A Quick Headache For You All

 

Samantha Book Talk, pt. 1

 Just thought I’d make a post about my two top favorite booktubers, I’ve been watching for a while!

Thought I’d allow you all to ring in the new years with these two beauties!

@larissacambusano
Larry is an absolutely beauty and her videos are my life! She’s gorgeous and everything!

@bymadisonfox
Madison is also gorgeous! Her recommendations 💋
She also made a book I can’t wait to read!

Ring in the new years with these beauties cause I know I will 💋🎉🦋

#bookstagram #booktube #love #beauty #newyears 

PS:

None of these are MY pictures!
I got them from PINTREST 

🩷🦋

Rob's Playing With An AI

 So I've been playing around with an AI program to make some weird, and random bullshit. Some of it is pretty cool, and others are just plain odd. I thought I'd share a few of them with you, so that you can see just what it is that my mind is.

"Make a realistic photo of a rollerskating skunk, angry about having to mow the lawn on a Tuesday afternoon in the winter."

I think that we can all agree that Skunky isn't enjoying this rather simply chore. I don't know if it's the fact that there is snow on the ground, or that he is trying to mow a deck, or that it's a Tuesday Afternoon and he simply has better things to do, but he seems pretty mad. I would give him some room here. Best not to poke the bear... er... skunk.

"Draw a cartoon dog, and a roller-skating skunk, playing in a band with Geddy Lee."

Here we see Skunky playing in a band with a few other roller-skating animals, and Geddy Lee of Rush! I think that he enjoys this more than his lawnmowing gig. Then again, who wouldn't?! I bet they're playing "Circumstances" right now. 

"Make a realistic picture of a fire hydrant with eyes and teeth, yelling at kids to get off his lawn."

I find this one to be pretty damned horrifying. First of all, those are a lot of teeth that I just don't want to fuck with. Second of all, he's very angry at those kids for being on his lawn, though they simply are not on the lawn. I guess this angry fire-hydrant is someone you don't want to mess with.

"Make a cartoon of a crying apple pie, that's sad because he has to sleep outside in the dark, next to a purple tree that has teeth."

My heart really goes out to this slice of apple pie, that has the dead body of a younger realitve on the ground next to him. Even the moon, and the purple tree are sad that the Apple Pie and his broken bed have to sleep outdoors. I don't know what he did, but it must have been pretty bad. Poor little feller.

"Make a cartoon bat, doing battle with a cordless phone that only has one eye. It should be dark outisde, with people watching on both sides of the street. There should be popcorn, and kindly old man with teeth on the back of his head."

While this isn't exactly what I asked for, I think that you'll agree that results really did work out in the end. I don't know how that old guy got stuck inside the phone, or why the bat is so angry about it, but I'd imagine that it happened rather quickly, and everyone saw it coming. Perhaps it was a poorly timed mom joke that started the trouble. I guess we'll never know.

"Make a cartoon version of a roller-skating skunk, and a sad bat riding down the street at night. They pass some scary monsters, and a clock with teeth and angry eyes, but they don't care. They have soda."

Again, I don't know if everything I wanted is in this picture. But I think it's enough to give me nightmares. I'm not sure what these monsters are, but they do appear friendly. That clock however, clearly wants to exact his revenge on them for some reason. The soda looks pretty good though. Even the clock would have to agree with that.

"Make a realistic photo of a roller-skating skunk, chasing a wee small mouse named Herbert. The mouse should have a Canadian flag, and a candy bar. There's nothing happy about this picture though. Even the street itself is angry. And an angry skull is rolling by, laughing all the while."

I think that this program is getting a bit sick of my shit, and wants me to have nightmares. It's not even the skunk or main mouse, but rather the weird floating worm thing, and the creepy ass mouse in the background that scare me the most. I don't know if I should keep doing this, or run away.

"Make a realistic photo of a living Christmas tree with scary teeth, and one eye, that's very angry with a roller-skating skunk for stealing its shoes. The shoes should be alive, and the night sky should be black and forbidding."

I created this prompt, and I'm still horrified, and have more questions than answers. First of all, what in the hell happened to Skunky's hand? Did the tree do this to him? And I know that Skunky stole one of the tree's shoes, but what happened to its other foot? And why did the AI decide to ignore me, and give the tree both eyes? Are they plotting against me? And what is it with me and a roller-skating skunk? I must have a lot of issues that I should probably work on.

"Make a scary cartoon photo of a roller-skating skunk that is part skunk, and part house. He should have a door in him, some windows, and scared people, screaming for help."

The skunk has gone too far this time, turning into a house of horrors for the poor family trapped inside of him. The chimney looks like a bottle of booze, which poses a whole 'nother set of questions. And why in the hell is the frightened guy chasing this abomination? I would be running in the other direction. And what's with the heads on the family? Some of them are really damned scary!

"Draw a realistic  picutre of Where's Waldo, looking horrified, and crying, and running from an evil skunk wearing roller-skates. The sky should be black, and there should be fires all around them. The skunk looks hungry."

I guess the Roller-Skating Skunk found Waldo, and Waldo is none too happy about it. He should have hidden better, because this nightmare scenario must surely spell the end for this hiding asshole. Maybe he should have been a bit nicer, and not pissed off Skunky, because Skunky is usually a pretty reasonable guy. Except for when he's throwing little elf firemen, holding guns. And there's the business guy, I'm not sure where he came from, but I'm sure he was looking for Waldo as well. Oh well, toodles, Waldo.

"Make a picture for these lyrics:

The Tobes of Hades lit by flickering torchlight

The netherworld is gathered in the glare

Prince By-Tor takes the cavern to the northlight

The sign of Eth is rising in the air

By-Tor – Knight of Darkness,

Centurion of evil – Devil’s Prince"

This is definitely not how I ever pictured these Rush lyrics. By-Tor is a lot scarier looking than I ever imagined him. I actually feel bad for Snow Dog. The odds were against him, and why he probably didn't return anywhere near this realm, to vanquish The Necromancer. I don't blame him for one damn second. This is some traumatizing shit.

"Make a scary cartoon of a duel between a roller-skating skunk, an angry leprechaun, and a scary bat with a lot of teeth. There should be an old guy in a phone, as well as a darkened street with people eating popcorn, watching this nightmare unfold."

I think that this is a good place to stop for now. There's a lot to unpack here. The old guy eating the popcorn may (or may not) be inside a TARDIS. He must be flinging that popcorn at the epic battle that's unfolding before him. The leprechaun isn't fucking around with the skunk, but I'd be more afraid of that bat thing above them. He looks like he means some serious business, and I for one don't care a lot for serious business. 

I will play with this AI creation thing a bit more, because these pictures amuse me. But I know I didn't create them. I don't know what (or who) did, but I do appreciate the laugh. I always appreciate a laugh.

