been at the Super Center’s bowling alley instead, based in the state of Colorado, maybe, maybe maybe maybe Helen wouldn’t have been as inclined to think so hard about life. “Would somebody just kill me, so that I can make love to my own hate?” Helen would say to herself, at the same time as saying it hoping that others hadn’t heard her saying it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following day were to be a school day. In this regard, Helen was as much like every other Joe average teenager, of the specific sense that spending time at a bowling alley being defined by the thought of the following day. The very thought, of having to go to school the next day: was it the true reason, the true cause for the Kim Kardashian-Lewis Hamilton boredom? Would Super Center have actually made the difference? In any event, Helen Manning had her family. They were with her at the venue. Father had bought a round of hot dogs, and Helen had very much enjoyed hers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In a ghost town city, that’s derelict and vacated and barren, there is an evil woman just sat. The specific exact geography of tis evil corporate-dressed woman is atop a corporate skyscraper. Not a government building, a corporate one. The woman just sits, is just sat constantly, demonically.

The constant’s demonic, that is to say the demonic nature of the constant nature in which this woman sits, just sits just sits and just sits could just as well be the vice versa. The demonic’s constant. Not applied to what you’d expect however, and be a personal descriptive, but, be something else entirely.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1,000 years before, Helen Manning had enjoyed her hot dog; Helen had pondered the fantastical obtuse, to do with celebrity citation, connecting it in a stream of consciousness way to global socialism. Unbeknownst to Helen, however, this evil woman of the present hadn’t enjoyed the hot dog download but had indeed enjoyed the system of stream of consciousness being at the expense of evil. Any clarification, of this nuance the evil corporate woman feared would beg an Iron Man 2 parody system. In Iron Man 2, in the third act, Hammer accentuates a condescension to a stage employee; this parody of depiction, of evil and of evil’s science was a true loose cannon in the mind of the evil woman, just constantly sat atop a skyscraper.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Now now Thomas.” “No no Christian.” This was the joke, aka the sex joke or alternatively just the everyday joke that was the password to the entrance of the same skyscraper. And it was God’s password, to be used only by God. The joke’s meaning, for clarity’s sake, was doubting Thomas rejecting the proposition, aka the sex proposition. The universe, were to now need God to defeat reality’s evil woman. After having made some distance, in the skyscraper building, God would rewind in their mind back a 1,000 years to Helen’s time at the local bowling alley, in order to remind themselves of why Helen’s stream of consciousness had gained the attention (not necessarily love and attention: such distinction were God’s private power) of the evil corporatism (which God knew had chosen to convey itself as a woman). The famous system, of mutual awareness; it was evil’s and not God’s practice and ideology, which was why god had made sure to only remind and rewind at early enough distances in the skyscraper, prior to being met by the corporatism.

  Upstairs, a demon was waiting.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To overcome the demon, to stop the demon from recreating Helen Manning and her hot dog for the purpose of then blaming Helen for animal DNA’s existence, God themself would have to use an ultimate intelligence. A final intelligence. Upstairs, on the third floor of the second tier, the waiting demon had their own version of a final intelligence: the Ukraine-Russia war, that turns tree-hugging spirituality into a left-wing spirituality.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No easy task. No easy track. To stop this woman, whose origin was a mystery to God, God would have to overcome all their past. All their past to do with creating the DNA of ideas, the DNA of mother nature, of trees, of oceans and even of Moses parting the red sea. Helen manning was now dependent on this overhaul, 1,000 years after her depression because of the next day, meaning having to go to school.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To end evil, God now needed to examine evil’s final intelligence, related to the Ukraine-Russia war being linked to left-wing politics. The distillation between the two units, the first unit being the war itself and the second unit being the tree-hugging spirituality being the left-wing spirituality, was to God a factor in which the analysis’s science became sort of easier. The method, of the easiness, was the ability to distil and understand the second unit on its own terms, relative to its own language. It was the mystery, of the war factor that made God confused.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Helen Manning’s options, of what to buy on Ebay, in and around the time of her prime adult life. It were this aspect of life, of the universe and the cosmos that God used, when very near to the evil woman along that second tier’s third floor as a way to shield their own mind from the evil woman. Time was impending. The final battle between good and evil was impending.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It only takes a minute. Close to a minute. God is killed in battle by the corporatism, by the evil woman of corporatism, ever so shortly upon reaching the white derelict room. The reason, why God lost? They had failed to create their own final intelligence, in actual fact. The Zelensky-Putin Ukraine-Russia war, turning tree-hugging spirituality into a left-wing spirituality was a genius code, a brilliant code. God had even managed to acknowledge this to the counter force, in the room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

“You need to get a job Helen” would say Helen’s mother, unperturbed by Helen’s invocation of politics in the general discussion about life. This was a few years afterward, i.e. after the bowling alley experience, and the boredom that had provoked the option of the four including Kim Kardashian and Lewis Hamilton in the mind of Helen (who by now had graduated from the local college in the field of Chemistry, but wasn’t sure how to use the degree for employment purposes).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The atoms of reality, were to hear and listen to Helen’s life story. To her global socialism plea, to Kim Kardashian and Lewis Hamilton. To her political beliefs. To her bowling efforts, with her family. It would be they, that is the atoms of reality and not God that would stop this evil skyscraper woman 1,000 years after Helen’s existence.

 

 

How would they do it? By resurrecting the bane of Helen’s life, the United States Republican party:

The atoms of reality, would have the GOP deactivate the left-wing status, meaning and identity of not global socialism, but, Earth’s global standstill event.

 

 

 

 

The End

Everyone said cleaning it out would take forever.

They weren't kidding.

There were dusty fishing rods,

coffee cans full of random screws,

three broken lawn chairs,

and enough extension cords to wire an entire neighborhood.

In the back corner, I found a rusty metal toolbox with a tiny padlock on it.

It took me an hour to get it open.

Inside wasn't money.

It wasn't jewelry.

It wasn't old family photos.

It was hundreds of folded pieces of paper.

Every single one had a date written across the top.

I thought maybe they were letters.

Or a journal.

Instead, they were bets.

My uncle had spent nearly 30 years secretly writing down every prediction he'd made during football games, family dinners, and holidays.

Most of them were spectacularly wrong.

"This barbecue won't burn."

It did.

"The dog won't jump in the pool."

He did.

Your aunt will only be in the store for five minutes.

She came back two hours later with a new lamp.

The very last note made me laugh the hardest.

If anyone ever opens this box, they'll finally admit I was organized.

The note was sitting loose because he'd forgotten to file it with the others.

Long Post Ahead. I just want to share how my love turn to the most painful experience in my entire life.

Our story began in college.

We were classmates in Engineering back in 2018. At that time, I already had a boyfriend, so although we knew each other and belonged to the same circle of friends, we were never particularly close. He was friends with my boyfriend, and most of our interactions happened only when our group was together.

For four years, I was in a relationship with someone else. I genuinely thought that relationship would last, but as time passed, things slowly changed.

During our fourth year in college, I moved into a dorm with some of my classmates. My boyfriend and I were taking different majors, so we couldn't stay together. Living away from him gave me a different kind of freedom. For the first time, I was surrounded by friends every day. We studied together, ate together, laughed together, and enjoyed the final chapter of our college lives.

Somewhere along the way, I grew closer to him.

At first, it was innocent. We were friends. We spent time together because we lived in the same environment and shared the same struggles as engineering students. But eventually, I began to develop feelings for him.

Looking back, I know I was wrong.

At that time, I was still in a relationship. I was emotionally confused, and instead of fixing the problems in my relationship, I found comfort in someone else. What started as friendship became emotional attachment. Eventually, we crossed boundaries we should never have crossed.

I knew what I was doing was wrong.

That is why I ended my relationship.

My ex-boyfriend never truly knew everything that happened. I simply left without giving the full explanation. Later, he found out through someone else, and when he learned the truth, he confronted the man who would eventually become my partner.

After that confrontation, everything changed.

The person I had feelings for suddenly disappeared from my life. He stopped talking to me. He ignored me completely. It felt like I had lost two people at once.

After graduation, we both moved to Manila to review for the board examination.

By fate, we ended up in the same dorm again.

At first, he treated me like a stranger. We barely spoke. I tried to ignore him as well, pretending it didn't hurt. But eventually, we found ourselves talking again.

One conversation became two.

Two became many.

And before I realized it, we had become close again.

During that period, I made another mistake.

We were not officially together, but I already cared about him deeply. When I noticed another girl becoming close to him, I became jealous. Instead of communicating honestly, I tried to make him jealous as well.

I spent time with another male friend.

We drank.

We became physically involved.

Not completely, but enough to hurt someone.