-Rob

Samantha & Covid-19

Samantha's Pretty Marshmallow Snowman

So like I have Covid for the first time.
I don’t recommend it and it sucks.
My nose was bleeding so bad that I kept coughing it up too.
At least I finished 90% of my school finals!
I went up 38 points on my language arts final.
I just want to curl up in a ball and poof 💨
I haven’t even really been wanting to read!
I only read like 30 pages today, which is not a good page count for me 🙄
I don’t recommend Covid.
I’d rather have strep for the billionth time.
Thanks to my step brother for passing on his germs… you Bootyhole!
Anyways have a good night all you peeps… hope everyone stays free of sickness for the rest of this holiday season!

With love
Samantha 🩷🦋

Liberty's Exiles: A Perfect Love Story

Back in 2017, Liberty's Exiles released our follow-up to "The Price of Immortality". This album was not a concept album, but there was a multi-part suite that I think needs a bit more attention than it gets. Clocking in at just over half an hour, "A Perfect Love Story" tell the story of a relationship, from the very beginning, until it's final, gruesome end. 

The song starts with "Falling In Love", which I think may have some of the best vocals in our vast catalog of music. Simon sings the lyrics with such beauty, and conviction, that you can almost see these two future lovers falling in love right before your eyes. It's a very uplifting part of the song. There some great music here, with some beautiful strings, amazingly emotive guitar work, and a tasty bass line. This piece sets up the rest of this epic track very nicely.

"Every Waking Moment / Life Built On Lies" is a two-parter within a five-parter. Sometimes I like to keep Simon on his toes with my lyrical pattern. Musically, "Every Waking Moment" shows the better parts of a relationship, the happy days when everything is new, and beautiful. Our hero loves our heroine so much, that he wants to spend every waking moment with her. Ain't that just so damned sweet? The chorus shows our lovers so in love, that they decide to get married (don't do it, buddy!!!). It really pulls at the ol' heart-strings. Musically the song is a bit moodier, but gels perfectly with the vocals and lyrics. Some great strings, and acoustic guitar on this piece. I love the quieter, more emotional songs. I've always been a sucker for a good ballad. 

Building directly from the outro of "Every Waking Moment", we segue into "Life Built On Lies". Lyrically this is a song about how a relationship can go from good to bad so quickly. A tale as old as time itself, my dear friends. I have always loved the intro to this part of the track. I still get goosebumps listening it. Some nice, crunchy guitars build up, with strings pulling us into this life of lies. I remember writing the string part thinking that if people didn't love this, they were crazy. We created such a chaotic, and emotional bit of music here. I've always loved it. Lyrically, it shows how bad this relationship has gotten. The love is gone, replaced with only lies, and regret (boy, have I been there!). Things escalate quickly from there, and the next part is very grim indeed.

All good things must surely come to an end, and thus we are brought to this songs "Gruesome End". A murder planned in the mind must soon be played out, and one of our weary lovers are about to find out that this life built on lies must surely end. The music of this song hints at the inner-turmoil of our dear hero, as they carry out their own bit of chaos. I've always loved how hopeful this song sounds musically, especially when considering the dark lyrics. There is some great guitar work from Simon, and I think I turned in a pretty nice string part. Lyrically, although there's a murder, there is some regret (even if it is without emotion). Once again, the chorus is fantastic, with some wonderful harmonies from my good friend, and writing partner these past ten years.

Just when you thought that you were out, we pull you back in with "The Cycle Again", the final part of the suite. This is the most fun, and upbeat part of the song, even if the lyrics hint at something really quite sinister. The bass guitar really tries to steal the show here, I've always loved it. Once again we get strings, and some great guitar work from Simon. Lyrically, this tune calls back to the first part of the song, and has our heroine moving on to a new (and better?) relationship. And will she kill again? Well, my friends, I rather think she does. She can't be stopped.

It's crazy to me that we wrote this song something like seven years ago. The amount of music that Liberty's have created just astounds me. Throughout our ten years together, Simon and I have crafted some great music. There will be more posts about other songs, because I believe that we have such a wealth of material, that it all BEGS to be heard. Until then, thanks for reading. I'll leave the lyrics below for this track, as well as the page you can go to, to listen along.

Until next time, toodles
Rob 

----

Liberty's Exiles: IX

A - Falling In Love

It's a story that you've heard a hundred times
Boy sees girl across the room and she smiles
He makes believe that he can see all her signs
And she believes that she really likes his style

A simple conversation had away from the crowd
A spark is felt between them, burns so bright
They feel their spirits soar upon the highest cloud
And even those around can see their dazzling light

Falling in love is such an easy thing to do
Falling in love it always feels so right
Falling in love is such an easy thing to do
And they believe they're falling in love tonight

It's a story that you've heard a hundred times
A boy makes the promise that he'll call this girl
He believes that he has done everything just right
And she believes in a future so very bright

B - Every Waking Moment

Every waking moment I can feel you by my side
Your smile it brightens up the darkness of my life
Every waking moment I know that you are mine
And every thing about us just feels so very right

Every waking moment I can hear you in my soul
Your beauty seems to radiate from every pore
Every waking moment my heart feels so full
And I know that I will love you forever more

Will you take that step with me into our destiny
Will you make our hearts one, and our souls unite
Will you take a change and always be with me
Will you make me so happy, and marry me tonight

I'll spend every waking moment making you happy
I will make sure that your smile never fades
I'll spend every waking moment in our eternity
And make sure you love me until our finaly days

C - Life Built On Lies

Day after day, and year after year
I can feel our love slipping away
Year after year, and day after day
Afraid of the inner voice I hear

You said that you trusted me
You said that you loved me
You said that you needed me
You told me nothing but lies

Day after day, and year after year
I can feel eternity choking me
Year after year, and day after day
I dream about your darkest fear

I said that I needed you
I said that you'd always be mine
I promise you the stars in the sky
I never told you anything but lies

Day after day, and year after year
I can see myself giving into darkness
Year after year, and day after day
I want to make it perfectly clear

I want you out of my life
I want to end your life
I want you out of my life
I want to end your life

D - Gruesome End

When they found your body I cried
I tried to show the emotion I did not have inside
When they said that you suffered
I tried to not let on the joy I had hidden inside

And though you had to go away from here
I know that you were once my friend
And though I'll never shed a single tear
I know that I had caused your gruesome end

I stand before your grave today
And say the words I had to say
To take away the eyes that blame
And silence all the words they say

And though I'm glad that you are gone
I know that you were once my friend
And though I know what I did was wrong
I know that I had caused your gruesome end

Take a look in the mirror
I see my face smiling back at me
I feel elation now that you're gone
And I know that I'm ready to move on

E - The Cycle, Again

It's a story you've heard a hundred times
How a widow takes the loss and then moves on
And though this story has very different lines
The one once loved is now long dead and gone

And when they lock eyes from across the room
This loving bride that had killed her groom
Can see this lover in a potential friend
And start this crazy cycle all over again

It's a story you've heard a hundred times
The wife that killed gets away with her crime
She hides her very dark secret so well
While the man she promised to love burns in hell

And when she takes another for her mate
And starts again her cycle of hate
She knows she will return to then
And start this crazy cycle all over again

The Awesome Tale of Guinea Pig

In the heart of a quaint little town, there resided a guinea pig like no other—our protagonist, the epitome of cool, simply known as Guinea Pig. His coolness wasn't just a casual demeanor; it was a force to be reckoned with. Guinea Pig didn't entertain nonsense; he faced life head-on, challenging every obstacle in his path.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, signaling the beginning of Guinea Pig's nightly escapades, the town would buzz with anticipation. His cool shenanigans were the stuff of legends, from elaborate heists of the tastiest veggies in the neighborhood gardens to pulling off the most daring escapes from the clutches of overenthusiastic admirers.