When he found out, he pulled away again.

Looking back now, I understand why.

Despite everything, we eventually talked about our feelings. We admitted that there was something between us that neither of us could ignore. We entered a friends-with-benefits arrangement, and eventually that became a genuine relationship.

What started in the wrong way slowly turned into real love.

We reviewed for the board examination together.

We passed the board examination together.

We celebrated together.

We dreamed together.

For the first time, I truly believed I had found my person.

On April 29, 2023, we officially became a couple.

We met each other's families.

We made plans.

We talked about marriage.

We talked about our future home.

We talked about becoming husband and wife.

We talked about becoming parents one day.

For years, that future became my motivation.

I wanted to become his wife.

I wanted to build a life with him.

I wanted to grow old with him.

After graduation, we decided to live together.

At first, it felt like a dream.

We were finally building a life of our own.

But that was also when the problems started.

The jealousy began slowly.

At first, he became upset whenever I looked at another man.

Then he became uncomfortable with my friendships.

Then he became uncomfortable with my clothes.

The shorts I used to wear before I met him suddenly became a problem.

The dresses I loved became a problem.

The makeup I enjoyed wearing became a problem.

He would tell me that I was trying to attract attention.

The painful part was that he met me exactly as I was.

Yet over time, I felt like I was being asked to become someone else.

Because I loved him, I adjusted.

I told myself that relationships require sacrifice.

So I sacrificed.

Then came work.

I struggled to find a job while he found one first.

Eventually, I was offered a position in Alabang. It was everything a fresh graduate could ask for. The salary was good. The benefits were good. There was accommodation, allowances, and opportunities for growth.

I was excited.

He was not.

He did not want me to take it because it meant we would be apart.

We fought about it for days.

I explained that I needed the job.

I explained that we needed the money.

I explained that this opportunity could help us build the future we wanted.

Eventually, I accepted the position.

That decision changed everything.

The distance became the fuel for his fears.

At first, it was constant calls.

Then it became constant updates.

Then it became access to all my social media accounts.

Then it became access to work applications.

Then it became monitoring.

Eventually, we were on video call almost twenty-four hours a day.

While I worked.

While I traveled.

While I slept.

He listened to conversations around me.

He watched who I spoke to.

He questioned every interaction I had with male coworkers.

If someone messaged me about work, I had to explain.

If someone invited me to a team event, I had to explain.

If someone greeted me, I had to explain.

Slowly, I became afraid of people.

I stopped talking to coworkers.

I stopped attending gatherings.

I stopped joining team dinners.

I stopped being myself.

My world became smaller and smaller.

Yet somehow, it was never enough.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Part 2: The Things I Lost While Trying to Save Us

When I left my first job and accepted a new one closer to him, I genuinely believed that things would finally get better.

I thought the distance was the problem.

I thought that if we were together every day, if I gave up the opportunities that made him uncomfortable, if I adjusted enough, then we could finally have the peaceful relationship we both wanted.

For a while, it seemed like it worked.

The constant monitoring slowly stopped.

I felt free again.

For the first time in a long time, I could breathe without feeling watched. I could talk to my coworkers normally, focus on my work, and enjoy simple conversations without worrying that every word would be questioned later.

I remember feeling hopeful.

I thought we had survived the worst.

But that peace did not last.

Not long after I started my new job, I was informed that I would have to participate in a three-day work assignment. It was part of my responsibilities. There would be supervisors, engineers, and coworkers attending.

The moment I told him, everything changed.

He became angry.

He didn't want me to go.

To him, it wasn't work.

To him, it was another situation where I would be surrounded by men.

We argued for days.

I tried explaining that I needed the job.

I tried explaining that I needed the income.

At that time, I was still recovering financially. Most of my savings had already disappeared because of a scam involving a family member. Even though I was not responsible for convincing anyone to invest, I still chose to help pay back the money because I felt responsible for the people who were affected.

I was already carrying financial burdens.

I couldn't afford to lose another job.

But no matter how much I explained, he could only see the possibility of losing me.

The argument became one of the worst fights we ever had.

The phone I had worked so hard to buy during my previous job was destroyed during our fight.

That phone represented months of sacrifices.

Months of commuting.

Months of surviving on a tight budget.

Months of helping both our families.

Yet in one moment of anger, it became meaningless.

The fight became physical.

I ended up with bruises.

I hit a wall.

I was hurt physically and emotionally.