His charisma was such that even the toughest of critters dared not cross him. Guinea Pig's cool factor reached legendary heights, inspiring tales told by the flickering firelight in cozy burrows and amidst the rustling leaves in the town square. There were moments when his coolness was so palpable that onlookers couldn't help but sit in wide-eyed wonder, as if witnessing the manifestation of some divine coolness.

Oh, the awesome adventures! From navigating intricate mazes designed by the craftiest hamsters to outwitting the cleverest cats, Guinea Pig's exploits were the talk of the town. If only we could recount every thrilling tale, we'd be regaling each other with stories for a year, each one more unbelievable than the last.

Guinea Pig wasn't just a rodent; he was a legend, a paragon of coolness that left an indelible mark on the hearts of everyone fortunate enough to witness his awesomeness. There's cool, and then there's Guinea Pig cool—something beyond words, beyond comparison. And so, my friends, the tale of Guinea Pig, the coolest of them all, continues to echo through the streets, a testament to the extraordinary adventures of a rodent who defied the ordinary and embraced the extraordinary.

On a whimsical afternoon that painted the town with hues of adventure, our beloved Guinea Pig, the sovereign of spontaneity, set out for a joyride through the lively streets, seeking amusement on his terms alone. Guinea Pig's time was his own, a non-negotiable commodity that he doled out at his discretion. His presence commanded attention, and no one dared question his audacious approach to life.

It was amidst this carefree expedition that Guinea Pig stumbled upon a mongoose, looking somewhat forlorn and devoid of the thrill that characterized Guinea Pig's every moment. Sensing an opportunity to inject some excitement into the mongoose's day, Guinea Pig, with an air of nonchalant authority, extended an invitation that was more of a command than a request.

"Get in, Mongoose," declared Guinea Pig, his tone leaving no room for debate. "We have miles to go, and not many hours to go them."

In the face of Guinea Pig's unspoken but palpable expectation, the mongoose, understanding the language of actions, tossed aside a half-empty soda with a casual flick of the wrist and hopped into the car. Words weren't necessary; Guinea Pig's whims were law.

"Hold onto something," cautioned Guinea Pig, aware of his limitations as a driver. His awesomeness extended to many realms, but the art of driving wasn't his forte. His little piggy feet struggled to reach the pedals, and he steered with a blend of confidence and uncertainty, creating an atmosphere of controlled chaos on the road.

As the quirky duo sped through the town, Guinea Pig at the wheel and Mongoose hanging on for dear life, laughter echoed through the streets. Guinea Pig's audacity knew no bounds, and the mongoose, once lonely and in need of fun, found himself immersed in an unexpected adventure orchestrated by the indomitable coolness of Guinea Pig.

In the initial moments of Guinea Pig's attempt to operate the vehicle, the challenges presented by the pedals seemed to be a formidable adversary. His tiny piggy feet strained to make contact, but with determined persistence, Guinea Pig eventually found the sweet spot and set the car into hesitant motion. Initially, he navigated the streets with caution, taking the time to acquaint himself with the peculiar dynamics of his newfound driving responsibilities.

As the minutes ticked by, something remarkable happened. Guinea Pig, with an innate knack for adapting to the circumstances, not only acclimated to the reach of the pedals but, in an unforeseen twist of automotive magic, began to push the car to ever-increasing speeds. What started as a slow, cautious crawl morphed into a blur of motion, a testament to Guinea Pig's unexpected driving prowess.

Soon, the car hurtled through the town at a velocity that defied the laws of known vehicle logic. Guinea Pig's fearless spirit and audacious driving style quickly became the stuff of legends among the townsfolk. The streets were alive with whispers of Guinea Pig's daring adventure, and the once-lonely mongoose hanging on for dear life found himself part of an exhilarating rollercoaster ride through the town's twists and turns.

But the tale took an even more astonishing turn. The very laws of physics seemed to bow to Guinea Pig's coolness, as the gas pedal, once out of reach, surreptitiously extended itself toward him. It was as if the car itself recognized the badassery emanating from Guinea Pig and sought to be a willing accomplice in his audacious exploits.

And so, my friends, the spectacle continued—an unstoppable force of coolness propelling a car through the town, with Guinea Pig at the helm, steering not just a vehicle but a narrative of unbridled adventure. The gas pedal, once a distant goal, now served as a symbol of Guinea Pig's legendary status, a homage to the undeniable coolness that even inanimate objects couldn't resist acknowledging. The town, once again, found itself spellbound by the ongoing saga of Guinea Pig and his uncharted, adrenaline-fueled journey.

With the car now hurtling through the streets at a breakneck pace, Guinea Pig, reveling in the adrenaline rush, decided it was time to take his coolness to the next level. As if on cue, he nonchalantly reached to his side and produced a pair of kick-ass sunglasses, a signature accessory that accompanied him on all his daring escapades. These weren't just any sunglasses; they were the key to Guinea Pig's unparalleled cool factor, a promise he made to them long ago when he acquired them from a little old lady in exchange for the humble currency of a half-eaten ham sandwich.

The sunglasses, perched effortlessly on his snout, transformed Guinea Pig from a mere rodent on a joyride to a four-wheeled maestro of coolness. The reflection of the speeding town danced in the lenses, a visual symphony to accompany the auditory thrill of the roaring engine. Guinea Pig, now the epitome of style and flair, felt the wind rush through his fur, enhancing the sensation of absolute freedom.

As if prompted by the presence of the sunglasses, Guinea Pig reached into his secret stash and retrieved a half-eaten ham sandwich, a nostalgic reminder of the fateful day he acquired his shades. Holding the sandwich with a certain reverence, he declared, "Perfection." It was a ritualistic acknowledgment of the simple joys in life—speed, style, and a half-eaten ham sandwich.

However, Guinea Pig wasn't about to share his culinary delight with Mongoose. The mongoose, ever grateful for the opportunity to be part of Guinea Pig's thrilling journey, wasn't expecting any gastronomic generosity. Mongoose understood that this ride wasn't just about sandwiches; it was about basking in the glory of Guinea Pig's coolness—the Piggy, the myth, the legend.

And so, the dynamic duo sped through the town, Guinea Pig behind the wheel, sporting kick-ass sunglasses, and holding a half-eaten ham sandwich—the embodiment of coolness on four wheels, leaving a trail of awe-inspired onlookers and a tale that would be recounted for generations to come.

With the wind in their fur and the town as their canvas, Guinea Pig and Mongoose embarked on a nocturnal odyssey, ready to leave an indelible mark on the sleepy streets. Guinea Pig, the mastermind behind the mischief, leaned toward Mongoose and outlined their audacious plan.

"Okay, Mongoose," Guinea Pig declared with an air of mischief, "Here is the plan. We're going to paint this little town Guinea, and we're going to have a squeakin' good time doing it." A dazzling smile, arguably the most winningest that had ever graced the rodent world, accompanied by a sly wink, sealed the pact. Mongoose, fully aware that this was the preamble to one hell of a night filled with epic shenanigans, readied himself for the escapades that lay ahead. But first, a mission of utmost importance—capturing the essence of their adventure in a selfie.

As Mongoose extended his arm, maneuvering the phone for the perfect shot, Guinea Pig smiled into the night. He was doing something extraordinary here. He was turning what was once a sad, and lonely Mongoose into the stuff that even legends couldn't quite contain. Guinea Pig was a hero. 

Throughout the town, the duo weaved through its narrow streets, leaving behind a trail of mischief, laughter, and painted guinea symbols. The night unfolded in a series of epic escapades that defied description. From rooftop acrobatics to impromptu dance-offs in the town square, Guinea Pig and Mongoose became the unsung heroes of a tale that transcended the ordinary.

Mongoose, forever changed by the surreal night of guinea-inspired mayhem, couldn't help but marvel at the transformation. The world itself seemed different, touched by the irreverent coolness that Guinea Pig exuded with every daring move. The car, Mongoose, the half-eaten ham sandwich, and the kick-ass sunglasses—all eternally indebted to the coolness of Guinea Pig—now held a special place in the annals of the town's history.

But alas, dear reader, the full chronicle of that unforgettable night would require volumes to recount. For now, we leave you with the promise that the tales of Guinea Pig, Mongoose, and their unforgettable exploits shall continue to echo through the ages, leaving an everlasting legacy of coolness, adventure, and the transformative power of one audacious guinea pig and his trusty mongoose companion.

Indeed, the tales of that fateful night are like a treasure chest waiting to be opened, revealing the gems of mischief, laughter, and the unexpected. But, my friend, today is not the day for delving into the intricacies of those adventures. Today is a day for something equally splendid—the celebration and adoration of Guinea Pig.

In the hearts and minds of the townsfolk, Guinea Pig had become more than just a cool character; he was a living legend, a source of inspiration, and a reminder that life is meant to be embraced with audacity and a dash of irreverence. As the sun cast its warm glow upon the town, the echoes of Guinea Pig's exploits lingered in the air, a testament to the indomitable spirit that had swept through the streets just hours before.

So, let us bask in the glory of Guinea Pig, the trendsetter of coolness, the orchestrator of legendary nights. Today is a day to appreciate the charisma, the audacity, and the unapologetic zest for life that Guinea Pig embodies. Perhaps, in the future, the tales of that extraordinary night will be unveiled in all their glory, but for now, let us revel in the sheer awesomeness that is Guinea Pig.

Raise a paw, a hoof, or whatever appendage you may have, and join in the collective adoration of Guinea Pig, for today is a day to celebrate the living legend and coolness extraordinaire that has left an indelible mark on the town and our hearts. Cheers to Guinea Pig, the Piggy, the myth, the legend!

-Rob

Liberty's Exiles

Hello everyone, Rob here. Today I want to talk about my band, Liberty's Exiles. More specifically, our newest album. I started out writing with Simon Talbot of the London based band, Halo, back in 2013 (Holy hell, has it been 10 years?!), and during that time we have released 23 albums worth of music. It's been a lot of fun creating so much great music with one of the greatest musical partners a guy could have, and I hope we have another 10 years of music in us.

Liberty's Exiles: USA (2023)

Last month, November 2023, we released our newest album, "USA". Like several albums before it, it's a concept album. The concept being a world where Donald Trump wins the election for President in 2020. I know, that's a scary thought for me as well, but I played that scenario out through the lyrics of this album. In doing so, Simon was able to capture a sort of scary vibe throughout much of this album, and I'm proud to say that it all turned out amazing. It might be one of our best releases yet! There are also some tracks about some of the horrible things that happened during Trump's four year run as president, and even some things that are really wrong with the US (Yes folks, guns ARE a HUGE problem here!)

I put together some videos, had an AI program help "create" the album artwork, and we released the album on our bandcamp page. Sadly, thanks to money (and a largely non-physical media world), there isn't a CD release of this album, but we hope you'll check it out anyway!

Here is the track listing, and the link to check the album out. Thanks for reading, my friends.

Liberty's Exiles: USA (2023)

01. USA 06:24

02. Pompous Circumstance 04:00

03. The Devil in Disguise 03:43

04. Lost Country 04:22

05. Doomed Planet 03:55

06. The Cult of The 45 04:24

07. Americans Love Their Guns 04:22

08. We're Starting a New Riot 04:47

09. When Will We Learn America 03:31

10. Exiles on Liberty Street 04:45

11. America is a Gun 04:08

12. Hope For Hope 04:08

Samantha's Musings, pt. 1

It's a-me, Samantha

It’s Samantha here!

Been a while I guess.

I’ve been struggling with school and such.

I thought I had a freaking 5 page essay to do… it was a five paragraph essay 🤦🏻‍♀️😂 the mistakes I make! 

I have the ACT tomorrow morning. I’m a bit worried but I’ll be fine.

I’ve been a bit behind on my reading but I’m hoping to get it up over Christmas break.

I am so excited for my baby brother and little sister to sleep in my room on Christmas Eve!

I’ve had my little sister with me before, but now I get me baby brother too!

We watch what I got for Christmas videos most of the time, but I think this year for Waddles we’ll watch a short frosty the snowman video!

I’m sooo freaking excited.

I’ve been a lot closer with my baby brother and I absolutely love it. Not when he cries that I have to leave though…. That one hurts. 

Hope and I need to do more things together, so I’m hoping we do more over break.

I hope everyone is doing okay.

I’ll tell you more about my FCCLA project and such soon 😉

World Gone, Chapter 6: Falling Forward

 When we last saw Delaney, her and her son John had found a place to sleep. Unfortunately is was a trouble sleep that she found herself in. Read about that dream in this 6th chapter of my novel in progress, "World Gone".

Are these the hands of Delany? Who could say for sure?