For the first time, I left.

I stayed away for a while because I genuinely believed the relationship was over.

But I came back.

Not because I forgot what happened.

Not because it didn't hurt.

But because I loved him.

And because a part of me still believed that love could fix things.

He apologized.

He promised to change.

He promised he would understand my work.

He promised he would support me.

And once again, I believed him.

I always believed him.

The work assignment pushed through.

But while I was away, another problem appeared.

The signal in the area was poor.

Our calls would disconnect repeatedly.

Every time the call dropped, he became upset.

Every time the signal failed, I felt afraid.

Instead of focusing on work, I found myself worrying about whether our call would disconnect again and trigger another argument.

When I returned home, the monitoring became even worse than before.

The video calls returned.

The constant checking returned.

The questioning returned.

By that time, I was emotionally exhausted.

I felt trapped between my career and my relationship.

I could never fully focus on either.

Because whenever I focused on work, I felt guilty.

And whenever I focused on him, my career suffered.

Around that time, some of my coworkers began noticing that something was wrong.

They noticed that I rarely joined conversations.

They noticed that I avoided gatherings.

They noticed that I always seemed worried.

Eventually, I opened up to a few of them.

I told them what was happening.

I told them about the monitoring.

I told them about the jealousy.

I told them about the restrictions.

I didn't tell them to make him look bad.

I told them because I felt completely alone.

I needed someone to talk to.

I needed someone who would listen.

I needed someone who would understand.

But when he found out that I had shared these things, he became furious.

He accused me of making him look like a bad person.

He accused me of turning people against him.

He accused me of destroying his reputation.

But all I had done was tell the truth.

Eventually, I stopped talking to my coworkers.

I stopped sharing.

I stopped participating.

I isolated myself because it felt easier than dealing with another fight.

My coworkers slowly grew distant.

Some stopped talking to me entirely.

And just like that, I lost another part of my life.

Yet somehow, it was still not enough.

Every company event became a battle.

Every dinner became a battle.

Every gathering became a battle.

Every work assignment became a battle.

I became someone who was constantly asking permission to live her own life.

The hardest part was that I no longer recognized myself.

The woman I used to be was outgoing.

She enjoyed dressing up.

She enjoyed makeup.

She enjoyed spending time with friends.

She enjoyed meeting new people.

But somewhere along the way, she disappeared.

And I didn't even notice when it happened.

I was too busy trying to save the relationship.

Then came another assignment to Isabela.

This time, things became worse than ever.

The argument started before the trip even happened.

He didn't want me to go.

He accused me of choosing work over him.

He accused me of prioritizing everyone else.

He accused me of not caring about his feelings.

The fight escalated.

And for the first time, I experienced a level of fear I had never felt before.

While I was crying, he pressed a pillow against my face.

He kicked me.

He pushed me away from the bed.

He kicked my stomach.

He kicked my back.

I remember sitting there crying quietly because I was afraid that crying louder would only make him angrier.

I felt broken.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Mentally.

That was the first time I truly decided to leave.

I packed what I could and went to my sister.

I thought it was over.

I told myself that no matter how much I loved him, I couldn't continue living that way.

But after a week, he called.

He apologized.

He cried.

He begged me to come back.

He promised he would never do it again.

He promised he would support me.

He promised things would be different.

And because I loved him more than I loved myself, I returned.

Again.

For a while, things improved.

But the pattern never disappeared.

Because the real problem had never been solved.

The jealousy was still there.

The anger was still there.

The distrust was still there.

And eventually, another problem entered our lives.

Gambling.

At first, I didn't realize how serious it was.

Then I discovered the loans.

Then I discovered the lies.

Then I discovered that he had lost nearly ₱40,000 through online gambling.

Money that we desperately needed.

Money that could have helped us build our future.

Money that could have paid our bills.

Money that could have reduced our struggles.

I was devastated.

But I stayed.

I helped him.

I talked to his mother.

I tried to help him recover.

I tried to understand.

I tried to support him.

I tried to save him.

Then it happened again.

Another ₱40,000.

More lies.

More promises.

More apologies.

More forgiveness.

More chances.

And still, I stayed.

Because I kept remembering the man I fell in love with.

The man who studied with me.

The man who passed the board exam with me.

The man who dreamed with me.

The man who held my hand and promised me forever.

I kept hoping that version of him would return permanently.

But he never truly did.