Chapter 6 – Falling Forward

The air rushed past her, and the deafening sound of wind filled her ears as she continued to fall. The sensation of weightlessness enveloped her, and a profound sense of isolation settled in. She wondered if there was a bottom to this endless descent, or if she would keep falling forever. How long had she been falling? She honestly had no idea. One moment she didn’t seem to exist, and the next she was falling. Only, and always falling.

In the deadly grip of the horrifying chaos, she tried to recall any details about her life, her identity, or how she found herself in this surreal predicament. But her memories eluded her, slipping through her mind like water through clenched fingers. It was a disconcerting emptiness, a void where her past should have been.

As she struggled to make sense of her surroundings, a glimmer of light appeared in the distance, a small, distant point in the overwhelming darkness. The light grew brighter, and a mixture of hope and fear welled up within her. Was it an escape, a destination, or something else entirely?

Her mind raced with unanswered questions, and the desperation to understand her situation intensified. The fall seemed to go on forever, yet the light drew nearer. In this mysterious descent, she faced the unknown with a vulnerability that echoed her nakedness. The absence of familiarity and the uncertainty of her fate added to the surreal and dreamlike quality of the experience.

With each passing moment, the tension mounted, and she clung to the hope that the approaching light held answers. The realization of her vulnerability and the lack of control over her own destiny fueled the tumultuous emotions within her. In the midst of the infinite fall, she grappled not only with the physical sensations but also with the profound existential crisis that unfolded in the void around her.

Instinctively she knew that she was completely naked. Had she been born here in this unending descent towards her death? She searched her memory but could only find one. It had been her fifth birthday (she could see the big number “5” candle, sitting atop a hideous pink cake looking monstrosity), and her mom had just given her a necklace. She reached her hand up to touch the familiar locket that held a tiny picture of her and her mom, and found that it was gone. Had it ever been there? Was this all just some kind of dream. She pinched her left nipple, hard, only to find that the pain was immense.

As she grappled with the surreal nature of her situation, she couldn't shake the nagging question: had she ever truly existed outside of this endless fall? Was her entire life, her memories, just a fabrication of this dreamlike scenario? She pinched her left nipple as hard as she could, the searing pain, felt strangely real, grounding her in the midst of the surreal. This was no dream. 

The growing light offered a paradoxical mix of hope and despair. Its radiance seemed to promise something beyond the darkness, but the distance between her and the light remained constant, defying the logic of her descent. The notion that the light might only grow, never to be reached, added a layer of frustration to her predicament.

She continued to fall, naked and vulnerable, grappling with the fragments of her memory, the pain in her flesh, and the elusive light that teased her with its unattainable presence. The dreamlike quality of the experience persisted, blurring the lines between reality and illusion. The descent, the light, the memories — all elements woven into the fabric of this mysterious dreamscape, leaving her to navigate the infinite abyss with a sense of both trepidation and a strange, almost detached acceptance.

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, she found herself no longer falling down, but somehow falling sideways, as if moving quickly through an un-assuming tunnel. The sensation was so weird that she started questioning the reality of the situation again. Everything around her insisted that this was real, but there was a dream like quality that she just could not shake. 

As she tumbled through this surreal sideways descent, the surroundings morphed into a mesmerizing display of colors and shapes. The tunnel seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, casting an ethereal glow on everything around her. Strange patterns danced across the walls, creating an intricate tapestry of light that defied the laws of physics.

Her curiosity began to override the initial unease, and she stretched out her hand to touch the walls of the tunnel. To her surprise, the surface felt neither solid nor liquid, but rather like a gentle breeze passing through her fingers. It was as if the tunnel itself was a living, breathing entity, responding to her presence.

As she continued to fall through this enigmatic passage, the air around her seemed to carry whispers of distant voices, unintelligible yet strangely comforting. She couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of the unknown, embracing the uncertainty of her surroundings. And yet at the same time, she felt a certain unease in the air, as if something was below and ahead of her, waiting. Always waiting.

Despite the dreamlike quality of this experience, a sense of calm settled within her. Perhaps it was the realization that fear had given way to acceptance, or maybe it was the acknowledgment that sometimes reality itself could be as flexible and unpredictable as a dream.

In the midst of the surreal journey, she pondered the nature of existence, wondering if this sideways fall was a metaphor for life's unexpected twists and turns. The boundary between dreams and reality blurred, and she found solace in the idea that, just like in a dream, she had the power to shape her own perceptions.

As the tunnel continued to weave its mysterious path, she couldn't help but surrender to the allure of the unknown, savoring the unique blend of uncertainty and wonder that accompanied her sideways descent. Whether a dream or a reality yet to be understood, she embraced the journey with a newfound sense of tranquility, eagerly awaiting the moment when she would wake up and carry the echoes of this extraordinary experience back into the tangible world.

Delany's heart raced as the echoes of John's cries reverberated through the eerie wind that surrounded her. The surreal dreamscape of the tunnel seemed to distort her perception of reality, blurring the lines between the dream and the waking world. She couldn't shake off the haunting resemblance of the cries to her baby boy.

Desperation crept into her voice as she called out to John, a mix of fear and determination driving her forward. The surreal surroundings heightened her panic, making her question the very nature of this nightmare. In the disorienting tunnel, she felt a visceral need to reach her child, to comfort him and protect him from whatever unseen threat loomed.

The questions flooded her mind like a relentless storm. Why was John in this nightmarish scenario? How could something so innocent and sweet be entangled in this strange and unsettling dream? The lack of answers fueled her anxiety, and the uncertainty of their situation hung heavily in the air.

"Mommy's coming, baby boy!" she repeated, the words a desperate mantra in the face of the unknown. Yet, John's cries persisted, a disconcerting backdrop to the surreal journey through the dream tunnel. The panic intensified, threatening to overwhelm her as the sense of helplessness deepened.

The fear of the unknown and the possibility that this could be their end gnawed at her, casting a dark shadow over her thoughts. The tunnel seemed to stretch endlessly, a metaphor for the uncertainty of their fate. Delany grappled with the terror that engulfed her, yearning for answers that remained elusive.

In the midst of the dream-induced chaos, she clung to the hope that this nightmare would soon come to an end. The surreal landscape continued to twist and turn, amplifying her sense of disorientation. The fear for John's well-being and the dread of an uncertain fate became palpable, creating a visceral experience that felt too real to be just a dream.

As she pressed forward through the dream tunnel, the unknown journey unfurling before her, Delany couldn't shake the feeling that the answers to her questions were just out of reach, shrouded in the unsettling atmosphere of the dreamscape. The cries of her baby boy lingered, a haunting reminder of the stakes in this surreal and nightmarish adventure.

She felt the sensation of being shaken violently, and tried to scream herself, but no sound would come out. It was as if she were suddenly unable to make a sound. Whatever was going on here, it was clear that someone, or something, wanted to punish her and her baby boy. She opened her mouth to scream again, and still no sound would come out.