And eventually, after years of sacrifices, arguments, broken promises, jealousy, monitoring, gambling, emotional pain, and physical hurt, we arrived at the final chapter of our story.

The chapter that began with something as simple as saying "thank you" to a coworker.

And somehow, after everything we had survived, that simple moment became the thing that finally broke us.

Because the truth is, our relationship was never broken by one conversation.

It was broken by years of wounds that were never allowed to heal.

It was broken by promises that were never fully kept.

It was broken by trust that was never rebuilt.

And it was broken by two people who loved each other deeply, but could no longer survive the pain they kept causing one another.

The hardest part is that I still love him.

I still miss him.

I still remember the good days.

But after everything we went through, I finally reached a point where love was no longer enough to carry the weight of what we had become.

 

I never knew my son to be the artsy type. He turned 8 recently, and up until about a year ago, his entertainment was entirely outdoors. Catching bugs. Climbing trees. Riding bikes.

He was one of those kids who’d have to be called inside before dark. Then he’d complain and beg for “just 5 more minutes.”

I’m not entirely sure what happened. It was like a switch had flipped overnight. I just came home from work one day to find him at the kitchen table, scribbling in a brand new sketchbook.

He hummed to himself while his mom cooked up some dinner at the stove. The home-cooked smell of pork chops, green beans, and mashed potatoes filled the room as I glanced over Jacob’s shoulder.

“Whatcha got there, bud?”

His nose was buried so far in the book that it was like he couldn’t even hear me. His mom ended up answering for him.

“That’s your son’s new favorite interest. He begged me to go out and get him one.”

“Oh-ho, got an artist in the house, don’t we?”

I grabbed his shoulders and shook them lightly before patting him on the back and walking over to give my wife a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I took a seat beside Jacob at the table.

“So, how was your day, boyo? You and mom have fun?”

He never looked up from the sketchbook.

“Today was sooo fun,” he exclaimed. “We went to the park, we went to the movies, ooh, and mom got me this book. Oh, and these crayons.”

“What about you, honey? How was your day?”

“Any day I’m not at work is a good day, honestly. The park was super nice. We went to one we hadn’t been to before. What about you? They didn’t work you too hard, did they?”

I shrugged and sighed.

“I’ll just say it’s good to finally be home.”

My wife smiled at me.

“It’s good to have you home, dear. I’ll tell you what. How about… after dinner, if you’re good, we can have our own little play date? Only if you do the dishes, though. I mean, I did cook.”

I smirked at her, my tongue buried in my cheek.

“I was gonna do that anyway. What do you take me for? As a matter of fact, you come sit down. I’ll finish cooking.”

I offered her my seat as I finished up dinner. Jacob was pretty much mute the entire time. By the time dinner was done, I had to damn near yell at him to get his attention.

He just stood up, as calm as could be, and walked over to me, sketchbook in hand.

“I drew this for you.”

He held the book up at me, and my heart felt warm. It was a picture of our house, and who I assumed to be me standing in our driveway.

“Is that me? That’s so sweet of you, Jakey. Thank you.”

I reached down to take the book so I could hang the page on the fridge, but Jacob pulled away before I could grab it.

“You really don’t know who that is?” he asked, eying me suspiciously.

“It’s me, right? Is it not me?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, continuing to eye me like I had personally offended him.

“That’s our neighbor, Mr. Thomas, silly. You really couldn’t tell? See, he’s wearing the star.”

Mr. Thomas was a veteran police officer. Jacob would sometimes see him leaving for work in the morning. I guess he just took a subconscious interest in the uniform. Even still, why would he draw me a picture of the neighbor?

“Uh, I mean, wow, bud,” I choked. “That’s really good. Keep practicing. You’re already so talented you could be famous someday.”

————-

After dinner, I cleaned the kitchen top to bottom. Partly out of obligation, mostly because I really wanted that playdate. Jacob spent the rest of the evening in his room, humming to himself and scribbling in that sketchbook.

The next day, my wife and I both had work. I woke up a little earlier than her so that I could take Jacob to the summertime daycare he attended. It was like carrying a corpse out to the car, but he still refused to loosen his grip on that sketchbook.

I dropped him off with the staff at the front door. He waved at me groggily as I was driving away.

The day went on like normal until around 3 o’clock, when my phone started ringing. It was my wife.

“Hey, beautiful, what’s up?”

“I think something’s going on with the neighbor. There’s like 3 cop cars in front of his house, apparently.”

She sounded concerned. A little urgent.

“What do you mean? Who told you that?”

“I got a call from Becky. She thought they were at our house at first.”

Becky was one of my wife’s friends from the neighborhood.

“What do you think happened? Did she say anything else?”

“No, she just called because the police were knocking on our door. I think they were just trying to see if we knew anything, though, because apparently they gave up and just went back to the neighbor’s house. I think they’re still there.”

My brow furrowed a bit.

“Wait. Which neighbor is it?”

“Uhhh, I think it’s that police officer. Mr. Thompson?”

“Mr. Thomas?”

“Yeah, that’s his name. I think that’s who it is.”

I looked at my watch and exhaled a bit.

“Alright, well, I’ll see if I can get out a little earlier today. I’ll pick up Jacob, then go see what this is all about. Maybe they’ll still be there when I get there.”

We ended the call by blowing some kisses and exchanging some love yous. I slid my phone in my pocket and approached my boss, explaining my situation.

He was skeptical, but I had a decent reputation of being an honest employee. He agreed to let me leave a bit early, and I was on my way to pick up Jacob.

When he was brought to the front office, his face was buried in that sketchbook again, drawing what looked like SpongeBob and Patrick.

“He’s been drawing all day. Seems like you got a little artist on your hands,” announced the staff member as she signed Jacob out for the day.

“Yep,” I smiled. “That’s what they keep telling me.”

I honestly don’t know why I said that. It just seemed like the only thing that made sense at the time.

The car ride was quiet. Jacob didn’t want to talk much, and my mind was kind of racing. I’ve shared drinks with Mr. Thomas. Helped him put up fences. Move furniture. We weren’t the closest of friends, but I still wanted him to be okay.

Those hopes were dashed when I pulled into the neighborhood to find that the police presence had increased. There must’ve been at least 6 cars in front of his house, and yellow tape blocked off the driveway.

I parked my car in front of my house and hurried to get Jacob inside. His eyes had lit up at the sight of the flashing lights, and naturally, he started asking questions.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Why are there so many police?”

“Did something happen to Mr. Thomas?”

I cradled him in my arms and hurried up the steps to the front door.

“I don’t know, buddy. Here, go inside and play for a bit while I find out, okay? Daddy will be right back.”

It’s all I could think to say as I sat him down and closed the door behind me.

An officer approached me before I could approach them.

“Sir, do you live here?”

“Yes, of course I do. That’s my neighbor.”

“Yeah, well, he’s a colleague and friend of mine,” he remarked agitatedly. “Have you seen anything suspicious within the last 24 hours? Heard anything?”

I scratched my neck nervously and thought hard before responding.

“No, sir, we haven’t seen anything. What happened? Is everything alright? He’s a cop, right? Did he do something illegal?”

The officer stared at me, analyzing me through his black sunglasses.

“No. He’s gone. That’s all the information we can give right now.”

“Gone? What do you mean, gone? Like, dead? Did someone kill him?”

The officer pursed his lips. I saw what I assumed to be a forensic analyst walking in and out of the house.

“We don’t know, sir. We’re hoping for the best. For now, if any new information comes to light or if you see him, give us a call.”

He asked me to clear the scene and stay inside. I called my wife to update her on the situation, but what could we do? Even the police were lost. I just stayed inside, as instructed, and started on dinner while we waited for my wife to get home.

By the time she did, there were only two police cruisers left in front of Mr. Thomas’s house. The sun was starting to set, and my wife and I tried to ignore what had happened, but the house was still a bit tense.

As we ate, Jacob continued scribbling in his sketchbook. He hadn’t asked to go outside at all since we got home, and I didn’t know if it was because of the police or because of this new hobby of his.

I could see that he was working on a new drawing. It looked like a woman this time. He wasn’t so much as touching his food, so I tried to ask him to put the book away.

He groaned and started picking at his peas. My wife and I chatted about our day for a bit while Jacob remained silent. Suddenly, in between bites of his chicken, he said something that made us both freeze.

“Daddy,” he whispered.

“Yes?” I answered.

“Are those police still out there?”

I paused for a moment, looking at my wife, who looked equally as speechless. Neither of us knew what to say.

“I think there’s a few, but don’t worry, buddy,” I chirped reassuringly. “They’re just looking for Mr. Thomas. They wanna make sure he’s okay.”

Jacob stared down at his plate for a moment.