The violent shaking intensified, jolting Delany in the disorienting dream tunnel. Panic surged through her as she attempted to scream, only to be met with a disconcerting silence. It was as if her voice had been stolen by the surreal landscape that surrounded her, leaving her feeling vulnerable and powerless.

The fear escalated as she grappled with the notion that someone, or something, intended to inflict punishment on her and her baby boy. The helplessness of being unable to make a sound amplified the terror, and she felt a profound sense of dread enveloping her.

In a desperate attempt to break free from this nightmarish silence, Delany opened her mouth once more, but the absence of sound persisted. The dream seemed to mock her attempts to communicate, leaving her feeling isolated and trapped in a world that defied both logic and reason.

Suddenly, a voice pierced through the oppressive quiet, calling her name with urgency. "Delany! Wake up. Please wake up!" The tone carried a genuine sense of concern, and panic reverberated in the words. Relief washed over her as she recognized that this voice did not harbor ill intentions. Instead, it held a plea for her to escape the clutches of the dream and return to reality.

Struggling against the silence that bound her, Delany focused on the voice up ahead, drawing strength from its reassuring quality. The pleas to wake up became a lifeline, a beacon guiding her through the tumultuous dreamscape. The shaking continued, and with each tremor, she felt a gradual detachment from the dream's oppressive hold.

As if responding to the desperate cries, the dream began to unravel, and Delany felt the tug of awakening. Slowly, the surreal surroundings faded, giving way to the dim light of reality. She gasped for air, her body drenched in sweat, and the remnants of the dream clung to her mind.

The transition from the dream to waking life left Delany shaken, but the realization that she was no longer trapped in the nightmare brought a profound sense of relief. The voice that had called out to her proved to be a lifeline, a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there could be someone reaching out to help.

The remnants of the dream lingered like a fleeting wisp in Delany's mind, a hazy memory that struggled to hold its ground. Yet, reality surged back with a cruel intensity, bringing the vivid recollection of the nightmare that played out in the waking world.

The dirt tunnel, dimly lit by the rising sun, and steeped in shadows, became a stark contrast to the surreal dreamscape she had just escaped. As the dream dissipated, the weight of the actual nightmare settled upon her like a suffocating blanket. The events of the previous night flooded back, an unwelcome tide that carried with it a torrent of fear, uncertainty, and despair.

The waking panic replaced the dream-induced terror, and Delany found herself grappling with the harsh truth that nothing was okay. The echoes of John's cries, both from the dream and the reality, reverberated in her mind, a haunting reminder of the perilous situation they were in.

She looked around the crowded dirt tunnel, seeking some semblance of reassurance, but found none. The air felt heavy with the weight of the unknown, and the dread of an uncertain future hung in the silence. The dream may have offered a brief escape, but the reality they faced seemed insurmountable.

In the stillness of the tunnel, Delany's thoughts raced, and the realization settled like a lead weight: nothing would ever be okay again. The stark truth of their predicament loomed over her, casting a long, foreboding shadow. As she grappled with the harsh reality, she knew that confronting the challenges ahead would demand every ounce of strength she possessed.

With a heavy heart, Delany braced herself for the daunting journey that lay ahead, uncertain of what the future held but determined to face it head-on. The dream may have faded, but the waking nightmare persisted, and she steeled herself for the trials that awaited her and John in this harsh and unforgiving reality.

World Gone, Chapter 5: Lies Untold

Hello, my friends. It is me, once again bringing you another chapter to the novel that I am slowly writing. I'll never know if I will finish one of these books or not, but... I hope that I do. I have so much I want to do with this story. And there is much to tell of the new character that I'm developing in the following chapter. He's got a big voice in this tale, but his voice is not yet needed.

This is not my creepy preacher, but he is one of many creepy preachers. Maybe he's yours?

The preacher continued his prayer, his voice barely audible in the hushed sanctuary. "Lord, guide us back to the path of righteousness. The world has lost its way, blinded by the allure of technology and the false promises of progress. Our hearts are entangled in the web of materialism, and our minds are clouded by the distractions of our own creation. Take away these devices that have become idols in our lives. Strip us of our obsession with the superficial, so that we may see the true beauty of Your creation."

His hands were folded tightly, fingers interlocked in a gesture of supplication. The congregation, seated behind him, listened in silence. Some nodded in agreement, while others fidgeted uncomfortably in their seats. Though few would believe him in the coming days, he knew that he was asking God to remove all of the confines of human creations from this planet. Mankind had created too many distractions, and had take them from God. The preacher believed that it was his job to bring them back from the brink of Hell, and into an eternity of love, and faith, and light in the Lord’s presence.

The preacher's thoughts circled back to the contentious issue of abortion, a topic that had stirred emotions both inside and outside the church walls. He couldn't fathom how society had become so detached from the sanctity of life.

"Lord, open the eyes of those who cannot see the precious gift of life. Help them understand that every soul is a divine creation, a testament to Your boundless love. Let us not be swayed by the currents of a world that values convenience over compassion."

As he spoke, a fervent passion infused his words. His prayer was not just a request for the removal of technological distractions but a plea for a spiritual awakening. The preacher believed that by returning to a simpler, more devout way of life, humanity could rediscover its connection with God.

The congregation, caught between the preacher's sincerity and the complexities of the modern world, grappled with their own thoughts. The tension in the sanctuary mirrored the broader societal conflicts that had woven their way into the fabric of everyday life.

The preacher concluded his prayer, his voice gaining strength. "In Your mercy, cleanse our hearts, O Lord. Lead us away from the temptations of this world, and let Your light guide us back to You. Amen."

As the final words hung in the air, a heavy silence settled over the sanctuary, leaving the congregation to reflect on the preacher's impassioned plea and the challenges of reconciling faith with the ever-changing landscape of the world around them.

 The preacher stood before the congregation, his internal struggle evident in the furrowed lines on his forehead. He wiped away the tear that lingered on his cheek, a physical manifestation of the emotional weight he carried.

"My brothers and sisters," he began, his voice tremulous yet resolute. "I have felt the presence of the Lord speaking to me in ways I cannot fully comprehend. There is a calling, a purpose, that I sense deep within my soul. God has a plan for each and every one of us, and I believe He is guiding us toward a higher purpose."

He paused, scanning the faces of those before him, searching for a connection that would bridge the gap between his profound experience and their everyday reality. The congregation watched him, a mixture of curiosity and anticipation in their eyes.

"I don't have all the answers," he continued, his gaze shifting from person to person. "But I do know this: we are living in a time of great moral confusion, where the world tempts us with distractions and challenges our faith. I have prayed fervently for guidance, and I believe the Lord is calling us to reevaluate our lives, our priorities, and our connection with Him."