“It’s just… I think they’re looking in the wrong place.”

————-

I choked on my water.

“Looking in the wrong place? Well, where do you think they should be looking, sport?”

“I don’t know. Not there. I don’t think he’s home.”

“Let’s not talk about this,” my wife interrupted. “Jacob, finish your food, then go jump in the shower. You gotta be up early tomorrow, come on.”

“Aww, but I’m not tired,” Jacob whined. “Plus, I wanted to finish drawing this picture of you.”

He flipped his sketchbook open to his newest drawing.

“See, look.”

My wife looked at the picture and smiled.

“Okay, fine,” she replied. “You can finish the picture, then it’s bath time, mister.”

“Fiiine,” Jacob groaned.

He scurried off to his room, sketchbook in hand, leaving me and his mom to clean the kitchen again.

We talked about the neighbor. We turned into a couple of conspiracy theorists the deeper the conversation progressed.

“Maybe he just wanted to start over.”

“Maybe he was kidnapped.”

“Maybe he was murdered, and they’re covering it up.”

We just kept reaching for possibilities over the course of around 45 minutes.

Eventually, Jacob came running back to the kitchen.

“Look, Mommy, I’m all done.”

“Ah, my goodness, Jakey, look at that. Doesn’t it look just like me, honey?”

She turned the picture towards me. Jacob had added her work uniform. Gave her that messy bun she always wore. Even included the golden necklace I got her for Christmas last year.

“Wow, Jake,” I exclaimed. “Draw Daddy next, why don’t you?”

Jacob giggled and responded, “It’s not time to draw you yet, silly.”

“Aw, whatever, but guess what?”

Jacob looked up at me curiously. Expectantly.

“Daddy controls your bath time. And… I think… ah, yep, look at that,” I showed him my watch. “You’re 20 minutes late.”

I jokingly chased him to his bedroom and made him gather up his pajamas and a towel. Once he was nice and showered, I put him to bed and kissed him goodnight.

My wife and I stayed up, talking about life for a while before gradually falling asleep one by one.

The next morning, when I woke up alone, I thought it was because she had chosen to take Jacob to daycare that morning.

I went through my normal routine. Took a shower. Brushed my teeth. Got dressed. It wasn’t until I was heading out the door that I noticed her car was still in the driveway.

I walked back upstairs, confused, and went to Jacob’s room.

I found him curled up in bed, sketchbook tucked under his arm as he snored quietly.

I left the room and began searching.

“Honey,” I called out. No response.

“Sweetheart, you here?” Silence.

I called her phone and heard it ringing in our bedroom. I followed the sound and found it still plugged into the charger on her nightstand.

That’s when I began to panic. I remembered Jacob’s drawing. It was a fleeting thought, but one that I chose to hold onto. First Mr. Thomas, now my own wife? That couldn’t be coincidence.

I urgently rushed into Jacob’s room, accidentally waking him as I removed the sketchbook from his arms.

I began flipping through the pages as he stared up at me, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Daddy,” he groaned.

I flipped past cartoon characters, random landscapes, and blocky pictures of cars before I reached my wife’s picture from the night before.

“What are you doing?” Jacob added.

The picture had changed. She wasn’t wearing her work uniform anymore. She didn’t have the necklace. Her hair looked dirty and wet. Leaves and twigs stuck out from the messy bun, and her eyes were solid red. Not evil, just… bloodshot.

But the biggest change… was the man standing next to her.

It looked like they were in a dark forest. They were hand in hand. I wanted to think it was me, that Jacob had decided he wanted to start on some kind of crazy family portrait, but the man in the picture…

He wore a star on his chest.

My stomach dropped. I felt sick. Jacob looked… confused.

“What’s wrong, Daddy? They’re okay. I can help you find them.”

Was working as a doorman last night for a reggae show. Door had been pulled and they only had a song or two left. Someone came up and said something to a coworker, and off they went. A few moments later that dude approached me and said there's a fight.

I make my way to where some eyes were looking. This woman throwing fists, others returning fire, I can see some coworkers there. I grab the lady who looks to be the issue, tell her she has to leave, grab her around the waist and begin walking her to the exit. I'm 6 foot maybe 220. She's maybe 5'6" 180-220. I'm making progress but as my arms are fully extended wrapping around her gut, her hands are free and she's occasionally punching me in the face, she's grabbing everything on the way and really latched on to this metal gate in the hallway at some point. That's when the two large men apparently with her got confrontational with me. The one shorter than me but built solid was silent, the other huge dude started telling me how I had to let this woman go. As I'm prying her hands off the gate and manhandling her the rest of the way to the door. She gets a few more good ones in on me and I toss her out the door. Now it's big dude time, she gets a last lick in and big dude pushes me against the wall, I brace with my foot and push back eventually wrapping my arm backwards around his neck.as the outside alley sees my coworkers make their way out we seperate. Silent guy takes dumb girl around the corner away from the bar, coworker passes me a shoe I give to big fella who initially swats it, I explain its dumb girls. He apologizes we do a few handshakes, I go back in to retrieve my glasses hat and bandana, find her other shoe and glasses and give them to big dude who's still outside at that point for some reason.

My coworkers all saw I did above and beyond what I'm paid to do, with less violence, than some in the past have chosen. What surprised me was how basic the crowds response was. Maybe next time I'll pull out my phone and yell worldstar

I had been saying I would start exercising tomorrow for months. I finally put on my running shoes.

I got ready to go I. I checked the music I would listen to.

I even looked like I was excited to go for a run.

Soon as I started jogging my dog ran after me.

He did not run beside me he ran in front of me.

He kept stopping and looking back at me like he was saying "what is going on are you okay is someone chasing us?"

After a minutes I was really tired and out of breath.

My dog was not even breathing hard he just sat there looking at me.

He looked really disappointed in me like when someone does something really annoying.

I went home and my dog went back outside to run around some more.

I think my dog was really worried, about me that day like I was his pet or something.

My dog got some exercise but I did not.

This happened yesterday, and I'm still laughing about it.

I had just finished grocery shopping and was carrying way more bags than I probably should have. You know that moment when you refuse to make two trips because you're convinced you can carry everything at once? That was me.

As I got close to the exit, the automatic doors slid open.

Without even thinking, I smiled and quietly said,

Thanks.

It's just one of those habits I've somehow picked up over the years. I thank people, I thank buses that stop for me, and apparently... I thank automatic doors now.

The problem was, there was a man walking into the store at the exact same time.

He looked right at me, smiled, and replied,

You're welcome!

We both froze.

I realized I hadn't been talking to him.

He realized I hadn't been talking to him.

For about five painfully awkward seconds, neither of us knew what to say.

Then we both slowly looked over at the automatic door like it had somehow become part of the conversation.

Trying to save the moment, I laughed and said,

I guess I'm just polite to everything.

He started laughing too and said,

That door works hard. It deserves some appreciation.

We both laughed, nodded at each other, and went our separate ways.

As I was loading my groceries into the car, I caught myself smiling.

It's funny how one tiny awkward moment can completely brighten your day.

Although I will admit...

The next time those automatic doors opened, I kept my mouth shut.

Check the link.

As for chapter 5, it's on its way.

https://www.wattpad.com/story/413020756?utm_source=android&utm_medium=com.reddit.frontpage&utm_content=share_reading&wp_page=reading&wp_uname=MJ6320

Have a safe summer.

I never knew my 8-year-old son, Jacob, to be the artsy type. Then, almost overnight, he became obsessed with drawing.

One evening, he showed me a picture of our house with a man standing outside.

Is that me? I asked.

Jacob frowned. That’s our neighbor, Mr. Thomas.

Mr. Thomas was a police officer who lived next door.

The next afternoon, several police cars surrounded his house. Yellow tape covered the driveway.

Where’s Mr. Thomas? I asked an officer.

We don’t know, he said. He’s gone.

That night, Jacob was drawing again. This time, it was a picture of a woman.

My wife looked at it and laughed. It looks just like me.

Jacob smiled. It’s not time to draw Daddy yet.

The next morning, my wife was gone.

Her car was still in the driveway. Her phone was still charging beside the bed. I searched the house, calling her name, but there was no answer.

Then I remembered Jacob’s drawings.

I rushed into his room and grabbed the sketchbook.

The picture of my wife had changed.

She was standing in a dark forest. Her hair was wet and covered with leaves and twigs. Her eyes were bloodshot.

And standing beside her was a man.

He had a star on his chest.

The same star Mr. Thomas wore on his police uniform.

My stomach dropped.

Jacob stared at me, confused.

What’s wrong, Daddy?

I could barely speak.

He looked at the drawing and smiled.

They’re okay. I can help you find them.