The preacher took a deep breath, as if drawing strength from the divine source he invoked. "There is a sense of urgency within me, a feeling that we are standing at a crossroads. We must choose the path that leads us back to the embrace of our Creator. The distractions of this world, the temptations that lead us astray, must be cast aside. We must reclaim our devotion to God and each other. It is time for a spiritual awakening, a revival of our faith that transcends the superficial trappings of modern life."

The congregation listened in rapt attention, a mixture of emotions playing across their faces. Some nodded in agreement, while others looked contemplative, wrestling with the preacher's words.

"I don't claim to have all the answers, but I believe that together, as a community of believers, we can find our way back to the path of righteousness. Let us open our hearts to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and may we, as one body in Christ, embark on a journey toward redemption and eternal life."

With those words hanging in the air, the preacher offered a silent prayer for strength and guidance, hoping that his message would find fertile ground in the hearts of those who listened.

In the poignant aftermath of his prayer, a peculiar stillness settled upon him, as if the very lexicon that had been his loyal companion throughout a lifetime of eloquence had suddenly deserted him. The vibrant tapestry of words that he once effortlessly wove into the fabric of engaging conversations had unraveled, leaving him standing in a disconcerting silence. The expectant eyes of the congregation, perhaps anticipating a continuation of the sermon or the customary dismissal, were fixed upon him, waiting for the next chapter in this ecclesiastical narrative.

A palpable tension lingered in the air, the congregation's collective breath held in an unspoken pause. It was in this suspended moment that an older woman, seated at the humble piano that adorned the church's modest space, rose from her perch with a deliberate calmness. Her measured steps carried her toward the frozen figure, an unwavering determination in her stride. This woman had clearly been witness to any conceivable scenario that could have possibly happened, and she determined this one to not be of an overly dire nature.

The gradual advance of the older woman, visible only through the corner of his left eye, unfolded in a surreal tableau, akin to a scene from a dream where one is immobilized by an unseen force. His gaze was fixed, and yet he found himself incapable of any physical response, ensnared in a spell of inertia that seemed to defy the laws of volition. It was as though the universe had conspired to freeze him in this precise moment, a cosmic pause button activated by some enigmatic force, withholding his ability to engage with the world around him.

Every sinew, every muscle, seemed to have succumbed to an inexplicable petrification. The very essence of movement had abandoned him, leaving behind a visage of profound stillness. While the miracle of breath persisted, a lifeline tethering him to the realm of the living, it was the sole vestige of vitality in a body now transfigured into an inert form. Thirty years of vibrant thoughts, nuanced feelings, and a kaleidoscope of emotions had evaporated into the intangible ether, leaving behind a hollow shell—a statue that once housed the animated spirit of his former self.

In the hushed stillness that clung to the air, the piano woman's fingers hovered over the keys, poised to play a melody that would resonate through the quietude enveloping the preacher. As she began to weave her tune, the ethereal notes seemed to blend with the palpable tension, creating a symphony of quiet introspection.

The preacher's consciousness wavered, teetering on the edge of a surreal realm where time lost its grip, and the boundaries between reality and the metaphysical blurred. In the paradoxical embrace of stasis, he grappled with the profound dichotomy of his existence—simultaneously a mere observer of life's fleeting moments and a subject ensnared in the stillness that now cradled him.

As the piano woman's melody unfolded, a subtle transition occurred within the preacher. The impending loss of consciousness, rather than inducing fear, ushered in an unexpected serenity. It was as if he had become a living artifact, a monument frozen in the tableau of existence—a testament to the delicate interplay between the transient dance of life and the eerie silence that clung to him.

Beside him, the piano woman played on, her music becoming the soundtrack to his descent into an unconscious realm. The preacher, with an uncanny intuition, sensed the imminence of significant events destined to unfold in the world of man. In this suspended moment, he understood that his role in the unfolding narrative was not yet required. There was a cosmic choreography at play, and for now, he was to be a dormant actor, waiting for his cue.

A strange calmness enveloped him, a prelude to the dreams that awaited in the dormant corridors of his mind. In this peculiar liminal space between wakefulness and slumber, he surrendered to the enigma of his existence. The preacher, for the first time, felt a profound solitude—a realization that no benevolent deity would guide him through what lay ahead. Instead, he embraced the belief that he was a harbinger of his own destiny, a deity in the making, and that his time would arrive in the cosmic script.

As the world around him blurred into an indistinct tapestry of sound and shadow, the preacher succumbed to the inevitability of sleep. He closed his eyes, allowing the piano woman's music to lull him into a dreamscape where the threads of the future awaited their unraveling. And so, in the silent theater of his mind, he drifted into the embrace of slumber, ready to decipher the cryptic visions that awaited him in the realm of dreams.

World Gone, Chapter 4: Hope In the Darkness

Happy Friday, kiddies. I'm back with Chapter Four of "World Gone". There's some work to be done here, so I hopefully I get a chance to finish editing this one before too many of you read it. As you can all see, things are dire, but Delaney is figuring things out. I hope you enjoy this. If not... I still love you all.

Okay, so there's no forest in this chapter, but maybe in an upcoming chapter? Hmm...

Chapter Four: Hope in the Darkness

She held her baby, John, as close to her as humanly possible, his tiny head nestled against her exposed chest. The night air was merciless, its frigid bite cutting deep into their naked skin. Delaney fought against the cold, willing every ounce of warmth she could muster into her precious bundle. She was almost willing more body heat into the tiny, fragile body of her baby. Time had become a blur since the nightmare began, an unsettling eternity compressed into fleeting moments.

Amidst her struggle to keep John safe and warm, thoughts of her husband, Harold, relentlessly haunted her. She couldn't know if the same nightmarish fate had befallen him elsewhere, but it defied logic to think that this torment was unique to their small town. The world felt like it was unraveling, and she had no means of knowing if her fears held any truth. Her husband could be anywhere, laying on the ground, dying. She knew that he had been driving, and the thought of the van disappearing from around him, spilling him to dirt at 60 miles per hour could be catastrophic. 

Around her, a cacophony of anguish filled the air. Cries for help, desperate and primal, reverberated through the desolation. Some people were trapped within the gaping maw of pits that had once been basements, while others wandered aimlessly, their faces etched with confusion and terror. Each and every one of them just as scared, and lost as she was right now.

"Help me, please," a voice called out from a deep pit on her left. The plea tugged at her heart, but she steeled herself against the temptation to assist. The person’s voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. Nor did she really want to right now. Her primary mission was to keep John alive, and to do that, she had to keep her heart rate up. She continued to move, her steps marked by uncertainty and the gnawing sense of dread. She wasn't entirely sure where she was headed, only that she needed to generate enough warmth to protect her baby.

As the hours blended into a disorienting haze, Delaney became painfully aware of her disconnection from reality. There were no markers, no road signs, no familiar streets to provide a sense of place. She vaguely remembered being on Sheridan Avenue, but even that memory seemed like a distant dream. The only certainty was that they remained in Shenandoah, surrounded by others who shared their grim fate.

All around her were more cries of help, and of confusion. She kept looking everywhere, hoping for any evidence of the great civilization that had once existed here. And yet, there was nothing. Not a single sign of the earth destroying evidence of humans. Everyone was outside, without clothing, freezing, and wondering about what to do next.

Her gaze drifted upward into the starlit sky, a desperate attempt to orient herself. But the clear night sky only deepened her sense of despair. The satellites that had littered the space above her, which had once been a constant presence in her life were conspicuously absent, and the sky gleamed with an almost supernatural clarity. It was a mesmerizing yet profoundly unsettling sight. She was almost hypnotized by the sight.

Suddenly a voice called her name, pulling her from the depths of her contemplation. Another familiar voice. "Delaney, Delaney, wait up, it's me." She turned and saw the familiar red hair of her best friend, Janet, emerging from the darkness. Her face was a welcome sight, and caused her to breathe a momentary sigh of relief. That was until she saw that Janet was just as lost, confused, and naked as everyone else.

"Janet," Delaney said, her voice trembling as she attempted to pierce the fog of confusion, "What's happening? I was at home, and then... my house disappeared, and I fell into a pit. I was watching the news, and just…” 

Janet's expression mirrored Delaney's bewilderment and shock. "Oh God, Delaney, I wish I knew. It's happening all over town. Everything's just... gone. It's as if we never existed." She glanced down at her own dirt-streaked, naked body, exhaling a sigh filled with exhaustion and despair.

"Where should we go?" Delaney asked, her voice barely audible.

"Nowhere," Janet replied with grim resignation. "There is nowhere to go." Her words sent shivers down Delaney's spine. They were adrift in a world that had moved on without them, as if humanity had overstayed its welcome.

“Excuse me,” a gruff looking man said, pushing past Janet, purposefully making way too much hand contact with her naked body.

“Watch it, asshole,” Janet barked at him, as he hurried past, presumably to try and grab another unsuspecting woman. The thought made Delaney’s skin crawl. Tomorrow, in the daylight, all eyes were going to be on her. She wasn’t as fit, and trim as she had been in her younger days, but in her 40’s she still had a body that she often caught other men looking at.

"Janet," Delaney said, her voice quivering, "what are we going to do?"

Janet's response was tinged with despair. "Your guess is as good as mine, Delaney. All I know for sure is that we're in a dire situation. And if we don't find a way to keep John warm," she added, nodding at the sleeping baby, "he might not make it through the night."

Tears welled up in Delaney's eyes once more. The weight of their predicament bore down on her, and she couldn't allow her son to fall victim to the relentless cold. They couldn't continue to wander aimlessly. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, an idea, a flicker of hope in the darkness, took hold in her mind.

"Hey, Janet," Delaney said, her voice infused with newfound determination. "What about that drainage pipe in the ditch, up by the school?"

Janet looked skeptical but considered the suggestion. "The drainage pipe is gone, Delaney. Everything is."

"I know the pipe itself is gone, but what if the hole remains? We could crawl in there and at least wait for daylight."

"It wouldn't be much warmer,” Janet pointed out.

"But it's better than nothing," Delaney insisted. "We're freezing out here. John won't survive if we don't find some shelter."

Janet reluctantly agreed. "I suppose we could try. It might be a waste of time, but what else are we doing right now?" Delaney almost laughed at the absurdity of the thought.

For the first time since she had emerged from the crawl space under her house, a glimmer of hope flickered in Delaney’s eyes. Janet was right; it might not be much warmer, but it was worth the attempt. Anything had to be better than wandering aimlessly in the cold darkness. "We'll make it through this," Delaney thought to herself as they changed direction and headed toward the school. "We have to." 

“Oh Harold, I wish you were here,” she thought to herself, as the trio changed direction, and headed towards the school. “Wherever you are, I hope you’re okay.” A tear slid down her cheek, fighting its way through the dirt, and grime. She let it fall. It was all that she could do. Another spilled tear down her face was the least of her problems right now.

Delaney clung to John, her trembling body providing the only shelter from the relentless cold. Her heart ached with the absence of Harold, her mind tortured by the countless scenarios that might have befallen him. She had no way of knowing if he was safe or if he too was trapped in this nightmarish landscape.

Their marriage hadn’t been exactly the greatest marriage over these last few months, but now the only thought that comforted her was knowing that somehow he would find his way back to her. He had always promised that no matter what happened in this crazy, messed up world he would find her. She held onto that thought with everything she could spare, which wasn’t much since survival had to be the foremost thought in her trouble, and exhausted mind.

The world around her had crumbled into chaos. The town they once called home was now a scene of devastation, a place that barely resembled the peaceful community she had known. Buildings lay in ruins, cars were overturned, and the streets were strewn with debris. It was as if the very earth had rebelled against humanity, swallowing homes and lives in its vengeful fury.

Amidst the wreckage, the cries of anguish and despair were a haunting symphony. People, like Delaney, struggled to survive. Some were trapped beneath the rubble of their homes, their pleas for help echoing through the darkness. Others roamed aimlessly, their faces etched with a mixture of confusion and terror. In this shared nightmare, they were all victims, united by their fear and desperation.

Delaney's focus remained on John, her maternal instincts driving her to protect him at all costs. She murmured soothing words into his tiny ear, attempting to shield him from the horrors of their surroundings. The night air continued its merciless assault, but she refused to let it claim her child.

As she scanned the desolation around her, Delaney couldn't help but wonder if there was any hope of rescue. Were there still functioning emergency services, or had the disaster swallowed them too? The unanswered questions loomed large, adding to her sense of isolation.

In the distance, she noticed flickering lights, faint beacons of hope in the darkness. People had started to gather around those lights, drawn by the possibility of finding safety and assistance. With John securely cradled in her arms, Delaney made her way toward the lights, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

As she drew closer, she saw a makeshift camp forming. Tents had been set up, and people were huddled together for warmth. Some were tending to the injured, while others tried to organize supplies salvaged from the wreckage. It was a fragile semblance of order in the midst of chaos.

Delaney approached a woman who seemed to be in charge, her face streaked with dirt and tears. "Is there any word on what happened?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The woman looked at Delaney with a weary expression. "No one knows for sure. It was like the earth just... erupted. We're cut off from the outside world. All we can do is try to help each other and wait for help to arrive."

Delaney's heart sank, but she knew she had no choice but to stay and seek refuge with these survivors. She clung to the hope that Harold might find his way to safety, that they would be reunited somehow in this shattered world.

As the night wore on, Delaney held John close, finding solace in the company of strangers who had become fellow survivors. The nightmare was far from over, but she refused to give in to despair. Together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead, and in their shared strength, there was a glimmer of hope for a better tomorrow.